She took that in, said nothing for a moment, and then:
“You’re right.”
The First was bemused. “Mmm. Not your best.”
From across the room, Spike moved on his cot and cried out, “I’m drowning in footwear.” His eyes flew open. He glanced at her and said, “Weird dream.” When she didn’t reply, he frowned at her and said, “Buffy? Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said, then, “Yes. I just realized something.” She stared at him as the steadiest calm she had ever experienced mingled with her warrior’s blood. She was serene and highly charged at the same time.
Then she said, “We’re going to win.”
* * *
The sun had risen by the time the core group assembled in her bedroom. Faith was there, too, working out the kinks in her neck and arms, testing her strength as Buffy finished explaining her plan and said, “Well? What do you think?”
Xander went first, wading slowly as he said, “That depends.” Then he said sincerely, “Are you kidding?”
She frowned. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“It’s pretty radical, B,” Faith concurred.
“It’s a lot more than that,” Giles said. “Buffy, what you’re talking about flies in the face of everything we’ve ever—that every generation—has ever done in the fight against evil.” He smiled broadly. “I think it’s bloody brilliant.”
“You mean that?” Buffy asked.
“If you want my opinion,” he said shrugging.
“I really do,” she said warmly.
“Whoa, hey, not to poop on the party,” Willow said, knitting her brows with earnest Willow concern. “But I’m the guy who’s going to have to pull this off.”
“It is beaucoup d’mojo,” Faith drawled.
“Is it even possible?” Dawn asked.
Giles was getting excited. “I believe it is, if what Buffy has told about this weapon is true.”
“Not to careen back to the me subject,” Willow said, “but . . . I’m . . . this is beyond anything I’ve ever done. This is total loss of control, and not in a nice, wholesome, my-girl-friend has-a-pierced-tongue way.”
Buffy regarded her friend soberly, and told her frankly, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do it.”
Willow fretted still. “I’m just not sure I’m stable enough to—”
“Oh, sure ya are,” Anya reassured the Wicca, giving her a little wave. “You’re as stable as the molecules in Mister Fantastic’s uniform, am I right?”
Xander grimaced. “Oh, you just couldn’t have picked a worse example.”
Giles took over. “You’re going to do this, Willow. Get the coven on the line, see how they can help. I’ll—”
“Oh!” Dawn cried; then, as everyone looked at her, muttered, “Pierced tongue.”
Unnerved, Buffy quickly said, “Dawn should do a research thing.”
“Yes,” Giles said to Dawn. “You—”
“It’s cool,” she said. “Watcher Junior to the library.” As she went, she said to Buffy, “You get to save the world, I get more homework.”
As she got up to leave, Buffy said to her, “You could have been in Oxnard . . .”
“I’ll start digging up my sources,” Giles pondered. He looked up at the group. “Literally, actually; there’s one or two people I need to talk to who are dead.”
Anya said to Xander, “Come on. Let’s go assemble the cannon fodder.”
“We’re not calling them that,” Xander remonstrated her as he stood up.
She gave him a “no kidding” look and said, “Not to their faces. What am I, insensitive?”
“Willow . . . ,” Buffy said, turning next to the Wicca.
Willow looked at the scythe. “I’m going to need to run an energy scan on that puppy. To start with.”
Faith gave Buffy a mocking grin. “Sure you’re ready to give it up?”
Without another word, Buffy handed the scythe to Willow.
* * *
Later on that morning, Buffy spoke to the assembled Potentials. She paced as she spoke, and she could feel the tension in the room. Not all the girls were glad she was back, and some of the newbies didn’t trust her at all.
“I hate this,” she began. “I hate being here. I hate that you have to be here. I hate that there’s evil, that it’s growing, and I hate that I was Chosen to fight it.
“I wish, a whole lot of the time, that I hadn’t been.” She flashed them a wry smile. “I know a lot of you wish I hadn’t been, either.”
Kennedy and Vi smiled a bit; others looked embarrassed.
“But this isn’t about wishes,” she went on, looking at their faces, seeing how young they were, how frightened. “This is about choices. I never had one. I was Chosen. And I accept that. I’m not asking you to accept anything. I’m asking you to make your own choice. I believe we can beat this evil—not when it comes, not after its army is ready, but now. Tomorrow morning I’m opening the Seal. I’m going down into the Hellmouth and I’m gong to finish it once and for all.”
They shifted, some gasping, others shaking their heads: Another stupidly aggressive plan of Buffy’s. She’s going to get herself killed.
“I’ve got strong allies: warriors, charms, sorcerers, and I’ll need them all. But I’ll also need you. Every single one of you.”
She looked at each one in turn. She memorized their faces. She read their hearts. “So now you’re asking yourself, ‘What makes this different? What makes us anything more than a bunch of girls getting picked off one by one?’
“It’s true none of you has the power Faith and I have. I think both of us would have to die for a new Slayer to be called, and we can’t even be sure that girl is in this room. That’s the rule. So here’s the part where you make a choice.”
* * *
While Buffy addressed the troops, Faith and Robin toiled in the high school basement, moving something big and metal in front of a grate. Robin was assimilating what Faith had told him about Buffy’s plan, and he was dubious.
“It’s a hell of a risky idea,” he said.
“Buffy’s wacky that way,” she replied.
“There’s one more vent right by the stairs,” he continued. They headed for it. “We block that, they’ve got no sewer access. It should drive them up into the school proper.”
“That’s assuming they get past us,” Faith drawled.
He gave his head a little shake. “Which, no offense, I am.”
She grinned at him, “Come on. You gotta have a little faith.”
“Think I’ve had my share, thanks,” he said sardonically.
“Well, I trundled right into that, didn’t I?” she replied, with a very small wince. “Look, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was blowing you off the other day. I was just trying to, you know, blow you off.”
They started covering the vent by the stairs with stuff.
“I figured that out all by myself,” he told her.
“It’s nothing personal.” She grunted as she did the heavy lifting. “It’s just, after I get bouncy with a guy, there’s not a whole lot more I need to know about him.”
“That’s bleak.”
“Way of the world,” she bit off.
“Good to know. For a second there, I was mistaking it for more defensive, isolationist Slayer crap.”
“And he comes out swinging,” she mugged.
“There is a whole world you don’t even know about,” he told her, “and a lot of the men in it are pretty decent guys. They’d surprise you.”
“Guy looks at me, let’s just say his priorities shift.”
He raised his brows, surprised by her words. “ ‘Cause you’re so hot?”
“Is what it is, yo.”
“Please,” Robin said, “I’m much prettier than you.”
Faith started in open-mouthed, Victorian shock, putting a hand to her chest.
“And for the record,” he continued, “our little encounter didn’t exactly
change my world.”
“You’re tripping!” she cried. “That was rock ’em sock ’em!
He added dismissively, “Oh, it was nice enough . . . you’re very enthused. With a little more experience, I think you’ll really—”
“Dude!” she cried. “I got mad skills!”
“No. Of course.” He gestured to their lovely piles of crap. “Let’s finish up.”
“Hell with that,” Faith said. “We’re going again! You’re going to learn a little respect here, pal.” She started pulling off her shirt,
Robin stopped her. “Faith. Make me a deal. We live through this, you give me the chance to surprise you.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Well, what would be the surprise?”
“You do know the meaning of the word, right? He sounded amused . . . at her expense.
“Fine,” she shot back. “Deal.”
“Good enough,” he told her.
They started to move the junk some more.
“No way are you prettier than me,” Faith muttered.
“Little bit,” he teased.
* * *
The day flew by as Willow labored over her books of shadows and incantations. Kennedy sat like a beautiful incarnation of the Goddess among the books, papers, and mystical objects . . . and the scythe.
“I really wish she hadn’t said that about me,” Willow murmured.
“What, the thing Buffy said?” Kennedy asked. “I think it’s true.”
Willow made hapless face. “Eheh.”
“I’ll be with you. To keep you grounded,” said the kite string.
Willow made a spear-jab motion and said, with all sincerity, “You may have to keep me stabbed . . . if I . . . go to the bad place.”
Kennedy inhaled, looked dizzy, looked scared. “You’re saying I might have to kill you.”
“I am,” Willow agreed.
Willow’s girl snapped, “Bite me.”
“I will. I mean, I do. Mean it.” Willow was very, very sincere. “If I go south, you have to protect the others.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Kennedy insisted.
The Wicca had to make her understand “The darkest place I’ve ever been . . . this is what lies beyond that. This is too important for me to . . .”
“. . . Buffy believes in you,” Kennedy reminded her.
Willow sighed. “You know Buffy: Sweet girl, not that bright.”
“Hey.” Kennedy leaned toward her, as if by closing the space between them, she could force Willow to really hear what she had to say. “I’m the first to call her out when she’s not making sense. In fact, this may have escaped your keen notice, but I’m kind of a brat. I’ve sort of always gotten my way. So you’re going to make it through this, no matter how dark it gets. Because . . .”
Her eyes misted, and she came to Willow, then.
“. . . you’re my way.”
They kissed, and Willow drew sustenance from the kiss, and some hope. She never wanted that kiss to end.
When it did, she said, “I better go over it again.”
* * *
And the day had flown by for Giles, who sat at the dining room table with Xander, books and plans strewn about. Amanda and other Potentials looked on, tired but engrossed.
“I’ve gotten turned around,” Giles said. “You’re here.”
“By the pillar, yeah,” Xander told him. “I’m protecting this area.”
“That puts me here.” Giles pointed. “By the door. Demons around the perimeter. Right. So I open the door.”
Andrew sat at the table as well. He was wearing his red DM cloak, hood up, consulting his GURPS and his personal notes from his many, many-many years of serious gaming.
“You go through the door,” He told Giles. “You are confronted by Trogdor the Burninator.”
Giles was pissed off. “Bugger all. Fight.” He rolled the ten-sided dice.
Andrew checked his score. “Adios to five hit points,” he informed Giles. “Trogdor has badly wounded you.”
“What about my bag of illusions?” Giles demanded hotly.
“Illusions? Against a burninator?” He chuckled. “Silly, silly British man.”
Amanda piped up, “I invoke a time flux on Trogdor.”
Andrew was piqued. “Step down, girlfriend, you can’t just—”
“Nine level sorcerer, and I carry the emerald chalice. Trogdor is frozen in time. Deal with it,” Amanda crowed.
Xander brightened. “Smackdown on red riding hood! This could get ugly.”
“Could it possibly get uglier?” Giles moaned. “I used to be a highly respected Watcher. Now I’m a wounded dwarf with the mystical strength of a doily.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish I could just sleep.”
Amanda broke character for a moment and said, “What kind of a person could sleep on a night like this?”
Xander fondly regarded his ex-fiancée, current . . . current whatever, and patted her head as she snored away, her head on the table.
“Only the crazy ones,” he said, with great affection.
* * *
Upstairs Dawn counted coup as she regaled the young Potentials with tales of the Slayer. Some were in sleeping bags, and some where just hanging out at her feet; all were rapt.
She said, “And the Master grabbed Buffy from behind and bit her. She tired to move but he was too strong. He fed on her blood and he tossed her in the water, cackling insanely as the bubbles rose around her and she slowly drowned to death.”
Vi was freaking. “Do you have any other stories?
Dawn made a “hold-on” gesture and said, “She gets up again. It’s very romantic.” She looked at all the Potentials. “Guys, you gotta stop worrying. It’s Buffy. She always saves the day.”
* * *
What will this day bring? Buffy thought, as she stood on the front porch and gazed into the blackness. Will we actually pull this off?
* * *
Some say the world will end in fire, Spike mused, as he stared down at the amulet. Am I the champion meant to wear this? If I wasn’t, I am, now.
I have to be, now.
Then he became aware of eyes on him, and looked up. It was Buffy, beautiful and brave; his girl, whether or not he was her man; she was the Chosen One, and oh, God, he would choose her a million times over another night. Another sunset. Another lifetime.
In fire, then.
* * *
Sunnydale High School: the last stand, the last battle, the last day as the sun finally rose and rose too fast.
Robin led the girls into the empty corridors of the building. He stopped at the big space at the bottom of the stairs.
“Welcome to Sunnydale High,” he told them in a booming voice. “There’s no running in the halls, no yelling, and no gum. Apart from that, we have only one rule.”
He stopped and turned.
“If they move, kill them.”
Buffy began to move her warriors into position as she announced, “Potentials are in the basement. Follow Faith and Spike.”
As they began to leave, Xander called, “If you have to go to the bathroom, it’s on the left. If you don’t have to go to the bathroom, picture what you’re about to face. Better to go now.”
Robin turned to Willow and said, “Willow, my office is through there.”
“It’s right over the Seal,” Buffy reminded her.
“I’ll start getting you set up,” Kennedy said to her mate.
“Thanks,” Willow murmured gratefully.
“Okay, civilians.” Robin gestured as he spoke. “The vampires get upstairs, we have three areas they could get through to another building and down into the sewers.
“Down the hall in the atrium; the north hall here; and the primary target, through the lounge to the science building. Odds are, most of them will head there. Easy to find, big, no sunlight.”
Giles spoke up. “Teams of two, then, and I suggest you and I take the lounge.”
“I concur,” Robin replied.
<
br /> “Xander, I want you with Dawn,” Buffy said.
“I concur,” Xander said.
“We’ll take the atrium,” Dawn announced.
“So that leaves me and the dungeon master in the north hall,” Anya concluded.
Andrew was peaking. “We will defend it with our very lives.”
“Yes,” Anya put in, “we’ll defend it with his very life.”
“Don’t be afraid to use him as a human shield,” Xander told her.
“Good. Yes. Thanks,” Anya said.
“And I just want to say how proud I am to die for this really special cause with you guys,” Andrew said. “There’s some people I’d like to thank, both good and evil . . .”
He was holding a paper, which he now unfolded, and began to read. “A shout out to my brother, Tucker, who gave me the inspiration to summon demons, and also—”
“Nobody cares, ya little monkey,” Anya said, not without affection, as she dragged him off.
Robin left, too, and Dawn announced, “I’m going to check out our filed of engagement.”
She started down the hall. Buffy followed.
“Dawn.”
“No.” Dawn turned back, not waiting for Buffy to speak. In a choked voice, she said, “Anything you say is going to sound like good-bye.”
Resolutely, she turned back around, and left. Buffy silently watched her, working hard not to lose it, for if there was going to be a moment when she would falter, this was it.
She made it through.
Then she turned back around and joined the group.
The Four: Buffy, Giles, Willow, and Xander.
Us. The originals, Buffy thought. Everyone else came later. These are my comrades, my dearest friends. I am the Slayer who did not walk alone.
They kept me in their pocket, only I didn’t realize it . . . until almost too late.
The Four.
The Slayer, the Watcher, the Witch, and the One Who Saw.
“So,” Buffy said, taking on chipper. “What do you guys wanna do tomorrow?”
Willow considered. “Nothing strenuous.”
“Mini-golf is always the first thing that comes to mind,” Xander said, weighing in.
Giles looked mildly disappointed. “Well, I think we can do better than that.”