~~Yellow Press~~
Part 2
"Shaman, I'd like to say that this is completely off the record," Molly said, meeting with the orcish leader once more.
"I must say I am rather surprised by your visit," the Shaman said.
"Well, I was concerned about how your people would deal with the new electoral system," Molly admitted half truthfully.
"You are a conniving woman, Miss Rogers, what do you have in mind?"
"It's very simple. Too often people assume that they must vote for the people running, but there's always other possibilities," Molly said. "In an election dealing with millions of people it doesn't always work, but in a case like ours you have the potential to make a splash."
"What is this cunning plan of yours?"
She told him and the Shaman of Ilneval started to grin. "That is a plan Ilneval Himself would be proud of."
"Buffy Summers!" Molly Rogers ran up behind the blonde, her cameraman close behind. "Could I have a word?"
"You're not supposed to be talking to me, remember?"
"Sorry, but that stopped working as soon as you turned 18," Molly said with a grin. "We won't talk to your friends who are under 18, but as soon as they cross that threshold they're fair game."
"Well, fine, just play nice and maybe I'll answer some questions," Buffy said with a huff. Molly grinned wider and winked at the cameraman. He started rolling.
"Molly Rogers here with Buffy Summers, the Slayer and one of Sunnydale's most important citizens," the reporter said to the camera. She turned back to Buffy. "Buffy, I wanted to get your opinion on the upcoming presidential elections. We've all noticed that you haven't supported a candidate and we were wondering your opinion on the process."
"Well, I'm no politician and I'm not qualified to talk about that," Buffy said.
"What about your opinion on the candidates?"
"I won't vote for either of them," Buffy said. "I mean, really, Housecraft's people hit one of my good friends with a brick. Instead of apologizing for the actions of one of his people, he just calls Amy a sinner and a demon-worshipper. That's not right. That's not something I'm going to forget."
"What about Kendall?"
"Kendall creeps me out," Buffy said. She looked apologetically into the camera. "Sorry, Harmony, but your dad's got it all wrong. We can't build if we don't expand, and we need people to expand. Where are those people going to come from? If he thinks women are going to become baby factories for him he's freaking nuts!"
Molly Rogers grinned inwardly like she had just won the Powerball. That last statement might have been rambling and not something Kendall had really said, but it was a legitimate extension of his line of thought. Or at least that's what Molly was going to say.
"I noticed you said 'either' of the participants," Molly said, keeping up the questioning. "What about the third candidate, Butters?"
Buffy sighed and looked into the camera again. "Butters, if you're watching this, you need a platform. If you don't tell people what you stand for, no one is going to take you seriously. It's the way the game is played. And please put on some pants."
"So who are you going to vote for?"
"I don't know that I am going to vote," Buffy said. "I know that I'm supposed to take advantage of my opportunities and this is a big one, but I can't bring myself to vote for a bigot or a guy who doesn't know the first thing about running a country. This isn't a corporation. I'd vote for my own mother before I'd vote for any of them."
"You do know that you can write in names if you don't like the candidates, right?"
"No, I didn't know that," Buffy said. "But I like that it gives us more options."
Former Mayor Wilkins was relaxing as the drow inquisitors worked on his back. To anyone else it would look like they were bludgeoning him with spiked maces, to the Mayor in his current state, it was more like a nice deep massage.
"Ooo, a little more to the left please," he said.
"When will you explain your state?", inquired one of them.
"What? Gosh darn it, in today's society you can't get privacy anywhere," the man lamented. "Well, California was originally home to a wide variety of indigenous tribes, Chumash and others, in the south near where Sunnydale came from."
That earned him another pummeling with the maces.
"Thanks, that got that knot right out of my shoulder," Richard Wilkins said with a grin. "Would it be possible to get my abs done next? I have to admit that I haven't been working out as much as I should have. The problems of government, you know."
"You know what I mean!" snarled the younger daughter of Matron Baenre. "Explain your current state!"
"Well, I'm mostly solid with a variety of liquids in various parts, specifically my blood is liquid," he said, gleefully explaining the states of matter. "I bring in air to my lungs, which is a gas by the way, which spreads absorbed oxygen into my bloodstream. Your air is quite thick down here, have you ever noticed that?"
She lashed out with her scourge, the snake heads biting deep into his skin.
"Now that's not very nice," he said with a frown. "You young ladies really need to learn common courtesy. And your torture techniques could use a bit of refining. What's the point of torturing someone who doesn't feel any pain?"
The drow priestess just growled in frustration as she threw her hands up in the air. Fury emanating from her every pore, she stalked out of the dungeon. Wilkins turned to his other torturers.
"Any chance I could get a sandwich?"
"Mr. Finch!"
The deputy Mayor turned to see Sunnydale's foremost not-so-mild mannered reporter running up towards him. Strangely enough, he didn't see a camera.
"What can I do for you, Miss Rogers?" he asked politely.
"Could we speak inside? I've got a proposition for you," she said with a smile. He was on his lunch break, so he had the time. Nodding, he let her into his office. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, I was thinking about what you said about equality in the elections," she replied. "And I had an idea. Instead of running mates, have the second highest vote count be the vice president."
"Actually we were thinking along the same lines. It would force people to come together to make decisions, rather than break up along party lines," Finch said. "There is still the problem of assassination attempts, but we're working on a form of the Secret Service as we speak."
"I'm glad to hear it," she said. Finch eyed her suspiciously.
"Now what do you have up your sleeve?" he asked.
"Oh, I think you'll like it," she said with a slightly evil grin. "It goes like this…"
She went on to explain the details of her plan. It was manipulative, it was not very sporting, but it was completely in line with the laws of Free Press.
"You are a very scary person, Miss Rogers," Finch said honestly.
"Thanks, Mr. Finch!"
"Buffybuffybuffybuffy!" The girl in question turned around to see a bouncing redheaded witch gleefully holding a large leather bound book. This redhead was not the one from the night before, but actually Buffy's friend Willow Rosenberg. Willow was pumped full of energy in such a way that usually involved caffeinated enhancement.
"Hey, Wills, how's it going?"
"I think I solved a lot of problems!" Willow exclaimed, clutching the book in two hands.
"Uh, that's good, what problems are those?" Buffy asked, genuinely confused.
"Sunnydale's!" Willow said as if it explained everything. Buffy rested a hand on her arm. "Food, lumber, ecological destruction!"
"Okaaay…Willow, let's go to the library and start at the beginning," Buffy said, leading her friend down the hallway. The library was a bit on the empty side now that Giles' special books had been moved to the Initiative Library. Even then, hanging out in a military complex just didn't have the same feel as the coziness of the school library where they had hung out for two years. Now, in their senior year of high school the library was largely abandoned by the students as everyone was trying to figure out what to do with life in general. "So what did you figure out?"
"This book! The one the guy from the Zhentarim trader gave me!" Willow said, waving the book triumphantly in the air. She grinned and bounced. "I'm so cool!"
"Yes, but why this time?" Buffy was actually getting more confused not less. "Wasn't that book just a listing of religious prayers in common religions? What does that have to with Sunnydale's problems?"
"They're spells! The prayers are spells! Spells for everything!" Willow announced.
"Okay, still cool, but go with the 'splainy."
"So, Snyder's' cactus? I made it huge!" Willow said, punctuating her statements with wide arms. "It's like twenty feet tall. Well, not twenty, but it's like six tall and six wide. But still huge! And Ms. Beacon, the biology teacher with the bonsai on her desk, I totally made it grow, but that was different, it just twisted around and got old, but still small 'cuz that's the point. And in math class, I made leaves and roots sprout from my desk."
"Wait, aren't those desks made of chewed up wood bricky things?"
"I know! Isn't it cool?" Buffy had to admit that it was, but before she could agree, Willow turned to the central library desk and held out a hand. "Silvanus, champion of the wild, Treefather, give me your strength and revive this deadened wood."
"Wills, you sure you should be doing that in here?" But by the time she said it, Buffy knew it was too late. A glow fell like glittering stardust around Willow, spinning around and condensing in her hand. The glow settled on the table and transformed it before their very eyes. The legs turned into roots that dove into the ground beneath the library, the top sent shoots upwards. The arms shot out branches like fingers reaching towards the sky with leaves sprouting from fingertips. A short moment later, the table was still a table, but alive. It had an impressive crown that nearly touched the library's skylight. "Wow, that is cool."
She glanced away, not noticing that the tree's shadow didn't match the shape. It was dark, twisted and it writhed as if it were a mass of decapitated snakes in their death throes. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed a tinge of something else, a hint beyond the normal.
"But that's not all!" Willow wiggled her nose and gave a succinct little nod. With loud pop, the table tree grew cherries. Willow grinned as she plucked one off a branch and popped it into her mouth. "Dey taest weel guuud tu."
Buffy thought she saw a wisp of shadowy mist blowing off the cherry, but she dismissed it as part of the spell. "Didn't Giles say that was an oak desk?"
"Oops," Willow said. She wiggled her nose again and the cherries turned into acorns that promptly fell all over the floor, sent out roots and started sprouting themselves. Willow clapped her hands together twice and the magical acorns stopped growing. Turning towards Buffy, she took the cherry pit from her mouth and tossed it behind her. As Willow babbled on about the other kinds of spells in the book, Buffy glanced behind the redhead and realized that the cherry pit had sprouted tiny root legs and a tiny leaf hat. It gave Buffy a sharp little salute before scampering down the hallway.
"Uh, Willow, I'm all cool with the whole magic thing, but aren't you taking it a little too fast? I mean, Snyder isn't gonna be happy when…oh crinkles, hide!" Buffy pulled Willow into the closet not a moment too soon.
"Rosenberg! Summers! I know you're behind this and you're both getting detention until you graduate when I catch you!" Snyder snarled, storming into the library.
"Shar, Mistress of all Shadows, cloak us with your power," Willow muttered. There was a moment of glow before the two of them were hidden from view. Just in time, too, since Snyder threw open the closet door a moment later. His entire coat was covered in thick cactus spikes that miraculously had not pierced his skin.
"Damn it, where did they go?" the principal muttered under his breath as he glanced around the closet. He soon gave up and stalked out the library door. As the doors swung closed both young women let out sighs of releaf, er, relief. Buffy looked at Willow. The young witch seemed to be breathing shadows. They fluttered in and out of her mouth as her chest heaved. Her eyes seemed haunted by another presence. She wore a half maddened grin on her face that sent shivers up Buffy's spine. Her Slayer Sense was tingling.
"Willow, I think you need to slow down," Buffy said as she grabbed her friend by the shoulders. "You're scaring me. I don't like that. You need to slow down and take it one step at a time." There was a long moment as they stared into each other's eyes.
"Freeze," Willow said. Buffy hissed as the spell fell on her. The Slayer's arms felt like they had been soaked in icewater, numb and nearly devoid of movement. Buffy's breath caught in her throat, letting her breathe only in short, harsh rasps. The redhead scampered away long before the spell wore off. Buffy took a deep breath and ran out of the library after her friend.
She turned a corner and ran right over Principal Snyder before he could even register that it was Buffy. She slid into the school cafeteria. She glanced around at the eyes staring at her. "Has anyone seen Willow?" The entire eating population shook their heads. Buffy scooted out the door a second later and ran right into Snyder again. He was about to chastise her, when Buffy spotted Willow climbing on her bike out in the parking lot. Buffy ignored the stammering of the short balding troll of a man and shot out the window and into the snow, slamming the window shut behind her.
"Willow, you need to stop!" she screamed as she ran towards the parking lot.
"Mother of Darkness, give me swiftness of foot and the grace of a cat," Willow said, steering with one hand and clutching the book to her chest with the other. She began peddling with unnatural speed, passing through the snow-covered street with supernatural ease. "Let your heat protect me from the cold."
Shadowy flames sprung up about her feet as she tromped away. Snow melted with every step, the instant sublimation cracking the sidewalk with sudden heat.
"Willow, stop!" Buffy said as she started running up along side her friend. "You're going overboard!"
"No! I won't stop. Every time I'm happy about something you have to take it away! I won't let you do it this time!" Willow yelled back. "When I first had a boyfriend you thought it was weird! When I started with Oz, you just thought about yourself and your vampire angst! Not this time! I'm not giving up my power just because you feel threatened!"
"I'm not scared for me, I'm scared for you!" Buffy said, easily keeping up with the magically enhanced bicycle. This was nothing compared to the night before; even with her magical power, Buffy was having an easy time keeping up with the young witch. "Your first boyfriend was a demon robot, so I was right! Oz was different!"
Willow seemed to turn to face the Slayer in slow motion. As she turned her head, Buffy watched as Willow's hair was stained with black and her eyes became pools of darkness. Willow opened her mouth and a cone of darkness shot out at Buffy, entangling her limbs and diving down her throat. Buffy's breath caught as if she were being slowly strangled. She slipped on the light dusting of snow, falling into a tangle of limbs as she skidded to a stop. Willow just continued riding off down the road.
"I wondered if this would happen," commented Dark Willow from where she hovered next to Buffy. She waved a hand, dispelling Willow's Sharran curse. "I need you to distract her for a short while, lead her to a park or secluded area. This may have some collateral damage."
"Do you always fly around like that?"
"It beats walking and burns more calories," was the dry response. Buffy wasn't sure if it was a joke or serious, but at this point it didn't matter.
"What happened to her?"
"That book is…tainted…shall we say, by a source of Darkness and Shadow," Dark Willow said. She wore a brief smirk as if half remembering something. "I guess Yoda was right."
"What?"
"Never mind," Dark Willow said. "She is calling on the Shadow Weave. If we don't stop her, well, there won't be anyone to stop her. Right now she has power equaling mine, but it isn't hers and she doesn't realize it. The more she uses that power, the more it will corrupt her."
"Okay…but aren't you…you know?"
"Evil?" Dark Willow glanced down at the Slayer with an amused look on her face. "Nothing in this world is that simple. While I embraced the darkness of my own free will, my interdimensional twin does not realize what she is doing. The forces that currently have her under their sway are some of the most primal of this world and should they take hold, she has the potential to be the most dreadful champion of ruin. I may have been in a bad place, but I think I've found a better way…although that took some time."
"I'll pretend I understood that Giles-type speech and go cut her off at the pass," Buffy said as she pointed in the direction Willow had vanished.
"Good choice."
As it ended up, Butters had changed his approach based on Buffy's interview. He started running on a platform of free will or anarchy – it was a little hard to decipher.
"So, Mr. Butters," Molly began.
"Just Butters," said the sans pants demon. They had given him a translation amulet for the interview.
"What exactly do you believe in?"
"Many things," he began. "I feel that the government that governs least is most important. Personal freedoms are better than laws. Peoples' actions will determine their place in society."
"You're very well spoken and restrained for a fyarl demon, how is that?"
"Oh, I wore a hat to Clem's Halloween party and had a very eventful night as Abraham Lincoln," Butters explained. "I think that we need to have more parties and less meetings. People can do what they want to do, and we shouldn't have a bureaucracy butting in. Freedom for all, except for dead people and chupacabras, nasty little things."
"Are those political parties or parties for fun?" our intrepid reporter asked.
"Yes," was his only response. She looked at him as if to ask for further explanation, but there was none.
"Some of the things you've said have come across as promoting anarchy, would you care to explain?"
"What's wrong with anarchy?"
"You're answering a questions with a question?"
"So are you."
"But that doesn't really help the voters get to understand your position."
"Then you should really stop copying me."
"I'm not – wait, cut the camera!" she said, pushing it away. It was still on, but Molly was trying to coach the poor fyarl demon into a better presentation. "Butters, you have to explain what you're focusing on."
"So you and others can make fun of me on television and your comedians can impersonate me on your Saturday night shows?"
"No…so people can decide whether to vote for you or not."
Butters just gave her a look that was three parts confusion, two parts understanding and one part madness. Molly sighed in exasperation and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, just think over your positions and we'll do this again."
Life had changed in the weeks since Richard Wilkins had been kidnapped. Life in House Baenre was actually rather nice, all jails considered. He was fed, he was clothed and he was allowed to clean. Actually, some of his habitual cleanliness had a sort of trickle up effect with the higher ups finally understanding some basic hygiene not involving magical power. The slave death rate had been cut almost in half.
He was 'interrogated' daily. Most people would call it torture, but in his current state, there wasn't much pain, although it did disrupt his normal schedule. They were fascinated by his instant regeneration. Wounds healed as soon as the weapon was pulled out. They finally allowed him to disrobe before their tender sessions. They had learned the hard way when it came to his vocal nature on the subject.
The topics included his origin, his history and his city. He answered in vague statements that really didn't give much away that he didn't want to give away. It infuriated them and amused him, which (of course) infuriated them further. House Baenre was careful to keep his presence a secret from the rest of Menzoberranzan. There was no need for them to know, after all. As such, Richard Wilkins' only interaction was with the immediate Baenre family, usually Gromph, but occasionally one of the priestesses would try some new spell to hurt him. None worked as intended, but one spell did cause him to laugh hysterically for a hour.
On this particular day he was interrupted during a very important meal. A dark shadow fell on his particular meal. He looked up to see the now familiar face of the elder Baenre daughter with her ever-present snake headed whip. The look of disgust on her face was priceless. She always wore it when she was sent for messenger duty.
"What are you doing?"
"Just having a light snack. How are you?"
That earned him a whip to the face as always. He shrugged it off. It never hurt to be polite. "Matron Baenre desires more knowledge of your city. She wishes to know the status of your tunnels and under-city. She will send for you soon. You are to be presentable when you summoned."
A following slave spread out a set of expensive robes on the stone block bed in his cell.
"I suppose they're still in good condition," he said. "Of course they've never been built to withstand a real winter either."
"Whatever," the eldest Baenre daughter snarled, not realizing the dismissive statement was one she had acquired from the Mayor's diatribes. "Just be presentable when she summons you."
"Of course," he said. "Sorry if I was rude earlier, you caught me when I was eating." He held up his meal on the end of a fork. "Gavrok?"
Her look of disgust was priceless. He shrugged. "They could use some salt and pepper, but they are filling. Though I do suspect I'm not getting enough fiber in my diet these days. When you get to be my age you have to watch out for these things."
The drow priestess bristled and stalked away.
Buffy chose to take a page from one of the other residents about town. She realized how much time and speed she lost going around obstacles. This time she was going to go over them. Bouncing up between a telephone pole and a building, she hopped onto a roof and ran with small jumps from roof to roof. It wasn't quite perfect roof-hopping, but it was a start.
Willow had been heading towards her family's house. She had rented it to a couple of refugee families and moved in with Giles after they had moved all of her stuff into storage and Giles' place. Giles' current place was pretty crowded considering he had his, Willow's and Ms. Calendar's stuff all in that one rental, andhe was living with Willow's magic habit which took up more space than the rest of the stuff combined.
Buffy managed to get ahead of her friend and grabbed the tire with both hands, sending Willow flying into the air as the bike suddenly stopped.
"Shar, grant me a minion to assist me in completing thy request," Willow snarled, still clutching the book. Like wisps of cobwebs spinning together, her conjured creature of darkness seemed built of the existing shadows, rather than being summoned from some other planar realm. Though it was humanoid in it's basic form, it seemed to be made of horror and shadow. The monstrosity was nearly fifteen feet tall, thin as a pole and darker than the deepest night. It caught her and set her back down on the ground.
Then it punched Buffy into a snow bank. There was a distinct cracking sound as the blow landed. The Slayer managed to pull herself up despite the cracked ribs just in time to see it head out towards Lake Sunnydale carrying Willow in its arms.
Lake Sunnydale, the body of water formed by Sunnydale plugging up the valley, had frozen over during the winter, but still was not strong enough for travel due to spring holes, currents and geothermal activity. Willow and her minion seemed to ignore this fact.
The creature itself was taking a stride as long as a midsized car with every step and was starting to run. Shaking the snow out of her clothes, Buffy jumped onto the bike Willow had abandoned and peddled as fast as she could, following right onto the ice. Aiming as best she could, she ran the bike right into the Achilles heel of the creature. It didn't seem to notice, but the bike was totaled. Buffy dove off the bike just before it crashed, rolling to a stop just behind the creature. Finding herself without a weapon, she sunk her fingers into the skin of the conjuration. It snarled in pain as the Slayer made her own ladder out of its flesh.
"Willow, stop it! This isn't you!" Buffy yelled as she grasped the creature's throat. When she got no response, Buffy reached into the flesh, felt what seemed like bone and pulled. The creature dropped Willow and clutched at its neck, screaming in pain. Buffy didn't stop until she heard the bone crack. Then she reached for another one. As she was pulling this bone out, she felt shards of darkness slice her skin as a rain of shadowy daggers flew from Willow's outstretched hand. When Buffy grinned instead of letting go, Willow was surprised and lost control over her conjuration.
"Good distraction," Dark Willow said from behind her counterpart. She sunk her fingers into Willow's mind, creating a conduit between them. "Eat this, Shar."
An instant later, Willow and Dark Willow were somewhere else. There was no up; there was no down; there was no direction at all. There simply was. The two Willows faced each other with great beings behind them. All at once they were at odds and as one. A grievance that existed before Faerûn was known as such spilled out between the Willows as Mystra faced down Shar.
Now, the mortal mind is a powerful thing. If a mortal was actually capable of understanding the true form of a deity it would go instantly mad. In the presence of multiple such beings, existence would be pretty much meaningless. But the mortal mind cannot comprehend one deity, much less the numbers that showed up alone both sides of this metaphysical line drawn in the sand. So the mortal mind truncates things. An expansive being becomes an anthropomorphized representation of an ideal as the easiest way for the mind to see things is through a lens that shows something familiar, something understandable.
And so the Willows saw Mystra, a dark haired woman of indeterminate skin tone dressed in 70s punk clothes, facing Shar, a dark haired woman of indeterminate skin tone wearing something born of darkness and dungeon punk. Others lined up on either side. Others still were off to the sides, observing.
"She is mine, Mystra! She invoked me, not you!" snarled Shar. "She's MINE!"
"She didn't know what she was doing, it doesn't count," argued Mystra, brushing dust off her leather jacket. "She didn't make a choice, you made it for her. She is mine. She chose my power."
That is a truncated version of the intercourse. More was understood without being said. There were eons of pent up anger and fury between them. The Shadow Weave was just the latest insult and grasp for power in the exchange. The Willows were just an excuse.
The other deities watched the intercourse. Some were allied, or more accurately pretended to ally, with one side or the other and some had a vested interest in them. Silvanus was present, being the first deity called by Willow, but had been blocked by Shar's surreptitious actions.
"She called to me first!" snarled Silvanus, as he thumped the 'ground' with a tree trunk. "If she is anyone's, she is mine. There wouldn't be any issue if Shar hadn't interfered!"
"You stay out of this!" Shar hissed back.
"She was mine before this day!" Mystra bellowed.
Everyone wanted his or her piece of the pie. The Willows were about to become the Archduke Ferdinand and the Black Hand of the divine war.
Eris, having been watching from the sidelines, set down Her popcorn and pointed at Shar. "Fuck-" She said before pointing at Mystra, "-you."
"Fuck you and your little fucking petty arguments," She said. She turned and pointed to Silvanus. "Fuck you, too." She waved her arms to encompass all of them. "Fuck you all, too."
Needless to say, this was not making Her a popular deity right about now. Zed leaned over to his big (but smaller) sister and whispered in her ear. "This is making the Apple incident look like a dropping a cookie on the floor."
"But Paris was cuter," Strife said stuffing her mouth with popcorn and noisily munching it. Zed looked surprised.
"You really think so? I thought he was kind of an ass myself. I thought you like redheads?"
"Yup."
"You're just trying to annoy me again aren't you?"
"Yup."
"I don't care what you think about Sunnydale," Eris continued, ignoring Her offspring. "I don't care about what happened up until now and I don't care about what has happened in your petty little arguments in other places either. This is how it's going to happen: You can all go fuck yourselves. Figuratively or literally, I don't really care, but you were all warned. You were warned months ago. And you chose not to listen. You all know that there is no such thing as control. Free will is more powerful than any of you choose to believe."
"And soon you are going to regret it," She continued, a cruel grin on Her face. "Something is going to happen to throw everything you hold dear down the crapper. It's called karma, assholes and it's going to bite you in the ass. And I'll just sit back and laugh."
"You were told not to return," Mystra snarled. "At Netheril."
"Mystryl threatened us, not Mystra," Zed commented. "You didn't learn your lesson that time either. Just as you didn't learn it when the Crown Wars raged across the continent. Wait, you probably justified that by saying it's a demihuman matter and ignored the implications. You never learn your lessons, none of you. You don't learn from others' examples either. So is it going to take another Karsus to teach you of your folly?"
"Unlike you, we actually listen to our worshippers," Strife put in. "All three of 'em."
"It is a symbiotic relationship, if you're doing it right," Eris said. "And you're not."
"How DARE some interloper come and lecture me," snarled Shar. "I should destroy you now. There are rules about this Eris. Rules!"
"I wouldn't do that, Shar," Zed said with a smirk. "Mother might be obnoxious at times, but being the patron goddess of complex systems gives her considerable power. She destroyed a nation by setting an apple on a table." He grinned at the obvious confusion on the deities' faces. "Not that you could understand."
"You'll pay for the obnoxious comment," Eris promised before turning back to the war about to start. "But he is otherwise right. As it is, I feel I need to make an example of somebody." She glanced around. "Any volunteers? Anyone want to see if I'm willing or able to back up my threats? Call my bluff? No one? Good choice." She turned back to the ancient bickering deities.
"Mystra, you were directly warned via Lathander. Shar should just know better, a woman of her age acting like a child on the playground. Let me tell you what will happen: You will leave, both of you. There are no claims on Sunnydale. I don't make a claim on Sunnydale. I only have three worshippers there for Christ's sake. (Strife, yes, I know the irony of the statement, but don't interrupt me when I'm on a rant.) But this goes for all of you: Sunnydale belongs to no one. Not me, not Shar, and not Mystra, not ANYone." She glanced around at the thinning crowd. Bhaal gave her one last glare before turning away. "Sunnydale and its people get to make their own decisions. You never know: they might want to keep the gods they've already got." Deities started leaving, going back to their own realms until it was just Mystra, Shar, Eris, Strife and Zed.
Strife smirked at Shar. "You know, for a patron goddess of anarchists you're awfully possessive and concerned about rules and boundaries and stuff."
Shar really, really wanted to strangle the whole family.
"Shouldn't we send her back?" Zed asked, pointing to the Willows who had observed the entire discussion. He wisely held a hand over his sister's mouth so she didn't make things worse. Eris nodded, using her power to send the Willows back where they came from. As their consciousness vanished from that plane of existence they heard one last comment from Strife.
"I mean really, who ever heard of a patron goddess of nihilists? It's a contradiction in terms," said the child deity as the Willows returned to the prime material the exact moment they left, but with a greater understanding and equally greater confusion.
Buffy, still fighting with the conjuration, suddenly fell to the ground as it was abruptly banished. The force of her impact broke the ice and covered her in the frigid water of Lake Sunnydale. Shaking with the cold, Buffy took the four outstretched hands that helped her escape from the depths.
"Are you okay?" asked the Willows in perfect unison. Buffy looked up to see them both with red hair and sparkling eyes. Not a bit of creepy darkness in sight. Different twinsy creepiness instead.
"Are you okay?" Buffy countered. "Tell me later when I'm not suffering from hippothermia. I need dry clothes. I'm starting to hate this lake." She looked at the two of them for a moment. "You guys are acting weird."
"Am I?" asked one, seemingly confused. She seemed stunned, almost as if she had just suffered from a blow to the head.
"I suppose I am," commented the other in the same numb tone.
"Okay, you both need to stop that and get me warm and dry," Buffy commanded. The Willows wiggled their noses and Buffy found herself to be both warm and dry, and perhaps a little bit woozy.
The Willows looked at each other and seemed to have some sort of interchange unspoken between them. Eventually, one of them, Buffy wasn't sure which, flew off. Buffy gave the other Willow a strange look. "What's going on?"
"It's…complicated," Willow said, bending down to take the book out of the snow. "I think I have to leave. I…I don't know how to explain."
"Wait, what?"
"You don't know. You can't know."
"Know what?"
"What I've done. What I've done to myself. What I did to her. What I did to him."
"Whoa Wills, channeling Drusilla here and I'm not Spike, so 'splainy please."
"I can't. You wouldn't…you cannot possibly… I've seen…you're not…I know."
"Kinda going in the other direction," Buffy said a little worried for her friend.
"Go, now Tara. Can show. Knows. Go!"
And with that, Willow Rosenberg flew off into the sky, following her counterpart leaving Buffy confused and shaken below her.
"Would someone please tell me what's going on?"
"Giles! Giles! Giles! Giles!"
The Watcher in question looked up from his desk to see his Slayer charging in.
"Buffy? What in heaven's name is the matter?"
"Willow went evil and then evil Willow went good and then they both flew off!"
"Perhaps you should start at the beginning," Giles prompted. One more detailed explanation had the man pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, good lord."
"I know!"
"I heard an 'Oh, Good Lord!' What happened?" Xander asked, bursting into the office, fresh from his afterschool duties as a liaison to the Sunnydale Military. Buffy and Giles filled him in. "Great Scott!"
"I know!" Buffy said. "This is heavy."
"Willow can fly?"
"Both can now!"
"Yes, that particular fact aside, Buffy, do you have the book of spells she was drawing from?"
Buffy, having learned about her Watcher and his books, dutifully handed over the leather bound tome. "Yes, well…I shall have to read this to understand what has happened. Did she say anything before she left."
"Yeah! Lots!"
"…"
"…" Xander tapped the Slayer on the shoulder. "Buffster? I think he's looking to find out what she said. And then you should really go dry off. You're wet and cold again."
"Right!" All that hypothermia was really messing with her mind. She repeated what she could remember Willow saying, but the two men looked at her askance.
"Buffy, is that what Willow said or just how you remember it?" Giles asked.
"Yup, not very grammary of her, but it's what she said," Buffy confirmed.
"Yes, well, Xander is quite right. Go get cleaned up and I'll look this over with a few experts."
"Tell the council about this subterranean system you have developed, an Undercity of sorts," Matron Baenre commanded. Former Mayor Richard Wilkins was held in chains at a podium in the middle of a great table surrounded by the Matron Mothers of Menzoberranzan's ruling Houses. Leaders from the Sorcere and the Academy were allowed to watch the proceedings to learn of any weaknesses the upcoming invasion might use.
There had been a time of stabbings and beatings to show his invulnerability and the other Matron Mothers were suitably impressed.
"Oh, I had those made so the vampires could move around, but they're a little different now," Mayor Wilkins said. "About half are filled with water, including the basements of many buildings. Sunnydale ended up on a slightly different grade from how it used to be, so we've got some flooding problems in places. But the water's fresh, if a little cold."
"Vampires?" asked one Matron, Richard believed her to be of one of the middle houses, but he didn't know which one.
"Oh gosh, yes, we had quite the colony for some time until that plucky little Slayer killed off the Master and Angelus took a hike with William and Drusilla," the smiling post-human said. He shook his head ruefully. "Gee willikers, I sure miss those tunnels. I had this lovely little place where I did my sacrifices, a nice stone block. I, of course, only use the finest babies in my sacrifices. My constituents don't accept inferior products, after all."
"Constituents?"
"Oh, those responsible for my being in power, you really need to carve a fine line between your mortals' needs and the needs of the other citizens in Sunnydale. It was a rather hard balance to find. Took me nearly twenty years to figure it all out, but the CCC was a big help. Upwards, outwards and downwards, I used to say," the Mayor said. He was about to say more, but he heaved over as something started to change. Matron Baenre hesitantly stood up and took step back. Others noticed her reaction and started backing away as well.
"Golly, I thought I'd have more time," Wilkins said with a sheepish look on his face. He was starting to look a little green, and not in the 'I feel sick' way. "Urp! Gosh darn it, I had this whole section on the importance of civil liberties, but I guess that's just a baby tossed out with the bath water at this point."
The interdimensional version of Drizzt Do'Urden stood up in the sudden realization that he may have made a big mistake. He winced as the chamber echoed with the sound of wrenching metal as the adamantine chains holding the prisoner snapped and fell away. A very big mistake…now literally starting to loom over him…