Chapter Two
Late April 2003 ad
Sunnydale, California, Sol III
Anya was mad at Xander and was looking for him. Not for the usual reasons that a woman who has been left on the alter would have, but because of bunnies. She had been checking stock prices on Willow's laptop and had seen a bookmark favorites folder called, "Xander's Stuff." Not being able to resist herself, she had scrolled past "Daily Babe Test, Dark Horse Comics, and Gamespot" until she had seen one called "Sluggy Freelance." The idea of being able to hit someone to make money appealed to her, so she checked the site out. She clicked through several links until finally coming to an animated gif of a ferocious looking mini-lop named "Bun-Bun" with a switchblade in his hand and a word balloon that said, "Bite Me, Nerd Boy." Anya ran from the computer screaming for the head of Xander.
****
Luckily Xander had gotten a heads up from Dawn. So he was hiding down in the basement with Spike. She would never think to look for him here. Xander had tried to hide his Sluggy dot com addiction from Anya for the last couple of years but she had finally found out about his fondness for the web comic strip featuring Torg, Riff, Zoe, and the gang and their talking animal friends Bun-Bun and Kikki. Xander had often thought that a cute, poinging ferret like Kikki could have eased a lot of tension for the Scooby gang, but a mini-lop with an attitude was a no-go for the ex-vengeance demon.
"Grow a set of balls," said Spike from his cot against the wall. "Its been, what a year, since you left her at the altar."
"Didn't ask for you opinion, Captain Peroxide, thank you very much." Suddenly the hiding in the basement plan didn't seem like such a hot idea.
"Normally that would be my cue for another quip, but I'm going to give it a break," Spike said. "You and I have been beating this dead horse long enough. Speaking of dead horses, what do you think about our chances against those bleeding yellow ponies?"
"Well they are going to outnumber our soldiers by at least a thousand to one, they have superior technology, and they don't ever retreat. In summation, we are screwed."
"For once, I agree with you on something," said Spike. "But I'm not worrying about it too much. Its highly doubtful we're going to make it past the First anyway."
Xander really, really hated to agree with Spike on anything twice in a row.
****
Mid May 2003 ad
Sunnydale, California, Sol III
Buffy got up from the cot where she had lain with Spike and went to look at the moon through a basement window. A form appeared behind her and said, "Pretty, ain't it?"
"You're not him," Buffy replied to the apparition of Caleb.
"No, you killed him right and proper. Terrible loss. This man was my good right arm. 'Course, it don't pain me too much. Don't need an arm. Got an army."
Becoming annoyed, Buffy said, "An army of vampires. However will I fight...."
"Every day our numbers swell. But then you do have an army of your own. Some thirty-odd pimply-faced girls, don't know the pointy end of a stake. Maybe I should call this off."
Now she was really annoyed. "Have you ever considered a cool name? I mean, since you're incorporeal and basically powerless. How about 'The Taunter?' Strikes fear in the heart....."
"I will overrun this Earth. And when my army outnumbers the humans on this Earth, the scales will tip and I will be made flesh."
"Well if you make it past us, you still gotta take care of the Posleen-you know the nasty horse thingys from space?"
"I dealt with their masters long ago. I think I can deal with the bastard constructs that are coming."
"Whatever. Talk on. I'm not afraid of you."
The form of Caleb rolled its eyes, looked at Spike and said, "Then why aren't you asleep in your dead lover's arms? 'Cause he can't help you. Nor Faith, nor your friends, certainly not your wanna-slay brigade. None of those girlies will ever know real power unless you're dead. You know the drill: Into every generation, a slayer is born. One girl in all the world. She alone will have the strength and skill to-- There's that word again. What you are. How you'll die. Alone. Where's your snappy comeback?" Caleb had morphed into the form of Buffy for the Slayer mantra.
No matter how much the First tried to rattle and deceive, it always spoke at least part of the truth. Buffy gave up on this confrontation and said, "You're right."
"Hmm. Not your best. If you ever see your other dead lover again, ask him to tell his son Connor I said hello."
"Angel never had a son," Buffy thought. Then she remembered the weird dream she'd had after defeating Adam when the First Slayer had said, "No friends, no family." Her friends and family had given her strength. But she had still died. She needed more. More than the Potentials. More than the Scythe. She needed a better army.
Spike mumbled, "I'm drowning in footwear!" and sat up on the cot with a start. Buffy looked at him and thought, "He's dreaming about St. Hubbins, the patron saint of quality footwear again." The First disappeared.
"Buffy? Is something wrong?" Spike asked.
"No. Yeah. I just realized something. Something that really never occurred to me before. We're gonna win." With the idea behind those words, the world had changed-again.