"So," Iron Siaka said. "I want you to be absolutely clear on something. The Bronze Faction's relative loss of power has no consequences to you at all. You are not an Exalt of any sort. You are a mortal who has some temporary use. If you lay another hand on me, I can curse you to spend the rest of your life failing at everything unless you crawl on your hands and knees begging my forgiveness every five minutes."

Cordelia stood and listened patiently until Iron Siaka was finished. Then she slapped her on the other cheek.

"Are you-?"

"You listen to me, you jumped-up little dictator. I'm Xander Harris' friend. I rescued Fred Burkle from being a slave. I'm not afraid of you. But if I didn't know either of them, I'd still stab myself through the heart before I spent my life groveling to you. You want to tell me about safety rules? Fine. Listening. But if you want to treat me like a five-year-oahhhh!"

Cordelia's eyes rolled back in her head.

The shadow of that hideous strength/
Six miles and more it is of length.

It filled the sky like a stretched-out eclipse, a shadow serpent old as eternity and malicious as the beast that gnawed the root of the tree of life. It could see through her eyes into her darkest heart. Before death began it already hated life.

And now it writhed, dying, above the Blessed Isle.

Mercy! I beg you, mercy! Power, wealth beyond dreams, immortality, anything you desire, but spare me!

I am a world unto myself, the Principle of Opposition, an architect of Creation, you dare not lay your hand upon such a one as I!

Death was never made for my kind, we broke the gears when you slew us, you dare not, must not-

I CANNOT DI-

Silence. Shadow breaking up as the light shone through.

Buffy, her face twisted in a crazed grin.

Cordelia inhaled once, muttered "Crapola," and fell to the floor.

Check and Mates

"So what's the plan?" Xander stood on a catwalk high above a great open space that had been filled with workbenches. Below him scores of sharkpeople passed components to the next worker, snapped or screwed another piece into place, and passed them on again.

Anya put her hands on her hips. "The Conventions are asking me to investigate personally. Then, unless this turns out to be Buffy's idea of an April Fools' prank, you and a crack Sidereal team go after her while Luthean troops keep order in Gem."

"That's one hell of a long-distance operation, Anh." At the end of the line, a pair of workers carefully wrapped and stacked the finished machine guns-crude, but easy to make and maintain. "It's because of me?"

Anya nodded, a worried frown on her face. "Halta's in chaos, Lookshy is preparing an attack on the Blessed Isle, Thorns is gearing up its zombie army...Buffy taking Gem was the tip of the iceberg. Some of the operations after Gem failed, but someone's coordinating attacks on Creation, and it looks like the Deathlords are cooperating with the Infernals for now."

"Not Skullstone?" Xander began strolling towards a staircase, and Anya followed.

"Luthe seems to have thrown him off. Your technology here is some of the best in the world, so he's holding back. If I were him, I'd be trying to steal some."

"So because I'm your guy, and because we don't expect an attack here yet, I leave the city unguarded? Two words, Anh. Pearl Harbor." He walked over and picked up one of the finished weapons, breaking open the feed line.

"One other reason, Xander. They're expecting us to deal with Buffy." Anya picked up a gun as well. "Defective." He stared at her. "I know my tommy guns, Xander. This trigger's not connected right."

"No, I believe that part easy, Anh. But Lytek-"

"He can't fix her, Xander. Word came up today. Her Exaltation, maybe, when she's dead. Not her. But Luthe does have one option we don't. It's got Fred."

"So we take Buffy home?" Xander reached around to scratch the back of his neck. "Fred's close, but what makes them think we can do a better job? Or is this just a NIMBY thing?"

Anya sagged. "They're saying maybe...instead of sending Buffy home...just dump her somewhere. Elsewhere. The far reaches of the Wyld. Drop her down the well of Oblivion, maybe. Tell her she's going home but..."

Xander held her by the shoulders and pulled her up. "If we have to kill her, I'll do it in a fair fight. And you know as well as I do, there's nowhere we can drop Buffy that she won't come back from, only pissed."

"You think I don't know that? But Buffy does need us, Xander. We left her alone here for too long." Anya fiddled with the gun, then put it back on the pile with a brief satisfied grin. "She deserves to see you again, one way or another."

"So I'll see her." Buffy might be a queen, but he knew Buffy. She was alone, and that meant she was miserable.

"Oh, God, yes! Yes, yes! Spike! Angel!"

Tara averted her eyes from the Buffy sandwich. "Maybe I should come back at a better time?"

Buffy sat up, glistening with sweat. "What? No, Tara. We need to...ahhhh!...talk." A wisp of bloody vapor curled from the Slayer's mouth and solidified into a second, equally naked, Buffy. "That's getting easier," the original gasped, and went back to her...business.

The duplicate Buffy made a face and grabbed up a robe. "C'mon, Tara. Let's go somewhere private."

"Buffy," Tara said urgently as soon as the door closed, "what did Sulumor do to you? You've g-got to stop this. You promised people things would get b-better, but now-"

"I know," the double whispered. "What Sulumor did...she granted Buffy some new powers, and we don't get to share them. Lucky us. I don't have the power to not feel guilty about what she's doing. But if she gives me an order, I also don't have a choice. I can't resist her."

Tara winced. "Isn't one of you on the throne?"

"Always. The real Buffy's too busy eating, partying, and screwing to pay attention to running things. But, Tara, I don't know how to run a country! And anyway, if she catches me disobeying she'll just give me orders on what to do...or else let me dust." Buffy sat down on a bench and hung her head. "I'm like a vampire, except without the fighting. I'm so evil and skanky...and I think I might be bi."

Tara didn't comment on that; Willow had told her too many stories about Buffy's escapades with Faith. "I wouldn't know. But you've got to do something."

"I don't have the power to stand up to her, Tara. Besides, what am I suppossd to do? Overthrowmyself? If I did have the power, if I were still the Slayer, even then, why would anyone believe me?"

Tara breathed deep and tried to stay calm. "What did she want you to tell me?"

"Willow-the Hanged Scholar, I mean-has a visitor waiting. He showed up right after Mnemon left. An emissary from the Deathlords."

"Which one? They don't work together much. From the Walker in Darkness?"

"I...don't think so?" Buffy stroked at the side of her hair. "He called himself.. Son of Crows."

"I need that favor," Fred said to the short, sun-bronzed woman wearing the uniform of Captain Redfang's crew. The Tya seemed uneasy about accepting outsiders, especially women, but somehow this one had persuaded him. Fred knew he had nothing to worry about, but not how Leviathan had gone about joining.

"Rather soon, isn't it?" Leviathan went on inspecting the engines. "Ugh. I badly damaged so many of these. Shameful."

"I know, I know, I've got a favor I could hold over you for decades. It's just not my way of doing things. And I need it now. I'm really close to figuring out how to open a portal and send my friends home."

Leviathan backed out of the engine and sat on the housing. "Dreamer, I know things that would curl your hair, but not the first thing about making gateways between worlds. How do you need my help?"

"I can't do it here. It's the Loom of Fate that's interfering. I need to go somewhere out of its reach, or where it's weaker, at least. A Shadowland, a Wyld zone, something like that. I estimate it'll take at least a week, maybe more, just to get where I can test it."

"Dreamer-of-Reason, what are you trying to ask me?" A bemused expression spread across Leviathan's face.

"Simple. I need you to be me while I'm gone." Fred winked at him. "Before you ask, I'm leaving Luthe in Xander's hands, not yours. You'll be his advisor, but people will believe you're in charge. Or actually, that I am."

Leviathan cursed under his breath. "After all the trouble you went to-"

Fred cut him off. "I do not have to rule this city. I've had approximately a baker's dozen Lunars tell me I should step down eventually anyway. If I come back and find you in charge, but you haven't changed anything, why would I care?"

"One problem remains, Dreamer. How do you expect me to take your shape? I have no interest in hunting you down, either out of hatred or for challenge." Leviathan grinned broadly, as if this were the silliest thing imaginable.

"I, um...I just figured...you didn't kill Amyana."

Leviathan rocked back in his seat and began to bellow with laughter. "No, no, that I certainly did not. I suppose I can't expect you to know the elder mysteries of Luna. By the secret name of Malfeas, most of the elders don't recall some of them." He leaned forward and peered into her eyes. "You want to give me your shape the way Amyana did? Well, I suppose you're not bad-looking, for a bag of sticks." Slowly his laughter subsided until it was as gentle as ripples in a tide pool. "That was not meant to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry. My people, like many Westerners, tend to be large. Amyana herself was quite thin and small by our standards. You are far from ugly. If you wish me to take your form in that way, I am agreeable. A thousand years have ground the monogamy out of me. I must ask one question."

"I, uh..." Did he mean what that sounded like? Did she want to go through with a proposal like that? Damn it all, Xander was getting all the sex he wanted, and she'd been going without for five years now. "Ok, what do you want to know?"

Leviathan spread his arms wide. "Any child I beget will certainly inherit some of my power. Do you want to bear one or no?"

What the hell. It didn't get any more well-provided-for than royalty. And she'd wanted kids someday. And apparently Exalts had easy pregnancies. By the time she got huge-if she did-things would've settled down. "Er...sure. I can go with that."

Gunn opened his eyes. His hands had been pressed together so long they seemed stuck together. "I coulda told you, meditation ain't my strong suit."

Harim laid his hands on Gunn's back. "You are not doing badly. All we Arbiters are men and women of action. When we act, we act with focus; that is all."

Gunn lifted his axe, studying the edge. "When you gotta kill, it don't do any good to hold back."

"Indeed not. You are a good student, Charles."

"Yeah, well, thanks, but honestly I'm not sure I wouldn't rather be learnin' to dance, like Cordy."

Harim patted his back once and stood. "On the contrary: if you were unsure, you would already have gone."

Gunn followed the motion, rising to his feet, observing the bound god before him. "You tried to kill Xander, just for being a Solar."

"I...no! No! I was not involved, I swear!" The god struggled, but its ropes were proof against its efforts.

Gunn lifted his axe and severed them. "You're free. I know the Bronze Faction paid you off." The spirit rubbed its wrists and dashed for the door.

Gunn's axe spun in a half-circle, bit into the corrupt god's back, and slammed it to the floor in a dissolving pool of Essence. "Said you were free. Didn't say I'd let you live."

"I want your blessing," Iron Siaka explained. "That's all."

Venus shifted slightly and leaned forward, disturbing her sheer robes and making Siaka gulp. "You want my blessing," she repeated. "To break an oath sacred to me-indeed to all my sisters-you want my blessing?"

"Anya and I aren't compatible at all," Siaka explained hastily. "I made the bond because it was the only way to save her life, and honestly I regrer doing that much."

"You regret saving a new yet powerful Sidereal whose destiny was so unspeakably important she cut into the Great Dance for the purpose of gaining her Exaltation?" The Maiden of Serenity was becoming agitated. Bad sign. "Well, I certainly don't." Venus' robes fell open about the chest, leaving Siaka to try not to hyperventilate. Human eyes, even Exalted ones, weren't meant to behold the Maidens in their full glory. "Do as you choose, Iron Siaka, but don't imagine you have my approval. Samsara brought you together for a reason, and while I won't go so far as to force you...I. Do. Not. Approve of your leaving." She leaned back in her seat. "Totally your decision, of course." And she began to file her nails.

Iron Siaka bowed her head low and slunk out.

"I don't know about you, Rupert, but I must admit: I never thought to study sorcery in heaven itself." Wesley examined the diagrams with a frown. "Fascinating place."

"This is not heaven," Rupert argued with him. "It isn't even a good facsimile. And you must not forget our real purpose. Have you found it?"

Wesley nodded. "It's no wonder we depleted their entire stockpile. A key component of the mixture was 'alchemical blood of the line of Dieres Vhien,' one of the founders of the Watchers' Council."

Rupert stared at him. "How, pray tell, did you find such a thing here?"

"I didn't," Wesley explained. "I found a substitute. Vhien was supposed to have been descended from an obscure line of gods, thus his magical prowess. Investigating here, I found a reference to the 'children of breeding'. Apparently in the First Age, the gods of certain eugenic programs were interbred with the subjects of those programs over a period of millennia. Most of those bloodlines have been lost, but one of Anya's clients was once a divinity of such a program, several times removed. I took his ichor for the purpose, and indeed it was more potent than Vhien's, if anything."

Giles blinked. "Then our world must be this one's future after all. And this god is in danger of his life."

"Not at all," Wesley said. "He was slain in the riots."

"Then no more toxin can be made here." Rupert grimaced and set his book down. "I doubt we can convince the Exalted there's no longer a threat."

"No," Wesley mumbled. "No chance at all." Then, abruptly, looked up. Something had moved in the stacks as he spoke. "Damn. We had best return to Anya."

"At once," Rupert agreed.

"They do look cute together," Willow sighed.

"He's a demon," Angel protested. "An out-and-out prince of hell, so don't look at me that way."

Tara nodded solemnly. "And yet...they are cute."

Angel made a disgusted noise in his throat.

"It's a marriage of state," Spike insisted stubbornly. "Not like they're gonna be boning day and night. Or at all, I expect."

"That's not what Sweet told me," Tara said, scratching at the rough scales on her neck. She needed more water. "They're going to go consummate the marriage in Buffy's new mansion in Malfeas."

"What?' Spike leapt from his seat. "She's out of her mind! Angel, we-"

"Exactly," Angel said flatly. "She won't thank us."

"She had a plan," Willow brought up, "but I don't know if she'll go through with it now." She took Tara's hand and gently pulled it away from her neck. "Shouldn't talk about it here."

Buffy and Sweet finished their waltz and vanished in a pulse of light and smoke.

"Good luck, Buffy," Tara said under her breath.

Ma-Ha-Suchi came to a halt on the scrublands. He needed a new form, but it refused to take shape. His body burned and boiled with power, but could not be forced to hold still. His beastmen waited on his command.

Finally he managed to force his body into the shape of a giant sidewinder. It would do. He had consumed the Heart's Blood of one mate.

This "Buffy Summers, Despot of Gem" was next.