Chapter 10: Brace Yourself

It was surreal. Buffy scanned the gymnasium-like room. The distinct scent of waxy polish on hardwood floor was familiar, but instead of weights or sporting equipment, there were weapons. And instead of athletes training, there were demons of all shapes and sizes.

She had spent the better portion of the morning running The First's personal demon guard through various exercises to ascertain their skill level. She wasn't disappointed. They were trained, not as well as she was, naturally, but the learning curve had been much higher when she'd needed to prepare the Potentials for battle.

These demons at least had the advantage of intrinsic strength and previous battle experience; they were disorganized, however, and required a leader. And if there was one thing Buffy did well – even more so than shopping for new shoes – it was lead.

"How's it going, Slayer?"

Buffy looked away from her new army and saw Dagmar standing in the gymnasium doorway, alone. There was no energetic daisy bouncing beside the demon this morning.

"Where's…." She stopped herself short of calling her daughter Nora. She had intentionally never said the name aloud in front of Dagmar; she didn't know how her daughter's guardian would respond knowing his charge's intended name.

"Your daughter is safe," Dagmar reassured her, automatically knowing the source of Buffy's unspoken concern. "She's having breakfast."

Buffy's shoulders relaxed. "Oh, good."

Dagmar stepped fully into the gym and appraised the assembled demons, all occupied with a specific task. Some were paired up, grappling on padded mats; others were practicing with weapons, hitting targets; while others still tested their innate skills – appendages that turned into more deadly weapons, eyeballs that shot out icy blasts, breathing plumes of fire – typical demon stuff.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes," the stone demon proclaimed.

"Wouldn't believe what?"

"That they listened to you," Dagmar said. "You're a human, and yet they appear to be taking your instruction and accepting your leadership as if you were one of them."

Buffy shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, even though she herself was surprised at how quickly the guard had followed her orders and had proven quick studies, eager to please.

"Although I suppose they're all afraid of you," Dagmar added with a snort. "They've never been around a real slayer before. They probably think you could level them with a dirty look."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the stone-faced demon. "What says I can't?"

"Indeed," Dagmar laughed. "Well done, Slayer." The oversized demon clapped Buffy on the shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, a show of camaraderie between two warriors, but Buffy stumbled forward from the force of it.

Buffy winced and rubbed at her shoulder. That was going to leave a mark. "Thanks," she grumbled. "I think."

The shower felt good. She hadn't had the luxury while being a prisoner in the castle's basement, so she stood under the water spray, letting it warm her body all over. She closed her eyes and positioned her head directly under the showerhead, letting the spray beat down on her face.

Her shoulders ached from sparring with a four-armed demon, but the feeling of tired muscles was familiar and comforting. It had actually been fun, and for a few moments she had forgotten where she was and why she was trapped there. But now, after working up a sweat training The First's personal guards for the majority of the morning, she desperately needed one of Faith's infamous shoulder rubs. Whenever her shoulders were sore, or during her pregnancy when she'd had lower back pain, Faith would coax her to sit in the space between her legs so she could work out those stubborn knots.

Buffy placed her hand flat against the tiled shower wall and sighed. She'd done it again; she'd let Faith creep into her thoughts without meaning to. She wrestled internally with feelings of guilt and responsibility, with her maternal obligations and her selfish desire to see her girlfriend.

Buffy turned off the shower, no longer content to just stand under the spray. Even though it was only the early afternoon, she slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. When she'd returned from her training session, she'd found clothing in her size in her closet and in the drawers of a wardrobe.

Coming from outside, she heard the unmistakable sound of a child's laughter and she was drawn to the single window in her room to investigate. The view beyond her window overlooked a lush, green courtyard that was fortified on all sides by the castle's walls. Down below she saw Nora running around under the careful guard of Dagmar. Her blonde hair was down and floated behind her like a cape as she raced around the open courtyard with no care or purpose. Her mouth was open, laughing, and her arms were out like she was flying.

Buffy pressed her hand against the windowpane that separated them. If she stayed in Gafka, would she ever be able to tell this little girl that she was her birth mother? Would she ever be able to call her Nora? Or would she have to continue to observe her from afar?

Earlier that day she'd caught herself before calling her daughter 'Nora' in front of Dagmar. She thought about the name all the time. Naming her child had actually been a lot of work. She knew too well the consequences of having a poorly chosen name. A name like 'Buffy' might have worked when she was a high school student in the Valley, but it was hard to command respect from demons and other evil things with a name like that. She'd finally decided on 'Nora' because it had been her maternal grandmother's name. She didn't remember much of her mom's mom, but she must have been a great lady to have produced such a wonderful person like her own mom.

Buffy blinked a few times when she felt the familiar sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. It was still hard to think about her mom, even now. She almost was thankful her mother wasn't around to witness the disaster of the past two years though – Buffy ditching her wedding to fight demons, breaking up with the father of her child without ever getting married, and now she was in a strange dimension, trying to wrestle her child away from The First.

She didn't know if she should be angry or sad that her child thought she was dead. She hourly vacillated between the two emotions. She hated dwelling on that fact that she'd already missed out so much of Nora's childhood because of the dimension hopping. And she also wished she knew if The First had truly done all of this for altruistic reasons. This Thing claimed that Buffy could never return to her world because "balance" needed to be maintained. But why was The Worst Evil in charge of that? Shouldn't it want all slayers dead, not one to each world? Shouldn't this "balance" business be the responsibility of The Powers That Be?

Buffy was so lost to her own thoughts, she didn't realize someone else was in the room. She didn't realize this until, still toweling off her damp hair, she turned on her heel and knocked into them.

Buffy let out a noise of surprise combined with a grunt as her shoulder clipped the person who had been standing directly behind her as she had watched over her daughter outside. The other person stumbled back a few steps from the unexpected impact.

"Oh my God," Buffy gasped. "You surprised me," she said, holding her hand over the space on her chest where her heart was. "I didn't hear you come in."

The First stood in the center of Buffy bedroom, its eyes wide and mouth open.

Buffy's eyes grew wide as well. "I just ran into you," she exclaimed. She lunged forward and grabbed The First by the arms. They were solid – flesh and bone. "You have a body."

Nervous energy rolled off of Faith. She wondered if it was contagious because everyone else around her seemed to be vibrating as well.

"I can't believe we're really doing this," she heard someone whisper. A murmur of approval shimmered across the group of self-appointed vigilantes.

After a few days of whirlwind activity and haphazard combat training, Faith found herself surrounded by mouth breathers who apparently were incapable of breathing through their noses. The dank, narrow sewer passage where they were standing was muggy enough without the heat thrown from the blowtorch.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Faith asked out loud.

The welder, Faith thought his name was Dave or Dan – she couldn't remember –turned off his blowtorch and lifted the visor of his protective headgear. "You know demons, lady," he growled. "I know cutting up metal with fire. It's just gonna take a bit."

Faith grunted. She didn't like the sewers in Sunnydale, and she sure as hell didn't like them in this demon world. But the governor of this place lived in a literal castle and there was no way they'd succeed storming the palace with their small army of humans. These underground passages were the only way inside. They'd been prepared for barriers though and this was the first metal gateway they'd reached. Faith hoped there wouldn't be too many more because she was starting to get claustrophobic.

She was understandably anxious. She didn't know what they would face once inside the castle, and she didn't know where Buffy was being held. The city plans had been helpful, but only to the point of getting them to the castle. Once they found a way inside, they had no blueprints upon which to rely. Apparently that wasn't open to public consumption. A few of the group had been inside the castle before, however, and they were chosen to lead the vigilante group once they'd breached the castle walls.

She used to crave these kinds of situations – leap first and make things up on the fly, but that was when she was much younger and had nothing to live for. Things had changed now, and Faith actually had a survival instinct that was currently flashing –

bright red – that what they were about to do was ill advised and would inevitably lead to people dying. These were blue-collar workers. Welders and plumbers and garbage collectors who were suited for burning holes through underground metal doorway, but they weren't anywhere prepared for the kind of combat they'd face once they breeched these barrier.

"That oughta do it," the welder said gruffly.

A few members of the group came forward. They grabbed onto the bars of the heavy metal grate and pushed. Faith held her breath as she watched the metal barrier slowly topple over.

Buffy and The First stared at each other. The First wiggled, trying to get free of the much stronger woman's hold. "Why do you have a body?" Buffy felt almost manic. She didn't have the opportunity to demand an answer before a visible alarm went off. A high-pitched shrieking sound surrounded her head.

"What's that?" Buffy looked up to the ceiling as if expecting to see something.

"There's been a break-in. They attacked much sooner than I expected. I thought we had at least a few weeks before they'd do this." The First's voice was tight.

"What is that awful noise?" Buffy complained. She let go of The First and covered her ears to stave off the howling. She felt like her brain was going to implode, splattering on the inside of her cranial walls.

"I had a shaman enchant the castle so we'd know if anyone unauthorized made it inside."

"You couldn't have asked your shaman to make that magic barrier impenetrable?" Buffy snarled, annoyance thick in her tone. "Fat lot of good a car alarm is going to do us."

Buffy stormed over to her bedroom window with her wooden desk chair in hand. The window was never meant to open – another security precaution perhaps. Buffy heaved the chair at the solid window, shattering the glass.

"Dagmar!" she yelled down into the center courtyard. "We're under attack! Take Nora someplace safe!"

The name slipped out before Buffy could reel it back in.

Dagmar waved an oversized stone arm to indicate he'd heard her warning. He scooped up the young girl and ran off.

She'd told the young girl once, when she'd been in the castle's prison cells, that she'd had a daughter and that her name was Nora. She had referred to the girl as "Nora" so many times inside of her head, that it had slipped out without much thought. She didn't have time to overanalyze the consequences of what she'd just done, however; they were in danger.

Buffy spun on her heel. "This isn't over," she said to The First, who still looked taken aback by what had just occurred. "You'd better go hide yourself, too. I've got a job to do."

The group of two and a half dozen Gafka citizens poured through the final sewer barrier. They found themselves still underground, but now in the bowels of the governor's castle.

Someone let out a wild cheer.

"Quiet!" Faith hissed. "You want to announce to the whole fucking castle that we're here?"

The guilty party, a man with a potbelly and owlish eyes, looked to the ground, sufficiently chastised. "Sorry."

Someone who'd been in the castle before, a plumber or something who'd once done some work for the governor began leading the group up a dark set of stone stairs. Faith, however, had other plans.

"You're going the wrong way!" Steve yelled when he noticed the slayer not joining the group.

Faith froze in her tracks. "I am?"

"The throne room is on the main level," Steve said, jerking his head towards the stone staircase. "We have to go up these stairs."

"But my girlfriend is in prison, which is probably downstairs," Faith reminded him. "This is as far as I go. You're on your own."

"We had a deal," Steve hissed.

"And I upheld my side of the deal. I helped train your foot soldiers. But I never agreed to lead them into this crusade."

"We'll be slaughtered without a slayer!" he protested. "Isn't this your job? Aren't you supposed to save humans and kill demons?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but you've got the wrong slayer," Faith snorted. "I never was much of a hero." Without another word, she turned on her booted heel and ran down a hallway, hopeful it would lead to the jail and even more hopeful that Buffy would be there.

Buffy ran out of her bedroom, leaving The First behind. She rushed downstairs to the throne room, stopping briefly at the gymnasium to grab a weapon – a long broad sword. In the throne room she found the majority of The First's personal guard. She instinctively went into General Buffy-mode, yelling out instructions to the demons, strategically positioning them to specific locations around the castle, but leaving the majority to stay and fight in the throne room.

She didn't know the humans' numbers, but she'd determined that the throne room was the best place to launch a defense. The small door to the inner sanctum would only allow so many people to flood into the room at once. They could pick off the humans as they rushed in. Plus, this was the most likely place for a confrontation. If the humans wanted to attack The First, they'd come directly here.

She hated shedding human blood. It had been a badge of honor that had separated her from the monsters – she killed things, yes, but up until The First had gotten involved back in Sunnydale, it had never been humans. For the longest time she'd told herself that's what made her better than Faith – made her the Good Slayer – but she knew too well that their roles could have been easily reversed; years of self-reflection had made her realize that. When Faith had killed the deputy mayor, they'd both been too young, too immature, to deal with what had happened.

From her position, locked inside the throne room, surrounded by a demon guard, Buffy could hear loud metallic clanging and the collective din of angry voices. They must have gotten into the castle through the sublevel and were now at the metal door that partitioned the main level from the basement. It was only a matter of time before the disgruntled citizens of Gafka would be through that final door.

She didn't know why The First hadn't simply put up a magical barrier around the grounds to keep unwanted citizens from entering. She could practically hear the pounding of footsteps coming closer. If this was another of The First's attempts to kill her, it was too late for Buffy to do anything about that now.

She tried to banish uneasy thoughts about her daughter's safety so she could focus on the impending fight. Nora was with Dagmar, she reassured her unsteady nerves; safe for now. She knew that if it came down to it, her daughter's protector would forfeit his life to save hers.

The metal clanging became louder and the voices grew angrier. They'd made it past the basement door. Now, the only thing that stood between the mob and Buffy was the set of wooden doors that led to the throne room.

"Steady," Buffy ordered. Her team of armed demons had grown fidgety as they waited for the inevitable attack. "Hold your positions."

She took a deep breath and braced herself as the wooden doors exploded.

TBC