It was all an act. Come to think of it, that was a good metaphor for her life these days.

She danced and she gyrated and she chanted and she sang. She'd even tried her hand at writing a song, halfway expecting it to be a wash. Something about the new age coming and being filled with so much power she wanted to just explode, which was really truly how she felt. Only she was doing her damnedest to hold it in. Sometimes when she slept, hoping for the dreams to tell her something useful, she woke up shimmering with green fire. Buffy had meant to go out with a bang. Now it was starting to look as if she'd end the world with one.

Aphrodisia came down and Buffy flipped her into the air again. This was all based on cheerleading, but she'd taken the routine beyond what any human-any normal human; had to remember that part-could aspire to. She was literally juggling her entourage. They weren't being passive about it, of course; she'd gotten some marottes to rig up trapezes on the ceiling, so that they could swing around and do flips in midair. Larimar hurtled down at an angle, and Buffy caught her hands, spun her around, and flung her up to be caught by Marzi.

At least three dozen Third-Circle demons were in the audience, and every one of them but Ligier was applauding, a raucous echo of sound and essence that thrummed inside her skull. Some of Ligier's souls were whooping it up, too, especially a bronzy-skinned fellow in a suit, but the rest and Ligier were sitting there, hands folded, looking cranky and stuffily royal. Apparently that was just how he was.

"-checking out on the prison bus. This is it, the apocalypse, whoa-oa-" She knew this was just the beginning of the night, the least important part, but it all fit into her plans. She was getting better at strategizing and scheming. You couldn't hope to avoid that when you were aiming to betray a half-dozen superdemons who were counting on you to break them out of hell. "-I'm radioactive, radioactive!"

The angyalkae looked startled when she came swooping down and added them to the acrobatics. They spun through the air, fingers screaming notes that should have been dissonant but fit perfectly with the music and the act as a whole. She hadn't told them they were part of her plans for anythimg but the music. She didn't try the same with the gilmyne, though it might have been spectacular. She wasn't sure they were solid enough.

By the time she was done, several of the Unquestionable-that was Erembour! damn it please don't look at me-were dancing and cheering with her in the aisles-which was probably the best endorsement she could hope for short of the Brass Dancer himself dropping by. Which would carry its own set of problems, of course. Just meeting Erembour the first time had left her weak in the knees.

The audience roared at the top of their lungs, and if this hadn't been the third encore she was sure they'd have demanded another. She'd arranged it to avoid getting winded, but jesus was she tired! Instead she made for the seats and started shaking hands. With demon lords. With the freaking Unquestionable. Damn, but she needed a drink. Which would only lead to more badness and she wasn't going to do it. No getting drunk around these...guys...these things! It would only worsen her wiggins.

"My apologies," Ligier said. Ligier! Apologizing! Not very sincerely, but even him using the expression was shocking. Ligier did not apologize; he demanded that you apologize and appreciate being allowed to. "I did not come to put a wet blanket on the performance. My Indulgent Soul begged it of me. I do not let him out much. I acknowledge your vast technical skill."

Buffy bowed deeply, seething. And trying not to grin. He did not need to see her do that. Cyan had finally explained some things to her. "This is your Indulgent Soul?" She glanced at the fellow who'd begun dancing first. He had flair, she admitted to herself. "I know you're not big on letting him go all footloose, but I have a big job I could use his help with."

Ligier frowned. "We have much to discuss tonight about your next assignment. Are you certain you want him?"

"I'm pretty sure I have some good guesses about what you want next. He'll come in handy if any of them are right." And even if they were all wrong, but not for the reasons the demon lords thought. She hoped.

"Very well. You will be dining with my guests and I tonight, Buffy Summers. We will speak further in a short while." Perfect so far. He extended an arm. "Attend me."

Sure, he was a demon. She didn't feel any less excited for that. He was literally the most enthralling thing in miles.

And after all, she had a plan.

Chapter 22-Enough to Make My Systems Blow

She was at the kind of table Bruce Wayne used for parties in the movies, when he had parties at all. More than that, she was seated on Ligier's left, just below the head of the table. She knew it was an empty gesture, meant to make her feel honored without giving her anything substantial.

Buffy didn't care. She knew what he was up to. She knew what she was up to too. They just happened to coincide for a little while. And in spite of herself, in spite of knowing just how little it meant, she did feel honored.

A demure-looking demoness opened a small bottle and handed it to Ligier. "We are gathered here tonight," he intoned, "to celebrate the accomplishments of Buffy Summers. I admit her nearly bloodless takeover of Gem was not as most of us would have done. Nonetheless it was effective and highly efficient. She has turned its populace to the labor of manufacturing the tools and weapons we will need to invade Creation, and her religious-freedom edicts combined with her beneficence have magnified the worship of the Yozis there by four thousand percent!" That wasn't as impressive a figure as it sounded like; Yozi worship wasn't too common most places. But if there'd been only one Yozi woeshipper in Gem before there would be forty now. There had been far more than that. Buffy felt queasy. But it had had to be done. Some of them worshipped her too. She could feel it.

"Buffy's exemplary performance has earned her complete immunity from the suspicion recently fallen on Kimbery's Chosen." She knew better than that-but it was close to the truth, anyway. "The Yozis are still trying to determine what happened, but this Slayer soldiers on in spite of her troubling Urge. In her honor, I offer her the best drink we can produce. To Buffy Summers!" With a grand gesture, he emptied the bottle into Buffy's cup. Everyone else at the table stared enviously at the drink, which sloshed of its own accord and sang with a whispery, throbbing song. "And to Tirapheth," he added sardonically, "Wisdom Soul of Madelrada. Drink!"

Everyone raised their glasses, which contained drinks that resembled hers but from the look of it were beer compared to her champagne. She took a deep breath. "Bottoms up!" Buffy downed the stuff in one gulp. Visions hurtled through her skull-bloody battles, bizarre court intrigues, kinky sexual escapades. Or maybe those were kinky battles and bloody sexual escapades. The swirling images receded, leaving her feeling as if she'd taken about five shots of whiskey before coming here, or maybe twenty after. She swayed in her seat.

"Buffy Summers, I regret that I must tell you the assault on Gethamane has failed. We have not yet determined what destroyed the weapon Vermeth planted in the tunnels, in part because his Exaltation has also returned to us. An attempt on Halta is scheduled in three days, but Mnemon seems to be using powerful magicks to speed her army on. If nothing diverts her, she will reach Gem within the month." Ligier muttered something under his breath before continuing, and in spite of herself Buffy breathed a sigh of relief that she sasn't the one upsetting him. "Gem is currently our only beachhead. You must hold at all costs. We will divert any resources you require to that end."

Buffy hoped her eyes were suitably wide. Mnemon was bad news. This was better than she could have hoped for. "I've got battle plans all drawn up. You'll have my requisitions in the morning." She wouldn't sleep tonight. Not because she hadn't already finished her shopping list, but because she couldn't see the future here, for whatever reason.

"With respect," Cearr growled disrespectfully from a few seats down, "I saw those plans. You're preparing for a siege. You can't hold Gem in a siege. You'll starve out in days no matter how defensible the walls are."

"Oh no," Buffy snarked, "Mnemon will have me pinned in the city like a bird in a cage. Whatever shall I do?" She dropped the sarcasm. Mostly. "You're going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing, Cearr. I don't do orthodox. Ligier...um, my lord...with respect, this is perfect for the request I made of you earlier."

Ligier raised an eyebrow but, thankfully, failed to comment on her tone. "You must be certain. His power travels along lines of emotion. Normally that confines it to a single town, but you have relationships across Creation. You're sure he won't put our other plans at risk?"

"Guaranteed." Ligier nodded. Damn, she was getting good at lying if she had the tiniest chance of fooling him!

"And you're ready to pay the other price?"

"Ready and eager." No need to lie there. Mislead, but not lie. She was glad he didn't affect her the way he affected most people. Must be an Exalted thing. She didn't want to upset him.

"Very well. I have an amulet that can summon him." Ligier made the sourest face she'd ever seen a demon make. "Sweet will be glad of the excursion. Just don't let on he's one of mine."

"You've got a deal."

"I thought you were gone." Here she was in her bedchamber, not sleepy but definitely tired, so of course Angel would turn up now.

"I decided it wasn't a good idea to leave you here alone." He looked a little off. Probably he wasn't eating well. When did he ever? "Maybe I can stop you from making the same mistakes over and over again."

Buffy shrugged casually. "Could be."

Make him squeal! Isn't he delightful? God, not this again.

If we do anything together he'll lose his soul. Then nothing I do will hurt him.

Angel, oblivious to the fight going on inside her, just shrugged back. "I know you, Buffy. You're the strongest person I've ever met. You don't want to serve the Old Ones, so why are you doing this?"

"Do you want to stay here for the rest of your immortal life, Angel?" She strolled over to the bed and sat down. "I want to go home and leave the Yozis scratching their head-analogues and wondering where their prophecy went. But to do that I have to figure out how to get back. You said Fred and Dawn both failed at opening a portal after you found me."

"I don't know if it's like in Pylea," he explained. "It could be something else entirely. Fred worked out the proper mystical phrases, but they didn't do anything that we could see."

Come on to him. Make him worry. Tempt him. Do something! The thing in her head was growing more vocal. This seemed like a bad episode starting.

"It might only work in the Wyld," she suggested. "Cyan and I were tossing ideas around becore you showed up."

"You didn't show up there."

"None of you guys showed up in Pylea where you could make portals home either. But there has to be somewhere. In the meantime I don't have any choices but play along or get eaten."

Angel sagged down onto the bed next to her. "Buffy, at some point you have to face up to the possibility that none of us are going home."

"And then what? Throw myself into some suicidal charge at the bad guys? Settle down and just do what they want?" She got up on her knees so she could look him in the eyes. "It took the entire Exalted host to beat these guys the first time around, because they're all working together. There's no monster of the week here. They squabble and they complain, but they're clear on one thing: they all want out. Somehow, I have to get the band back together. Even if Paul is dead and everyone's still fighting over Yoko Ono."

"Actually, the dead guy was Ringo. Don't ask who thought it was a good idea to turn him." Buffy attempted a death glare. "No joke. It doesn't matter. What makes you think you have a chance at that? Buffy, you're the bad guy here. No one's going to listen to you."

Liar! Hurt him for it!

"Stop it! Stop it! Just shut up already!" Angel stared at her. "Sorry. Not you. The demon in my head." He opened his mouth. "It's always been there, Angel. It's the reason the Slayer is what she is. It's why the First Slayer was crazy. I'm starting to think I'm going crazy. I have to get home, Angel."

Not bad. Try that more.

"I don't understand, Buffy. You're going to have to explain." Angel looked strange huddling up into a ball.

"I don't know how it started exactly. But Infernals, Slayers included, have a demon inside them. It's like a nice slimy gift wrap for the Exaltation." She tried to open up her posture a little. He did deserve an explanation. "I don't know if we were all the original Watchers could get, or if it was their twisted sense of humor, but I think...I...Angel, it was a vendetta. Or it turned into one a long time ago. There are a lot of evil demons. But the idea that they're all evil? It was made up by a bunch of tribal elders or something for the same reason it always is: so that I don't stop. So that I don't negotiate. So that I kill them all."

Angel looked her in the eye. "So that you can't be bargained with? Can't be reasoned with?"

Buffy managed a weak smile. "Something like that. Only I'm stuck. Is this new and improved self-understanding just my skeezy demon part, or old selfish valley me, looking for a new reason to cop out? Or am I really the tool of genocidal assholes from the town of Bedrock? I don't even know who or what I am any more. I still want to be a hero, but how?"

"I know the feeling. You can't give up, Buffy." Angel's fingers slipped into her hair. "You can be a hero. Even with a demon inside you."

"That's the part you aren't getting, Angel. I'm trying. But that means...it means no more crush, kill, destroy. Not even to demons. And it means that if I can kill the bad guys..." The breath felt like the deepest she'd ever taken. "...then I've got to be willing to kill bad people. Demon or human. And I don't know that I can trust myself to do that."

"You killed the Despot." Not a judgment. Just a statement.

"Yeah. It shook me up. And then I remembered how I felt when my first vampire turned to dust underneath me. It felt the same, Angel. It felt the same." Buffy put a hand to each temple. "Right now the demon in my head is telling me I shouldn't...feel pity or remorse or fear. Just slay, and make it hurt as much as I can on the way to that. You too. And Spike. The girls too."

"Even its own kind?"

"Don't be stupid, Angel. I know you were killing your own kind long before you had a soul. No different from the rest of us, I guess." She tried to sit up straighter. "I guess in a way coming here did me a favor. Just not the comfy kind."

Angel slumped in response. "You know, I hadn't been in LA a year before I killed some woman's champion. A Prio Motu demon. I just jumped in and tore him to pieces. Because, you know, they're all violent, evil...um...irredeemable monsters. You know the type."

"Yeah. I know the type. Somebody ensoul him?"

"Just Buddhist, I think. Stabbed first. Didn't get to ask questions later."

The hell with it. Go on. Be nice.

Buffy sat bolt upright. "Well, that can't be good. He shut up and left."

"He can do that?"

"I'm sure he's not really gone." She glanced around the room as if she might find him hiding in a corner. "He's my handler, after all. For lack of a better. And I doubt it'll let me get away with an attitude adjustment for long. I've got a plan started to deal with that, but...only just. Not really ready for this conversation."

"Sorry."

Buffy sagged. "Don't be. It's been six thousand years coming."

"Morning, sleepyheads." Buffy waved as Spike and Angel entered the dining room. "I've already had a conversation with the nobles about some new arrangements."

Spike swung around into a seat. "Go well? Not at my best before sundown."

"If not killing them is going well, sure." She lifted the lid. "Roast boar. Yum."

"Hope they saved us some blood." Spike looked around at the various trays.

"On special order," Buffy said. "Give it a minute."

"Feeling any better?" Angel peered under a lid.

"Not really. Thanks for asking." A pair of waiters strolled in carrying goblets. Spike sniffed and half-stood. "Manners, Spike. Nobody eats before the Despot, remember?"

"I remember. Good way to start a revolution, Slayer." The black-haired waiter deposited a goblet in front of him. "High-quality stuff for animal blood. Not sure what's in it though."

The brown-haired waiter went to Angel, of course. "Here you are, sir." Waitress, actually. Why did she have on such a tight, binding shirt? She handed Angel his goblet and left with the other.

Buffy began to carve up her roast, which had come complete with apple. "At least I've got time to think all this stuff through while I wait for Mnemon to show up."

"What stuff, Slayer?"

Angel glanced at her briefly. "Moral crisis. Something you wouldn't understand."

"Angel," Buffy said warningly. "Let's try and not resemble that remark."

Angel took a big swallow from his goblet. "I didn't mean demons in general. Just Spike." Spike rolled his eyes.

"He's making progress," Buffy began, "and as far as stalking, you..." Angel's hands were shaking. Only slightly at first, but the tremor rapidly grew violent. "Spike? Damn it!" Spike was having a seizure of his own. Both vampires collapsed face down on the table.

Buffy almost dropped her fork onto the table, then thought better of it. "I know you're there. I've fought invisible people bef-" A blade slid into her back, complete with blinding pain.

"Then you should know better than to waste time talking to them." The blade slipped out again with a trickle of blood.

"And you should know," Buffy said, twisting around, "that just because you put a knife in my back doesn't mean I'm hurt." Her foot flew up and connected with something. A head maybe. She swung on around, brought up the other leg, kicked again in the same spot. Some kind of armor, though.

Tarnish began spreading across her body just as one of the waiters reappeared from the kitchen, a pair of shortswords in his hand, each flickering with deathly green flame. Lure them away from the vampires? No, they might just kill them before coming after her. But she needed the Scythe. She couldn't afford to hold back. They were probably good guys. Hopefully they had the sense not to fight to the death.

That was assuming she could beat them. Buffy charged at the newcomer and, at the last moment, dodged up onto the wall. Her open palm slammed into his nose, snapping his head back. She continued on through the door he'd come through. Her weapon was a few twists away through the hall. She'd be-

A low vibration made her brace herself just before a godawful bonewrenching shriek tore into the hall, shattering dishes and twisting cutlery. Just the sheer energy of it ripped molten sparks from her just-formed second skin. That second waiter wasn't playing around. Buffy kicked her in passing, hoping to goad her into following.

Up some stairs and to the right. Left again. Three invisible blows hurtled at her and spanged from her armor. Scythe. She had it.

Words came from nowhere in a language Buffy didn't recognize at all. Damn it, she'd gotten used to everyone using Riverspeak or Low Realm. Whatever had given her those seemed to have swapped them for English and given up. Butch lady waiter shouted back in the same gibberish.

Well, that put her at a disadvantage. Hopefully they'd understand her puns. Creepy pale waiter came charging up the stairs, blades raised, and slashed at her. The Scythe's haft blocked both cuts.

Now that was unmistakably a curse. Invisible guy flickered in and out as he spun in the air above her, blades slicing down in a flurry of attacks that she had to let her armor block. A red symbol flared through his mask.

"Of course. In a suit like that, how will anyone know you're a guy unless you advertise?" Where were her bodyguards? Already taken out? Falling into a rhythm with butch diva, she backed her way out of the room toward the dining hall. Angel and Spike were still just out cold.

This wasn't working. She seemed to be wearing them down slowly, but slowly was the key word. She was striking glancing blows or none at all. On the other hand, they hadn't done her much harm either and already seemed to be burning through their energy. The butch lady, amusingly, had the "woman" symbol shining on her forehead. Running through her mental list, Buffy concluded that these must be Sidereals. They couldn't be anything else. They had probably expected the invisible one to hurt her a lot more, or maybe the pig she hadn't gotten a bite of was poisoned too. They were at least matching her acrobatic leaps fairly well. She somersaulted over the table to evade pale and creepy and nearly collided with invisible boy. He was still awfully hard to keep track of. Buffy slammed him in the face with the Scythe's shaft, knocking him down.

She needed to do more than hold them off. What she needed was to intimidate them, to scare them away until she had more defenses in place. Of course, they would come back in greater force later, but she would be ready for them. Buffy took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

The big lady charged for her at once, of course. Buffy let her pound that silvery mace down on her shoulders. She barely noticed the blow. Buffy was swelling up with muscle, hunched over but still a head taller than normal. Bulky and musclebound and not how she liked to look at all. She tossed the Scythe upward to lodge point-first in the ceiling and brought both of her immense fists down on the woman's head. Her own symbol was finally, belatedly starting to burn. "You have any idea how much it annoys me, looking like a gorilla on steroids?"

The creepy guy had a funny purple h on his forehead now. So the gang was all powered up. She seized him by the neck and slammed him face-first into invisible guy.

The diva opened her mouth and released another horrific opera screech in Buffy's direction. This one didn't carry quite the force of the last, but it was enough that Buffy steeled herself and let the sparks fly. The others had time to get up while Buffy was letting it wash over her.

Green fire flared around Buffy, and this time something new responded. A part of her tried to wrestle it down-did she really want this as part of her?-but with a sigh, she let it happen. She couldn't afford to keep holding back like this.

Her nails lengthened from their freshly-manicured state. An inch, two inches, four, gaining just enough curve to keep them from snapping off at once. Blond ringlets curled past her cheeks, spreading, spraying out in all directions, till it should have been tangled around her feet. Instead it moved at her direction, reaching out ten yards or more, seizing the pallid vampire wanna-be and crashing him against the wall. Ok, why had she even fought this? This was actually the coolest power to show up in months!

Invisible boy was trying to slip up behind her. She fanned her hair out in every direction until there was nowhere he ciuld approach from and not tangle himself. Finally she reached out and seized the big lady by the waist, bringing her in close. Buffy put her nails to the woman's throat and let them cut deep, spraying blood. She wouldn't be that easy to kill.

Sure enough the flow halted at once. The woman coughed and spat in Buffy's face. And for the first time she spoke in a language Buffy understood. "You can't kill me," she rasped, "not without killing Anya."

Buffy stumbled and dropped her. "What? Where are you keeping her?"

"Not keeping her anywhere. She's one of us now. She'd be sick if she saw what you've become." The first bits were true. The last part, Buffy didn't need to be told was a lie.

"Either you don't know Anya that well, or you're dumb enough to think you can fool me." Anya might be one of the good guys now, but there was a hard core to her, even a cruelty, that Buffy couldn't match and didn't want to. "Anya would egg me on, if she didn't know it would hurt her."

The woman groaned. "Well, I guess she really does know you. Except you've fooled her into thinking you're one of the good guys."

"I am one of the good guys. So are you. In theory. I don't expect you to believe me, but if you'll stand down I'll try to prove it to you."

"Not a chance in hell."

"Funny," Buffy said, shaking her head. "Not long ago I'd have said the same thing. How much longer do we dance the dance, then?"

"Till you're dead, I guess." Buffy spotted a flicker in her eyes as she glanced to one side. Goth-boy made some sort of gesture at Buffy, then frowned and shook his head. "Damn. You really are outside fate. That complicates matters."

"Does it? Always liked to think I was destiny-free. I didn't realize it was literal." Sulumor had mentioned it once, but Buufy hadn't realized that being "outside fate" actually did anything. "You realize you're not going to kill me, right?"

"Knew we should've brought May Blossom," Invisible Boy muttered.

"So again, do we keep fighting and make me kill you all? Or can we sit down and talk this out like civilized people?"

"The Cult of the Illuminated has an Abyssal in it," Invisible said after a few moments.

"Waters the Fields with Blood?" Goth asked.

Butch grumbled, "Good example of what's the matter with Gold Stars," but then said something else in that other language. There was a round of rapid-fire discussion Buffy couldn't follow. "I guess in principle nothing stops us from talking to you," she said at last. "Let us down and we'll chitchat all you want."

"Can't believe she doesn't even know Flametongue," Iron Siaka muttered. "How does she expect to rule these people?" The roast chicken made her stomach rumble, but the others insisted they had to wait for Buffy.

"This is Gem," Crimson pointed out. "How many people here don't speak at least a little Rivertongue?"

"Fair enough," Siaka said. "At least it's gonna bite her in the ass."

"Anya believes her to be trustworthy," Shadow said lightly from across the table. "I know how it is to be thought ill of for the wrong reasons."

"Just let us know if you get a bad vibe off the food," Siaka growled. "This isn't about you."

"Rationally," Crimson asked, "can we trust Deathknights yet assume that Buffy is a loyal servant of the Yozis?"

"No," Siaka said, "because we can't trust Deathknights. That's Gold Faction's worst mistake yet."

"The Yozis may not be cowed," Shadow argued, "but they are sworn and imprisoned. The Neverborn are merely dead."

Budfy strode back into the dining room flanked by her undead demons and followed by the pair of rogue Dragon-Bloods she'd bought off Rankar. "Sorry for the delay," she said, "but I had to make sure my bodyguard weren't drugged again."

"Sorry," Shadow said calmly. "Had to be done." They were all slowly recovering their Essence, but then so was Buffy. They had to not make the same mistakes again. Or new ones, with the Terrestrials and demons awake and free.

Buffy's hair billowed around her as she sat down. She'd kept it at this absurd length. At least, Iron Siaka admitted to herself, it wouldn't drag in things or get in your face if you could control it like tentacles. Trouble was, Siaka had never seen a mutation effect like this one, except among Lunars and raksha. There was no telling what it might do.

"Anya probably told you I spent five years on the hellmouth in my town keeping it closed," Buffy said. "Killing demons on a nightly basis and preventing an apocalypse maybe once every three months on average."

"How do you define 'apocalypse'?" Shadow asked. She supposed it was a reasonable question.

"If it kills everyone, destroys civilization, or lets demons rule the world, I call that an apocalypse. I guess it doesn't count if it just starts World War D." Buffy still had her superlong nails too; she seemed to be spearing vegetables with them, a curious expression on her face. Maybe this was new to her too.

"Why would the Yozis empower you to do that?" Crimson asked.

"I don't think they meant to," Buffy said patiently. "There's some kind of infighting going on because Kimbery wasn't supposed to make me the way she did."

"Hmm." Siaka was startled to realize she'd eaten some chicken. Well, it didn't seem to be poisoned. "But you're taking orders from them now."

"Human history doesn't really remember the Old Ones," the big demon said. "Even when demons are trying to free them, they're not aware enough of this world to give orders."

"Where I came from," Buffy explained further, "I wasn't even on the Old Ones' radar except if I was stopping them right then. Most demons just knew I was the one who kicked their asses every Tuesday. Only I arrived here with some kind of prophecy and now they're all watching and waiting. If I fought them directly, by myself, I wouldn't last a night."

"True enough," Crimson acknowledged. "But why take over Gem?"

"Because I need some kind of power base here to be taken seriously," Buffy said, tasting a bit of vegetable. "It's a whole new ballgame from what I'm used to."

"And because the old Despot was a right wanker who deserved to have his arse beaten," the shorter demon said. "Buffy's worth a hundred of him."

"Rankar was a known quantity," Siaka said. "He was disgusting, sure. But he wasn't a servant of hell."

"After getting a good look at your world," Buffy argued, "I'm starting to think hell is as hell does."

Siaka nodded. "Which is why you've gone over to the Yozis."

"I haven't-" Buffy gritted her teeth. "I'm undercover. I don't know how I'm supposed to prove that."

"You can't," Siaka said, and reached inside her armor. "Either you come with us-in chains-or I set this off. It's a sun's fist chakram, and it'll blow you and your friends and maybe a couple of us to hell where you belong." Crimson and Shadow stared at her. Maybe Oversight hadn't told them about this part of the mission.

With a snarl, Buffy flung herself over the table. Iron Siaka threw the disc at her, and the world went up in flame.

Buffy came down hard on the table on top of the grenade-that was what it was, fancy name or not-and felt it burst to life beneath her. A bloom of fire erupted under her belly, scattering sparks and bits of brass in every direction. The table crashed to the floor, burning, but the blast was contained.

The fire didn't go out, though. It turned green and billowed around her like a gamma-ray nuclear explosion straight out of Marvel Comics. Buffy's superlong hair seared away.

And she began to grow.

"Damn it!" The seams of her designer clothes gave way in moments, ripping her fancy dress to shreds. Seconds later she felt her shoulders strike the high ceiling of the dining hall, about ten feet up, and force her into a crouch. "You just couldn't resist, I guess, is that it?"

If she'd been at home, Buffy guessed she would have stood up. The ceiling would have been wrecked, but she would've been free. Unforunately, at the moment she had at least six stone ceilings above her. Even if she was strong enough to shatter her way out, there was no telling what kind of damage she'd do. She was probably something like twenty feet tall or more.

Lacking any better alternative, she reached out and closed her fist around Iron Siaka. "Okay, I get it. You're just that anxious to get me naked? Like the view?"

"Not...my...type," the Sidereal wheezed.

"Tell you what," Buffy growled. "I can't kill you, so how about I take you prisoner, and I'll see if you can be taught how to negotiate in good faith. Your friends can go, if they want." She squeezed lightly.

"The...hell...you...say."

Buffy sighed. "You want to play it like that. Sure. The hell I say. Get ready for an extended visit. Hope you like my hospitality. You two, get out before I change my mind and squish her. Anya will have to take care of herself."

"Slayer!" Where was that coming from? "Slayer?"

"Spike?" There wasn't much room to turn around. "Can't really see you!"

"Pretty sure when I said you had a nice bum, I didn't mean at this range!"

"Sorry, Spike. I think you're going to have to wait till this wears off on its own. Enjoy the view, I guess."