"You can't bring that in here," the celestial lion snarled. "It reeks. Why would you try?"
"This is my prisoner," Iron Siaka said. "The fallen Solar Buffy Summers. The one who took over Gem. She's here for trial." Siaka pulled back Buffy's hair, revealing the Collar of Dutiful Submission.
"Hmmph. I will call for transport. Can't have some akuma sullying the floor of heaven." The lion stalked off to the other end of the portal. Only minutes passed before he returned. "Prisoner transport on the way."
"Won't be long now," Siaka told Buffy calmly. This was how prisoners ought to behave. Not that they ever did.
"I know," Buffy said just as calmly.
A few more minutes passed before a flat-topped wagon pulled by scarab guardians arrived. A large metal cage sat atop it. "Board," the lion growled.
Without the faintest hint of defiance, Buffy climbed onto the cart and sat down on the empty floor of the cage. Iron Siaka frowned. Maybe Buffy had simply realized the futility of it all. How it was useless, in the end, to struggle against the laws of heaven.
But that didn't sound much like her.
The cart trundled forward. The sun disc in all its majesty shone down on gleaming rooftops and shimmering canals. The gods thronged the narrow streets, and not a few stopped to watch the ignominous captivity of a notorious akuma. There was no more ceremony than that: the prisoner deserved none.
Thus did Buffy Summers enter heaven.
Adversarial Proceedings
"Anya," the great lion said. There might have been the slightest trace of respect in the name; there might not have. "Welcome back to Yu-Shan."
"Do I merit a welcoming committee, sir?" She wasn't really certain how to address a being as elevated as Shining Barrator himself.
"In and of yourself, perhaps not, though I am in part here to greet and escort these worthies you bring with you. Alexander Harris. Winifred Burkle. Be welcome." The great lion tossed his mane. "I am here to request that you permit your audit to take place sooner than intended. This requires your personal permission, as it is a considerable inconvenience to you. It also requires clearance at a very high level to accomplish, and," here he coughed, "those with strictly proper authorization are indisposed."
Anya frowned. "May I ask why we need to do this?"
"Of course you may. A party you have named as a witness in your audit is here for her own, criminal audit. We anticipate that she will be quickly executed on charges of aid given to the enemies of Creation."
It was clear to her at once who that would be. "Buffy Summers. You want to execute Buffy Summers?"
"She is either an akuma or something immeasurably worse. A distorted reflection of what the Solar Exalted were intended to be. An agent of the deposed tyrants of existence."
"We are talking about the same Buffy Summers, right? One girl in all the world, saved said world from multiple apocalypses, defender of humanity from threats undead and various other?"
Shining Barrator raised his eyebrows. "That," he said, "would be an interesting claim for one to put forward in a court of law."
Anya set her jaw firmly. "I don't make a habit of being subtle. What it is is the truth."
"If that were in fact the case, conceivably it might prove to be a mitigating factor."
"Conceivably?" Xander had been letting Anya do the talking, as he should have, but she understood why this was too much. "Mister, Buffy is-"
Shining Barrator stooped down to put his eyes just above the level of Xander's. "A threat to Yu-Shan and the entirety of Creation, unless and until she can be definitively proven otherwise. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" His voice softened very slightly. "I hope to do your friend justice. Even if she had done none of what you claim herself, she carries the third soul of one of Creation's greatest worthies. But above even that desire, it is my duty to protect all of existence. If that precludes justice, I will regretfully do as I must."
Xander dropped his eyes just a hair. "Then I'd say you and Buffy have a lot in common."
*****
"Dear Lord," Giles breathed. The procession taking Buffy to prison was evidently designed to spiral through as many neighborhoods as practical. She was locked inside an actual cage, like something from a medieval triumph parade, and evidently some of the less couth divinites had been throwing filth at her. She spotted him and turned to give him one of her patented "I wallow in self-pity" looks, the sort of thing he'd thought he had finally broken her of. "I do believe she turned herself in, Wesley." It was good that the younger man had come into his own.
"We were afraid of something like this," the younger man replied. Not of Buffy's capture, which might have been for the best, but that Buffy's mental state was deteriorating. At least this suggested she was aware of it.
Giles glanced at him briefly. "Are you prepared?" Unfortunately, but very expectedly, there had been no references in any of Yu-Shan's libraries. They had been forced to work from memory.
Wesley gave a single nod. "I remember the ancient formula as well as you do. We will have to be very careful. More than one per person will likely be required, especially if we attract the wrong attention."
"We had better not," Giles reminded him. Their supply was very limited for the number of people they might have to deal with.
"I know."
*****
Dawn strained to see the procession. She needed to see Buffy, needed to know that she was all right. If Buffy was okay, then maybe everything could still be okay.
"What's she got?" Gunn wondered.
"Got?" Surely they would have checked Buffy thoroughly for weapons or anything she might use to get free.
"I don't know. Just...I coulda sworn she picked up something and put it in her pocket." Gunn's brow furrowed. "I can't think what they would'nt've taken from her that'd be of any use at all."
*****
"All right," Willow said, making her voice project. "I understand why everyone is concerned. I know things are going to be awkward during the audit. I know things will get rough if Anya gets in enough trouble. But you can help her the most by staying orderly! Any rioting you do might be blamed on her!"
For the moment, they were listening. But it was a rough crowd, and technically Willow had zero authority to tell any of them what to do. Power, sure, but no right as they saw it. Anything she did to stop a few could make all the others go berserk.
So this whole "keeping order while Anya was busy" thing? Total bluff.
*****
"Pick that up," the flea whispered in Xander's ear.
"Hmm...what?" Bits of shimmering color materialized on the tables as Xander and Fred walked by. Most of it was little more than crumbs, but there were a lot of them, and here and there larger blocks were flickering into existence. He scooped up as much as he could manage.
"It's called ambrosia," Leviathan explained. "The stuff of concentrated prayer. Not normally much use to us, but we can receive it here as much as any god, and while most Exalts can't work it well ourselves-a few ancients like myself excluded-it makes a fine trade good."
"Or a bribe," Xander realized.
"Smarter than you look," Leviathan chuckled.
*****
"Please state your name for the record," said the lion dog, yawning. She supposed to him this was all routine.
"Anya Christina Emmanuela Jenkins." Everyone stared at her as if waiting for more. "Er...formerly Anyanka and originally Aud?"
Nazri stood up. "Pardon, but we only recently discovered the previous bearer of her Exaltation. Her last incarnation was Joran Abren, formerly of Lookshy. Joran was killed by a nephwrack in the Underworld just a few months ago at 462 years old, and apparently his Exaltation treated Anya's arrival in this world as her birth."
"The court thanks you, Nazri." The lion dog turned back to her. "And your age?"
Anya sighed. Same reaction all over again, no doubt. "I am eleven hundred forty-two years old." Eyes widened and murmurs spread through the courtroom. Even gods found her age baffling. Never mind that most of them were probably millennia older. "Closing on eleven hundred forty-three now."
"The court acknowledges Wong Bongerok, Censor of the South. You may proceed." The lion dog stepped back and was replaced by an obese, dark-skinned man in a red robe.
"Anya, can you tell us how you obtained this great age? Certainly you don't appear to be in your second millennium." Blue flames flickered around him as he gestured.
"Easy. I spent most of that time as a vengeance demon. I was transformed into one by D'Hoffryn, third soul of Cecelyne."
Wong Bongerok gave out with an affected gasp and flourished his hands. "And what did you do in D'Hoffryn's employ?"
"I granted wishes to scorned women so that they could obtain vengeance against their lovers. Most of them wished poorly-as D'Hoffryn intended. The result was widespread suffering and bloody death."
This time the gasps came from the audience. Not all gods were compassionate beings-how could they be?-but most at least liked to pretend.
"Anya, is there any way you can justify this sort of behavior?"
She knew they expected some kind of floundering moral answer. She could give a better one than they expected, but that wasn't going to fly in any case. "The same justification any Sidereal Exalt has for their life prior to Exaltation: destiny. I did a lot of horrible things, things that can't be given any coherent moral basis. I ended lives, relationships, families, businesses, empires, and dynasties. You don't have to forgive me for any of that. But it served a necessary purpose in Saturn's eyes. I have a millennium of endings under my belt. Some of them are worse than others. As an Exalt working for the Bureau, I may have to do even worse things without flinching. Now that I do understand the morality of my actions, who could serve better in this post than me?"
The audience murmured in confusion. Even Bongerok seemed taken aback. Finally he floundered out, "If you have any witnesses to your reformation, you should present them now."
"I call Alexander Harris to the stand."
The crowd inhaled deeply as Xander stood up and walked over to the witness stand. It was subtle, but he had definitely changed since leaving Sunnydale. Xander slouched a little, but where before it had been pure laziness, this was deliberate. It put people at ease. It said, "I like to laugh, and you can laugh with me." And yet there was an authority about him too. The word "jovial" sprang to mind: once, a long time ago, it had meant "like the king of the gods".
Xander leaned jovially against the witness stand. "Alexander Lavelle Harris, aka the Dread Pirate Roberts. My last incarnation was..." The air of his authority shook but didn't vanish. "...was Queen Amyana of Luthe."
Once again, the audience let out a collective sigh. The Solars still held the imagination of most of Heaven, where their authority had never been truly repealed, only suppressed.
"Xander, how did we first meet?"
"You wanted me to go to the prom. You didn't know anyone else who might take you."
"Why not?"
"Well, you were newly human. Your power center had been smashed and D'Hoffryn wouldn't make a new one for you. He thought you were careless."
"I suppose I jumped right into fighting evil with you and your friends. Wouldn't you say that?"
Xander chuckled. "You know better than that, Anh. Even after you stopped trying to get your powers back, you mostly just hung out with me because you were attracted to me. You left town the next time the apocalypse rolled around because you were afraid. You did give us some useful info. And you came back."
"I got better, then."
"It took some time. You got to like saving my life, I guess, and then you started saving other people too."
*****
Buffy's cage had been left in a dark cell beneath the courtrooms. She didn't have room to stand up. She didn't have a toilet. She didn't have anything to clean herself with. She certainly didn't have any weapons. She had herself.
Oh. And one other thing.
One of the scarab guardians who had brought her here waited just inside the cell to let her out when she was called.
"C'mere," Buffy said. "Take this."
The scarab came to investigate. It was only prudent. Through the bars she handed it a chunk of the rainbow material-the ambrosia-that had materialized just inside her cage.
She murmured a name in the being's ear. "Tell me where he is."
Fair enough, it seemed. "Upstairs, verifying some things about your 'friends'." That was better than she expected.
"Bring him here the moment he's done," she said. "Take this." She handed it another piece. "And unlock my cage."
That was the hardest. The god hesitated. But payment was payment, and clearly if she wanted him here she wasn't planning to leave. It unlocked the cage.
*****
"I'm afraid I don't know my previous incarnations either," Fred drawled. She didn't have to use so thick an accent, but it seemed to amuse the audience. It was probably a hick accent here too.
The man made of glow stepped forward at Bongerok's gesture, holding out an implement that looked a bit like a series of lenses made of metal. "Hmm," Lytek said. "I don't believe most of these will mean anything to the court, aside from Cortan Pel, a particularly charismatic Changing Moon who made some trouble in Paragon about seven centuries ago. However, just before the Usurpation we have a figure of extreme interest: the No Moon Tanalus of the Many-Faceted Eyes." A murmur ran through the courtroom; clearly the gods knew who that was. Fortunately Lytek clarified: "Lunar mate of Salina."
"You've got to be shitting me," Renjin whispered in her ear. "Your mate's Salina? Damn. We could use her help right about now."
Lytek withdrew, and Anya stepped forward again. "You don't know me that well, I know. But there's something critical I want you to talk about. What's your impression of Buffy?"
"Um...I came here not knowing much about Buffy. I Exalted trying to get her to do something about slavery here. But it wasn't because she didn't care. She was, um, looking out for her friends first." Fred shifted nervously. This was worse than presenting papers in school. Nothing depended on that but a grade.
"Is that the only reason she wouldn't do anything?"
"Buffy didn't want to get too involved with this world. She wanted to leave as soon as possible. The Yozis aren't very aware of our world, so she could fight them without being used. Here, they want her to set them free."
"She doesn't want to do that?" Anya leaned forward as if casually curious.
"She'd rather leave this world screwed up than risk making it that much worse."
"Pardon me," Bongerok asked, "but what-?"
"Buffy is a key witness in this audit," Anya explained. "I want to give you every imaginable reason to trust what she has to say. Maybe she's being used by the Yozis, but she doesn't serve them willingly. I need to establish that."
*****
"Let Anya finish with him," Iron Siaka said. "We want to be sure she comes out smelling like a rose, and hell...I'm sure he means well. But he's a Solar. Orders from the highest level."
"Then make it look like an accident." The assembled gods grumbled at that. "You want it to look like a Solar died in an accident?"
"There's a riot brewing outside. Anya's a very popular person right now. All you have to do is join in." Siaka made a sour face. This wasn't her forte at all, but it was her responsibility. "He'll try to stop it. It's in his nature. Nobody will ever know who did him in. You'll be well-compensated."
*****
"Before you call any more witnesses, Nazri has requested to speak on your behalf." Bongerok looked bored. No doubt Nazri had paid him off. Anya spread her hands. Why not?
"Anya," Nazri said, "it's been suggested that you are already misusing your position to secure kickbacks. Can you explain what you were doing?"
Anya nodded. "I was going to get to this, but sure, I'll explain now. I know a fair amount about how societies work. What you have here-in the Terrestrial sphere, I mean-is not sustainable. You're trying to defend against infinite enemies with a poor and oppressed population limited to primitive metalworking and some scraps from a more advanced age. Now your ace in the hole-the Empress and her control of the Sword of Creation-is gone. Missing with no clues to where she went. That's not sustainable. So I set out to fix that."
Nazri blinked. The assembled gods stared. "With practice petitions meant to teach you how the Loom works? Please explain what you're trying to do."
"It's not hard. What Creation needs in the Terrestrial sphere is a literate, well-educated population and a better standard of living. Not decadence-just some leisure time to work on basic research and invention.
"The Guild is key to that. But it's wasting resources on slaves and drugs, which are economic dead ends. What I did-chapterhouse by chapterhouse, to avoid the Essence burden problem-was bless the Guild. Every chapterhouse I've had time to work on will prosper-unless it deals in slaves or hard drugs. The more of those it buys or sells, the worse its business will suck.
"I admit I don't know the best approach. So I've been experimenting with different blessings and curses. But as soon as I had a better official standing, my goal was to recruit more Sidereals to help me. Defending Creation is our job. You want to do it effectively? Get the people to help you. Your output of advanced weapons-against Malfeas, the Wyld, the Underworld-can be doubled in a matter of years, and it will keep doubling. You see? Are we clear on this?"
For several minutes the court was silent. Finally Nazri spoke again. "I think we are. But you said, 'in the Terrestrial sphere.' That implies that you have a plan for Yu-Shan as well."
Anya nodded. "Yu-Shan has an employment problem because you have only one basic resource, which the gods can't make for themselves: prayer. Yes, there are some specialized luxury goods you import from Creation, but they don't do much for the economy because only a few traders are working for them. You have gobs of gods living on the dole with no prospect of doing anything else."
"The Unconquered Sun implemented the dole for that reason," Nazri said, frowning.
"It was very nice of him," Anya said, trying to be diplomatic. "But it's not a very effective system. Gangs monopolize the basins in the poorer districts. And in any case, there's no incentive to do a good job for the gods who do have work. I'm not naming any names, but corruption is everywhere."
"Anya, it's an interesting concept. I'm not sure it can work on a larger scale." Nazri shook his head. "The Bureaus only require so many workers."
"I'm doing this on my own obol," Anya explained. "I'm employing those gods specifically who have the fewest opportunities. Until we can come up with a better system, at least it fills some of the gaps." She noticed Ayesha Ura glance her way when she mentioned a better system, but now wasn't the time to discuss getting the gods working at their actual job again: answering prayers. That would set the Bronzes to ravening for her blood.
"I think we can call that a noble cause," Nazri agreed. "Though I'll leave it to the Censor to decide." Anya tried not to snicker. She'd seen the reaction to her ideas. Some gods were angry or worried, as she had expected, but everyone was intrigued. If Nazri's bribes weren't enough to sway Wong Bongerok, plenty of others were willing to chip in. Not everyone-there would be saboteurs and probably even an assassin or thirty. But hey-that's why she was Exalted, right?
*****
"Don't make a move," Lytek warned her. Buffy put on her best innocent face. "I have to admit I'm pleased that you called me."
Buffy held still...except for her mouth. "Fix me."
"Hmm." Lytek cocked his head to one side. "Interesting. And involuntary, so I'll presume that it was merely a strong wish poorly expressed. As a matter of fact I will try. I assure you, I find your state quite distressing. Ah. No, you are truly not an akuma. Something both more and less."
Buffy sat back, pretending to relax. "Is that good news or not?"
Lytek held up a set of lenses. "Hard to say. The alterations to an akuma are rather superficial. They don't carry to the next incarnation. They do, however, radically impair the akuma's free will. In that respect I can vouch that you are unchanged. Your will is unquestionably your own."
Buffy's next question was interrupted by the arrival of Iron Siaka, flanked by a pair of lion dogs. "Lytek," she said with nearly-concealed irritation. "We need you both in the courtroom." She opened the cage door, scowling.
"You had but to ask," the god responded.
*****
"Can her Exaltation be repaired?" Wong Bongerok asked. Anya leaned over the bar curiously. She was fine with Buffy as she was, but these people clearly weren't.
"That will take time to determine," Lytek said, disappointingly. "She is not an akuma. Her own body, mind, and souls are unaltered save as her Exaltation dictates. It is the Third Soul itself that has been tampered with, and in a rather complex manner. The matter requires further study."
"What of her previous incarnations?"
"No one the court will recognize for several millennia." Lytek was practically wringing his hands as he said this. "For her to be native to this timeline, she would have to predate Creation itself. Even determining who she was before that will require a prolonged examination."
Bongerok turned to Buffy. "You claim that you have spent several thousands of years as the only known Exalt?"
"Yes."
"Defending humanity from demons?"
"It's what I do."
Bongerok raised his hands in puzzlement. "And yet your Exaltation has plainly been tampered with by the Yozis."
"Kimbery," Buffy said flatly. "The others must have done something she didn't like, and she set me to make them pay."
Anya stood up straight. "Buffy, how many times have you saved the world?"
Buffy's tone remained dull. "Two dozen times or more. Maybe five that would've definitely succeeded without me. The Master and his attempt to free the Yozis. Angelus waking the Metagaos jouten we called Acathla. Mayor Wilkins' Ascension to become a Third-Circle demon...I think. Adam's attempt to build an army of enhanced demon hybrids. And Glory trying to destroy the dimensional barriers to get home."
"Xander can verify these events," Anya began, only to be interrupted.
"Respected worthies," a lion dog with a closely-cropped mane began, "a riot has begun in the streets outside this court. We would like to request that these Exalted aid in quelling it."
Bongerok made a noise in his throat. "Can this matter not be resolved without involving the participants in an official audit?"
The lion dog sighed. "The riot would seem to be about this audit."
*****
Tara clung to Willow's hand as the crowd surged and roared. Her stomach was a knot of fire inside her as the gods themselves raged. Goddess help her, what was wrong with this world where the heavens themselves bred slums and starvation?
For the moment she and Willow held the barrier that protected the courthouse, but sooner or later some magical attack was surely going to overwhelm their forcefield. Tara chanted furiously, a chant that was also a fervent prayer, and hoped that some power somewhere was listening.
The crowd quieted. Tara spun, searching for the cause. Xander? Willow's friend stood at the head of the stairs to the courthouse beside his irritating fiancee. "I'm going to have to ask, what the hell is the meaning of this disturbance? You people-you gods should be ashamed of yourselves. What we're dealing with here is a routine audit. Anya's going to come through just fine!"
Anya added her voice to his rebuke. "The Maidens didn't bring me here to fail! I'm here to end the corrupt system that's ruined your home, and I'm not going to let that system stop me with some simple investigation into my past. I promise you, your lives will keep getting better, but rioting like this will only hurt our position and slow my reforms down."
Xander started to speak again, but Tara didn't get to hear him. With a twang like a snapped harpstring, the barrier burst, and angry gods surged up the stairs, hurling bolts of force and lightning and fire. Tara spun, hoping to block at least some small proportion of the charge. She raised her hands, preparing to fling missiles of her own, something she did only in direst need, but-
"Your shirt!"
It was only the tip of a thorn that protruded from Willow's chest, but it had penetrated her entire torso to lodge there, tenting Willow's blouse as the lifeblood pumped out of her, soaking the garment almost at once.
"Aw, f-" Willow began, cut short at once as she crumpled onto the steps.
Nothing was right any more. Willow was dead on the streets of heaven, and it was only fitting that the sun went black as tar. It was only fitting that the canals ran red with blood.
Nothing would ever be right again.