Episode 8:

'And then a hero comes along

With the strength to carry on

And you cast your fears aside

And you know you can survive

So when you feel like hope is gone

Look inside you and be strong

And you'll finally see the truth

That a hero lies in you'

- 'Hero', by Mariah Carey -

An unusual silence had fallen over Revello Drive. The Potentials were all upstairs, doing only God knew what, and Buffy's friends were at the dining room. As for Buffy, she'd gone sanctuary hunting with her brand-new axe. Faith was still in the Slayer's bedroom, getting some rest, while Spike was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably gone outside. Sometimes, staying inside the house could prove to be too much.

Darla headed to the kitchen, in desperate need of a mug of coffee. One of the worst things to live in a phantom town was that there was no Starbucks.

When she entered the kitchen, she saw that the former LA gang – except for Lorne – was already there. She froze at the doorframe, and they fell silent as soon as they saw her. Holding her head high, she walked towards the coffee machine, poured some black liquid in a mug, and turn around to leave.

'Y-You don't have to leave i-if you don't want to', Fred's stuttering voice came from behind her. Surprised, Darla turned to face her. So did Gunn and Wesley. Fred, shifting uncomfortably now she had all eyes fixed on her, added. 'I mean, you're one of us now, aren't you?'

Darla stared at her, temporary speechless, something that didn't use to happen to her a lot back in the day. Finally she found her voice, and managed to mutter a 'thanks, Fred', as she took a seat. Fred gave her a shy smile, and turned to watch Gunn, who resumed the polishing of an axe. Wesley, on the other hand, buried himself in a large pile of dusty books. She studied the covers, some of them in Latin or Greek, some in languages she'd never heard of before.

'Researching about the medallion?'

Wesley looked up, mildly surprised. 'Oh, yes. It can turn out to be a great source of help for us, if we use it well.'

'But will it be enough to defeat The First?'

Everyone turned to face Fred yet again. Wesley seemed to ponder the question.

'Well...no', he admitted, 'but don't worry, Winnifred. Buffy'll come out with something. She's done this before'.

Fred tried to look reassured. 'Sure she will. I mean, she's the Slayer. Never been defeated and all'.

''Cept when she snuffed it', Gunn muttered. Fred's eyes widened and she turned to face Wesley, suddenly not looking so calm.

'Is that true? Was she defeated before?'

This time wasn't Wesley who answered, but Darla.

'Death doesn't necessarily equal defeat.'

Wesley looked at her, thoughtfully. Fred seemed to reflect on her words.

'Well, I guess in some cases it doesn't. But it's not very comforting, is it? I mean, sure, the most important thing here is to save the world and all, but I'd prefer to do that and live to tell the tale, you know. Sorry', she added, seeing the looks on their faces. 'It's just that I'm nervous, you know. Sounds silly, but it's kinda my first Apocalypsys. I've never seen something like this before.'

She let out a nervous, humorless chuckle. 'I suppose you don't have that problem, do you?', she asked Darla, who winced.

How could she explain to this girl – not a girl anymore really, but they all looked so young in her eyes – the terror she felt, not for her life, but for her child's? How could she explain to Fred that she'd never been this scared in four centuries in spite of all the horrors she'd faced?

'It's true that this is not the first Apocalypsys I face', Darla said slowly, 'but it's the first time I have something I care for. Something I could lose. And that thought terrifies me more than a dozen deaths'.

Silence fell upon them after Darla's words. Fred looked a little taken aback; Gunn had put aside his axe to stare at her and Wesley was pensive again, a shadow in his blue eyes. In that moment, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway, they saw a radiant Anya. They all exchanged shocked looks. There weren't many reasons to feel happy lately around here.

'Buffy's finished that Caleb jerk off. Split the basrtard in two'. She grinned as she walked towards the fridge, grabbed another pack of ice (hadn't she already taken one for Xander?) and left. It took them a few moments to react.

'Caleb's gone?', Fred whispered, a look of awe on her face. Gunn smiled at her.

'C'mon, babe. This's a tale I wanna hear firs' hand'.

He took her hand and they both exited the kitchen, nearly running. Darla kept staring at the door, a wave of relief washing over her. Caleb was gone. The Slayer had killed him. She had killed The First's very right hand. That meant they still had a chance, didn't it?

She heard Wesley shifting on his seat, and waited for him to speak first. She didn't have to wait long.

'Darla'. She turned to face him. It was one of those rare times he looked at her in the eye. 'You know he's in a safe place. We made sure of that'.

Darla nodded. She'd expected no less. That didn't mean, though, that she'd stop having those dreadful nightmares in which she saw her son dead, not until The First was defeated at last.

Wesley seemed to be facing some kind of inner struggle. Finally, he took a gulp of air and stated:

'When all this is over, given all you've done, I thought that maybe you...'

Willow poped her head into the kitchen.

'Wes, Buffy wanna see you. She wants to hear how that amulet works'.

He glanced briefly at Darla, who nodded. There would be plenty of time to have this conversation later. And if there wasn't a later...

Well, then it didn't matter much what Wesley could say, did it?

As she sat down on the bed, a distinct smell filled her nostrils. Raising an eyebrow, she shot Spike a quizzical look. He snorted.

'Not what y'think, luv. There's been none of that in a long while'. He shrugged. 'S'pose she needed somewhere to crash, as Wild One's still in her bedroom'.

Darla would have liked to say that Spike didn't have to explain anything to her, really; it was nothing of her damned business. She didn't, though. Instead, she reflected about the Slayer's and Spike's troubled relationship. Were they ever going to sort it out? Darla hoped they did before The First came to pick them one by one. But, as she saw Spike's somber look, she decided not to hold her hopes very high.

There was a reason, though, she'd came downstairs, and it wasn't to figure out Spike's complicated love life. A major Scoobie meeting was taking place at Buffy's bedroom as they spoke. She hadn't been invited, of course (the only non-Scoobies invited were Faith and Wesley), but to her surprise Spike wasn't up there either. When had he fallen from grace?

As she was trying to figure out how to ask that politely, Spike commented:

'Big stuff's going on, luv'.

Darla straightened up. 'You know about that?'

Spike raised an eyebrow. ''Course. Buffy filled me in last night'.

She would have liked to slap herself for her stupidity. How hadn't she figured that one out?

'Don't worry, she gonna fill everyone else in soon. Could give you the heads up, though. If you want'.

Darla glared at him, feeling a sudden urge to smack him. Of course she wanted to know what was going on!

'Spill the beans, Spike'.

He smirked, and she could see his delight at knowing something she didn't – their old rivalry wasn't completely gone yet – but soon his look became serious.

'First was here las' night'.

Darla's eyes widened slightly. The First had showed to her only once, in the form of Daniel Holtz, but it had been an experience she wasn't likely to forget anytime soon.

Without any more pauses, Spike proceeded to tell her the Slayer's conversation with The First, and then, to explain her audacious plan. Darla's face clearly showed the wide rage of emotions that overcame her as Spike's words sank in: curiosity, shock, disbelief and, finally, awe.

'An army of Slayers? That is... incredibly bright'.

Spike frowned. 'Implyin' Buffy's not bright?'

Darla rolled her eyes.

'Sorry if it ruins your image of me, but the truth is this Slayer never came across me as a particularly bright person. I'm glad to say I was wrong'.

He had what Darla soon identified as a love sick look on his face, alike the one he used to have whenever Drusilla was around. It was a terrifying deja vu.

'She's not bright. She's effulgent.'

At Darla's clearly revolted look, Spike burst into laughing.

'So here's the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power… now?'

Darla's gaze scrutinized the faces of the girls surrounding her as Buffy spoke. There was doubt, and fear, and distrust on those faces. This was going to be hard, even for the invincible Slayer.

But at least she'd caught their attention. Now the Potentials, after exchanging questioning looks, had their eyes fixed on Buffy. She noticed it too, and used it to her advantage.

'So I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power.'

The looks on their face show surprise, curiosity...and could it be the faintest hint of hope, or is Darla seeing too much?

'From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer.'

Darla exchanged a look with Faith, and saw the expectation and the excitation in her eyes. She was doing it. Buffy was getting to them.

'Every girl who could have the power, will have the power.'

Excitation shone in the girls' eyes too, as soon as they realised, one by one, what Buffy's words meant. And Darla saw something else in her eyes, something she'd never seen since she'd arrived at Revello Drive.

Hope. And that hope would save them all.

'Slayers… every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?'

At the end of Buffy's speech, it was no longer hope what shone in the girls' eyes.

It was resolve. For the first time, the girls didn't hope they'd win...they knew they would.

The sensation was contagious. Darla felt it in waves. As she saw the girls cheering and clapping, she realised the hardest part of Buffy's plan had already been put in motion.

The First had never stood a chance.

In spite of her earlier feelings, when Darla followed Buffy and the others through the open seal, she felt her confidence, if not fading, at least wavering a little.

After the civilians had set off to their respective spots, in smaller teams (Willow and Kennedy to the Principal's office; Xander, Dawn and Wesley; Anya, Andrew, Fred and Lorne – who now regretted having returned from his short exile in Las Vegas; Giles, Wood and Gunn), they headed to the basement. Darla could see the anxiety in every face, she could feel the waves of apprehension coming from the girls, hear their hearts pounding in their chests. When they performed the blood ritual, many of the young hands shaked, and it was in that moment when the first doubt popped into her mind. These were just girls. Most of them hadn't seen a vampire before they got to Sunnydale. They were young, and unexperienced, and scared. They weren't an army...but they were going to face horrors that even the toughest vampires dreaded. Had the Slayer gone mental? How could she think that these bunch of schoolgirls could save the world?

She wiped those thoughts from her mind. She followed Spike and the others down to the antechamber of hell, a mask of cool resolve on her face. If they had to inspire courage on those girls, she wouldn't be the one to show panic.

When she walked to the edge of the endless, darkening pit, though, her mask wavered a little. The scene below reminded her a little too much of Tolkien's descriptions of Mordor and Sauron's demoniacal servants. Except these were for real. To her horror, she saw many – far too many – Turok-hans. A whole legion of them.

As an ancient vampire, Darla had been taught to fear the mythical Turok-hans more than sunlight and God himself. Even The Master, who'd once faced a couple of them on his own, was terrified at the mention of the name. It was something beyond rationality or reason. Vampires just ran away from the powerful Turok-hans, the same way they ran away from sunrise.

No reason to fret, girl. Buffy dusted one of them on her own. And a bunch of these frightened girls did the same. You have lived four hundred years. You are tougher than this.

Then, a hideous realisation hit her with the strength of a blow, and she let out a low, hysterical laughter. Faith turned to glance at her, a questioning look in her eyes.

'It's just I've remembered a little detail', she said, still letting out hysterical chuckles. 'See, I'm a lousy fighter. I've always preferred making somebody fight for me'.

Faith raised her eyebrows and took a look around, at the frightened faces surrounding them.

'Well, you ain't getting none of that here. But', she added, giving her a friendly pat on her arm, 'don't worry, Thelma. Superpowers, remember?'

Before Darla could answer, Buffy's voice reached their ears:

'I'm not worried. As long as Willow can work her spell before they –'

Far below, the Turok-han army went silent as they all turned as one and looked up, directly at Buffy and the potentials.

'– see us.'

The Slayer's confident facade seemed to waver when the horde of raging Turok-han charged against them, raising their weapons and showing their large, unnatural teeth...

And then, the miracle happened.

Punch, swing, slash, swirl, kick, duck, punch again. The basics, which Darla had been taught by The Master himself four centuries ago, were still there. She moved with grace, finishing her opponents one by one, and swiling round to face the next one. She didn't fight with the cool precision of Buffy, neither with Faith's and Spike's passion or the Potentials' – no, not Potentials: new Slayers – excitement, but everyone of her blows hit home, and her sword swung in the air, beheading the demons one by one.

One of the girls let out a cry of pain, and Darla swirled round. A Turok-han had cornered a black girl, and hit her already broken arm, making her to drop her weapon. Darla launched herself forward, her sword high, and in one smooth movement the blade had gone through the demon's neck.

'Thanks', the girl mumbled, a look of temporary relief on her face as she picked up her weapon. Darla gave her a smile and turned around, only to see one of the girls dropped dead at her feet.

The shock of seeing life abruptly leaving the familiar features paralysed her a second... but a seond was more than enough in the raging battle: she felt a burning pain on her arm, and soon blood stained her sleeve and red drops tainted the floor. Without hesitation, she swirled and kicked her opponent, which only slowed it a bit before the demon attacked her again. But this time she was ready, and the struggle didn't last long.

Before she realised it, the number of enemies had decreased considerably. In other words, they were winning. Darla took only an instant to watch it all: The black girl she'd saved before, slashed a vampire with the scythe and tossed it back to Buffy, who whipped it a round in a semicircle arc, decpitating half a dozen Turok-hans, and throwing several others over the precipice. A red-haired Potential thrust her stake into one of the vampires' abdomen, piroutted and before the explosion of dust took place, she brought her stake down another vampire's neck. Willow's girlfriend kicked one of them and sent it reeling, then launched forward and decapitated other with her sword. Faith was fighting with all her fierceness, and Spike...

Oh, no, no.

'Spike!', she cried out, and ran towards him, ducking an instant to avoid a blow. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of Buffy turning around, a shocked expression forming on her face. Darla slashed her opponent with one quick jab, and launched forward. Buffy, who had broken into a desperate race, got there first.

'Spike! What's going...?'

There was no need to end the question: The amulet hanging from Spike's neck had turned blindingly white, and a bolt of light elevated from his chest and into the ceiling. Before Buffy's and Darla's startled eyes, Spike was surrounded by a glowing ring of orange light, and after a few seconds he began to glow, too. As if he were burning from the inside out.

As they watched, unable to move, the medallion burst into life, flaming. Pure solar energy radiated from it, setting the closest Turok-hans on fire, and Darla had to jump backwards and cover her eyes.

The ground shaked under her feet, nearly making her to fall. She leaned against a wall, then jumped when she felt it trembling too. She heard the remaining vampires screaming in agony as the flames annihilated them, and then the sound of crashing covered every other sound. She looked up, and saw chunks of the ceiling falling to the ground. She jumped aside just in time to avoid a rock, which crashed right in the spot she'd been standing.

She glimpsed Faith, gesturing the girls to get out, and saw her running to the stairs. Then, for a moment, the vision was blurred by a cloud of dust and Darla saw nothing.

'Spike! Buffy! We gotta get out, now!'

They didn't seem to listen, though. Buffy had grabbed Spike's hand, and for a moment they seemed pretty unaware of the world collapsing around them. Even from the distance and the crashing around them, their voices reached her:

'Go on, then'.

'No, you've done enough! Tou could still –'

'No, you've beaten them back. It's for me to do the cleanup.'

She heard Faith calling after them one last time, Darla turned a second and saw her cast one last desperate look at them, and then turning around and racing up the staricase. Darla turned and looked again at Spike, who was now glowing in a blinding, flaming light.

Oh, no. He can't be this moronic.

She strided towards the circle of light, covering her eyes with her sane arm. She had to jump aside every now and then to avoid the falling chunks of the roof, and only her supernatural balance prevented her from tripping over with the ground shaking furiously beneath her.

In few seconds, she was standing right in front of Spike. The light was burning her eyes, and she could feel the flaming warmth on her skin, but the didn't back.

'Cut the crap, Spike. Pryce made clear enough you hadn't to turn into an unliving pire'.

Still covering her eyes, she stretched out her other arm, and a pang of pain ran through it as she realised it was the injured one. She didn't hesitate, though. Her arm entered the circle of light, and her fingers closed arounf the blazing medallion. She could feel it burning down her skin, she could feel it crack and peel, but she didn't let it go. At Spike's shocked face, she tore the chain, swirled around and threw the amulet down to the precipice.

She finally let out a cry of pain as her now half-burnt arm fell, useless, to her side, and she felt Spike collapsing next to her. The amulet exploded in midair, its bolting light blinding them for an instant. Buffy was the first to react.

'Quick!'

She bent and put an arm around the now unconscious Spike, pulling him up.

'Darla! Help!'

She blinked, trying to regain what was left of her eyesight. She stretched her sane arm (she wouldn't have been able to move the injured one even though she'd wished to) and surrounded Spike's waist.

Trying to run as fast as they could, and nearly stumbling down with every step they took, they rushed to the stairs, as the walls collapsed around them, burying them in explosions of dust.

Buffy and Darla dragged Spike all the way upstairs, and then they broke into a run as soon as they reached the hallway. They had to jump over piles of corpses – Darla incoherently prayed so they would be all demoniac – and carry Spike, but adrenaline was running through their veins, so they launched themselves forwards, with only one thought in their minds: to get out.

The noise of crashing and breaking seemed to deafen even their thoughts, and their nostrils and mouths were filled with dust. Half of the ceiling had already fallen around them, the walls were stumbling down, and the very ground under their feet seemed to be about to disappear, as a supernatural, bursting force seemed to shake the world around them.

When they were reaching the front door, an explosion took place right behind them, throwing them out of the building. The sky was temporary obscured by dust, clouding the rays of sunlight. This was fortunate: if it hadn't been for it, Darla and Spike would have never made it. They still had great chances of not making it, specially if they didn't move fast.

Darla pulled herself to her feet, and grabbed Spike by the arm. Buffy did the same, as her eyes, like Darla's, went to the back of the yellow bus, that was already too far away from them. A knot formed in Darla's throat. It couldn't be. Not after all they had gone through...

'The car!', Buffy shouted, pointing at it. She turned to face Darla. 'Can you start it without the keys?'

Darla would have like to raise her eyebrows sarcastically (how did the Slayer thought she and Spike had borrowed the car used to free Faith?) but she had no time to waste. She nodded, and they both ran to the car, dragging Spike's immobile body.

Buffy grabbed the door and broke it, sending it flying. She jumped into the car, as Darla threw Spike to the back seat. She got inside, too, but kneeled to reach the cables she needed.

The engine didn't seem to be willing to start. Only God knew how long it had been parked – abandoned, more likely – in front of the school. Hell, probably that was the reason it had been left behind: the fucking car didn't work anymore. That was incredibly funny: they had survived Caleb, The First, a legion of Turok-hans, a collapsing school (besides the thee times she'd already died)...and they got to die in a broken car. It was damned amusing.

A familiar, beatific roaring sound was heard, as the engine finally burst into life.

'Drive!'

Buffy blinked, and it was the first time Darla saw her on the edge of hysteria.

'I don't drive!'

Darla, still on the car's floor, carefully avoiding the rays of light, stared at her blankly. Okay, this was even more amusing than she'd first thought.

'I'll take care of the pedals, just handle the wheel'.

Darla pushed the accelerator as hard as she could, and the car raced forward, drivling. Buffy let out ocassional yelps when they were too close to hit something, then she would spun the wheel and narrowly miss the obstacle. Darla, though, didn't slowed down. The damned city was collapsing under them, and like hell she would stay around long enough to end up in the damned hellmouth's crater. Her old instinct of survival had awakened, after it had seemed to abandon her. For the first time since she'd accepted to join the mad Spike and all the other equally mental army of white hats, she'd dared to think about what could come after this was over, and Wesley's words had drawn a picture where she and Connor could be together... Like hell she was going to lose it all.

Although Darla, who had her head between Buffy's feet, couldn't see it, they were finally catching up with the yellow bus. None of them – after all, Buffy's eyes were glued to the road ahead – saw one of the former Potentials flinch and point at the window, neither did they see Dawn throwing herself to the window and hitting it with her hands, or Buffy's friends popping out behind her. Perhaps it was lucky they didn't, because it was vital for them that Buffy didn't get distracted: Darla wouldn't release the pedal a mere inch, and the unexperienced Slayer was having a hell of trouble to keep the car going straight.

When the bus stopped in front of them, though, Buffy was forced to take notice. It was already too late to let go the pedal, so she turned the wheel as much as she could, which nearly made the car to cartwheel. It whirled 180°, as Buffy hit her head with the glass and Darla hit hers against the floor, so hard that she nearly fell unconscious.

'Buffy! Buffy!'

Dawn's cry pierced their ears, as the door next to the Slayer broke open – Darla hid her face to avoid the sun – and Xander's arms pulled Buffy out of the car. Darla caught a glimpse of Buffy being surrounded by her friends, before they walked away. Her muscles relaxed. It was over.

Spike stirred and opened an eye. He blinked before he realised where he was, and fixed his haunted gaze on her.

'We did it?'

Darla forced a smile.

'No, Spike. You did it'.

A poor imitation of a grin curved his lips, and suddenly Darla found herself laughing.

It was over. The First Evil, and all it involved, had been destroyed. The Hellmouth had been erased from earth. They had won.

At last, they were free.

Imzadi: Here comes AI to save the day! Well, sort of. As you can see, Willow and Spike did most of the saving thing. I expect you didn't have trouble in this chapter although you didn't see 'Chosen', I tried to make a recap of the episode, with all the necessary changes, of course. I'm glad you liked the Faith/Darla/Spike bit, as I enjoyed writing it. Keep up reading: next episode, Darla tries to get a normal life...as normal as it can get for a four hundred-year-old single mother.