Glory loved power. Well, more specifically, her power, because hers was the best and everything else was just a mere shadow to her holy, or rather, unholy magnificence. She hadn't intended for this little team-up with Wolfram and Hart -shed always been a solo kinda Hell Goddess- but it did have its benefits, and teasing Lindsey McDonald was definitely one of them. Humans were just so fun to rile, their buttons so easy to push, practically begging for it, for something to shake them out if their mindless mundanity. However, this game Lindsey was orchestrating with Buffy...she wasn't too sure about it, in all honesty. She wasn't possessive of her or anything, but if anyone was going to torture her, to bring her low, it should be her, not some floppy-haired lawyer our for revenge just cause some vampire hadn't loved him. Not that there was anything wrong with revenge, for it was a useful tool, and it gave you an excuse to bring out the 'scary' wardrobe, but it seemed kinda shallow, even to her. He should take up yoga or meditate or buy himself a new car or kill Angel and move on.
Not that the same could be said for Glory. Then again, Lindsey hadn't been hit with a frickin' wreaking ball, had he? Nope. That had so ruined her day. And he dress. Did they think about that, Glory wondered as she draped herself over a chaise lounge by the pool of the house Wolfram and Hart had acquired for her in the 'Hills', as they called it, had they thought about the stains they'd left on her pretty dress? Nope again. Mortals really had no taste.
One of her little minions came out, laden with a shiny antique serviette, a cocktail with one of those adorable little umbrella drinks swirling amongst the ice. Yes, humans sucked when it came to them attacking her and thwarting her plans...but they were good for some things. She took the drink without even a glance, knowing they did not expect thanks for their service, which was why she kept them around. Glory couldn't believe humans actually paid other humans to do stuff for them. It was crazy! Way better to have mindless drones who would do her every bidding, without holiday pay too.
She raised her glass to the dying light of the sun, for a moment utterly transfixed by the way the sun caught the ice and glimmered. It was so pretty. Of course, it'd be even prettier if the sun was actually dying and she'd succeeded in raining hell on earth, but she'd settle with this for the moment. Things in Sunnydale were progressing nicely, the vampires keeping out of the way for the time being, to the utter bafflement of Buffy's crew. She'd seen them testing the bubble she'd made, trying to use their science to explain it. As if you could use science to explain magic! Those silly gooses. So, they'd figured out they were immune. Great, good job to them, go team! It didn't change anything, wouldn't stop what was to come. No, no one could stop her.
Except Buffy.
But she was currently running around this fair city, playing at being the hero -no surprise there- once again. And while Glory knew the spell she'd cast would hold indefinitely -of that she was very confident, given what she'd seen and learnt of the Slayer and her family- this Angel fella was an unforseen variable. Glory hadn't even known he'd existed, that the young woman was the ex honey of the vampire cursed with a soul. What a bummer for him, especially with a face like that. Buffy really had a type, if that other vampire -was his name Spike? she couldn't be sure- and his moon-eyes were anything to go by. What was so darn special about her? Why did everyone line up like dominoes in front of her, ready to fall and go down defending her? Stupid human feelings. She'd never gotten them, not even the occasional ones she'd felt thanks to sharing bodies with Ben. They made her feel icky, not herself. No, Glory was always the one in control, always aware, always the one holding the most power in the room, and that was just how she wanted it to stay.
The others, they'd always been jealous of that confidence, jealous of her, until they'd banded together and kicked her off the metaphorical island. So not cool, but she'd spring back, more powerful and evil than ever. All in all, it had all worked out for her. Glory had needed to leave the nest, needed to see what kinda Hell Goddess she was all by herself. And as it turned out, it was a wickedly evil one at that.
'Wicked.' That was a good word. A nice word. Whilst she'd been flicking through the channels on one of the apartments many TV's, she'd come across some movie about a witch and she had green skin and everyone said she was wicked. Glory had felt really bad for her. Then, she'd found out that some mortal guy had written a book about this evil witch, giving her a story all to herself. She'd been bored, so she'd gotten one of the minions to get her a copy. Glory had read it, this story about a girl who was always hidden in the shadows, shame and ridicule and fear following her like a second shadow, just wanting to be loved and accepted at the start -ugh, lame- and she'd almost lost interest when...she changed. The witch went off by herself, after realizing that she could not change the world as she wanted, that people would look at her and forever see a monster, something alien, something wrong...and she didn't care anymore.
It had been empowering, Glory had to admit. And kinda inspiring. Of course, there'd been that boring bit with her son and her lover's wife and her annoying sisters, but she'd still connected to it, on some level. Because Glory was just like that, apart from the whole growing up in the mud, trying to make friends and trying to fit in thing. She even liked shoes as much as the witch did, although she wished she'd just stolen them from her sister earlier if she wanted them so bad. If you wanted something, you took it, simple as. No use in beating around the bush and trying to be all nicey-nicey about it, especially if you'd get harassed about it either way.
The sun finally set, taking her elongated shadow with it, plunging Glory into darkness. A moment ago, the city had looked interesting, awash in colour. Now it just looked boring. With a sigh, Glory twirled the umbrella in her drink, rising from her chaise lounge and making her way back inside, picking her way across the shaggy cream carpet and the prostrate bodies of the people she'd just drained not a half hour previous, their moans trailing behind her like the train of a dress as she went over to the glass bar that ran the length of the back wall, depositing her drink for some minion to come and clean, since she sure as hell wasn't going to.
Glory ran her hands along the length of the bar, savouring the sleek feel if glass and chrome under her palms. She appreciated quality craftsmanship. Tapping her finger lightly, she'd just decided that maybe she could do with a little fun when the sound of ringing echoed throughout the room. Ugh. Another downside to mortals: advanced technology so that you could bother people -or goddesses- at all times of the day. Tossing her hair over a shoulder, Glory pulled the phone from it's cradle, glad it was one of those hand-held portable ones so she could sprawl on the couch and not have to stand tangled in wires.
"Hello?" Glory half drawled, half moaned, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. "You've reached Glory, Hell Goddess Extraordinare, what's up?"
"Miss Glory," the velvety, slippery voice of Lilah Morgan purred through the phone. "This is Lilah Morgan, we met the other week. I'm the acting co-executive of Special Projects at Wolfram and Hart..."
At that, Glory instantly perked up, a cat catching a glimpse of a mouse. "Oh, you're the one Lindseykins is trying to beat, aren't ya? No wonder he's been such an ass-kisser," Glory mused, not that it bothered her really. She liked it when people did things for her, and she wouldn't trust anyone who didn't have an alterior motive, in truth.
She could just picture the woman raising an incredulous eyebrow. "'Lindseykins'?" she echoed disbelievingly.
"He's fun to tease," Glory gave by way of explanation.
"I see," Lilah said slowly. "Well, Miss Glory-"
"Just call me Glory," she insisted. "Or Glorficus, if the mood strikes you or you're pledging allegiance to me or whatever."
"Very well, Glory. I know Mr McDonald has been the spear-head of your arrangement here with the company, and I'm sure he's done a most adequate job of assisting you..."
Glory smiled. "Nothing less than stellar. And he always gets me coffee, what a gem."
"But some gems are shinier, better, than others," Lilah remarked, picking up Glory's metaphor and running with it. "Some, while nice, don't fit into the bigger picture quite as well, don't sparkle as brightly. I think you understand what I'm saying, don't you Glory?"
"Perfectly."
"Excellent. So, what do you say? Would you like an upgrade? Do you want to move on to bigger, and better, gems?" Lilah enticed.
Stretching her arms over her head, Glory let out a wicked laugh, a laugh anyone else might have labelled as a cackle, a maniacal, twisted sound. Maybe us wicked girls should stick together, she mused.
The Hell Goddess replied, "I'm all ears, Lilah. I'm all ears."
Giles loved tea. Darjeeling, Green, Early Grey or Breakfast, he was a frequent consumer of them all, never more so than when he was researching. In hindsight, he should probably just drink coffee if he wanted to stay awake, but after one particular occasion seeing Xander drink nearly a gallon of the stuff in one go, then proceed to bounce of the walls of the Sunnydale High Library like a chipmunk, he'd been rather put off.
And although it was a total cliche -of this he was very much aware- tea was, after all, a beverage most associated with the British. Rupert Giles had held on to few relics and mementos from his life in England, and while some days he did feel more American than English at this point, he wouldn't let go of his tea.
Just like he wouldn't let go of Buffy.
Giles had scoured every collection possible, had called in favours and outright begged in some instances -pride be damned- asking people to look at their books or scrolls or parchments or even art pieces, anything that could be of use, and yet no one had been able to find anything. Not even Angel, who Giles had been in contact with a few days ago. There had to be something, somewhere, some forgotten text or prophecy or at this point even a cave painting or stone tablet. A being like Glorificus did not come into this world and not leave fingerprints, as it were. Even if she'd been trapped, subdued, in a mortal body, there had to be some sort of record to her power, and how to undo it's effects. Because if there wasn't...
If there wasn't, then Buffy could be lost forever. Maybe her memories would come back on their own, naturally, given time, but the Watcher did not like her chances. So she'd play out the rest of her life, the rest of Glory's lie, never knowing that just a few hours drive away that she had people who missed her, who loved her. Rupert had to face reality: if the forcefield ever came down, if they did go to Buffy, it would be too cruel to tell her the truth and not be able to restore her memories of that truth. Because this life she was living at the moment...she sounded happy, or at least happier, and they could not give her that here, or at least not consistently.
All he wanted was to do right by her, and yet at the same time he knew Buffy would also want him to think of Dawn, her sister, and what she needed, especially with Joyce no longer being there to look after her. The past week and a half, he himself had actually employed Xander's 'What Would Buffy Do?' method when dealing with their current predicament and it had served him well. Giles had now learned that the forcefield Glory had erected was imbued with a sort of cloaking magic, something that likely interrupted the brain's electro-magnetic chemistry, misdirecting a person so that when they looked at the big pink bubble they didn't even have time to realize it's presence before the magic erased it from their minds. The only reason the 'Scooby Gang' were not impacted was likely due to their heavy exposure to magic over the years, but that was only a working theory.
That was all he'd come up with, after all those days of research. No wonder the Watcher's Council had fired him. In retrospect, he would have left anyway, should have left anyway. He never should have made Buffy take part in the Cruciamentum. He never should have forced her to do a lot of things, although he knew most of them she'd have done anyway, because that was who she was. In his heart, he knew that act on her eighteenth birthday had been the start, the tiny fracture in their relationship that spider-webbed out until they weren't Buffy and Giles, daughter and father-figure but Buffy and Giles, estranged Slayer and ex Watcher. They'd drifted, and he'd let her drift, wanting her to be stronger than any other Slayer, wanting her to make it, even if that meant he stepped back from her, from her life. And after everything with Dawn...
What if he never got her back, never got the chance to apologize, to tell her how sorry he was, how he'd failed and hated himself from failing her. Because with them, it had never just been about her duty, her commitment to saving and protecting the world. It had been about her, her happiness and hopes and wishes for the future, all that she could offer the world, not as the Slayer but as Buffy, and she offered so much. Now he might not get the chance to tell her that. She could go off, living this other life, while his Buffy's last thoughts of him likely weren't all that pleasant, and rightfully so. More than anything, he just wanted to put his arms around her and hug her as he so rarely did. If she came back, there'll be more hugs, Giles promised himself. No pulling away, no more fighting. Together, or nothing.
Picking up his tea, Rupert went back to his books, because that was what he did, that was who he was, what she'd taught him to be: the Watcher who never gave up, who always had faith, even when everyone else thought it was impossible. But when it came to Buffy, 'impossible' had long since stopped applying.
Joey loved Samantha, in his heart he knew this to be true. Since the moment they'd met, everything had been about her. Walking into their apartment, he couldn't help but notice how empty it felt without her, how disconnected he felt from everything now that she wasn't here. He'd gone about this all wrong, Joey knew that now. He'd scared her off, and he had no one to blame but himself. Because of him, shed gone running, right into the arms of that vampire, of all people. Not that something like him could be considered a person, soul or not. Ugh. Vampires gave him the creeps. They were always so still, like jungle cats readying to pounce. He supposed they kinda were, really. Stalkers watching and waiting in the underbrush, hoping to come across a nice, tender looking neck to chew on. Joey liked Sam's neck, since it was attached to the rest of her.
Luckily, he was taking precautions and now put Holy Water in all his drinks, just in case. Hopefully, if all went according to plan, the vampire would soon be dealt with, although it killed him to think of Samantha being around that monster at all...he just had to be patient. The time wasn't right, her father had told him. There were things that still needed to be taken care of. Things they didn't yet know. He just wished he'd hurry up and tell him already. He was doing all this for her sake, but he was still part demon, and that part didn't like taking orders, any more than it liked being kept in the dark about the point of those orders. Her father insisted he had a plan, that he would keep Samantha safe, whatever it took, but there was a part of Joey that wanted to just storm the Hyperion, rescue her, then get the hell out of there, go somewhere where she'd be okay and he could take care of her. She'd been through so much, had struggled and fought for so long, he just wanted all of that to end for her.
So he knew he'd do whatever was necessary, knew there was no limit to the lengths that he'd go to for her. Maybe that made him bad, maybe that made him a monster, he didn't particularly care, so long as Sam was alright at the end of it all. So long as they were together, and could be happy...forever.
Author's Note: Hello, dearest readers. It is me, with an update! *Shocked gasp* I'm sorry it's so short, it's, as Willow would say, 'a filler,' but I'm already at work on the next, which will be much longer. Chapter ten, it's a milestone. And it's seems only fitting that I post this the day before I reach a milestone of my own. So, thank you for sticking around. There's more to come.
Until we meet again!
All my love, Temperance Cain