BtVS. Judgement Day 2.0 Chapter 5
Disclaimers: I don't own anything at all here. Everything is owned by their respective owners
Spoilers: The entire Buffy and Angel series (I'm ignoring the comics). Terminator up to Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines.
I wish to thank my beta, Jediknight.
Midway Between San Francisco and Los Angeles
20:45 (Pacific Time)
The Scourge seemed to have pulled back, though "seemed" was the key word. Willow could still sense them trailing behind, further off but never quite out of range. For now, at least, they were keeping their distance, which allowed her some time to regain her strength. She leaned back, closing her eyes to steady her breathing, feeling her magic settling within her again.
In the meantime, Xander was doing his best to lighten the mood with his trademark dorky humor. He launched into an exaggerated retelling of their last demon-slaying mission, complete with absurd voices and exaggerated flourishes. Kennedy chuckled, even Buffy cracked a grin, though she did her best to hide it.
Buffy tried to focus on the road, but her attention drifted to the back seat, where Dawn was smiling at Xander, her gaze lingering just a bit longer than usual. Buffy sighed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Of all the things they had to worry about tonight, her little sister's crush was low on the list—but that didn't make it any less distracting.
In the back, Willow opened her eyes, a smirk flickering on her lips as she glanced between Dawn and Xander. "Well, looks like we've got some... interesting vibes in here," she said with a wry smile, her voice just loud enough for Buffy to hear.
Buffy rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the faint smile tugging at her lips. It was moments like these, in between the danger, that kept them all going.
A Demon Bar in Los Angeles
20:51 (Pacific Time)
The barman looked at her with a scowl. "What do you want, Slayer?"
"Info," Faith replied, leaning casually against the bar. "About the Scourge's presence in L.A."
He snorted. "Ask around. Maybe you'll get lucky."
Faith surveyed the nearly empty room: a Bee'laz demon nursing a mug of blood mead, a Kriza harpy nibbling at a bowl of who-knew-what, and a Wixt'le in the corner, head buried in a drink. Wixt'les were notorious mercenaries, unbound by loyalty, save to cold, hard cash. She figured he'd be her best shot.
She strolled over and tapped the Wixt'le's shoulder. "You heard anything?"
The Wixt'le didn't even look up. "Info costs $2,000," he rasped. "And don't even think about fighting me for it. I can handle whatever you could dish out."
Faith sighed, crossing her arms. "Two grand? Fine. Can you wait a sec while I find an ATM that's not possessed?"
Los Angeles Scourge HQ
21:25 (Pacific Time)
Berk shifted uneasily, his nerves simmering beneath the surface. As one of the few survivors from Tiernan's cadre of the Scourge, he deeply resented Korman's leadership, but orders were orders. Even orders as risky as these…
Setting up an ambush for two Slayers and Willow Rosenberg was daunting enough, but with Faith Lehane still in the city? That was a wildcard he hadn't signed up for. He muttered a silent prayer that the resident Slayer would be occupied tonight, he had no desire to run into her while preparing the ambush.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud thunk, the kind of sound that could only mean one thing: the door had been ripped right off its hinges.
Impossible, unless…
"Slayer!" came a shout from one of the guards, cut short in a wet gurgle.
Berk's blood ran cold. So much for a quiet night. It seemed luck wasn't on their side after all.
Meanwhile…
Faith strode through the Scourge HQ like a storm, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that froze the nearest demons in their tracks. The heavy steel door clanged against the floor behind her, a twisted heap from her entry. She didn't give the guards time to react—she was already on them.
A hulking demon lunged forward, swinging a thick, clawed arm at her. Faith ducked low, evading the swing with a quick roll, and brought her fist up in a brutal uppercut to its jaw. The demon staggered, snarling, but she didn't relent. Her stake flashed, plunging into the demon's heart with precision honed over years. It crumpled, dissolving into goo..
Two more demons charged at her from either side. Faith grinned, a glint of excitement in her eyes. She sidestepped the first, grabbing its arm and twisting it behind its back, using its momentum to slam it into the second demon. Both stumbled, giving Faith just enough space to lash out with a powerful roundhouse kick that sent the second demon sprawling against the wall.
A Bee'laz demon, covered in spiked scales, snarled as it launched itself toward her, sharp claws glinting in the dim light. Faith ducked beneath its slashing limbs, sweeping her leg out to knock it off-balance. She finished with a spin, driving her stake through its eye. It howled, thrashing as it fell.
More demons poured into the room, but Faith was already moving, a deadly dance of kicks, punches, and swift stabs that left her enemies crumbling in her wake. One particularly large, brutish demon, covered in thick hide and snarling like an animal, charged her with a roar. Faith leaped up, wrapping her legs around its neck in a powerful scissor hold, and twisted hard, throwing it off-balance. As it hit the floor, she rolled over and finished it with a vicious downward strike.
The Wixt'le mercenary, watching from the far end of the room, sized her up. Faith noticed him standing there, arms crossed, seemingly unfazed by the carnage around him. He raised a brow, giving her an amused nod, as if to say he wasn't about to throw himself into the fray for free.
With one last kick, she downed the final demon standing in her way, then glared at the Wixt'le, jerking her chin toward the exit.
"Out," she ordered, voice low and deadly.
He gave her a mocking salute, sidling toward the door with a smirk. As he disappeared, Faith straightened, catching her breath in the sudden silence. Dust and shadows settled around her, the remnants of her rampage.
She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders as she surveyed the devastation she'd left.
"Knock, knock," she muttered, stepping deeper into the HQ.
The back exit of the Scourge command HQ was a chaotic scene as the command crew scrambled to escape. Faith's assault on the front had thrown them into full panic mode, and now their ranks dissolved into shouts, slamming doors, and hurried footsteps.
A squad of demons, handpicked for their fighting prowess and unwavering loyalty, positioned themselves as the last line of defense. They formed a tight blockade near the exit, weapons at the ready, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the Slayer.
One of the demons, a massive, hulking brute with mottled skin and a club-like tail, snarled at the others. "Hold the line! She's just one Slayer—we're the Scourge!"
Faith's voice cut through the din, sharp and taunting. "One Slayer's all you need to be worried about, big guy." She stepped from the shadows, twirling a short sword in one hand, her gaze fixed and fierce.
Without another word, she lunged forward, her movements a blur. The first demon charged, but Faith ducked low, sweeping his legs out from under him and landing a brutal blow to his jaw as he crashed to the ground. Another demon lunged, claws flashing, but Faith spun, deflecting the attack and driving her elbow into his ribs, knocking him back.
The demon with the club-like tail swung it toward her, but she sidestepped, using his momentum to slam him face-first into the wall. As the other demons hesitated, she looked up, a dark glint in her eyes. "Now… who's next?"
The demons faltered, a few taking instinctive steps back, realizing that, despite their numbers, they might not make it out. But the Slayer wasn't about to give them a chance to reconsider. She charged forward, relentless, as the squad that was supposed to buy time for their leaders found themselves outmatched by a Slayer who refused to let them flee.
Initiative Temporary HQ, Los Angeles
21:55 (Pacific Time)
"The FBI agents have cleared out of the area, sir," Miller, one of Riley's oldest friends, reported.
"Good," Riley replied, gathering the team's attention. "Now, here's what we haven't told the FBI. They've been briefed on John Connor as a potential 'unstable element,' supposedly plagued by paranoid delusions about a future war led by a rogue AI after a nuclear apocalypse."
One of the troopers raised an eyebrow. "Paranoid delusions?"
Riley's face hardened. "That's what they think. But here's the reality: the AI he's been warning about? It exists. And it isn't just Connor seeing a disaster—multiple psychics are predicting a nuclear event tomorrow. We've been trying to alert Command, but D.C. isn't answering."
The troopers exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the full weight of what Riley was saying. They were used to high-stakes missions, but this was something else entirely. A nuclear apocalypse was no longer hypothetical; it was a ticking clock counting down to noon tomorrow.
Miller spoke first. "So what do we do if Command doesn't respond?"
Riley's gaze was steady, his tone resolute. "If D.C. won't acknowledge the threat, we're taking independent action. We've trained for the unimaginable, and we're not waiting around for orders that may never come. We'll be coordinating with civilian contacts to move people out of high-risk zones. By noon tomorrow, we go dark. Essential personnel stay on mission; everyone else heads to safer ground."
One of the younger troopers, usually calm under pressure, leaned forward. "And what about Connor? If he's been right all along, he might know something that could stop this."
Riley nodded. "Exactly. That's why we're doubling down on locating him tonight. Connor could be our best chance at understanding this AI and preventing what's coming. So, gear up, stay sharp. Until someone in power finally wakes up, it's on us to stop the clock."
A seasoned trooper in the back raised a hand. "What about our families?"
"Make contact tonight," Riley said, meeting each trooper's gaze. "Our civilian allies will move them to fallout shelters by morning if we don't pull this off. Get them safe. And be ready to move."
A gas station somewhere in California
22:01 (Pacific Time)
The gas station lights cast a faint glow on the deserted highway as Buffy, Kennedy, and Xander huddled over the map spread across the hood of the car. Dawn leaned back against the car, her eyes scanning the quiet road, as if expecting the shadows to spring to life.
"So, we'll arrive around 11:30," Buffy said, tapping her finger on a marked route leading to the Slayers' residence. "That gives Willow enough time to fully recharge. Once we're there, she can start looking for any trace of John Connor."
Kennedy glanced up from the map, determination glinting in her eyes. "Faith just called. Said she's finished clearing out the Scourge in LA, so we don't have to worry about an ambush."
Xander cracked a small, relieved grin. "Well, that's one less army of demons on our tail tonight."
"With Faith's help, we'll be the ones setting the trap this time," Kennedy added, her tone fierce. "They're gonna regret coming after us."
Buffy folded the map, nodding. "We'll hit them hard, and then, we get to Connor. If we're really facing the end of the world here, he's supposed to be the key to stopping it. All of this hinges on us finding him before it's too late."
Xander clapped a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Then let's get to LA and get it done. The apocalypse is on our clock now."
The highway
22:50 (Pacific time)
The rumble of the car engine was the only sound as Buffy pressed her phone to her ear, listening intently to Faith on the other end.
"Alright, B, so here's what I've got lined up," Faith's voice came through, low and steady. "There's a warehouse near the old industrial district, just past downtown. Plenty of shadows, tight corners, and a back exit if things get hairy."
Buffy nodded, her eyes flicking to Willow and Xander in the back seat. "Sounds perfect. We're about forty minutes out, tops. They're still trailing us, though keeping a bit more distance now. Guess they don't want to tip their hand."
"Good," Faith replied with a hint of satisfaction. "That gives me time to set a few surprises on our end. I've got a couple of heavy-duty charms from Marty's stash and… well, a few tools that'll help even the odds."
Buffy allowed herself a small smirk. "Nice. We'll draw them to you, make them think they've got the upper hand."
"Exactly," Faith replied. "When you get close, slow down, maybe even act like you're stopping. Let them close the gap. Once they're in position, I'll drop the first charge—light 'em up before they know what hit 'em."
Buffy glanced back at Kennedy and Willow, who were listening in. "And if they bring in reinforcements?"
Faith's laugh was cold, lethal. "Oh, I'm counting on it. The bigger the fight they bring, the harder they'll fall."
Buffy's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Alright, then. We'll see you soon. And Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Be ready. We're going all in."
McFarlan home
Somewhere in Northern Virginia
02:00 (Eastern time)
McFarlan sat alone in the dim glow of his study, fingers tapping anxiously on the edge of his phone. The weight of the impending disaster had settled heavily on his chest, pressing down like a physical burden. Ashdown's unavailability was an obstacle he hadn't anticipated—and now he was left scrambling, wondering if there was anyone left who might take the threat seriously in time.
Then it hit him: Howard Stevenson. The New York congressman had some sway over the committee responsible for overseeing the Initiative, and though it was a long shot, McFarlan had an indirect connection—a former college friend who now worked as one of Stevenson's aides. The memory was almost absurdly simple, but right now, it was his only chance.
Quickly, he composed a message, keeping it as brief and urgent as possible: Critical information on potential immediate threat—Initiative requires emergency oversight. Call anytime. McFarlan.
He hit send and sank back, hoping it wouldn't be dismissed as another late-night missive from a disgruntled military officer. But he also knew that if Stevenson could be convinced, there might still be time to bypass the red tape and get someone with real power to listen.
As he waited, McFarlan glanced toward the stairs, where his wife slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic shadow hanging over them.
Los Angeles Industrial Zone
23:40 (Pacific time)
The lead Scourge warrior let a sharp grin flash across his face as he gestured to his fellow warriors, signaling them to be ready. The Slayer's group had pulled up to an old, dilapidated warehouse—a perfect place to lay an ambush. Around him, roughly two dozen warriors tensed in preparation, their hands gripping makeshift weapons, while the few Polgara demons chained in the rear snarled and tugged at their restraints, their sharp bone spikes glinting under the dim light.
"Spread out," he growled in a low tone, pointing to the shadows surrounding the warehouse entrance. "We don't give them a chance to escape this time."
The group spilled out of the van, a dark mass of bodies blending into the shadows. Polgara demons were prodded forward, ready to absorb any of the group's initial blows. Inside the abandoned warehouse, silence reigned, an eerie stillness settling over the place as the Scourge warriors moved into formation around the entrance.
Just as he stepped forward, the lead warrior heard the faint, unmistakable sound of footsteps behind him. He whirled, his predatory smile vanishing as he found himself staring into the dimly lit faces of Faith and Buffy, poised and ready.
Faith and Buffy wasted no time, surging forward with lethal precision. Faith swung her sword in a tight arc, catching a Scourge warrior mid-lunge and sending him sprawling. Beside her, Buffy wielded her ax with brutal efficiency, hacking down the closest Polgara demon before it could even raise its spiked arm.
From the car, Willow raised her hands, her fingers crackling with energy. With a whispered incantation, she unleashed a shimmering orb of raw magic. The energy ball flew into the thickest knot of demons, exploding on impact and leaving a bubbling pool of foul-smelling goo where they'd stood.
Kennedy stayed close by, her daggers flashing under the dim lights of the warehouse. She took down one demon after another with swift, practiced movements, each strike delivered with deadly accuracy as she kept Willow protected.
A few more demons tried to rush Faith from behind, but she spun just in time, her blade flashing in a deadly arc. Buffy caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and moved to cover her, fighting back-to-back with Faith in seamless coordination.
The Scourge forces were beginning to hesitate, glancing nervously between the slayers and the relentless onslaught of Willow's magic.
The fight was turning into a slaughter. Faith and Buffy fought with a deadly rhythm, each move precise and calculated, their weapons slashing and cleaving through demon flesh. One by one, Scourge warriors fell, their numbers dwindling fast. Willow's magic kept up its relentless assault, sending pulses of energy that scattered and incinerated any who dared get too close.
Kennedy fought by Willow's side, her daggers flashing as she struck down demons attempting to flank them. With each swing, her movements grew more confident, a protective fierceness in her eyes. She glanced at Willow and gave her a nod, the two exchanging a brief but steadying look before Kennedy lunged at another demon attempting to crawl through the wreckage.
The Scourge leader, watching his carefully laid ambush unravel, finally felt a stab of fear. His warriors were faltering, and even the Polgara demons, notorious for their brutal resilience, were hesitant to charge. With a snarl, he shouted for a regroup, but it was too late. Faith's sword was at his throat before he could bark out another order.
Buffy swung her ax, taking down the last of the Polgara demons in a wide, final stroke, her eyes blazing with adrenaline. She turned to the remaining Scourge warriors, who glanced nervously at their leader, then at the wreckage around them.
"Still feel like fighting?" Faith sneered, her sword pressed just enough to draw a thin line of black blood on the leader's neck. He growled but didn't respond, his eyes darting wildly to his scattered forces.
One of the warriors near the back broke first, turning on his heel and bolting into the darkness. The others quickly followed, scattering into the shadows, no longer willing to face the fury of two slayers and a witch.
Faith released the leader with a harsh shove. "Run along now," she muttered. He stumbled back, casting one last hateful glare at her before vanishing into the night.
As the last echoes of their retreat faded, Buffy let out a long breath, lowering her ax. "Well, that went better than I thought."
"Gotta admit, it was kinda fun," Faith said with a grin, brushing a smear of demon goo off her cheek.
Willow, leaning against the car to catch her breath, gave them a small smile. "Let's hope they stay gone… for good."
Kennedy sheathed her daggers, coming up beside Willow. "If they know what's good for them, they will."
With the Scourge in full retreat, the team regrouped, sharing a brief look of relief before setting their sights back on the greater mission ahead.
TO BE CONTINUED...