Disclaimer: Not mine, period. I don't own the universe. I don't own the characters. Well, I guess Dee's pretty much mine, at least beyond the ten seconds of screen time that Mr. Whedon gave her in Chosen.
Chapter 13:
Calgary, Alberta.
The wall of flame that Willow had erected was holding the Vampires back. Barely. She was quite possibly the most powerful sorcerer on Earth, but even her power had its limitations. She could hold them at bay for a while, maybe even push them back a little, but she knew that she could not hold them back indefinitely.
Kennedy balanced lightly on the balls of her feet. She'd never seen Vampires this well coordinated before. Vampires were, almost as a rule, rather solitary types. Certainly, you would run into a hive here and there, and they had their family structures, if you could call it that. But by and large, they would allow their best friends to be dusted if they thought it would buy them enough time to make an escape. Their splintered nature had always been what gave the Slayer an advantage. Sure, the Slayer had the edge in speed, strength and skill, but the Vampires had the numbers. Kennedy's had often said that if the Vampires had got their act together and decided as one that the Slayers needed to be destroyed, if they realized that they had to act as a team, there would be little the Slayers could do to stop them.
Kennedy hated being right.
In the last three minutes, she'd seen no fewer than six slayers dropped. She'd heard that Slayers had been killed all over the planet over the last several months as well. Apparently, there was something to be said for teamwork.
These Vampires moved almost as though they shared a single mind. As if they were being coordinated by a single intelligence. They teamed up in a way which was well above and beyond her ragtag team of Slayers. The Vampires covered each other's backs, worked in well coordinated, controlled ways. None of the unthinking rage she'd seen so often from so many demons and Vampires. By contrast, her Slayers barely spoke the same language.
Okay, slayer, work your magic, Kennedy silently encouraged the unknown Slayer. Now or never.
********
San Diego, California.
Dee didn't trust herself to move for a moment. She sat, genuflecting on the cement floor, looking at the dust outline that had only moments ago been her nemesis, the wooden stake still clenched tightly in her hand exactly where it had penetrated the Vampire's heart. It was odd, almost sad in a way, although that didn't seem to be the right word. Anne had been a part of her life for what seemed like so long, it was as if she had a huge gap in her life now that she was gone. She struggled to keep her breathing under control. Her body shook uncontrollably as it recovered from the surge of adrenaline it had received only moments ago. Every muscle in her body trembled and she shivered as though the temperature were much colder than it actually was.
She felt something moving behind her, and she swung around hard, bringing the stake in her hand to a stop, just short of April's breastbone.
"Don't." She said simply. April growled angrily, almost as if she were seriously considering attacking regardless. "You think you can take me?" She looked deep into April's demonic eyes.
April backed off, her yellow eyes fixed on Dee's. The two sisters circled each other, as if waiting for the other to drop her guard.
Dee gently backed towards the radiant pool behind her. Osiris, Anne had indicated, was there.
How do I fight a pool of energy? She was the Slayer. She beat up Demons. Last time she checked, she was a pretty lousy swimmer.
She stood beside the circular pool, its bright light beating warmly against her skin.
God help me, how do I fight this?
Osiris was described in ancient Egypt as the God of the dead. Anders voice drifted up in her mind.
Blood is life. Buffy's voice replaced Anders'. It's what gives you your power.
The strength of a slayer isn't in her arms, She could see Anders holding up a fist in front of her, then press it against his chest, it's here.
She died in the fight. Anders had told her of the last slayer to face Osiris.
Wait a minute, how? Osiris had never taken an active role in all the time she'd been a Slayer. He'd always acted through others. He acted through Anne, through the Vampires, and demons. Someone else had always acted for him. How could a slayer defeat whatever line of defense Osiris had erected, defeat Osiris, then die?
Blood is life.
Osiris was described in ancient Egypt as the God of the dead.
Blood is life.
It's what gives you your power.
Dee looked down at the wooden stake in her hand, dried blood and dust hanging loosely on its ridges. The traditional weapon of a Slayer. Exactly the kind of weapon she'd used so many times to dispatch so many Vampires.
Blood is life.
And in that instant, she knew. She knew how to defeat Osiris, and why the last slayer who faced him had died in the battle.
Her eyes gently played over the immense, featureless chamber. The light from the pool before her danced playfully over the gray concrete walls. She closed her eyes a moment, savoring the feel of the air in her lungs; the sound of her heart beating smoothly, rhythmically in her chest; and the gentle throb of her pulse against her eardrums.
Then, deliberately, unhesitatingly, she drove the stake in her hand into the center of her chest.
She felt her body sink to its knees as, with the last vestige of fading strength, she pulled the stake free from her perforated heart. She could almost feel her body turning off as the small muscle in the center of her chest attempted in vain to keep her alive.
She was only peripherally aware of her body dropping forward into the pool in front of her. She could feel red blood, flowing warmly down the center of her chest. From around her, she could feel, rather than see or hear, something screaming in pain.
The agony of the bodiless.
The radiance of the pool she had dropped into seemed to be darkening, but she was uncertain whether that was simply her eyes beginning to fail.
Her lungs deflated and would not expand again. Not that they would accomplish anything if they did.
The last thing she saw as her eyesight darkened was a single form, recognizable as if she had seen him only yesterday. He wore the same black leather jacket she'd seen him wear every day she'd known him. He stood before her, gently smiling his approval at her, his short black hair hanging over his brown eyes.
"Daddy." With what remained of her muscular control, a smile touched Dee's lips.
She did not speak again.
********
Calgary, Alberta.
To say that something was happening would have been an understatement. Nobody knew exactly what it was, however. It was as if a wave of energy rolled over the army of vampires, knocking them all to the ground as if a massive wind had slammed into them.
Kennedy whirled around to ask Willow what she'd done, but Willow looked as confused as she did. Whatever was happening, Willow hadn't done it.
Something had changed in the Vampires as well. Their attacks, which had only moments ago been well coordinated, well planned strikes were now little more than mindless flailing.
In short, they were acting like Vampires again.
Slowly, but unmistakably, the Slayers began to push the Vampires back.
********
San Diego, California.
April sat up, uncertain of what, exactly, had knocked her down. She looked over at the pool Osiris had just occupied, but it was dark, empty. The only light came from some flickering overhead lights, and they danced over a single human form, lying sprawled in the center of the now-empty pool, a stake held in its right hand, bright red blood dripping off its sharp point.
"Oh, God, no." April felt tears coming to her eyes as she raced to her sister's side, cradling the Slayer's head in her arms. "No, no, no, no, no."
Tears were flowing freely now as she rocked back and forth, Dee's serene face pressed against her chest, as if the rocking motion could somehow make the Slayer wake up.
"Come on, Dee. Wake up." Her voice shook in denial as she tried to breathe life back into the corpse with her words.
Then it hit her.
She was feeling sadness, remorse, grief.
She brought her hand up to her forehead, not feeling the ridges that had been there only moments before. Her hand traveled down to the center of her chest, and there, against her fingertips lightly pressed against her chest, she could feel the steady rhythm of a beating heart.
