Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the original characters, Joss and Mutant Enemy are the lucky ones.
Summary: Angel and his group took out the Thorn, but they opened up a whole new can of worms.
Pairings: Spuffy, Fresley, D/OC. Others might present themselves.
Warning: There will be cursing, violence and a smidgen of sex in this story.
Chapter Six: Hell to the Chief
Washington D.C. - White House - Press area
Giles felt like a schoolboy ready to tell the principal the gym teacher dressed in female clothing, where that analogy came from he didn't know. If the strangest thing that had happened at Sunnydale High had been a cross dressing athletics director; it would have been a much more bearable three years. But it wasn't the principal he was speaking to, it was the leader of the free world.
Despite his own opinion of the man, he was hopeful the president would react in an appropriate fashion. Because if this man didn't listen to reason, then everything was pretty well doomed. Truth be told, he didn't want to be here, he'd much rather be with his slayer. Helping her recover from the obvious trauma the past year had caused.
But they all had responsibilities, and they must see them through. That's what it all came down to in the end wasn't it, responsibility. Responsibility had pulled him back from England when Buffy had been resurrected. And again when the threat of The First started to loom over Sunnydale. He cared for Buffy, and all of the children he'd spent the last several years mentoring.
They'd allowed him to experience what it would have been like if he'd had children, if the council hadn't managed to sink it's claws into him after the fiasco with Eyghon. It had felt good to know he'd imbued them with some of the knowledge and wisdom he'd gained over the years. But now, just when he thought he might be able to rest; Armageddon, well bugger all.
Although he very much doubted victory would mean the complete eradication of all demons, he was resolute that his days would no longer be spent with the more action oriented dealings of the council. He had only managed to set up a basic structure at best, his time mainly spent with Buffy at the coven. Someone had to lay the groundwork that would carry this new institution through the next few millenia...if mankind lasted that long.
"Rupert Giles?"
Briefly looking up, Giles could see a young man with perfectly white teeth, a finely made suit, and hair that must have been stapled on it looked so firm, he'd make an excellent politician one day.
"Yes, I'm Rupert Giles."
"The president will see you now, this way."
The young man gestured dramatically down the hallway.
"Thank you?"
"Tim, Tim Hodridge."
Perfect name for a politician.
Giles stood, noticing many of the people would not look him in the eye as he passed. Probably because it wasn't everyday someone came through these halls who didn't have their face plastered on the telly. At least a few of them must have caught wind of why he was here; he knew what was going on in Los Angeles, he was the man with answers. They weren't clean cut ones, the kind you could throw at a problem and just make it scamper off like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.
In a nation already downtrodden with war, he was about to propose that they all take up arms against the forces of darkness, in other words; they all thought he was a loony. Tim led him to a door flanked by two secret service agents, the men checked his and Giles identification, then spoke into their walkie talkies, after a few seconds; they nodded their heads and ushered them inside. The president made no notice of their presence; too busy talking to someone on the phone. Tim walked to the side of the desk, waiting to grab his attention, while Giles looked around the room. Wasn't all that impressive actually, seemed more like a parlor to entertain guests, rather than the office for a head of state.
"Mr. Giles I'm guessing?"
'Good lord, how had he moved that fast.'
The president was holding out his hand, no Texas grin adorning his face. Giles took the hand and gave it a good solid shake.
"Yes, Mr. President, I'm Rupert Giles."
"Call me George, you don't work for me and with what your here about, there's no use being formal."
"Quite."
"You're dismissed Tim, Grab a seat Rupert, I've got a feeling this ain't gonna be no quick pitch."
"I'm afraid your correct...George."
Inside L.A. city limits - Several Hours Later
It was so a bad idea to wear the silk camisole she'd bought on the layover in New York into battle, it might breathe well, and it wasn't too snug, but it was gonna be useless ten seconds into any fight. She'd remembered about five minutes after leaving the base that they had jeeps parked around the perimeter. Sadly she'd been too psyched about getting some action to consider grabbing one, hell; she'd probably kill more demons with her driving than the scythe. Riley better get off his ass and be all he could be.
Military Headquarters - Los Angeles Quarantine Zone
Why did he always get saddled with the bullshit jobs? Out here searching the perimeter while almost everyone else gotta listen in on the fight going on. Private First Class Joe Miller, or pee-on as he was more widely known, a young man from Connecticut who'd just had to see the world; if he'd wanted to see L.A., he would have hitched a ride, not joined up. People were really starting to move now, getting jeeps prepped, tanks loaded. They were gonna go get them some; and he was gonna stay there scanning for tumbleweeds; lucky bastards. Sadly he never saw the flames before they engulfed him whole.
Los Angeles - Grauman's Chinese Theater
It was just like the song, you gotta have Faith, demons must agree, cause they just wouldn't let up. Her and the girls had killed a few hundred in the past half hour or so, but a lot of these girls had never needed to endure a barrage of fighters. Punch, block, punch, stake, that's all they'd really ever had to use. Now they were getting on the job training, and the instructors wouldn't put up with no sass talk, or lazy moves. Faith took a second to count how may girls were still up, although in this sea of scales and slime, she was lucky to see across the street. Only eleven that she could see, hopefully the others were just blocked from view. A vamp of Latino origin spotted her and licked his lips, obviously finding her attractive, sexually or in a bloodsucking way she couldn't tell.
"Hey slayer, how about a little taste?"
Faith strutted up, dropping into her fighting stance.
"Sure thing hon, come over here and you can kiss my ass."
As usual, the vamp snarled and launched himself through the air, Faith planted her feet and pushed off, sailing up and kicking out her foot at the same time, catching the vamp in the face and spinning him backwards, killing his momentum and sending him to the pavement. She landed with her boot on his spine, the vertebrae cracking and his whole body convulsing from the sudden loss of control, she dipped and plunged her stake through his back and into the heart, moving onto her next one before the dust had time to settle.
At least there were more than a few regular street vamps here, not all of 'em were from the portals, the vamps were fodder, just there to weaken them, not actually get a kill. But with no sun coming up, from what Super Wills had laid down before; there could be no stopping these guys.
'B, you better be moving your ass this way, or I might just have to really start trying.'
Los Angeles - Few hundred feet above the ground
Willow held out her hands, channeling the pure magic energy inside her, she lifted a firetruck off the ground, carrying it over a few blocks, she dropped it in the middle of a line of demons attacking one of the squads, essentially cutting off their backup and making the job easier for the girls. Satisfied that they'd manage, she flew on, buzzed from the magic, and the wind blowing through her shoulder length hair. If only Tara could see her now, no dark magic in sight no-sir-ee. She hoped Tara was proud of her, for turning things around. Maybe one day, she could talk to her, see what the afterlife was like, make sure she was happy. For now, she'd have to be content with knowing that they were in this together, and that Buffy would see them through, no matter what.
Los Angeles - Grauman's Chinese Theater
The werewolf snarled, using it's claws to bat away a troll in it's way as it advanced on Faith. She'd managed to keep it on it's toes by ducking in and out sight, making it furious and causing it to take it's anger out on the unsuspecting demons it was sided with. She jumped onto a fire escape, ready to jump onto it's back the second it showed it's ugly mug. She scanned the crowd, no sign of her prey, something dripped onto her shoulder.
'Good, rain'll slow down the big ones.'
No drips followed though, and as she looked up she saw the beast staring down from the roof. He must have gotten into the building, having the same plan of sneak attacking her. It hurled it's body downward, crashing into the top of the escape, and breaking the support structure. The entire thing started to teeter as brackets snapped and brick mortar crumbled down. Faith managed to jump off, landing on top of some junk heap someone called a car, her stake lost and no weapon in sight. The fire escape came off the building, crashing down into the demons, and almost squishing one of her girls.
The werewolf rolled a bit, than scampered to it's feet. It's yellow eyes picked out Faith, and it pulled its leg against the pavement, the claws digging into the ground. It galloped for a good ten feet, before kicking off and leaping towards Faith, before it could reach her, a little blond blur came sailing through the air, swiping at the hound and landing neatly underneath it. The werewolf's body split in two, blood pouring out as it fell, drenching Buffy and her clothing. Both halves fell on either side of her as demon and slayer alike lessened the fighting to regard the original slayer.
"I knew I shouldn't have worn this thing."