Karal Linwei looked down from the camp toward the ruined city of Thorns. Not that Thorns was empty, of course-its people continued to survive in that benighted place-but the Mask of Winters had wrecked it all the same. Privately, the Taimyo of the First Field Force suspected that even if the Deathlord could be overthrown, Thorns would never belong to the living again.

"Taimyo!"

"I see it, kazei. Keep your post." A lone figure was advancing from among the dead legions that ringed the city, a being somewhat larger than a grown man. She could see little more, but at the limit of her vision, she believed the approaching creature was blue. "Signal the scouts to intercept."

Banners flashed, sigils flared, and an advance detachment burst from cover beside the road, signaling the lone figure to halt. The blue person failed to do so, so the riders opened fire with their shortbows. Still it walked on unhesitatingly.

"Close," Linwei ordered, and the banners relayed the signal again. The scout force unlimbered its swords and closed in, slicing at the seemingly-unarmored figure as they rode past.

The being seized one of the riders out of the saddle by the throat, and...

Linwei raised her binoculars to her eyes. What was happening? The blue figure leaped toward her-it was definitely a demon of some sort. The rider he had seized was wrapped in flames, thrashing. Bolts of living flame shot out from the dying soldier, connecting them to one rider after another until all of them were afire. In moments the entire fang had burned to ash.

"Don't approach him!" Linwei ordered. No need to panic. The scouts had met a terrible fate, but tactics could be adjusted to defeat such a power. "Distance weapons only. Prepare a volley."

In moments hundreds of Dragon-graced arrows were arcing towards the blue demon. They penetrated his hide, stuck there...and did exactly nothing. The demon turned his gaze toward the archers, and fire blazed from his eyes, leaping from soldier to soldier. It took only seconds to obliterate another fang.

Karal Linwei swallowed hard. "Prepare the artillery. All nonspecialist forces...get ready for strategic withdrawal." There was no shame in retreat well-executed...and this demon was clearly going to be a problem.

Chapter 88-The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side

"So, Anya," Buffy asked, "what do you think of my hair?" She turned, a thin smirk painted on her face. The pale yellow serpents that now sprouted from her scalp writhed slightly despite being bound together. She flexed her jet-black wings; they were itchy for use.

"It's actually very you," Anya said with a grin. "I'm so glad to see you finally embracing your demonic side. But won't it put the Terrestrials off?"

"After the Wicker Buffy incident, I've decided I don't care. I don't need to please anyone but me and Mnemon, and if this bugs her I have ways to appease her." Buffy frowned at her index finger and bent it backwards to touch her hand. It didn't hurt a bit.

Anya opened her mouth to ask what her hand had to do with Mnemon, did a double-take, and finished with, "You're even more limber than usual. Yes, she'll definitely appreciate that. What about your stamina?"

"Eh," Buffy said noncommittally. "I'm almost afraid to build that up any more than I have. The side effects-"

"Will help you keep up with Mnemon," Anya said matter-of-factly. "I strongly recommend them. Are you all right?"

Belatedly Buffy realized she was eating, and eating a chunk of wood at that. "Preggo cravings," she said. "Considering I can eat literally anything I'd call this lucky."

Anya nodded. "As long as it tastes good and doesn't damage the city. Are you sure that's all?"

Argh. Her forked, snaky tongue was flicking out. "Anya, I'm getting used to not being completely human. And I'm starting to think it'll be okay if I completely stop being human. But if I ever stop caring about humans, just kill me, okay? Because I really will be gone."

Anya nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Buffy! I will proudly eviscerate you and wear any useful parts you might have, just like in D & D."

The last bit caught Buffy off guard, and she burst into a giggle fit. And it meant Anya still hadn't caught on comp-

"What are you hiding, Buffy?"

She put her hand to her face. "The more I use my powers, the stronger I get, and the more kinds of powers I get. And it's not just me learning. I think that for some reason all the Yozis in the Reclamation...want to become part of us. Me, at least, and probably the others too. At first it was just the hearthstone, but I think today I picked up something from Metagaos."

"The cross between Galactus, the Andromeda Strain, and Audrey II?"

"That's him." Buffy tried to keep a straight face at the comparison; Acathla had been a surviving Metagaos jouten, probably a forner Infernal. "I think he especially wants inside us."

Anya's expression was narrow and pained. "Be careful, Buffy. Try and balance him out."

"I will," Buffy said, still struggling to hide one more thing from Anya.

Anya smelled delicious.

"Buffy needs an intervention," Anya warned. "Again."

"I think you're overreacting," Xander told her. The big construction bay was finally empty now that the fleet was out practicing maneuvers. The tool kits had been moved back to the walls, except for a few being used by Luthea. "Metagaos isn't any more creeptastic than the Ebon Dragon, and she uses his powers without causing problems. Except that one time, and we got her to fix that herself."

"Metagaos is the embodiment of self-indulgence," Anya said, waving her hands about. "What if she starts misusing all her powers now? One could be too many! Do you really want to wait till Buffysucks the world into hell?"

"Yeah, and apparently Chejop Kejak was the embodiment of self-righteousness and pre-emptive strikes," Xander reminded her. As if she could've forgotten that! "Are you sure this isn't another trigger?"

"No," Anya grumbled. "I'm not sure. There's no policy against interfering with Anathema or heads of state in other regions. But she's dangerous, Xander!"

"'And so am I, very dangerous'," Xander quoted. Anya wanted to strangle him. "'More dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord.'"

She might have torn into him for that, except for the man coming up behind him. Cearr, Buffy had called him, and he reminded her of Olaf before he was a troll. He laughed uproariously and clapped Xander on the shoulder. "If you're half as dangerous as Buffy you're a hell of a man. The Dead Pirate Robards? Deathknight, eh?"

"Solar," Xander said. "It's 'dread', not 'dead'. But thanks."

"Hello, I'm Anya," she said, since he hadn't introduced her. "You're a Slayer. That's very amusing, but I guess you know why."

Cearr chuckled some more. "Oh yes." He held his hand about waist high, considerably shorter than the actual Buffy. "I should be so high, long hair, with tits. I know. You're doing the wedding, I heard. Buffy gets more impressive every day. Never 'spected to see her getting hitched with Mnemon but I see how it figures with the Yozis. Nothing says we gotta overrun things by force, and the Blessed Isle's a tough nut to crack. Don't you worry about her gettin' out of hand. Worry 'bout yourselves. Robards here has the right of it. Before you know it you'll be shakin' worlds."

"And what do you know about it?" Anya asked crankily. Stupid man! She should turn him into a troll. "What have you done with your powers?"

"Done the impossible," Cearr said with a smirk. "I've conquered Chaya."

Anya's eyes widened. "You're the one who- How in the hell did you do it? The Chayans-"

"The Chayans obey their gods," Cearr said calmly. "And their gods obey me. Easy as hell. I don't even have to hang around giving orders. I just run around kicking the ass I please and every once in a while I stop by and tell Xochichem what I want outta him. I don't get their weird-ass gods, but the system suits me fine."

"You realize I have to report this to-"

"Report it!" Cearr said. "Go ahead. Nobody'll dare stop me. Not once I'm done. Chaya's always been a weird little place that's no use to anyone. Now that's over."

"Anh, he may have the right of it," Xander said, so she did the only thing she could. She flounced away.

Heaven was going to hear about this!

Kate slouched against the wall. Being a Lunar was great for getting rid of body aches; your muscles and bones just took the shape you wanted them in. "So tell 'em what's up, Paige."

"We're all victims of a supernatural conspiracy," Paige Matthews said. "A literal witch hunt. The Maclay family's spent about two centuries hunting down witches and 'neutralizing' them, then adopting and marrying off their kids to make sure they never learn their heritage. We think it started with a guy named Isaac Maclay, a powerful sorceror who thought he was blessed by God. His male descendants are big figures in holy-roller type churches-faith healers, prophets, that kind of thing. His female descendants, except for a few very ultra-pious women, end up convinced they have to be prisoners in their own homes.

"I got lucky. The Watchers' Council flagged me as a potential Slayer and recruited me. They don't have the resources to profile every woman on Earth, but I've worked us up-all four of us-and we still have a destiny. I don't know what it is, but Piper's already Exalted, so I have a good guess."

"I call shenanigans," said Prudence, raising her hand. "You people said Exaltation doesn't run in families, except for the Dragon-Blooded. And we're not that. So why would four sisters all have that kind of destiny?"

Faith cut in before Kate could answer. "Shenanigans already got called. The Maclays made 'em. They were tryin' to contain you, but without thinkin' about it they bred in every magic bloodline they could find. Sure, a little demon, maybe. But also elementals, gods, ghosts, fairies, maybe even a Slayer or two. They made their own enemies. Isn't that how destiny works? And no, not every girl gets called who could. But you stand up and fight, with this big destiny behind you? There's your best shot. Right?" Kate didn't know if that was really how it worked, but it did get the sisters looking at each other thinking.

"I'm already Exalted," Piper said. "And Prudence and Phoebe know a little magic." Phoebe shook her head firmly. "What about you, Paige?"

"I stood out on the Council's radar for a reason," Paige said. "I have a different dad from the rest of you. He's a ghost." And she vanished.

Knox finally looked up from the scope. "You're sure you weren't made using nanotech?"

"Pretty sure," Buffybot said. "Warren would've bragged a lot about that if he'd used it."

Knox gave a noncommittal grunt. "I know the type." He swung the screen around to show her. "I can't find any place where the parts of...that thing could have been stored. It's a mystery to me."

"My baby is not a thing," Buffybot said firmly, clutching the marionette. It was definitely made entirely of wood, yet Knox could've sworn it looked older than it had yesterday. "My baby is a baby and his name is Timmy."

"Timmy?" Knox said doubtfully. She probably didn't know about that show Passions. "He's, um, cute. I guess."

"Thank you," the robot said obliviously.

"Can I try and get a copy of your root programs?" Maybe he'd find some answers there.

"You can try," she said evasively. "Autochthon wrote them. I think."

"Whoever that is," Knox said with a shrug, and ran cables up to connect to her chest processors. She really was a good human facsimile.

A warning message about viruses flashed onto the screen before vanishing. Then a face replaced it. "Yeah," said a voice from the speakers. "Good luck with that."

Spike's ride on the mono was coming to an end. So far it hadn't asked for riddles or threatened to derail before Topeka, so he was probably as good as there. Decrepit decor shuddered as the ancient, empty train slowed, but with its blast shields down he could only guess they were approaching the sun. Just as he could only hope there was some kind of safe place where they could chit-chat.

The mono creaked to a stop. Spike climbed out of the comfortable but dusty seat and made his way to the door. "Here goes," he said. The hatch popped open with a crack and a bang. For a moment the brightness was too much for him. He stood in a long shining hall, floor tiled with interlocking suns. The walls shone with images of celestial battle, and the ceiling was painted with a mural showing three titanic beings watching the Sun rise. A gleaming golden door with a sunburst rotated slowly open in a burst of steam amid the grinding of gears as he stumbled forward.

The chamber within was a mass of instruments and levers, dominated by a ship's wheel of white jade glowing with orange heat. The sole occupant turned toward him, releasing his grip on the wheel with three of four hands. The fourth was plainly prosthetic, carved from some sort of white steel; a living laurel branch wound through its components. His remaining skin was itself golden-orange, his hair a shining mane that stood out like sunbeams. Light shone all around him, though by an effort of will he seemed to cast his shadow on Spike at all times. His face was a mask of infinite weariness...and yet seeing his visitor, he smiled.

"Spike," he said.

"Bloody buggering hell," Spike answered.

The face belonged to Angel.

The Dowager was getting tired of this bloody singing! She could keep the mask up a little longer, she supposed, but it was demonstrably wearing thin. The Shoat no longer fully trusted her; she might have to Exalt another. No, not with Oblivion so close at hand.

Beside her, the Sidereal Drusilla nattered on. She understood what she was about and could explain every principle of her actions and renovations in terms of proper geomancy, but by the Abyss, she became annoying after a while!

"So although the actions of the Primordials cannot be explained in terms of destiny, even they serve a greater causality. Only the Wyld is a true unpredictable singularity..." Really. What wouldn't the Dowager give for another lecture on the proper care of dolls?

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're always a day away!" Hmm. Not much longer. Soon there'd be no more tomorrows. And at least Drusilla had produced one improvement in the children. As she passed by a crowd of them, they knelt and called out, "We love you, Dowager!" It didn't sound sincere, but she neither needed nor expected sincerity, only less sullenness.

The currents of fate were shifting as she approached the Well. "One more thing," Drusilla sang out as they neared it. She plopped down a doll on the edge, staring downward with blind eyes. "Observe the cat for us, Miss Edith."

The Dowager felt the Beyond click like the tumblers of a lock and settle into place. "There," Drusilla finished. "That is how you do it."

The Well of Udr now opened on one world and one world alone. If it was the wrong one, she need only choose another. If not...

"Just a spoonful of sugar..."

"Enough! Silence!"

Silence fell.

Fred lighted on the podium and quickly morphed back into human form, now wearing her bridesmaid's dress. "If we're doing this before the fight, we've got to do it now," she warned. "The fleet's engaging with shore-based defenses now. They're hurling...acidic grenade babies or something like that." Her face twisted all up.

Alexander nodded. "Get everyone ready. Are Willow and Tara back?"

"Tara can't make it," Willow said plaintively, racing through the door as black glyphs transformed into golden around her and her body filled out into lifelikeness again. "She's taken over Raksi's kingdom and she's trying to get things whipped into shape. Without the whippage. I hope. Except maybe if someone's into that." She started changing clothes right there in front of him as if he weren't even around!

"That can be difficult," Fred acknowledged. "I'll go alert Buffy and Mnemon."

"I'll tell Anya," Alexander put in.

"Is Leviathan coming?"

Alexander shook his head. "He's a little disturbed by this whole alliance deal and wants to stay far far away. Who's Mnemon got for bridesmaids?"

"Cynis Megara and Peleps Aramida," Anya said, entering in only pants, carrying a shirt and jacket. "Any sign of Dawn?"

"Still missing," Fred said with a sigh. "She's going to regret this."

The guests might have been hastily-assembled, but this spot had been kept decorated for nearly a week, flowers replaced as they wilted and ribbons as the birds tore them. Nestled between the spires and the dome, it was usually protected from bad weather, and the one storm this week had been predicted well in advance. Now it was full of people in folding chairs.

Anya stood at the center in her suit. The site was fancy, but the ceremony was going to be a little abbreviated. She made a quick gesture, and Willow cut in a computer-synthesized version of "Here Comes the Bride". Though of course in this case, it was more "here come the brides".

From the left, Buffy came in wearing her specially-tailored backless white dress, wings and serpent hair in full view. From the right, Mnemon strode up in her very-traditional scarlet wedding gown. Shadow stepped around Anya and the podium carrying a pillow that held Mnemon's disturbing red-and-black ring and a vitriolic-orichalcum ring she'd had made for Buffy.

Xander joined Buffy as she reached the center-half there as best man, half to give her away. Giles wasn't going to be pleased about missing this either.

Time to start. The music stopped, and Anya intoned, "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mnemon, Princess of the Realm, and Buffy Summers, Despot of Gem. This is not to be construed as invalidating any other relationships they may be involved in. If anyone here has a reason these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Silence.

"There being no-" Energy fire and clanking boots drowned her out as docking clamps latched onto the deck from all around.

"Crap!" Buffy yelled, kicking off her heels. "I am so going to slay whoever-"

An armored figure shot overhead, coming to an abrupt halt just above the Unconquerable Shadow. Suddenly the Essence surrounding them thickened, becoming harder to draw on. The faceplate went blank, revealing the visage of a stern, long-haired woman not radically-different-looking from Mnemon. Cousins, likely. "Tepet Ejava?" Mnemon growled.

"You need a reason not to wed the presumptive heir of the Empress to an Anathema? Then I'll provide you with one." She dropped down onto Shadow, who dodged just in time but dropped the pillow. The stranger picked it up and removed a gauntlet, studying the rings. "Vermillion blood washes away the past!"

Armored troops crashed into the wedding party, and Tepet Ejava slid both rings onto her fingers.