Original of the Species Part 3 (BtVS/DBZ/SG1)

[Muad'zin]

Original of the Species part 3 The Robots and the Saiyan: Adam




Multiple Crossover (mostly DBZ, some SG-1, some Eddingsverse) Less then a year left till the coming of the Androids. Or is it….?


Previous parts found here:
Part 1 http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=103621
Part 2A http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=112169
Part 2B http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=120560
All http://www.tthfanfic.org/AuthorStories-6064/Muadzin.htm



Yes, he’s still alive and kicking. And writing. Same reasons for the delay as before. Yada yada yada, real life busy, yada, writers block, yada, lazy ass bugger. But here it is. Finally! Sortish, I still have two chapters to finish. But some of you have been pestering me for updates, so here’s a few to wet your apetite.

Alright. Part 3. Robots. Originally I wanted to do a big piece, like Part 2, about the events of BtVS season 4. But that took me a year and a half to finish. I didn’t feel like rehashing BtVS scripts any more and I wanted to get cracking on the Cell games instead. Now, occasionally I chat or mail with fellow author Shadowmaster and he suggested doing a series of shorts and drabbles. But I’m just not a shorts kinda guy. Well, I am but not those kinda shorts. And I loath drabbles. But I could do a single multi-chapter story. Like Part 2A.

While I like to think my work gets better I go along and part 2B had some of my most favorite work to date, I still think part 2A is my best. Unlike parts 1 and 2B it’s not a series of episodes but one continuous story. I like the tightness. So instead of posting another set of episodes spread over 16 months slaved over a smaller number of chapters and condense the most important developments into a single story. I even managed to do something that was driving me crazy and which scared away my beta, do shorter chapters. Mostly.

Alright, time for the obligatory. Let us never forget the true Gods who came up with this stuff long before I did. All hail Whedon, Toriyama, the late David Eddings (You Da Man!), the lord of strange worlds Jack Vance. And the buggers who came with Stargate who I’m just too lazy to google. But you know who you are. I myself, I own nothing but the occasional original character and even that is inspired by their genius. Let us also all hail our corporate overlords and their legal minions and government lackeys, who will do nasty stuff to me if I make some money of this. Which I won’t. It’s all just for fun. Honest!




Be Yourself
Audioslave - Out of Exile
Lyrics by Chris Cornell

Someone falls to pieces
Sleepin all alone
Someone kills the pain
Spinning in the silence
To finally drift away
Someone gets excited
In a chapel yard
Catches a bouquet
Another lays a dozen
White roses on a grave

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Untill the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Kickass solo by guitar god Tom Morello

And even when you've paid enough, been pulled apart or been held up
With every single memory of the good or bad faces of luck
don't lose any sleep tonight
I'm sure everything will end up alright

You may win or lose

But to be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Prologue




A-Day minus 263



“GOD DAMN BITCH!”

A voice yelled angrily through the cave.

“FUCK!”

The outcry was soon followed by a thud of an object being thrown against a wall.

Pain.

It soared through his nerves like a hot knife through butter. Like hot needles twisting around in his flesh. Which probably wasn’t that far from reality to begin with. God did he hurt. Even as his nerves were playing a delightful symphony in the key of pain major he could feel his legs going numb. The pain be damned. He was in dire need of a neuro-surgeon

If he could only make it to the auto-doc he’d stand a good chance. Too bad the damn bitch saw to it that what should have been an easy walk to the next chamber was now the longest crawl in his life.

First he needed to turn over. Gritting his teeth he did what had to be done and rolled over.

“FUCK!” he yelled as searing pain soared through his body, “Goddamn bitch!”

He used his left hand to pound the floor in helpless frustration. It didn’t reduce the pain for one iota. But at least it gave him a way to express some of his anger. Then he looked up. There it was. The likeness of HIM staring back at him. Like HE always did. It was all HIS fault. Didn’t matter she had done it. The whole chain of events could always be traced back to HIM..

It was HIS fault

It was always HIS fault.

He shouldn’t have underestimated him. They should never have underestimated him. They should have killed HIM the moment they first set eyes on HIM. They had been confident. Arrogant even. Now he was the last one. But HE was still out there. HE had to be stopped. For the greater good.

Even now the likeness of his enemy looked down in him. Sporting his accursed smirk. Always the smirk. Oh how he longed to wipe that smirk of his face. But first he would have to get better. Reach the auto-doc before it was too late.

They say all great journeys begin with one step. In his case it would be one crawl. So he placed his good arm ahead and dragged himself forward.

“Fuck! Bitch!” he yelled as he again felt pain. Panting heavily he again glanced at the likeness of his enemy.

“I hate you!” he said through gritted teeth. Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was just his imagination. Or maybe it was just his sanity giving way but he could swear his enemy’s smirk grew even bigger.

“I….”

“Will….”

“Not….”

“Go….”

“Down….”

“Like….”

This…!”

With every utterance he moved himself closer to the other chamber. Towards the auto-doc. Using mostly his good arm, as the other one was mostly as useless as his legs. As he dragged himself forward he left behind him a trail of blood.

For he moment he stopped to catch his breath, laying there panting heavily.

“Not… like… this,” he panted, “Not like this.”

“You’re going to die here,” HIS voice said from the poster on the wall. That accursed voice. The one he would never forget.

“Shut up!” he panted back.

“Make me!” HIS voice said mockingly. He glanced upwards at the likeness of his enemy.

“I swear I will end you,” he said resolutely. His enemy seemed unimpressed, he just kept on smirking.

“Oh yeah,” HE said back confidently, “You and whose army?”

“You know perfectly well,” he said back.

“Talk is cheap,” HIS voice said, “you’ve failed. You’ve failed at every turn. You’re failing even now. Not only are you broken, you’re bleeding all over your precious cave. You’re bleeding to death.”

“Just… wait…. Until… I… Make … it…. to… auto….,” he panted as he resumed his crawl.

A silent laughter filled the room.

“Fool!” HIS voice thundered, “even if you make it to your contraption, it’s nothing like a real doctor. You’ll still be a broken shell of a man.”

“I.. don’t…. need… my… body… to… defeat…. you…,” he panted as he neared the other chamber, “my… brain… is… all…. I… need….”

This time there came no reply. Causing him to halt and look over his shoulder at HIS likeness.

“Shut you up, didn’t I?” he said triumphantly. His enemy didn’t reply. His likeness on the wall just continued his smirk.

“Asshole,” he muttered as he continued his slow crawl. At least he’d shown HIM. Now if only the world would stop spinning.

Only through sheer force of will did he not pass out and manage to reach the auto-doc. It helped that after a while the pain become so overwhelming that it began to dull his senses. As he pulled his leg inside the auto-doc he could finally relax in its recliner seat.

As soon as the door closed an anaesthetizing mist began to envelop him as the auto-doc came to life. Gradually his pain began to dull until eventually it disappeared altogether. As it did he also began to feel drowsy.

But before he gave in to the auto-doc’s healing process he used his good arm to connect several electrodes to his brain. Then he activated VR slumber mode. No need to waste away most of the time he was going to spend in here. Over time he had spent a lot of time in the auto-doc, and the virtual reality slumber mode would allow him to continue to work while he was healing.

Waste not, want not.

After all, he had to start all over again.





It is good to be the king.

Or so a Tau’ri saying supposedly went.

While Anubis was the first to admit that being a part of the Goa’uld ruling elite had its many perks, those tended to go down the wayside once you underwent such minor detail as Ascension and partial Descension. It was kinda hard to sample the simple pleasures in life once your body ceases to be. But there were still the pleasures of the mind.

Unfortunately for him he had so little time for them. Ever since his defeat at the hands of Amūn it had taken a lot of time and a lot of short lived hosts to rebuild his powerbase. At least it would seem he no longer had to fear that tin pot Goa’uld warrior wannabe and his Saiyan body. Reports had it the idiot had died, probably as he could no longer maintain control of that Saiyan body of his.

Big surprise there. Ever since Saiyan mercenaries had been made available to them via Freeza, many Goa’uld had dreamed of possessing such superb bodies. They had all failed as the Saiyan body proved impossible for Goa’uld to habit. It was said that a Goa’uld might enter a neutron star first before ever being able to enter a Saiyan.

Still, even for a limited time Amūn had proved himself able to do the unthinkable. He had entered and controlled a Saiyan host. It might be worth investigating how he had done it if it weren’t for the fact that there were no more Saiyans. Freeza had destroyed their world. The chances of finding another were slim beyond hope.

Plus the only people who possessed the knowledge to do so were his former Jaffa. Who so far had resisted all attempts by any Systemlord to be assimilated into their service. They had even dared to set themselves up as independents. Following their own religion. Even spreading it amongst the Jaffa of other Systemlords. They had to be dealt with.

But not by him. At least not now.

They would be dealt with. Once he had full control over the other systemlords. But until then they would have to be somebody else’s problem. For now regaining the control he used to have over the Systemlords was his first and foremost priority. That and finishing off the Tau’ri. Which was both a means to an end (destroying the Tau’ri would garner him great honor and credit amongst the Systemlords) and as a purpose in itself (for the Tau’ri homeworld would give rise to a great danger that would consume them all).

So it was off towards plotting and scheming again. Lucky for him, his time being Ascended had given him extensive insight into the knowledge and technology of the Ancients. And what they had left behind in deadly unattended technology and weaponry in the Galaxy would make a sane man tremble in fear and a megalomaniac water his mouth in lust.

The problem however was that almost all of it was scattered in the territory of various Systemlords who would use those Ancient artifacts against him in a heartbeat. So he had to thread carefully. Make do with what he had, the Ancient knowledge he remembered, some of the Asgard knowledge he had stolen from Thor.

It had enabled him to strike a series of alliance with various minor Systemlords. So far all the major Systemlords had refused his offers of alliance, with most of them being downright hostile to him. And as luck held it, all the really cool Ancient artifacts were still in the territory of his enemies.

He was sitting in the stellar cartography chamber of his stronghold. The holographic emitters capable of reproducing any corner of the Galaxy to its minutest known detail. Technology any Earth planetarium would kill for to possess. As he studied the Galaxy’s stellar-political map it became apparent that he had reached an impasse. No more Systemlords would flock to his banner. His only course of avenue now was to unify those that did into a single force and make the others see reason.

The problem was that he had the power to overcome most of the major Systemlords, a few were still beyond him. Powerful Systemlords like Ba’al and Yi could resist him for a long while and make him pay dearly. And if he were to make a move against one, the others would combine against him. Like they did in the past. He therefore had to find a way to take them one at a time without the others taking notice and ally against him.

Which brought him back to his original problem. How to make some of the major Systemlords see reason? His reason of course.

As he mused staring at the territory of a particular troublesome Systemlord he nearly didn’t sense the presence of somebody behind him.

“I gave strict orders not to be disturbed,” he said without looking over his shoulders.

“That’s alright,” a voice said behind him, “I can wait.”

To Anubis’ surprise the voice spoke neither in the dialect of his Jaffa, nor In the subservient manner that was their custom. Curious he turned around and saw that there was nobody there in the blackened room.

Had he been a normal Goa’uld in a normal human host body Anubis would not have seen who had dared disturb him in his inner sanctum. In his semi-Ascended body his vision was greatly enhanced. But that body had been destroyed by Amūn and he had to make do with normal human host bodies again..

But he was still far from a normal Goa’uld. Rather then a parasite inside a human host he was mostly energy inside a human host. While it caused his body to deteriorate rapidly it also enabled him to see that a faint outline of a human like shape was leaning against what was the doorway out of the map room.

“Who are you?” he demanded to know and reached for the communicator that would bring in his Jaffa.

“I wouldn’t do that if I we’re you,” the unknown visitor said offhand. Somehow Anubis halted his action. There was something…. Not the voice. But the way his visitor felt was familiar.

“Been busy plotting and scheming?” his visitor said as he walked through the room, walking through holographic planets and constellations, “I guess you have to keep yourself busy in some form or another.”

“Who are you?” Anubis asked again. His visitor halted and his outline, still the only part of him that was faintly visible shrugged.

“Who I am is not important,” he said offhand, “Who I represent is far more important. You owe us a debt, little worm, and it is time to pay up.”

It was only then that it clicked inside what passed for Anubis’ brain.

“You are…..,” he stammered as he took an involuntary step backwards. The outline shook its head.

“I am nothing of the sort. I am just the messenger,” it said smug, “But thanks for thinking that I am though. I appreciate that.

I am here to give you a message little worm. And it goes like this. Once there was a little worm. Who pissed off to many of his fellow little worms. So they decided to get together and kick his sorry little ass out of their little worm club. And so they did.

So the little worm found itself all alone and dying, when he came upon a gullible Ancient called Oma Desala. Who turned out to be a sucker for a sad story. She took pity on this little worm and Ascended him. But once she did she found out what a bad little worm he really was. After all, you must be a really bad little worm for the other bad little worms to take offence. Upon seeing his true nature the other Ancients banded together to imprison the now shiny little worm in a private fun dimension of his own. And there the story would have ended. Case closed.”

The outline walked over until it stood in front of Anubis.

“But the story didn’t end there, didn’t it, little worm? Desperate to escape again you contacted my employers. They saw great potential in you so they helped you escape the Ancient’s version of your private fun house. It was they who let you keep most of the goodies that come with Ascension, even though you are now a denizen of the lower plain again.”

“Them!” Anubis hissed softly and the outline nodded.

“You didn’t think They had forgotten about you, little worm?” the outline said disparagingly, “You owe them and the time has come to collect. Now, so far you have been a major let down. We have yet to see the flames of your crusade burn across the Galaxy. In fact we have yet to see much of anything.”

Anubis wanted to protest but the outline put up the outline of a hand and cut him off.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault. You had bad luck. You were thwarted. You had a bad childhood. The list of excuses is endless. Still doesn’t change the fact that they are just that.”

The outline placed a hand on Anubis’ shoulder, the touch of which was revolting even to the likes of Anubis.

“Now it so happens that you are in luck, little worm,” the outline said cheerfully. Then it used its other hand to touch the controller of the holographic emitter and the focus of the holographic maproom changed to a little known star system on the outer end of one of the Galaxy’s spiral arms.

“You can repay your debt to us in such a way you will be the better for it as well. And all you have to do is this simple thing. Such a little thing.”

[krinsbez]

I have mixed feelings about this.

One one hand: YAY! It's back!

OTOH: It's tiny and makes very little sense.

And what's with the huge font?

[Muad'zin]

Originally Posted by krinsbez

I have mixed feelings about this.

One one hand: YAY! It's back!

OTOH: It's tiny and makes very little sense.

And what's with the huge font?

Of course it's tiny and cryptic, it's the prologue.

As for the formatting, Firefox eats up everything I try to post, Opera makes the formatting disappear so I had to use IE. Which copied the formatting a little too much.

[Muad'zin]

Chapter 1

‘When The Bullet Hits The Bone’




Help I'm steppin' into the twilight zone
The place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon's been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I've gone too far

Twilight Zone
Golden Earring, album:
Lyrics by George Kooymans



AN: W00t! Da first chapter! And what a labor of torture it turned out to be. You wonder why it took me almost a year on end to start posting the next part? Look no further then this chapter. I don’t really know why though. Probably because by then I still hadn’t fleshed out the full story yet.




A-Day



In a spot overlooking Botany Bay, the famous SydneyHarbor bridge and the Opera House Yamcha stood waiting. Close by was Tien, who was even now cooing the baby that Bulma held in her arms.

“Who’s a nice little fella?” Tien said as he played with his finger in front of the baby’s face, “who’s a nice little fella?”

Bulma looked like a proud mother as Tien played with her son.

Her son.

But not his, Yamcha snorted mentally. Even though he’d known for quit a while, he still found it hard to comprehend. It should have been his kid. She should have been his girl. But he let her get away. Slip into his hands.

Part of that was her fault of course. She pushed him. Hard. Often way to hard. And it wasn’t like he was so adverse to the idea of settling down with Bulma. Or with other women for that matter. It was just the way she wanted to settle down so fast.

And change him.

What was it with women that they felt the need to change their men? I mean, if the guy’s not perfect, why not go out looking for one that’s more to what you had in mind? He liked being who and what he was. He was no nine to five kind of guy. He was not the kind of guy who was going to work on a career. Why couldn’t Bulma realize this? I mean, it wasn’t like she was a traditional kind of gal herself. Her parents seemed fine with who he was, why couldn’t she?

Of course it wasn’t to late. She may have had something with his Royal Assholeness, but he left her as well. Bastard left her pregnant and alone, then disappeared into the sunset. Bastard left her vulnerable for those two scouting androids. And it was he who had saved her. So the bridge wasn’t completely burned. Fire had damaged the superstructure but the foundations were still intact for a rebuild.

But then he’d have to accept her child as well. HIS kid.

And some things were just to damn hard for a man to swallow.

He wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew these were the times when more families broke up then stayed together. Where kids grew up with single parents, weekend fathers, and where a man looking to find a significant other often had to accept she came with children from another man. Those were the times and Yamcha was okay with that. He had no selfish desire to pass on his genes and in a way there was an advantage to dating a woman with kids. They weren’t on some desperate doomsday clock to get kids before the big P set in and at least there weren’t going to be any sleepless and sexless nights with babies demanded constant attention.

And then some things were just to damn hard for any man to swallow.

And that included taking care of the child of the man who had belittled him, humiliated him and used him for a punching bag ever since he had entered the Brief’s household more then four years ago. Cause while the child was innocent, in Yamcha’s mind he would always reminded him of Vegeta. Of how he had soiled his life and how he had soiled Bulma’s.

No, it was definitely too late for the both of them.

As he looked up Yamcha could finally see Goku and the others as they descended from the sky.

“We’ve been waiting for you for a while now,” Yamcha said cocky as Goku touched down, “You’re late.”

“Hey, Yamcha,” Goku said as he took his friend in an embrace so tight it would have crushed a lesser men. Now it only nearly crushed Yamcha instead. Damn Saiyans and their infinite reservoirs of strength.

“it’s been too long!”

“For Kami’s sake Goku, it’s been only nine months,” Yamcha said back as the Saiyan finally let go, then he turned to Krillin and made a few shadow boxing moves, “How you doing, Krillin? Did you and that nice girl…..”

The look Krillin gave him said it all. So it didn’t work out. But hey, at least the little guy finally got some. Better to have loved and lost, right? Even if it was just a one night stand.

Yamcha wanted to say hello to Gohan but Bulma beat him to it.

“Hi Gohan,” Bulma smiled at the kid, “You’ve grown.”

Upon hearing her Goku frowned.

“You shouldn’t have come, Bulma,” Goku said disapprovingly, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Nice to see you too, Goku” Bulma said deadpan, “Don’t worry. I’m just here to have a good look at the androids. After that I’ll leave. Besides, it’s not like I never stared down a couple of homicidal androids before.”

“Never mind that,” Krillin said as he stood there gawking at the child in Bulma’s arms, “You’re holding a baby! You and Yamcha finally got married or something?”


Aw crap, Yamcha thought, Bulma just had to drag the little tyke along, didn’t she? Couldn’t leave it at home with gramps. Ah well, best to get it over with quickly.

“It’s not mine,” Yamcha said as he closed his eyes, “We split up quite some time ago. And you’re never gonna guess who its dad really is.”

Without batting an eyelid Goku reached over to the child and rubbed underneath the child’s chin.

“Trunks, you’re Vegeta’s son, aren’t you,” he said smiling.

For a moment everything was dead silence, except for a loud smack as a certain Namek facepalmed himself.

“How…, how did you know?” Bulma said flabbergasted, “We wanted to keep it a surprise.”

The Saiyan suddenly glanced over at Piccolo who gave him the ‘you’re on your own’ look.

“Busted,” somebody said as Goku began to scratch the back of his head and grinned sheepishly.

“Know? I just had this feeling,” Goku smiled nervously, “He sorta looks like Vegeta’s.”

Tsssk! Worst excuse ever! Yamcha thought as he looked on, then he glanced at Piccolo who now had his ‘how could you’ look, then back at the nervous looking Goku and finally at little Trunks. And suddenly it clicked. Well I’ll be damned! So that was who Future Saiyan was. Suddenly it all made sense.

“You even got the name right,” Bulma said as she eyed Goku suspiciously.

“Who, me?” Goku said as he began to laugh like it was all a big joke, “I guess I must be psychic then.”

“Hmmm,” Bulma said suspiciously.

“That’s Vegeta’s kid?” Krillin asked, still having trouble wrapping his head around the concept.

“Enough,” Piccolo called out impatiently, “We’re not here to chat. Where’s Vegeta?”

“I don’t know,” Bulma said, “But I’ll know he’ll come. He’s trained hard for this day.”

The Namek looked at the person next to him and raised an eyebrow.

“So he has returned then?” he said surprised.

“He’s been back for a while,” Bulma nodded, “although I haven’t seen him much. We sort of broke up.”

“He’ll come,” Goku said as he began to sport a very Saiyan like smirk, “Vegeta will definitely come for this one.”

“I didn’t let Chaozu come,” Tien said, “To be honest he’s not strong enough.”

“Leave your mancrush back at home again?” Yamcha grinned at Tien, “You know, if you leave him home every time you go out he might start thinking you’ve found a new boyfriend.”

“I’m not gay,” Tien sighed tiredly.

“It’s probably a good idea Chaozu didn’t come,” Goku said and looked up for a moment before turning to Bulma, “What time is it?”

“09:30,” Bulma said as she barely glanced at her own watch.

“You should leave now before the child gets hurt,” Goku said but Bulma let out a loud snort.

“Androids first, then I’ll leave.” she said absolutely fearless.

“So where’s Belmovekk?” Krillin asked Yamcha, “surely you set out at the same time, right? After all, you’re both from California.”

“He said he wanted to wait until Goku was here,” Yamcha said, “Then he’d come.”

“Wouldn’t he be late then,” Tien asked somewhat surprised, upon which Yamcha shrugged.

“I think he wants to show off,” he said.

No sooner had he said it as out of nowhere Belmovekk appeared, two fingers resting on his forehead, along with two others with their hands on him.

“Told you he was going to show off,” Yamcha said frowning at the other Saiyan’s display.

As he let go of Belmovekk Xander turned to Goku’s Z-fighters.

“Lucy, I am home,” he said in a bad Ricky Ricardo imitation.

“Gee, Xander,” Buffy said behind him, “couldn’t you have made a better pun?”

Then Buffy heard a familiar voice
.
As she turned around she saw Faith standing there next to Piccolo, the both of them in identical poses, arms across her chest.

“So, B., how’s it hanging lately?”





A-Day minus 255




Christ!

She couldn’t believe Jolly Green had talked her into coming along with him.

Sunnydale.

How she hated the place.

Even now as she flew across the Gulf of Mexico, most of their long journey over, Faith couldn’t help but think she’d rather turn around and fly all that distance back again, just to put some distance between her and that accursed place.

Of course Jolly Green wouldn’t stand for it.

Curse him and his evil debating skillz!

Except Faith wasn’t quite sure that Piccolo was male. After all, he had been spawned by what he called his father. And he claimed he could do it as well. Which would technically mean Piccolo was female. Of course a simple male/female dichotomy didn’t apply to Nameks. They were a single sex species, capable of reproducing without the help of others.

Up to a point they could even control what kind of genes they wished to pass on. Piccolo himself was the result of such an act as his sire, Piccolo the Demon king, had made him into a fighter. As a result his aptitude for magic, which had been quite high for his sire, was low.

But Piccolo was a tactician pur sang. He didn’t waste time dwelling on what he didn’t have, he’d try and find ways to work with what he had. She had come to admire that in the time they had spend together.

Theirs had been a strange relationship from the start. When she had waken up without her powers all she could do was sit and wait, let her anger and hatred grow as she had to sit there impotently on top of that rock.

She had sat there angry until she felt her powers return. Then she tried to escape.

And ran straight into Piccolo.

After which she immediately got her first lesson.

Do not annoy the Green One.

Unfortunately the lesson didn’t take hold as for a whole month straight she had tried to escape at every opportunity. And each time Jolly Green had found her. Sometimes within seconds, sometimes after days, one time after she thought she had finally gotten away. There was just no escaping the Green One. And each time he drove the message home. Not with self righteous words. But through ‘other’ means.

Do not annoy the Green One.

For a whole month she tried to get away before she finally accepted that there really was no escape.

And that was when the Namek began to train her.

For two more months she fought him tooth and nail passively. Resenting her captivity by sabotaging his attempts to teach her. The fights were long and tiring. Then one night she sat up awake, looking at the full moon and she wondered what happened to Little Brother. The only friend she ever really had. Oz. Other then saying that the mayor had been defeated and killed, Piccolo refused to tell her anything as to what had happened in Sunnydale

It was at that moment as she contemplated the fate of her once dear friend that she realized that she was truly alone in this world. And it was her own fault. Oz may be dead because of the choice she had made.

It was at that moment that she began to cry, sobbing uncontrollably. Naturally Jolly Green noticed her distress. Even when he was sitting there cross-legged, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, looking very much asleep, he never was as Nameks never slept. Again proving that part of him was somehow female the Namek was able to multitask on his meditations and keeping an eye on her.


(Piccolo’s POV)


She had been crying for the first time in three months that night. For three long, long months she had been playing the tough biker chick routine. Kami knew she had been testing his patience. There had been words. There had physical reprimand. There were times he contemplated handing her back lock stock and barrel to Belmovekk.

And it wasn’t just because she was had been trying to escape for a whole month straight. That at least had been fun. A nice cat and mouse game to while away the time babysitting. She had proven cunning, resourceful and persistent. He couldn’t turn his back on her for a second only to find her gone.

It was when she stopped running that things went sour. She constantly fought him, never listening to a word he said. It was maddening!

Gohan had never fought him like that. In fact the kid seemed quite happy to accept his tutorage. Of course, letting the kid survive in the wild for half a year might had something to do with that. Being that long without human contact made you cling all the more to someone once you finally did meet someone again. And while Piccolo wasn’t human he had inherited much of the knowledge of his sire, the Demon King, the master of mind games. Oh yes, he would never admit it to Gohan but besides training the kid to fight Vegeta he was also trying to win him over, turn him against his father.

What he didn’t count on was that the bond that had developed between him and Gohan. Since he wasn’t a demon like his sire he failed to keep himself detached emotionally. The bond that grew out of that was what rescued him from the dark path set out for him by his sire.

But he couldn’t redo what he had done with Gohan with the girl. For one thing the girl was way more powerful then Gohan had been. And way further advanced in her martial arts. Gohan basically knew nothing. And she could fly. There was no way in hell that he could leave her alone for six months straight.

So he stuck around. Sacrificing valuable training time to keep an eye on her. And regretted ever letting Belmovekk talk him into taking into this gig as she fought him tooth and nail trying to teach her anything. She was like Vegeta, only with tits. How on Earth that old coot Belmovekk taught her anything was beyond him. It gave him new respect for Belmovekk. And lots of dislike for foisting her off on him.

And then she cried.

Gohan had cried. Cried for days. Sometimes it looked like he cried just about for everything. But that was normal for a small kid. The girl had never once cried so far.

She had been sitting there, staring at the full moon (Thank Kami she wasn’t Saiyan). Thinking by the looks of it. Then she began to cry, sobbing uncontrollably. Had this happened earlier he’d suspected her yet another escape attempt.

“Are you alright, kid?” he asked her. She didn’t respond, she just went on crying. Great, it looked like she was suddenly in full scale emotional breakdown. Goku’s wife had similar moments. Usually around that certain time of the month. He had made it a mental note to always keep track of Chichi’s time of the month so he could scoot off in time for some ‘private training’. He felt sorry for Goku and Gohan for abandoning them to their mother at such a time but hey, some sacrifices were just too great to ask for.

The girl never broke down during her time of the month. At least he hoped not. It was bad enough that she became even more obstinate and hostile at those moments, Kami forbid that crying would become part of the deal as well.

Damn it, what was he supposed to do? He was Piccolo, the Demon King. Or ex-Demon King. He didn’t do emotional. He was the guy who told people to suck it up instead.

“Just go over to her and hold her,” a voice said in his mind. He had a pretty good idea who that was.

“Stay out of my mind, you old coot,” he thought back angry. Damn did he hate that weird psychic connection that existed between him and that self-appointed celestial do-gooder Kami in his celestial lookout in the sky.

“Just hold her,” Kami thought back calmly.

“I told you before, I don’t do emotional,” Piccolo replied.

“You don’t have to do emotional,” came Kami’s response, “she’s not Goku’s wife. She doesn’t need an emotional punching bag. She needs a friend. Now more then ever.”

Reluctantly Piccolo unfolded himself and went over to the crying girl.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he tentatively reached out towards the girl. No sooner had he done so as she turned around and threw her arms around his waist. As her muffled cries came from his steadily moistening waist Piccolo looked up unsure of what to do.

“Don’t you dare laugh, old coot!”

Then he put his arms around her and held her in his embrace.


(Faiths POV)


He looked so uncomfortable as he held her it would have been funny if it weren’t for her emotional breakdown. But he held her in his embrace, providing her with the right emotional feedback for now. For now someone was looking out after her. She held on to that.

After that their relationship changed. In many ways Jolly Green was as emotionally crippled as she was. She had suffered from years of child abuse and emotional neglect, he for a long time only had hate to guide him in a world that wasn’t his own. She had done evil things. He had done evil things. When she looked into his eyes there was no condemnation, no accusation. And she needed that.

She stopped fighting him after that. For the next three months she let him train him. Just lose herself in the training. And Jolly Green was wicked smart when it came to training. He may not have a state of the art gravity gym. But he knew how to get the most out of his environment. It was like she was in a gravity gym after all. All jazzed up from training she would have dinner while he drank some water. Evenings were hard though as all that penned up energy from training made her horny as hell. And it was hard getting laid wherever she was. Which meant she had to resort to her sock puppet of love.

Oh did Jolly Green hated it whenever she did that thanks to his sensitive ears. Never did she see him tense up more during meditation whenever she had a happy time.

She still wasn’t sure when it happened but one day she called him Jolly Green and she realized it was no longer to hurt him, or to tease him. She meant it affectionately. And he smiled back as she said it. They had crossed over from strange bedfellows into something else entirely.

It wasn’t like the connection she had had with Wilkins. Wilkins had showered her with affection, compliments, given her gifts, gone out of his way to be nice to her. And while she now realized he was pure evil incarnate, she still believed the little bit of humanity that was left in him was aimed at her. She still believed he genuinely loved her. Which made it all the more difficult that she had to let him go and everything he stood for.

Piccolo was different. Like Big B. he was sparse in his compliments towards her and he firmly believed in the tough love approach like B. had. But he never was out to humiliate her to ram down a point. And when he paid her a compliment it was like the sun shined on her. And unlike Big B. he was hers. All hers.


(Piccolo’s POV)


After her breakdown things had changed. She stopped fighting his attempts to teach her, she even began to pay attention. He could even begin working on his own training again.

To bad training made her sexually charged. His experience with Gohan never prepared him for a situation like this. It was like she had a rash down there or something, the girl couldn’t stop touching herself. It was disgusting. Kami knew how much effort he had to exert to keep her out of his meditative thoughts. It was like she fiendishly delighted in rubbing it or something to annoy him, constantly moaning loudly out of sight. He dreaded that one day she would come up to him and ask him to ‘scratch her itch’ for her.

Still, she was fun to have around. A force of nature really. In that sense she was Gohan all over again. Until her arrival Gohan and his had been the closest bond he had ever experienced with another person. The bond still existed, but as Gohan returned to live with his parents it had changed. The bond that had grown between him and the girl was different. It had to be, Gohan was a small child who looked up to him. Faith was a woman by the standards of many Earth societies. But like Gohan she craved approval of a father figure. That was how that accursed mayor had gotten to her in the first place. And they were alike in many ways. They both had to grow up on their own without the help of others. He in the wilderness, she in the urban wilderness. And they were both weapons created by others for purposes not of their own.

Underneath them the Gulf of Mexico gave way to the coast and interior of Mexico. They had been flying at top speed ever since leaving his hidden lair. Which meant one more hour over flying Mexico, then come out over the Gulf of California, then he had the choice, either use the gulf to fly north over the Mojave desert, bypass Los Angeles in the west and approach Sunnydale from the east. That was the short route.

The other route meant taking the scenic route. Over fly the gulf, cross over Baja California and then use the Pacific to bypass Los Angeles in the east and finally come in towards Sunnydale from the sea. To bad it was anything but scenic. Not only did it add half an hour of travel time, flying over water was boring as fuck.

But the shorter route also took him perilously close to several major US military installations. So it was probably best to take the scenic route. From what Belmovekk had told him the military now left them alone, the android search over, it still didn’t mean he was going to give up his privacy.

Besides, the scenic route would take them near his old haunts in Baja California. The place where he grew up. Give him a chance to show her the place. She probably wouldn’t give a shit about it anyway, but any excuse for him to return was good enough as far as he was concerned.
.




“It must have been one hell of a battle.”

They were both standing at what the locals nowadays called ground zero.

B. used to call it high school.

Faith now called it a war zone.

“Bite your head off,” Piccolo echoed standing behind her, “Belmovekk’s soldier boys call it the Battle of Sunnydale. The name stuck.”

They were standing on what used to be Sunnydale High. Nothing remained of the place, including the surrounding neighborhood. And while some reconstruction had begun of the residential areas, nothing had happened to the actual school grounds itself as weeds had begun to reclaim the ground.

Faith turned her head around and looked at Piccolo.

“And nobody thought it was strange that you guys tore up the place?”

Piccolo looked around and began to stroke his chin.

“Maybe it’s the Hellmouth,” he mused out loud, “they’re know for their amnesic effects. In the end people prefer the world as they want it to be over the world as really is. And I’m sure your former boss had something to do with it as well.”

Faith nodded. Wilkins had tried to explain it to her once and within a minute she had zoned out. From what she remembered Jolly Green was on the mark though, with Wilkins just enhancing an existing effect.

A couple of kids ran by, toy guns in their hands and plastic helmets on their heads. Shouting simulated gunfire they ran right past them like there wasn’t some seven feet tall eighties reject wearing green alien standing right next to her. Faith looked incredulously at the kids, then at Jolly Green.

“Don’t tell me you now also fall under the Sunnydale effect?” she asked him.

“Not exactly,” Piccolo replied a little smug, “just a little something our Saiyan friend gave me. A compunction.”

“A who?”

“A compunction,” Piccolo explained, “a little sorcery spell that makes people not take notice of me. They see me, but they don’t take noti…”

Piccolo stopped talking as he saw the familiar look in Faith’s eyes. Sometimes she had the attention span of an amoeba. Especially when it concerned things she couldn’t give a damn about.

“Should have just said it was something magic, Jolly Green,” Faith shrugged, then she looked around, “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

“You want to go and pay your respects? Piccolo asked but Faith shook her head.

“Not really,” she said sullenly. I just want to stuff myself with some fast-food and go to sleep in a real bed for a change.

“Suit yourself,” Piccolo shrugged. Then they turned around and left the former school grounds.

“God I could kill for a double meat special,” Faith sighed, “I used to hate those things. But after six months living in the jungle with you I could even lick the inside of a stale pizza box. Nothing makes you crave junk food more healthy food.”

“Sorry I fed you good food,” Piccolo replied not sorry at all, “You do know why they call it fast food, right? Because it speeds you up to the grave.”

“I don’t care, Jolly Green,” Faith said as she smacked her lips, “God, do I crave a double meat special right now, it’s not natural.”

“Neither is the double meat special,” Piccolo said deadpan, “it’s not even meat.”

“You’re kidding right?” Faith said aghast, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“One hundred percent processed vegetable pulp,” the Namek smirked and tapped his nose, “the nose never lies, kiddo.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Faith said with glaring eyes, then she shrugged, “Alright, some pizza then?”





Faith stood in a large room that had no windows. Standing before a large four-poster bed with a large trunk for clothing in front of it, she found that he bed looked familiar. Too familiar for comfort. She turned around and saw a large wall full of weapons hanging on it. It was then that she recognized the place. It was the secret apartment the mayor had given her, underneath City Hall. At first for secret stays when the Scoobies hadn’t suspected that she’d switched sides. And then permanently when they had finally did learn of her defection. That was when she finally moved in what she would come to call ‘the basement’.

To this day she still didn’t know which she hated the most, her underground tomb or her dinky motel room. One was one step above living in a pig’s sty, the other one step above feeling like being buried alive.

‘The basement’ was not that far from the large cavernous space Wilkins used as his counterpart to the gravity gym, so she could train. She was also pretty sure this was the place where Trick had hidden from her all this time.

She walked to the wall with the weapons hanging from it and picked up a large blade. When she was last here this one had been a favourite of hers. Being versed in the arts of chi fighting she had no need of weapons anymore. Besides, even her first Watcher had told her before she learned the arts of chi that she herself was the ultimate weapon.

It still felt damn good to fight with them though. It must be the Slayer that was inside her, as it came with instinctual knowledge how to handle anything that could stab, hack, slash, punch and dismember. Or shoot arrows. It fell short though when it came to modern firearms. When the Slayer was being created they apparently had a vast but specific arsenal in mind, but just not firearms. Which was probably why Slayers tended to shun away from them.

Faith hung the blade on the wall. This was all fun and stuff, but this was part of her old life. She had closed off this particular period in her life.

No sooner had she done so as she heard a giggling sound

She turned around and walked towards ‘the basement’s’ exit. She opened the door and stepped through. Instead of finding herself in one of the many tunnels underneath SunnydaleCity Hall she suddenly found herself on the grounds of Sunnydale High again. Only this time the place looked even worse then when she had stood there with Piccolo. Some parts of the building still seemed upright, if you define upright as in ‘not being completely demolished’. There was far more concrete rubble and mangled steel littered the field.

As she walked she came across a body and she knelt beside it. It was the body of a young man lying crumpled on the ground, his body torn and twisted unnaturally as if every bone in his body had been broken. A black woolly hat still clung to his head but only barely. On his forehead she could see there was a black tattoo of what looked like two upright standing feathers inside an oval circle.

DOOM!

A loud explosion interrupted her examination. Overhead two people came by, a short one and a guy with short spiky hair. Like jets they charged overhead, then they swung upwards and split up, flying apart at a 90 degree angle until coming to a sudden stop and the both of them launched simultaneous energy attacks towards something out of her sight.

DOOM!

Another explosion followed, then the two fighters flew away like death itself was on their heels. Whatever they had shot at, it clearly wasn’t enough. From a distance another energy attack lanced towards the invisible target, again to little effect.

And then a body fell out of the sky and crashed down hard next to her. A body of someone very familiar.

“B.?” Faith exclaimed as she recognized her fellow Slayer. B. was in very poor shape as her clothing were torn and blood came from at least a dozen visible wounds, scrapes and bruises. At first B. looked like she was out cold, then she began to stir and cough. She even began to cough up some blood. Definitely not a good thing.

Without thinking Faith ran over to her fellow Slayer, knelt down next to and put her hand underneath B.’s head.

“Relax B.,” she said as she tried to make B. feel a little more comfortable, “It will be alright.”

B. opened her eyes and stared directly into hers.

“This is all your fault,” she said accusingly.

“I…, uh,” Faith stammered as the accusation hit home. She wanted to say something when B. lashed out and punched her squarely on the jaw. Faith was launched in the air backwards and then fell on her back. After she had landed she reached for her jaw and looked at B. in shock

“B.? What the….?” she said flabbergasted. Before she could finish her sentence B. did a flip that brought her back onto her feet and then threw herself at Faith. Instinctively Faith rolled on her side and kicked towards B., throwing B. off of her before she had a chance to land on top of her. Now it was B.’s turn to land backwards, but she somersaulted and landed on her hands and knees. Crouched in this position she glared angrily at Faith.

“You will pay for what you caused here today,” B. said through gritted teeth. Then she threw her hands forward and launched two energy beams at Faith. Faith crossed her wrists in front of her and focused her chi in front of it to deflect the attack.

It still hurt like being struck with a running freight train though.

It took immense effort for Faith but eventually she managed to push back B.’s attack and threw at back at her. B. on the other hand effortless swathed her own attack aside and send it harmlessly into the sky.

“I. Will. End. You. Bitch!” Buffy yelled slowly and threw herself at Faith again. This time Faith was better prepared and the two began to battle it out evenly.

On and on it went until the giggle returned. While not loud it was enough for both Slayers to stop and take notice.

“Did you hear that?” B. said as she wearily eyed Faith while trying to ascertain what else was out there.

“Yeah, I heard,” Faith panted.

Then the giggling noise was heard again, and this time, because both Slayers had stopped fighting, it sounded even creepier.

“Truce?” Faith suggested. B. gave her another weary eye.

“It still doesn’t mean I trust you,” B. almost spat at Faith, but the gist was clear. In Sunnydale the creepy had to take precedence over personal vendettas.

Another bout of giggling followed and Faith turned around.

“It came from here,” she said, then turned her head towards B. again.

Only this time B. didn’t reply as her fellow Slayer was gone. Vanished into thin air. Even the scene had changed as well as she was no longer amongst the rubble of Sunnydale High, but instead in some underground tunnel. She stood in a puddle of water as over her head a light bulb flickered. The straight tunnel was man made as electricity cables hung from the concrete ceiling going on in what seemed like forever.

“B.?” Faith called but there came no reply. Except for some more of that infernal giggling. Which by now was really getting to get on Faith’s nerves.

“Show yourself,” Faith yelled angrily but no one or nothing showed itself. Instead the giggle gained a mocking undertone.

“You’re so going to get it now,” Faith muttered as she began to run towards where she thought the giggle was coming from.

It took like seemingly forever to traverse the tunnel until she came to a set of doors. The doors itself were ripped out, like a Saiyan had come through and pushed it aside like it was a mere shower curtain. Through the doors she entered a large space, also completely manmade, the inside looked like said Saiyan had used if for his personal stomping ground. Debris and dead bodies were everywhere, all bathed in red emergency lighting.

“Damn!” Faith exclaimed as she saw the carnage. Another bout of giggling drew her attention back to the matter at hand.

“I’m gonna get you,” Faith yelled and made her way through the hall to get to where she thought the annoying laughter was coming from. She stepped through another doorway, the door again brutally shoved aside like it was a mere curtain. More giggling convinced her that she was on the right track. As she passed through this new corridor she went passed door after door all ripped open and with more carnage behind each one of them.

After what seemed like forever passing through a maze of halls and corridors Faith finally had the idea that she was gaining on the mystery joker. The fact that when she came to the end of the corridor there was still a massive intact door also was a dead give away. She paused momentarily to examine the door. It was a security door that seemed to be standard in this place, no window to see through, nor a means to open it. Just a barely visible outline of a number on the door itself.

Faith placed her ear on the door and tried to listen. As she did she could hear the giggling coming from the other side.

“Oh, you’re going down, mister,” she said as she stepped back. Then she kicked against the door with so much force it buckled, came free from its hinges and crashed into the other side of the room.

“You and me, right now,” Faith said angry as she stepped into yet another large hall. The place looked like a hospital, with all sorts of medical carts and implements. But although this time there was no visible exit present there didn’t seemed to be anyone present. No mystery giggler.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Faith said both surprised and annoyed, “what kind of sick twisted joke is this?”

“It’s a fair question I might add,” a voice said to her left. Faith nearly jumped into the air. As she turned to her left she saw Giles standing there.

“G.?” Faith almost whispered.

“Have you any idea how much your betrayal cost us?” the Watcher said impassionedly, “how many people died because you betrayed us?”

“I, uh, I, um, didn’t mean to,” Faith stammered but Giles seemed unforgiving.

“Tell that to your victims,” he said.

“176 people were killed during the Battle of Sunnydale,” Willow said as she stepped out of nowhere and joined Giles’ side, “did you mean for that not to happen as well?”

“No, I, uh,” Faith babbled as she took an involuntary step backwards. As she did it was Xander who stepped into view.

“176 people, Faith, that’s an awful lot I didn’t mean to. What does it take for you to take responsibility for what you did?” Xander said as he joined the other two.

And it was an awful lot of I didn’t mean to, Faith thought. Jolly Green had never told her how many people had died, just that some had been revived with the Dragonballs. But not everybody could be revived. The Dragonballs were potent. But they couldn’t revive a person if there wasn’t anything left to revive. And while through sheer luck the battle had mostly been contained to the Sunnydale high campus, there had been ‘collateral damage’.

And that was totally ignoring the fact that her former boss had planned to feed on everybody inside Sunnydale after ascending. And that she had helped him plan for that.

“You should never have returned, Faith,” the voice of Buffy said as she joined her clique, “I think it would have been best for everybody if you stayed away.”

“I, I’m sorry,” Faith said downcast.

“Sorry don’t bring them back, Faith,” Buffy replied coldly.

“Maybe you should have killed yourself,” Willow shrugged, “do as all a favor.”

Faith looked down and bit her lip.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “I wish I could do it all over again.”

“Can’t undo what you did,” Xander said shaking his head, “you can never do that.”

“Still….,” Giles said as he took off his glasses and began to polish them, “’spose there’s one thing you could do.”

“What?” Faith said hopeful, “I’ll do it!”

Buffy put up her arm and pointed behind Faith.

“Take care of Him.”

Faith turned around to the other side of the room, where all the medical carts where, all centered around a large table. On the table lay something, covered underneath a white cloth. Like a corpse on a medical examiner’s table. Then the corpse or whatever it was sat up straight and began to pull the white cloth off itself. And whatever it was she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what was underneath the cover.

But before it could reveal itself she felt the presence of something standing behind her.

“Hello Faith,” an effeminate voice boomed behind her. Then something long and snakelike wrapped itself around her neck and began to squeeze the life out of her.

“Huuuuh!”

With a gasping shock Faith awoke, her hand reaching for her neck, only to find there was no snakelike appendage wrapped around her neck.

“Damn!” Faith exclaimed, shaken by the dream she just had.

Sweaty and panting she looked around to find Piccolo. Only to suddenly remember she no longer was out in the boonies, but in a motel room in Sunnydale. Her old motel room to be exact. Chosen out of a sense of both perverse nostalgia and also because it had been actually free for rent. Naturally it looked exactly the same. Down to some old stuff of her which she had left behind hidden in an air vent.

Puffing Faith left the bed and made for the bathroom. Stumbling around in the dark she stepped in some of the opened, cold and still greasy pizza boxes from dinner.

“Aw crap!” she muttered as she felt some of the grease had gotten unto her feet. Inside the bathroom she switched on the lights and leaned on the sink. Next she sighed deeply, then she looked up and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“You look like shit,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. Which perversely was the first time in six months she had seen her full face in a large mirror, having to make do with just a small hand held mirror for all that time.

“Speak for yourself,” her mirror image replied smirking, “I look happen to look fabulous myself.”

Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head dejected as she stared into the sink.

“I’m still dreaming, ain’t I?” Faith sighed.

“’fraid so,” her reflection replied all chipper.

“Huuuuh!”

Faith gasped for air as she awoke in her motel room.

“Damn! That’s the last time I have the Sunnydale surprise for dinner,” Faith said as she pulled away her blanket and got out of bed. Only to land her feet in the cold, stale and greasy pizza box.

“Why do I even bother?” Faith muttered dejected as she walked to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom she switched on the light and stared into the mirror. Closely watching her likeness for any strange moves she turned on the tap and ran some water and splashed it on her face.

Again observing the mirror for any non-reflective movement she finally sighed. Either she had the mother of all nightmares. Or….. well, she’d shudder to think of the alternative. Slayer related dreams were harbingers of evil. Which meant she should confer them to her Watcher.

But she had no watcher. Well, officially Pestley was now her Watcher. And Jolly Green had told her he occasionally sent in phony reports to keep the Council happy wherever he was. But for all intents and purposes she was a free agent. Unless you counted Jolly Green as her Watcher. Which meant that she should be having a chat with Piccolo.

She again looked deeply in the mirror and touched her neck. Which still felt like something long and snakelike had touched her there.

Then she shook herself from her revelry. Maybe another time. If it was really important, whoever was behind those Slayer dreams would send her another one.





It had been a busy night at Willy’s bar in Sunnydale and its undersized barkeeper had just closed the bar. Now came the thankless job of cleaning up the place. Holding a small bucket he went round every table and picked up the ashtrays and dumped their contents in the bucket. Some of these demons smoked like industrial chimneys. And you’d think that this being Commiefornia they would introduce a smoking ban in all public places, but no. It was therefore a good thing he had hired a mage to place a re-freshener and air cleaning spell on his bar. And still the place reeked of tobacco every night.

After he finished cleaning every ashtray in his bar Willy went towards the back and dumped the bucket’s content in a garbage bag. Next he returned to his bar.

Only to find the one person in the whole world he’d never, ever, wanted to see again sitting on one of his barstools.

“Hello, Willy,” Faith said as she put a bottle back behind the counter after having just filled a glass for herself, “Did you miss me?”

“Only like AIDS, syphilis and gonorrhea,” the bartender replied ash faced. He glanced at the front door. It was still closed. And he was pretty sure he fixed the last point of entry she had used. He moved behind the bar to make sure the bottle she had taken was out of reach. Damn, she had even taken one of the more expensive ones.

“How did you get in here?” he asked somewhat annoyed, “I made damn sure no one could get in here again. Other then through the front door.”

“And the sewer hatch? Faith said as she sipped from her drink.

“And the sewer hatch,” Willy sighed. He had even closed off the sewer hatch before closing the front door.

“And the small window in your bedroom?” Faith smirked.

“Especially the small window in….,” Willy said, then he looked aghast, “Oooh.”

Curse the sudden onset of this extremely hot weather. In December would you believe it! Of course, if she had come in through the bedroom window…..

Faith leaned over and smirked some more. Oh oh, she had seen it.

“You know, Willy, you should really install a password on your computer,” she grinned, “You never know who might walk in and have a look.”

Oh God, it was bad.

“You know, some of that stuff is illegal in most of the lower 49 states, Willy,” Faith continued, “Or so I’ve heard. Then again I’ve been out of the loop for half a year, could be all 50 by now. Still, its good to know that despite hanging out with demons all the time you’re still attracted to the human species. Even if they are a bit underage.”

It was very bad. Where was the hole opening up in the ground to swallow him now?

“The girls, Willy,” Faith said as she shook her head disapprovingly, “the girls, they look so wicked at that age. Makes you want to spank them. Did you want to spank me whenever you saw me? I guess you did, you naughty boy.”

Willy didn’t respond. Instead he took the bottle Faith had taken and poured himself a drink. Then he picked up the glass and emptied it in one gulp. Seeing that the bottle was now in reach again Faith reached out and re-filled her glass.

“Don’t worry, Willy,” she said as she put down the bottle, “your dirty secrets are safe with me. Somehow it makes you normal as far as I’m concerned. I mean, which guy doesn’t like looking at hot young tail, right?”

Willy looked at Faith with the look of a man who had his most inner secret ripped out from in and now had nothing left to fear anymore.

“Did you come here for a reason or just to make fun of me?”

Faith put down her glass and tilted her head to side to give him a rueful look.

“Willy,” she said piteously, “what’s a little friendly banter between friends? Especially after I’ve just returned to town after six months?”

Willy took out a wet cloth and began to clean the bar while muttering something that sounded surprisingly much like ‘then maybe you should have stayed away, you crazy psychotic bitch’.

Faith let Willy mutter on, then she hopped off her barstool and walked over to a wall. On the wall a large poster hung on a very prominent position.

“A new Edict?” Faith said incredulously as she read the poster’s content, “haven’t they learned from the last time?”

“They did,’ Willy said snide, “This time they personally appointed an oversight committee, letting it be known that if something goes wrong the committee members will be the first to die. Plus they have the Librarian chair the Committee. They really don’t want a repeat of the last time when your boss subverted the Committee.”

“Ex-boss,” Faith said chidingly, “So G.’s now heading the Committee, huh?”

“The guy has to do something these days,” Willy shrugged, “After all, they totally leveled his library when they took down your bo…. Ex-boss.”

“I suppose,” Faith said as she briefly touched the Edict placate, then she faced Willy again, “I’m surprised though that the town’s full of demons again. You’d think that after B. and her friends chased everybody out of town they’d think twice before getting back.”

“You know the Hellmouth and demons,” Willy said and nodded towards where the damn thing was centered, “It’s like catnip to them, draws them in like moths to a flame. Some of them return cause its home to them. Others come her with big plans and then run into the Edict and stay, biding their time till the Slayer trips up. Others stay because they like the emanations coming of the Hellmouth. And many leave, going to LA instead. I’ll tell you this though, its took a long while for business to return to what it used to be. Especially with the new administration in place.”

Faith raised an eyebrow.

“New administration huh,” she said as she picked up the bottle again for a refill, “I guess somebody had to take over after Wilkins went down. But surely the changes can’t be that great? I mean, this is Sunnydale. Nothing ever changes here.”

Willy took the bottle away from her, gave himself a refill and then put it away.

“And how much do you think was due to your bo…. ex-boss?” he said,” the guy ran the place for a century. This place has been under military rule for over four months. For four months we had to salute our mayor because he was a friggin’ three star general. We only had an election two months ago. For four months the military has been digging through your ex-boss’ former administration. They replaced all top officials in City Hall and the police department. Hell, for four months the military was the police. The army base outside of town has been expanded. Rumor has it they’re even bringing in a full army tank brigade from Germany to be stationed nearby.”

“They really don’t want a repeat of the last time, do they?” Faith chuckled as she visualized tanks driving into demons, a pleasing visual image, then she downed her glass in one gulp. Meanwhile Willy put his hands on his bar and looked into Faith’s face.

“Look, Faith,” he said, “I don’t think you came here to invade my privacy to ask about stuff you could have heard from just about anybody. What is it you wanted?”

Faith began to smirk as she leaned over.

“Well……..”




For a guy who ruled Sunnydale for over a century Wilkins’ grave looked pretty inconspicuous, Faith thought as she stood before his grave. Tucked away in an obscure corner in one of the lesser cemeteries of Sunnydale Faith had found the grave of her former boss. As by Willy’s directions.

Richard Wilkins III

Son of Mayor Richard Wilkins II and mayor of the town of Sunnydale from 1978 to 2000.

Not much of a life to show for, she thought as she reached out and touched the tombstone.

“Ahum,” Faith said as she cleared her throat, then she looked around to see if they were alone.

“Hello boss,” Faith said a little hesitantly, “It’s been a while hasn’t it, boss? No need to say hi or give me a hug. Come to think of it, I most definitely don’t want either at this moment. After all, it’s still Sunnydale, right?

Anyway, since I’m in the area I thought I’d come by and pay my respects. Sorry I wasn’t there for you, boss. Sorry I got nabbed and left you to face the music alone. But I told you, be careful, didn’t I? You should have known better after a century on the Hellmouth. Nothing good comes from saying stuff like everything goes as planned. Good guys or the bad guys.

I want you to know that while I now know you’re evil to the bone and I’m glad you lost I bear no ill feelings towards you, boss. You took care of me when I was in a sticky situation and you made feel like me again. I felt I could be myself again when I was with you. So for that, thanks, boss.

But you also mad me do evil things. Kill people, manipulate them, spy on my friends. You used me, but I guess that comes with being a Slayer. But while I harbor no resentments I have to live with the consequences of what I did. You’re gone, but I still have to face the music. That’s the ropes I guess.

I’m with a good guy now, boss. Although I’m technically still not sure if Jolly Green’s a guy or a girl. Let’s just say he takes good care of me, nor does he judge me. I guess it helps that he used to be evil himself once. So he knows how it feels. We have fun together, we kick each others ass, although he mostly kicks mine. But its all in good fun.

Anyway, I guess this is our last goodbye, boss. I hope you’re having fun wherever you are. Better then the fun having you, right? Goodbye, boss and farewell.”

Faith took a step backwards and allowed herself to shed one tear, one tear to roll down her cheek for the man she once considered like a father.

“You can come down now, Jolly Green,” she said without looking up. Behind her Piccolo floated down from the nightly sky until he touched down on the ground.

“Have you been following me for long?” Faith asked as she wiped away her tear.

“I never lose track of my students,” Piccolo said gruffly.

“I bet you do,” Faith said without looking back, “I know he’s evil, Green Jolly. I know he used me. And yet…. Part of me misses him terribly. He was the first guy who made me feel like I belonged. Made me feel part of a family. There must be something wrong with me.”

Piccolo reached out with a taloned hand and put it on her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

“There is nothing wrong with how you feel, Faith,” he said gently, “He’s part of your past. Saying goodbye to it as you just did is a good thing. Way better then running away from it.”

“I used to be very good at running away from my past,” Faith said still staring at the tombstone.

“You can never run away from the past,” Piccolo said, “you can only come to terms with it.”

Faith turned her head and looked at Piccolo.

“For a guy who claims he doesn’t do emotional you’re rather good at it,” she said.

Piccolo smiled and gently tapped his ears and then his eyes.

“These work, you know.”





A-Day minus 254


The next day Faith and Piccolo made it to the SunnydaleCommunity Center. As they entered the building that once housed the original Committee in its basement they made it for the large Eastside hall. Inside Eastside hall the place was packed with people. Faith even spotted a few demons amongst the crowd, although they were well camouflaged.

They wanted to enter when two men stepped in front of them. One of them was dressed in a US Army military dress uniform. The other looked like he wore something straight out of a science fiction convention, holding a large staff with a scoop on the one end and a large bulbous swelling at the other. On his head however was a black tattoo of two upstanding feathers inside an oval circle.

“Good day, sir,” the man in the US Army uniform said sternly but politely, “Could I see some invitations please?”

Piccolo halted and folded his arms across his chest.

“I’m on the list,” he said gruffly. The soldier reached for a register list and picked it up.

“And who might you be?” the soldier asked dead serious. Upon which Piccolo rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You know damn well who I am, Burns,” he said a little aggravated, “so quite being an ass and go play being a toy soldier somewhere else.”

“Sergeant-Major Burns, Piccolo,” the soldier said as he tapped his rank insignia on his upper left arm with a pen, then he grinned, “I’m just making sure no one gets in who doesn’t belong here.”

“Whatever,” Piccolo snorted. The sergeant-major then turned to Faith.

“And you must be Faith,” he said, his jovial tone gone and replaced by a more stern one, accompanied by an equally stern frown, “do you have any last name, Miss?”

It was going to be a bloody long day.

“Just Faith,” she replied curd. The soldier raised an eyebrow in response.

“Don’t you have any parents, Miss?” he asked.

Faith looked up at Piccolo.

“Only one,” she said as a smile grew on her face, “and he doesn’t have a last name.”

“Okay,” Burns shrugged and he and the buffed up Scifi nerd stepped aside so Faith and Piccolo could enter.

“Told you they would look funny at me,” Faith muttered as they walked inside.

“Have a heart, kid,” Piccolo replied, “he only knew you as the right hand girl of the mayor. And he was responsible for the death of sixteen of his friends. Six of which were mauled up so badly not even the Dragonballs could revive them.”

“I see,” Faith said dejected as she lowered her head. Again more of her past was here to haunt her. Piccolo saw her slump and halted.

“Hey,” he said sternly, “whatever else you did, the mayor’s responsible for what happened to Burns’ friends, not you. If Burns wants to be an ass, let him.”

“If you say so,” Faith replied, then she looked around, “Can you see them?”

Piccolo looked around, then he shook his head.

“They’re not in here,” he said, “they’re probably in the garden outside.”

There was at least one advantage of half the people in the room knowing you used to be the sidekick to a villain hell-bent on becoming a powerful demon. People got out of their way quickly as she made her way for the large doors that gave access to the gardens behind the community center. Then they stepped out in the sunlight of the Community Center gardens. She was going to see them again.

It was going to be hard. There would probably be recriminations, hard stares, accusations and general hard times. But there was at least one single light in the darkness. She was going to see Little Brother again!

She looked around the gardens. There were rows upon rows of white chairs in the garden. Some were occupied, but most of them weren’t, with most of the guests still inside the community center. Or still arriving. An isle was left clear down the centre of the rows of chairs, leading to a small dais, surrounded by lots and lots of flowers.

“God, isn’t it sickening,” Piccolo said in disgust as he pointed towards the wedding grounds in front of him, “Love is such a sickening emotion. And to waste all such expense on a mere ceremony, it boggles the mind.”

Faith looked at Piccolo.

“God, Jolly Green, I never figured you for a hopeless romantic,” she said deadpan, “It’s the wedding of B.’s mom to Big B., waddaya expect? If you don’t like it, why did you drag me here in the first place?”

She knew the answer to that the moment she said it.

“Fine,” she said imploringly, “Never mind, you don’t like weddings. You’re not the only one. Go get tanked up or something.“

“I can’t drink alcohol, remember,” Piccolo said with a growing smile.

“Then go get one of those fancy schmancy mineral waters,” Faith as she made a shooing motion, “go find your buddy Goku and play sidekick with him or something.”

Piccolo looked at her. He didn’t want to leave her alone. But by now he had gotten to understand her quite well. She was so much on edge she was practically broadcasting it with her chi. It made her push against the one person she trusted. Maybe it was better to get one of those, as she put it, fancy schmancy mineral waters. After all, Belmovekk knew about his tastes, he was sure to have provided for him in some way. And he could always keep an eye on Faith from a discrete distance.

“Since Goku’s not here to play with I’ll think I’ll go find myself one of those fancy schmancy mineral waters,” Piccolo said and walked away.

“You do that!” Faith called after him. Then she turned around and cursed inwardly.

Stupid stupid stupid!

Way to go, Faith! Why turn on Jolly Green when she could have really used having him around when she’d face B. and her friends? Why did she always do such stupid shit?

It was then that she saw her fellow Slayer and her friends.





“Unfriggin’ believable!”

Faith sat with a look of pure flabbergastation on the stairs somewhere in the basement of the community center. Around her waiters and waitresses moved with trays of food and drinks which meant she sort of sat in the way. But she didn’t care.

She had imagined meeting B. and her friends many times these past months. Played through countless scenarios in her head ranging from a Jerry Springer like shouting fest to dueling to the death. Never once did it occur to her that it would be just pure plain and undiluted awkward.

Everybody seemed to feel uncomfortable. No one seemed to make recriminations. They just seemed both pleased and uncomfortable at the same time. But the worst part was that Oz, Little Brother, her little brother, was gone. The one person in this whole sorry mess she actually did look forward to see was no more. Had left town and Red had traded him in for a timid little blonde. A blonde girl that is.

She never figured Red to be bent. B. on the other hand? Maybe if she had a few drinks inside her and removed that ramrod from up her ass…. And if the girl in question was a 2 centuries old vampire with a soul. Then B. could possibly be a little bi-curious. But Red a full on carpet muncher? Little Brother had once told her Red had nursed a secret crush on the Xandman since, well, since forever. To switch that abruptly over to carpet snacking though, it boggled the mind. Shouldn’t you at least have a bi-curious phase beforehand?

No wonder Little Brother left town. At least that’s why she figured he’d left. She never managed to get the full story as she excused herself and ran away to hide here in the basement where she was now.

And B.

Who’d figure that B. got herself a real living boyfriend? And one from the military to boot? B. had shown nothing but disdain for the military as far as she could tell. When Murray and his buddies had come to town she practically loathed the guys. But that could have been her usual charm.

“Are you alright?”

Faith looked up and saw a girl with a tray of filled Champaign glasses looking at her.

“I’m fine,” Faith said after a deep sigh.

“Are you sure?” the girl asked, then she rolled her eyes, “Oh what do I care. My supervisor, some stuck up girl barely my age wanted me to tell you to go sit somewhere else.”

“I’m fine where I am right now,” Faith replied curd.

“That’s what I said,” the girl echoed, then her eyes grew big, “Ohmigod! You’re the other one aren’t you?”

“The other who?” Faith asked wearily as she looked up towards this strange girl.

“The other Slayer,” the girl said, then she used her free hand to snap her fingers, like she was trying to remember something, then her face lit up, “You’re Faith right?”

To flabbergasted to say anything Faith just gazed at the girl. Who again snapped her fingers.

“Didn’t you switch sides and go work for the mayor who wanted to be a demon?” the girl asked deadpan.

“You know?” Faith eventually gasped, but the girl waved her free arm dismissively.

“Of course I know,” the girl said like it was the most common thing in the world, then she leaned over conspiratorially, “now I don’t want to blow my own horn but I had a big part in the downfall of your former boss you know. If it weren’t for me they would never have figured out even the basic details of Ascension. You wouldn’t believe how ignorant these people were I tell you. I…”

Faith looked with big eyes at the girl, then her brain kicked in.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked incredulously. The girl looked slightly hurt at being interrupted, then she recovered.

“Anya,” she said, “Anya Jenkins?”

Faith gave her the ‘I don’t have a clue who you are’ look.

“Again, who the fuck are you?”

Anya rolled her eyes in exasperation, then she looked at herself with a hint of sadness.

“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” she said as she pointed to herself, “Condemned to work stupid minimum wage jobs for currency. I used to be someone. I used to be somebody. I used to be Anyanka.”

Faith shook her head.

“Nope, still not ringing a bell here,” she said. Causing Anya to shake her head incredulously.

“I don’t believe it,” she said flabbergasted, “I used to be one of the greatest and most feared vengeance demons, patron saint to scorned women.”

Faith shrugged.

“Nope, still not ringing a be….,” she said and then it hit her, “Now I remember. You’re the one that brought B.’s evil twin into this world, Xander’s love toy.”

“Technically it was Willow Rosenberg who brought her into this realm,” Anya quickly countered defensively, “I was….., looking for something else.”

“Whatever, girl,” Faith waved dismissively, “I wasn’t there so officially I don’t care.”

Taking that as a sign she wasn’t going to get ripped on for her part in the affair Anya relaxed considerably.

“I wish I’d gotten to know her better,” Faith sighed wistfully, “B.’s evil twin always sounded like she was fun.”

“Fun’s relative,” Anya said as she remembered the incident that definitively had cost her her demonhood, “I think she wanted to disembowel me with a knife. A very sharp knife.”

“See?” Faith smiled, “Sounds exactly like my kind of fun.” .

“Not when you’re at the receiving end,” Anya countered. Faith wanted to respond to that but decided not to.

“So you went from ‘big-ass-snap-your-fingers-make-a-wish-demon’ to being a teenage waitress?” she said instead, “It must suck to be you then?”

“You have no idea,” Anya sighed dejected, “my work is demeaning, my boss an idiot and my colleagues imbeciles.”

Anya said it out aloud just as two of her colleagues past them, shooting angry glances at her which she seemed to oblivious to notice. Faith did notice however.

“Wow, you must be a real hit at the office party,” she said, but Anya just shrugged.

“If that was the worst of my problems I’d be lucky,” Anya continued, “But I now have all these urges and problems I never used to have. Once a month my body hurts and bleeds in strange places. And when I see an good looking man I get the urge to interlock body parts with him. And yet when I suggest we interlock body parts they always run away or make excuses.”

Faith had to do her utmost not to burst out laughing. She managed to contain it to a polite snigger.

“Was it something I said?” Anya asked curiously, but Faith shook her head. To make it up she even gave the former demon a few tips on how to dress to impress and which bars made for guaranteed pick ups. Which Anya found to be extremely helpful.

“Anya,” Faith asked tentatively after that, “you’ve been in Sunnydale since my former bo…. Well, since the mayor got killed, right?”

“Tss, not by choice,” Anya snorted, “if it weren’t for your former boss’ magic I’d skipped town long before. Trust me, I saw things that day I never want to see again. And I have seen some things in the time that I was a vengeance demon. And after the battle I couldn’t leave because the soldiers took over.”

“What happened here?” Faith asked curiously.

“Well, they defeated your former boss and destroyed half the town in the process. And I think the rest of the town got lucky in that respect. And afterwards the soldiers came and they cleaned up the last of your former boss’ cro…. “

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Faith interjected, “I meant, what happened to B.? What happened to Red? And where’s Oz?”

“Of course I know,” Anya said somewhat insulted, “I may be an ex-demon but I’m not stupid. I see things. And I still talk to people.”

Anya leaned over again conspiratorially.

“You know, if you use demons to keep an eye on things, they also tend to keep an eye on you. You want, as they say, dirt? Here’s the dirt. After her vampire boyfriend left town Buffy the Ice-princess went into uber-bitch mode and started to pick a fights with the new commander of the army base. Well, you know how it goes. Love can turn to hate and sometimes if fate really wants to screw with you hate turns to love. We’re still not sure when it happened but at some point they started to interlock body parts. Occasionally they still yell at each other though. I’m not sure why they do. Whenever I yell at a guy after locking body parts they always run away.

Now the Witch and the Werewolf broke up before that. Rumor has it they were arguing quite a lot already, with your name being mentioned a lot. Then some girl came to town and she turned out to be a werewolf as well. Well, you can imagine that when two werewolves are in the same town during a full moon body parts just are bound to interlock. They can’t help it, it’s in their blood.

Naturally they saw differently. She was angry with him, he was angry with himself. I’ve seen it happen countless times. Pretty soon after that they broke up and he left town to parts unknown.”

Damn. Little Brother had left Dodge completely. The one person she was hoping to see really wasn’t there any more.

“Are you alright?” Anya asked, “you appear to be… disturbed. Are you day dreaming? I do that from time to time. Especially when Stacey keeps on blabbering, stupid cow thinks she’s better then me just because she’s an assistant supervisor. Who does she think she is? She’s barely 18! If anything they should make me assistant-supervisor cause I’m.”

“ANYA!”

A blonde girl wearing an irate expression came towards them.

“Speak of the devil,” Anya muttered under her breath.

“Why aren’t you working, Anya,” the girl wearing, “we’re swamped here and you’re just gossiping here.”

“I was talking, Stacy,” Anya said, but Stacy wasn’t impressed.

“You can talk in your break. Since you’re not on your break and the company pays you $5.50 an hour you shut up and go deliver those drinks.”

Anya wanted to say something but changed her mind. Instead she turned around and began to walk up the stair muttering something only Faith could hear which sounded suspiciously like evil powerhungry teenaged shit for brains who should be lucky she was no longer a vengeance demon or she’d show her the true definition of who was in charge.

No sooner had she muttered those words as Anya bumped into Xander who was coming down the stairs. Losing her balance she fell backwards and it was only Xander’s highly trained reflexes that caught both her and the tray of glasses from falling.

“Careful,” Xander said as he steadied her and the tray and let go.

“You!” Anya said wide opened eyes, then without saying anything further she ran past him upstairs.

“Damn, that girl’s everywhere,” Xander muttered as he watched Anya leave hurriedly, “I can’t turn into any place without running into her.”

“Small town,” Faith shrugged.

“I’d almost say that fate is messing with it,” Xander said giving the former vengeance demon a brief glance, “if it weren’t for the fact that both of them deny any involvement.”

“You believe it?” Faith asked. To which Xander shrugged.

“One of them at least,” he said, “So you’re hiding in here now huh? I thought you were pretty spooked.”

“It was, uh, kinda too much,” Faith said slowly, “Everybody bends over backwards saying sorry. And yet……”

“….. and yet you don’t feel like forgiving yourself,” Xander said, then he reached out and patted her on the shoulder, “That’s okay, Faith. I know the feeling. You’re still with the rest of us. It’s the power of guilt you know. It’s what separates us from the bad guys and demons. We at least feel guilty of the bad things we’ve done.”

Faith jumped up and straddled the wall with her back.

“Who are you and what have you done with Xander?” she said wearily.

“Haha, very funny,” Xander said not very amused, “can we go now? Before we run into that crazy girl again?”

“Just lead on, boss,” Faith said with thinly veiled amusement as she signaled for Xander to take them upstairs again. Giving her a brief glare Xander turned around and they went upstairs.

“So what’s the deal with Red’s latest fling?” Faith asked curiously, “Last time I checked Red was firmly into the Y chromosome. Why did she defect to big muff country?”

Xander looked over his shoulder.

“I figured you’d be more interested as to where Oz’d be?” he asked but Faith shrugged.

“Me and crazy ex-demon chick covered that already,” she replied, “You know, you really should be more careful. You guys are the talk of the town. The non-human part of it.”

“Figured as much,” Xander snorted, “Bastards are getting way to comfortable again. I think it’s time to sacrifice a few more demons again. The tree of freedom requires regular waterings of demon blood.”

“Amen!” Faith echoed.

“Says the girl who shacks up with the guy who can’t stop saying he used to be the Demon King in about every sentence.”

“Hey!” Faith protested, “leave Jolly Green out of it. He’s cool!”

“Jolly Green?” Xander chuckled, “poor Pickles, forever destined to never hear his real name again. I guess he wished he never met any of us.”

“Red. What’s with Red’s new girlcrush?” Faith said instead as they left the stairwell and walked past the weary looking sergeant-major. No sooner had they entered Eastside Hall again when they saw Willow come in from the other side, arm in arm with the object of Faith’s curiosity.

“Tara’s a nice girl,” Xander said, “nice and a little timid. So be gentle. They met when a couple of weird demons came to town and took away our voices.”

“How can they take away your voice?” Faith asked.

“Magic, what else,” Xander shrugged, “Those guys weren’t that powerful. But damn were they big on the creepy. Bastards didn’t even walk, they just floated above the ground. Thought they were invincible because they had taken our voices and only the screaming voice of a maiden could stop them. I guess they didn’t count on what that crazy sergeant-major calls ‘peace through superior firepower’.”

The both of them chuckled.

“Funny how all those demons and mystical evils the Council scared us with no longer matter once you got enough power to blow up the planet,” Faith said.

“Don’t count them out though,” Xander countered, “It seems like the supernatural has a funny way of keeping up with us, and the really powerful demons who used to ignore us are now taking interest. We have to be careful.”

Faith smiled.

“No more ‘I hunger for a true challenge’, my, Xander you have changed.”

Xander shook his head dejected.

“Sometimes I think it’s better for me to have made a wish to a vengeance demon then to have said those words,“ Xander sighed, then his face regained his old impish self as he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “If you really wanna laugh you should keep an eye on the Big Guy whenever he has to be near Will’s girlfriend. It turns out that besides coming from the planet Krypton, Saiyans also come from the planet Redneck. I swear, every time the Big Guy has to give Tara a hand he acts like she could pass the ghey on to him.”

“And he gets away with it?” Faith asked incredulously.

“Let’s just say that if he could Tara would be in a different state right now,” Xander chuckled, “the only reason she’s here is cause Wills doesn’t give a crap as to what he thinks, Buffy chewed his head off over it and Joyce just had to utter a single word.”

“Which is?”

“Porch,” Xander grinned, “God, it’s like the universe itself stepped in to make sure every male Saiyan has an Achilles heel and it just so happens to have two X chromosomes.”

Then his face turned serious for a moment.

“I wish I could say the same for female Saiyans though. They’re way more dangerous and devious.”

“How would you know?” Faith asked curious, “I thought there were only three Saiyan males left?”

“Long story,” Xander said evasively.

DING.

A tall pendulum clock chimed after which many of the visitors began to move towards the garden.

“It’s about to begin,” Xander said and let out a nervous sigh, “How do I look?”

Faith looked him over, then she reached out and straightened his tie.

“Somehow you don’t feel right without some casual shirt,” she said somehow frowning.

“Formal occasions require formal attire,” Xander shrugged stoically, “We can’t all go to weddings in leather pants and tank tops.”

“Hey, it takes a lot of effort to look this trashy,” Faith objected, “Especially as there are no shops in the wilderness you know.”

Xander didn’t reply, he just smiled. Then he led the both of them to the garden.

You could say what you want about Mayor Wilkins, but in a way the SunnydaleCommunity Center was his gift to the town of Sunnydale. A beautiful building in part classical style with elaborate gardens behind it for people to recreate in (by day of course). And a very popular place for couples to get married in. Which made it all the more ironic for Faith that the Saiyan, his greatest enemy, had chosen this place to tie the knot in.

In the garden Faith could see Jolly Green as he stood with his friends. Goku was there, including a child and a dark haired oriental women, who were probably his wife and son. Two men, a small noseless guy and a large man with a wooly hat stood with them. Then another man with a scar on his face joined as he dragged an old guy by the arm who was sporting a big lecherous grin. He had pervert written all over him. Scarface didn’t look amused and pointed to small noseless and then to the old guy who was already eyeing another passing waitress.

On the other side of the garden Faith could see some other familiar faces. She saw Murray standing there with his friends. No longer wearing his wooly hat but proudly donning the same Klingon armor she had seen on some others like him. There was that old sour puss, Jack, in his blue uniform, looking ill at ease. There was the blonde major, also in blue. But the archeologist, Daniel, he wasn’t there. Instead there were three others who Faith didn’t recognize. There was a short portly man who by the looks of it was a very high ranking officer. Next to him was a red haired female officer. The only one not in a military uniform was a blonde haired man in civilian clothes who looked around him in absolute fascination, like he had never seen a human/alien wedding ceremony before.

“Look” Xander said as he halted as they had neared the rows of seats being filled, “Piccolo has said he’d rather not be seated, he’s gonna watch from the sides. You could join him. Or if you’d like you could come sit with us.”

Faith thought that over for a moment. It was tempting to stay with Jolly Green. It was safe, it was comforting. But the old Faith, she would have laughed at doing the safe comforting thing. The old Faith would jump into the thick of things just for laughs. And despite all of her faults the old Faith had some traits that were worth finding again.

Seeing that Jolly Green looked at her and nodded encouragingly Faith decided to take up Xander’s offer.

“I’ll sit with you guys,” she said, be it with not much enthusiasm. Xander noticed her reticence but smiled encouragingly none the less.

“You can sit on the front row,” he said, “just pick a seat.”

“Uh, thanks,” Faith said, then she made her way past some of the attendees on their way to their seats. One the front row Red’s current girlcrush was already seated. For a moment Faith was tempted to sit next to her as she was a relative unknown. Another safe choice but she decided not to as she was sure Red would come and sit next to her.

Towards the end sat a lonely girl. And by the looks of it she was as ill at ease as she was, sitting a little slumped in her seat as she staring ahead bored.

Sensing a kindred spirit Faith sat down next to her. The girl briefly glanced towards her, then she resumed her bored stare.

“Hi,” Faith said, “my name’s Faith.”

The girl again glanced briefly at Faith, then she resumed her stare. It was bordering on rudeness, but then again Faith had written the book about bluntness. So it didn’t put her off. On the contrary, now her interest was aroused.

“Nice day for a wedding, huh?” she asked.

“I suppose,” the girl shrugged indifferent.

“Can I have your name?” Faith asked the girl.

“I have no name,” the girl said flatly.

Okay, that was getting odd.

“Everyone has a name,” Faith said. The girl glanced at Faith, then she gave a slight shrug.

“My name is not my own,” she said in that same flat tone of voice, “neither are my memories.”

Okay, now she really had Faith’s interest and let her senses touch on the girl looking for anything weird. But at first glance then a set of impressive implants enhancing her more then ample bosom she seemed fully human. And yet….

“Then how do they call you?” she asked the blonde girl as she turned her senses from passive to active scan. Then the girl looked towards Faith and she could see into her eyes at the same time as she was sensing. And she recoiled in horror as the girl replied.

“They call me Angela.”





“And if there is anyone here today who will voice an objection, let him speak now or forever hold his breath.”

Isn’t that amazing, Faith thought as she briefly looked around herself and saw some others do the same. Some people do watch too much television and expect the cliché objector to come forward at this moment.

Then again it had been a strange wedding.

With Big B. being an alien she had expected some weird alien shit be part of the ceremony. Some weird alien ritual or custom that had to be addressed. Like the bride and groom having to ceremoniously fight through the ranks of their best friends together. Or the shedding of blood. Or some other strange test.

Instead it was as normal as any other Earth wedding.

Be it that there just were a lot of aliens present instead. Goku, Jolly Green, Murray’s friends. Oh, and the bride and groom skipped on having any best man or bridesmaids. With B. having to play both roles on her own.

“Turns out Saiyans aren’t that keen on the whole best man concept,” Xander had explained when she asked him about it, “They know it exists in other cultures but they tend to be a competitive lot. They probably feared that anyone not chosen as best man would challenge the best man to a duel to the death. Or so the theory goes.”

“Then why’s B. up there?” Faith had whispered.

“Compromise, somebody has to deliver the rings,” Xander shrugged, “besides, there’s still a little surprise in stall for her. You just watch.”

“Ooh, I love surprises,” Faith began to grin conspiratorially, “Especially when they don’t happen to me. You in on something?”

“Let’s just say I have a little unique insight about Saiyans,” Xander said sly as he tapped his forehead, “Comes in handy from time to time.”

It took her a few moments before it clicked in her brain. But then again, the possession had happened a long time before she had come to town. And when she had come to town listening had never been her strong suit.

Another person who was even worse at listening was Xander’s new girlfriend. She didn’t pay attention to anything. You could probably have the Darth Vader marching band with Wookie percussionists play hail to the chief with Captain Kirk and Spock singing soprano and the girl would just sit there looking bored.

Which meant she was exactly like his previous girlfriend.

Except that one didn’t know when to shut up. Once she got going there was no stopping the ditz. At least this one hardly said a word. So technically that meant Xander had traded himself upward.

That is if you ignored that the girl gave Faith the creeps. Big time! And that said something from a girl who had been on the run from a vampire master and been in the service of a demon-wannabe magician.

When she probed the girl it felt like she was peering into a vast bottomless chasm. One so deep you either recoil out of fear from falling in, or you just have to get closer and closer to the edge to get a better look. Where you start looking for pebbles to throw in so you can listen how long it takes for them to hit the bottom.

Only in this case once you peered into the abyss it felt like something was peering back at you. Something monstrous, something filled with raging anger, something…. something not nice. Something that would give both Kakistos and the Mayor nightmares and sent them cowering up the attic blubbering for their mother.

She would have jumped up and run screaming for Piccolo herself if it weren’t for Xander returning and sitting between them. How he could stand to be with her, Faith had no idea. It made him the bravest man she ever knew though.

“Then by the authority vested in me by the state of California I hereby declare you husband and wife,” the minister said in the present, “You may kiss the bride.”

All the guests began to applaud as Big B. took B.’s mother in his arms and kissed her. And not quite to B.’s comfort either. Which was something Faith could understand. Seeing your parents make out was never something you wanted to see. Especially when it was your mother making out with somebody who wasn’t your father.

Faith had to admit though, B.’s mother looked radiant, positively happy. Good for her. She deserved some happiness.

Instead of the newlyweds taking the victory lap through the guests and returning to the community center Big B. let go of his wife and turned to B. Then he gestured her to turn around and face the guest. After which he took her by the shoulders.

“Let it be known to anyone that I, Belmovekk, son of Rabar, of house Movekk, Disciple of Aldur, recognize this girl, Elizabeth Anne Summers, as my own. Let no man or woman contest that from this day forward she is both my heir and daughter.”

Buffy had survived the entire wedding unscathed when suddenly Belmo had asked her to turn around and face the crowd. And then he dropped his little bombshell onto her

Before she could turn around ask Belmo what the fuck, Faith fell from her chair laughing.




AN: If you’re wondering why Goku and his friends still don’t know Bulma had been made pregnant by Vegeta, let’s just say that after Belmo dropped her off somewhere on the other side of the universe, she’s still too pissed off at him to attend his wedding. And Yamcha sure wasn’t going to tell the others about it, not unless the evidence was right there in the face.

AN 2: WTF happened to the wordcount limit?

[krinsbez]

Very nice.

I can't help wondering why none of Belmovekk's Brothers showed up, but that's just my eternal desire for a bit more Eddings to show up talking.

[Muad'zin]

Interlude

‘If You Wear That Velvet Dress’




AN: Originally this was part of chapter one, right between the last two scenes. But it just didn’t feel right there. But I felt it had to be included in some form, even if it’s not part of the overall story. The idea for this interlude was given to me by one of my clever readers, who suggested it in his review. I’m sorry if I forgot your name, but rest assured, your suggestion has been duly noted..




A-Day minus 1045


With a shock Ferucca opened her eyes.

She should have been dead after what that whore had done to her. Instead she stood and breathed air again. By Priya, it felt good to be alive. First thing she did was get up from the ground she had been lying on and took stock of her surroundings.

It was clear that she was no longer on Tanjecterly. For it was night wherever she was now. And on Tanjecterly it had been daylight all day, every day. By the Goddess, she had missed the night on that foul place with its eternal sunlight.

As she looked around she appeared to be in some residential area that was miles above the disheveled mud and pigsties that were the standard on Tanjecterly. It was still a far cry from home but at least she was back in civilization.

Of some sort.

Because she recognized the place. The asphalt roads, the style of buildings. But above all, the levels of pollution she could almost taste in the atmosphere. As soon as she recognized the planet she was on her spirits sagged.

Earth?

By Priya, was her nightmare never going to end?

Was she still in that stupid dreamscape back on Tanjecterly with that whore Angela playing mind games with her?

“Damn you, whore,” she cried out aloud, “Show yourself!”

There was no reply.

Then came the sound of a throat being cleared behind her.

“Ahum.”

Lightning fast Ferucca turned around.

Only to come face to face with the last person she expected to see.

“Xander?” she said surprised as she faced the young man she’d left crippled back on Tanjecterly. He also looked different. The limp leg seemed gone, as the boy stood normal. He also looked less gaunt, like he had been well fed and exercised regularly again. And there were the clothes of course. Also markedly different from the rags he had worn on Tanjecterly.

“Hello, Ferucca,” Xander said calmly, with just a hint of sadness..

“Are you real?” Ferucca asked hesitantly as she examined him closely, “I’m not dreaming?”

“No, Ferucca,” Xander said sadly, “you’re not dreaming.”

“But how?” Ferucca asked confused, “I left you for dead?”

Xander shrugged.

“I got better.”

Ferucca’s looked at him bewildered. Then she reached behind herself and drew forth the blade Kahanthus and swung it at Xander’s head.

“Only to have it blocked as somebody else stepped in and grabbed her hands.

“I don’t think so, bitch,” a voice said sneering to her right.

Ferucca glanced to her right and saw a blonde woman grin confidently at her.

“And who might you be?” she asked the newcomer.

“Hi,” the blonde suddenly smiled in a very empty headed way, “I am Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.”

“I’ve heard of you,” Ferucca said back without blinking an eye, “but aren’t you really the vampire layer?”

The blonde girl looked at Xander accusingly.

“Xander?” she whined, “For god sakes, what have you been telling her?

“Sorry, Buff,” Xander shrugged apologetically, “I was in pain at the time. I couldn’t always think straight.”

Ferucca meanwhile tried to wrestle herself free but the blonde wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh no you don’t, sister,” the blonde said as she effortlessly blocked every attempt of Ferucca to break free. Finally she had enough and elbowed Ferucca in the face. As Ferucca staggered back the blonde took away the blade Kahanthus.

“I’ll take this,” the blonde said, then she swung the blade around for a moment, her eyes lighting up.

“Nice sword,” the blonde smiled, “Maybe I should ask your friend for a new sword as well. It’s been a long time since I had one.”

“Maybe a shorter one though,” Xander said appraisingly, “a long broadsword doesn’t really suit you.”

The blonde turned around.

“You wouldn’t accidentally have some extra swords lying around, would ya?,” she said to someone else.

“I might have a few,” new a voice said in response. And that’s when Ferucca realized she really was in trouble.


(A little earlier that day)


It was just after 5 PM when Ethan Rayne decided to call it quits. For over a week now he had been selling costumes in this town, right under the very nose of Rupert. Hell, he had even sold them to his precious Slayer and her friends. What could trump that? He could go on for a little longer to really empty his stocks but he had had his moment of perfection. Anything after that was just decadence.

And besides, he had sold most of his inventory by now. By now three quarters of his costumes were gone.

He was about to move towards the door to close it when it opened and somebody stepped in.

Now if it had been just another kid Ethan would have just told the kid to go to Partytown’s, as he had already sold enough costumes to children. But when he saw that his latest customer was an elderly man he decided not to. The vast majority of his costumes had been sold to children and teenagers His low prices had seen to that. But the vast majority of adults in this town preferred quality over pricing. Which meant that his chaos would be mostly demographically limited when unleashed. It might be cool to spread a little of it to a different demographic.

“Can I help you?” he asked his customer in his shopkeeper tone of voice..

The customer looked around for a moment before answering.

“Mmm, I’m looking for a costume,” the elderly man said tentatively.

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Ethan said as he put on his shopkeeper smile as well, “Although I have to say that at the moment stocks are low. After all, it’s almost Halloween.”

“That’s alright,” the elderly man smiled, “I know exactly what to look for.”

“Is it for yourself?” Ethan asked hopeful, he might have a few costumes left that would appeal to the elderly adults. After all, those were the ones the kids and teenagers had mostly shunned.

“No,” the elderly man said shaking his head, “I need something for a young woman.”

Ethan managed to hide his disappointment well as the smile never left his face. Such was the nature of chaos. Wild and unpredictable. A chaos mage therefore had to roll with both the good and the bad. Overall it balanced out though.

“I take it it’s for a grandchild then?” Ethan smiled.

“In a fashion,” the elderly man smiled back.

“I have to warn you though, the local youth has been buying most of those costumes like mad,” Ethan said, “so choice might be a little limited.”

“How about that one?” the elderly man said and pointed to a costume hanging on the wall.

That was weird.

On the wall hung a costume of almost exquisite quality. A chain mail armor that seemed part metal, part unknown composite. It was to small to fit a man or a large teenage boy, although a smaller one could probably fit in it. And way too good in quality to still be here. There had been at least a dozen girls in here looking to be Xena and at least three times the number of boys wanting to be some fantasy hero straight out of Lord of the Rings, or Dungeons and Dragons.

That aside Ethan was at least 99% sure there was no way he had put it up there to begin with. And he was 100% sure no such item even existed in his inventory.

Still, without blinking an eye, Ethan began to extol the virtues of the costume.

“As you can see the costume is made of an almost exquisite craftsmanship. For all intents and purposes it looks like you could actually put it on and go into battle with. Although in your case I would advise against it, cause as you can clearly see, it is not made for the likes of you and I. Like I said, the quality and fine craftsmanship alone that go into making this costume are…”

“I’ll take it,” the elderly man said resolutely. For the first time Ethan raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the elderly man, then at the costume and then back towards the elderly man again. Something fishy was going on here. He wanted to ask a question but then man smiled just friendly at him. So instead he took the costume from the wall. Only to get eyes big as saucers as he saw the price ticket.

Holy shit. Now he knew something was wrong. He knew he was selling his inventory at below cost prices but even he wouldn’t sell a costume of this craftsmanship for this low.

“Is there something wrong?” the man asked amused, but Ethan shook his head.

“Just the pain of parting with such an exquisite collection item,” Ethan replied as he walked to his cash register, “after all, parting can be such sweet sorrow.”


“True words indeed,” the man agreed as Ethan put the costume on the counter. As he entered the ridiculously low price in the machine he looked at the man again.

“Can I get you something else, something for yourself perhaps? We still have some costumes left that would befit you.”

The man smiled and slowly shook his head.

“I am to old to be running around all dressed up for Halloween,” the man smiled, “it is after all a young person’s holiday.”

“Suit yourself,” Ethan shrugged, “Can I get you something else instead? Some accessory perhaps?”

“How about that sword?” the man said as he pointed towards the wall behind Ethan.

“What sword?” Ethan said as he turned his head around only to be shocked. On the wall behind him was a large blade of pure blue metal with a handle inlaid with plaques of ebony and terminating in a large red ruby cabochon. Tentatively Ethan took the sword of the wall and noticed it was way lighter then it looked. This was a real quality blade, one that would fetch high prices on at least half a dozen black markets he knew off. This was near four feet of sheer deadliness he was holding in his hands, most definitely not a prop. And something he most definitely didn’t put up for sale in his own shop.

“If you could wrap it up that would be helpful,” the elderly man said. Upon which Ethan looked at him wearily.

“Who are you?” he asked, his shopkeeper tone of voice gone.

“Just a customer,” the elderly man shrugged, then he took out a wallet and began taking out bills of cash, “now, how much for the costume and the sword?”

“Customer my arse,” Ethan said as he raised his voice as he slammed the sword on the counter, “Something’s fishy is going on here.”

The elderly man tried to smile but it lacked his earlier confidence.

“If you don’t want to wrap it up, that will be fine as well,” he said but Ethan shook his head.

“Not going to happen, pal,” Ethan said. The old man sighed and looked downwards. When he looked up again the nervousness was gone and steel shone from his eyes.

“I think you will sell me those items,” the old man said sternly, “they are mine after all.”

“My shop, my rules,” Ethan said undeterred, still holding the sword, “possession is 9/10th of the law. And the law says I can refuse sale to whomever I like. Now if you were black, gay or Hispanic you might get some bleeding hearts to come to your cause but since you’re not I think it might be best if you were to leave my premises.”

The old man leaned on the counter, then he looked at the door and with a loud click its locks went shut. Before Ethan could react the old man raised a hand and began to draw something in the air. In the wake of his drawing finger a glyph of power began to take shape, burning in a fiery golden glow. Seeing the glyph take shape Ethan dropped the sword on the counter and inadvertently took a step backwards.

Holy crap! Glyphs of power were relatively harmless but it took considerable skill to create them, denoting that their creators were exceptionally capable magic practitioners. The business card of the crème de la crème in magic as it were. If he had a few hours and all the right ingredients Ethan could do a convincing one himself. But never with the ease and sheer casualness like the old man in front of him. So again, holy crap!

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said both hurriedly and apologetic as he reached for his role of wrapping paper, “Forgive me, I did not know.”

“That’s alright,” the old man said as his good humor returned, “misunderstandings can happen.”

Ethan stopped wrapping the sword for a moment and looked at the old man.

“Are you here to take over?” he asked almost mournfully. He knew when he was outclassed and if this old man so desired there was little he could do to stop him.

“I wouldn’t dream with interfering with your little pleasures,” the old man smiled, “especially one that is so…. Original shall we say?”

Ethan smiled at the compliment.

“Really? I must confess a lot of thought went into it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the old man said as he took hold of the sword and costume, “now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

“Of course,” Ethan said, then his face turned serious again, “If I may ask, if you’re not here to take over, why are you here?”

“Piggyback ride,” the old man smiled, “you’re little prank offers me a great opportunity to advance my own interests.”

“I see,” Ethan said. He wasn’t completely put at ease by the old man’s cheerful behavior. The magic profession tended to be loaded with people who would sell their own mother if it meant being able to do a new spell. Or a powerful yet casual done glyph of power. If the old man was weaseling in on his operation there was little he could do about it.

“Now I bid you good day,” the old man said as he walked towards the door and tried to open it. Only to find that it was still locked.

“Clumsy me,” the old man chuckled as he waved a free finger and the door unlocked itself again. Then he stepped outside.

Ethan let out a deep sigh after the old man was gone. Maybe he should abort his plans and skip town? Cut his losses and run? Then he looked at the still glowing glyph of power still floating in the air.

Some magic users used glyphs of power as a salesmen handed out business cards. In which case they incorporated a symbol that denoted who they were. Others used them to show off their power and made something flashy and elaborate but without any identifying symbols. The old man clearly fell in the last category. Still, to leave one glowing this long after they were gone was flashy.

Yup. It looked like leaving town looked more and more appealing.

But then Ethan looked the glyph over one more time. While the mark carried no recognizable mark associated to any of the known powerhouses of magic it was crafted in a style that seemed almost…. ancient. The style was one that was exceedingly rare these days. In fact Ethan was sure few people still remembered the Elder Isles. The long lost Elder Isles that now lay sunken underneath the Atlantic Ocean and whose legend had blended into that other sunken land legend, the Greek legend of Atlantis.

But Atlantis, like Troy, was an ancient Greek legend that dealt with the fall of the Minoan/Mycean civilization almost a thousand years before the rise of the Classical Greek civilization. It had little to do with the Elder Isles. The lands of magic and mystery that were once to the southwest of England and south of Ireland and disappeared in the darkest days of the middle ages.

But Ethan remembered. For his grandmother was from Cornwall, the most Southwestern part of England where rumor had it many survivors of the Elder Isles had settled. His fascination with her stories of kingdoms where kings and nobles dueled, where fairies and other mythical folk roamed and some of the mightiest magicians the world had ever seen had dwelt. It was what had interested Ethan to learn about magic in the first place, long before he had met Rupert.

And he knew that there was one magician from the Elder Isles that still lived. One whose obsession with not interfering in the order of things meant he kept to himself. But not averse to hitching a ride to someone else’s work if it meant no interference in the order of things.

As the glyph finally began to fade Ethan began to smile again. As he walked towards the door to close the shop it seemed like he was going to have his fun after all.





Outside an old but pristine Ford Thunderbird convertible stood by the sidewalk, seemingly unoccupied as the elderly man walked up to it.

“Why are you hiding in there,” he asked as if he was addressing some invisible occupant.

“Isn’t it obvious, Doc,” a voice replied from inside the car, “I’m hiding.”

“From who,” the old man said as he put the costume and sword in the back of the car. A shaggy haired head peered up from behind the seats and nervously looked around.

“Cordelia,” Xander said shiftily, “her car just drove by. Can’t risk a temporal paradox now can we, Doc?”

“You watch way too much television,” the old man chuckled, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“You sure, Doc?” Xander asked as he checked a corner just to be sure, “Cause that’s not what they say in Star Trek.”

The old man gave Xander a stern look, then shook his head.

“Who are you going to trust? Some stupid TV show or the foremost expert in dimensional portals through time and space?”

Xander looked at Shimrod like he still wasn’t sure. Sure Shimrod was the guy who breathed portals through time and space. But television had raised him since he had been a small kid. Basically taught him everything he knew up to the point that he had met Buffy and the G-man. Okay, so Shimrod may know his stuff, he begrudgingly admitted. But almost running into past Cordelia was rattling. If only because it was, well, Cordelia.

While Xander grappled with his inner temporal doubt Shimrod sat down in the passenger seat.

“Now may be a good time to drive back to your friend,” the magician smiled. Xander glanced at the mage, then he started the car and drove away.

“I still can’t see why we just can’t use one of your portals to return to Buffy,” Xander grouched.

“Still afraid to run into your lady friend again?” Shimrod replied pert, “Like I said, do not worry. Time will not go wry when you see her or your friends.”

“So meeting Cordelia may not rip apart the time continuum,” Xander said as he took a corner, “but she’s way smarter then she looks. All the others thought she was a ditz but she notices things. And when she puts two plus two together….”

“Time is not like that,” Shimrod countered, then he pointed towards Xander’s head, “for instance, do you remember you or your friend seeing your future selves at this point in history?”

“Uh, no,” Xander admitted.

“There you have it,” Shimrod said triumphantly, “you never ran into her or your past self. If you did you would remember. Since you do not, it will not happen.”

“So you mean time is like Babylon 5’s War without End?” Xander asked, “where you go back to set things in motion that otherwise wouldn’t have happened?”

“You watch way too much television,” Shimrod responded gloomily, ten he shook his head. Upon which Xander glanced at the mage.

“I watch too much television?” he snorted, “says some 1500 year old pervert who watches porn DVD’s of my sort of girlfriend?”

“Touché,” Shimrod chortled.

“So how did it go?” Xander asked, “I see you got the goods back.”

“Could be better,” Shimrod replied, “the Sandestin was sloppy. Way too sloppy. It placed the sword and the outfit in Ethan’s shop alright, but it was a bit to gaudy in its display, causing Ethan to suspect something’s afoul.”

“That’s bad, right?” Xander asked nervously again, “what if he doesn’t perform that spell? It could change history and….”

“Now what did I say about temporal causality again, young man,” Shimrod said chiding, “since events unfolded as they did history is not changed.”

“Then why skulk about?” Xander countered as he steered the car out of town,
“if nothing we do affects the past why not be blazing about? Why do we even have to wear these amulets.”

Xander put a hand on a small silver pendant hanging on a thin silver chain around his neck.

“It’s complicated,” Shimrod said back, “just because time has a certain flexibility does not mean it cannot be derailed. I do not use portals because this town has a powerful warlock mayor who could notice them. We wear those amulets so your Saiyan friends won’t notice us. Time will forgive a casual glance, my young friend, but it cannot ignore blatant evidence staring it in the face. Your female friend might have seen you and think strangely of it. But she will dismiss it as some trick her mind was playing on her. We do that all the time. Maybe even you. Who knows what you have casually dismissed in the past that may have been real.”

“You mean time travel is that common?” Xander yelped as he felt a rising panic take hold of him again.

“Just drive the car,” Shimrod sighed dejected.



(Fast return forward a few hours again)



“Oh no you don’t,” the blonde said as she effortlessly blocked every attempt of Ferucca to break free. Finally she had enough and elbowed Ferucca in the face. As Ferucca staggered back the blonde took away the blade Kahanthus.

“I’ll take this,” the blonde said, then she swung the blade around for a moment, her eyes lighting up.

“Nice sword,” the blonde smiled, “Maybe I should ask your friend for a new sword as well. It’s been a long time since I had one.”

“Maybe a shorter one though,” Xander said appraisingly, “a long broadsword doesn’t really suit you.”

The blonde turned around.

“You wouldn’t accidentally have some extra swords lying around, would ya?,” she said to someone else.

“I might have a few,” new a voice said in response. And that’s when Ferucca realized she really was in trouble as the magician Shimrod stepped into view.

“Shimrod!” she exclaimed.

“Ferucca, Ferucca,” Shimrod said shaking his head, “you have been a very naughty girl.”

“Bad girl?” Xander said incredulously, “Dare I say crazy bitch? I think I do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ferucca said as she rubbed her face where Blondie had hit her, “So I pissed off a few people, been there, done that, gotten the flexi-armor.”

“I don’t believe it,” Xander said angry, “you still feel no remorse, do ya?”

Ferucca closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Xander.

“Well, what did you expect? Shimrod took me from the dead, stuck me in a living body again and you expect me to roll over, play nice and die again? Get real! I saw an opportunity, I took it. If you’re expecting an apology, go fuck yourself. I’m only sorry that I failed.”

“You crazy Saiyan bitch!” Xander yelled and almost accosted Ferucca if it weren’t for Shimrod stepping in.

“No need to resort to violence,” Shimrod said imploringly, “that’s not what we’re here for, remember?”

“Bitch got Fisk and Liana killed,” Xander muttered angrily.

“Like you cared,” Ferucca snorted, “You and Fisk were always arguing over everything.”

“You had him fucking castrated,” Xander yelled angry, “any argument I may have had with him before becomes moot if you rip away the guy’s family jewels.”

Ferucca looked at Xander again and a very self-satisfying smirk grew ever bigger.

“I think you’re just pissed off because I fooled you,” she smirked, “you were always going on how you were always the one who catches on to the bad guy, how you see things the others don’t, how you always knew that Deadboy guy was up to no good. Mister All-Seeing-Eye! And yet a simple Saiyan girl outsmarted you.”

Xander looked like he wanted to jump and strangle her but decided not to. Instead Blondie spoke up.

“You really are one crazy bitch, lady,” Blondie said awestruck, “you make Faith look like she could be cover model for Sanity Fair.”

“Spare me your platitudes, so-called Slayer,” Ferucca said in annoyance towards the blonde girl, “You can walk in my shoes for all your life and still not understand why I do what I do and why I did what I had to do.”

“Yadayadayada I’m so misunderstood, yadayadayada,” the blonde said dismissively as she rolled her eyes, “you bad guys are so predictable.”

“Well, what do you want to hear then?” Ferucca asked the Slayer.

“I don’t know,” Buffy shrugged, “how about…, because I’m a crazy evil bitch?

”How about…. You’re a crazy bitch?” Ferucca said deadpan to the Slayer, then she turned to Shimrod, “Why am I here?”

Before the mage could answer and before Buffy could mutter ‘takes one to know one’ an explosion could be heard in the distance. Ferucca turned her head aside and saw the lights of a average sized town shining in the distance. A series of flashes could be seen coming from a suburb. Somebody was using chi attacks down there. Saiyan chi attacks.

“What by the seven hells is going on down there?” she asked, “Somebody’s using chi attacks down there. Saiyan chi attacks.”

“Uh, that might be me,” Xander said sheepishly as he raised a hand.

“But you’re here?” Ferucca said surprised. Then her eyes grew big as saucers.

“It’s that night, isn’t it? The one you told me about,” Ferucca said out loud, then she looked down and noticed that her flexible armor was sporting way more curves then it should have, on her chest that is.

“Oh, for the love of the Goddess, what have you done to me?” she exclaimed in horror.

“In a way it is poetic,” Xander said calmly, “Shimrod stuck Angela into your body and you took over. Now we’ve stuck you into hers and…… “

“YOU BASTARDS!” Ferucca as she began to struggle against Buffy’s hold on her.

“Time to go, Ferucca,” Xander said as Shimrod pulled out a bag and opened it to take out various magical implements, “we’re going to drive you out like a bad smell.”

“NO!” Ferucca yelled as she used her chi to get free. But while her power was considerable by the standards of planet Vegeta they failed to impress Buffy.

“Easy lady,” Buffy said as even she had to struggle to hold the desperately straining Saiyan, “you’re gonna die anyway once Giles smashes the statue.”

“I hate you, Xander,” Ferucca hissed, locked helplessly in Buffy’s iron grip, “for hate’s sake I curse you. I call upon the power of the Seven Hells of Jeherheroth to grant me my vengeance. May they curse you into the thousandth generation! May you….”

“Don’t bother, Saiyan bitch, I’m already cursed,” Xander said unimpressed, “now shut up! The power of Christ compels you!”

Xander pretended he was sprinkling her with holy water but when he touched her forehead a glimmer of light suddenly erupted from her.

And then she erupted in a hurricane of flames.

“You just had to say it, don’t you!” Buffy said accusingly before the flames blocked out everything.





In the skies above Sunnydale Belmovekk the Saiyan floated above the town now in chaos. Things were now set in motion that could no longer be undone. Ugly things. Things that might backfire against him and his purpose. But he felt they had to be done.

When he had come to this town he had found the girl by accident. Not only did she intrigue him, stir emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time, he also felt pity for her fate. It was then that the decision was born that he would make Sunnydale his base of operations and in doing so take the girl under his wings to help her as best as he could, within the limits of the mission of course.

It was then that the boy presented himself to him as well.

In a sense he took even greater pity on the boy then he did on the girl. For he understood the pain of unrequited love all to well himself. The pain of being near the object of one’s affection and she not taking any notice. The driving force that propelled the boy to put himself in harms way even though he stood no chance at all. It was a sentiment Saiyans admired greatly and inspired many an epic tale. So he allowed the boy to attend training as well.

Of course the boy stood no chance in hell to undergo a Saiyan training regime. At best he could do the Auxiliary program. And he was gearing the boy for that when he had that fateful chat with the boy in the park. And things changed.

In a rare act of revelation one of the two Necessities had revealed to him an ugly plan of a Chaos magician’s evil plot to cause massive chaos to this town. It should be something he would have to put a stop to it. Instead it told hem to make use of it to strengthen the boy.

That was the moment Belmovekk realized these kids weren’t just some diversion to keep him occupied while he helped Goku and his friends. These kids were the reason he was sent here. They were the fighters he was supposed to help. And if that was the case, then he should use every means at his disposal to give them a fighting chance to help fight the coming darkness. Be that Gero’s androids, something linked to them or beyond even that.

The Saiyan mind not suffering from brain damage as an infant is an amazing thing. Where most humans take a long time to reconcile themselves that a given course is no longer working, may actually be counter productive to continue, Saiyans can reach such a decision in a split second. In a split second Belmovekk not only realized that these kids were his real charges, he also accepted that what the Necessity was proposing was, while despicable, also necessary. It was the only way for the boy to grow into his destiny.

So in that split second he decided to risk everything and allow this town to be plunged into chaos. After the boy had given his assent of course. In a fashion. After all, he wasn’t a complete monster.

The workings of the chaos mage had been interesting to observe as his spell took hold of the town. Many young children turned into the monsters they were dressed as and while he tried his best to keep the death toll low, he couldn’t be everywhere and not lose sight of his charges at the same time. Unleashing a Saiyan elite in this town was risky but he had to have faith that the Necessity told the truth that no harm would flow from him.

Luckily the other friend of the Slayer stepped up to the plate. While incorporeal she managed to keep the boy under some form of control.

And then the vampire called Spike intervened. Master Giles had told him vampires and demons usually held themselves aloof on this day but it would seem nobody had told Spike that as he sought to exploit the situation as well. To bad for him the situation wasn’t as exploitable as he thought, as the boy turned Saiyan elite was now chasing him across town. He hoped the boy would catch up with the vampire and rid them of what looked like a very troublesome foe.

All seemed well when suddenly his scouter lid up like a Christmas tree. For an instant it seemed like the night sky would erupt in flames when the phenomenon disappeared as rapidly as it had come. Belmovekk turned to the north-east, to the forested hills that lay there. Something had happened there. For an instant it seemed like a massive burst of chi had erupted and then disappeared, going off the scale. Just for an instant.

Belmovekk adjusted his scouter to scan for ultra sensitive chi emissions. He was taking a risk, as another burst might cause an overload, but he felt it was necessary. For the burst had every sign of it being Saiyan in nature. And it couldn’t be the boy because he was chasing the vampire in the other side of town.

Was there another Saiyan in the area?

It couldn’t be Goku or Vegeta. Just moments before his scouter had shown them to be in China and San Francisco respectively. Damn, this night was getting weirder by the minute. In ultra-sensitive mode his scouter didn’t pick up any large chi signature. That is, no permanent one. But whenever he looked in a certain north-easterly direction he did notice that the scouter went up and down a few points, like somebody was really, really masking their chi.

He was about to go off and investigate when a voice spoke in his mind.

“You will do no such thing.”

“But…..,” he tried to respond but the Necessity cut him off.

“Certain things are being put into motion that need to be put into motion. Yours is not the only one taking place. Leave it be. Besides, you have bigger problems on your mind.”

He was about to protest when his scouter went off again. Belmovekk tapped his scouter to switch back to a lower but wider setting and realized that he had indeed bigger problems.

The others were on their way. Goku had used his instant transmission to teleport him and the Namek to Hawaii and together with his short human friend were on a low intercept course. Vegeta on the other hand was making for Sunnydale with full guns blazing and would be here in minutes.

What was it that Master Giles was so fond of saying at such times?

“Oh dear.”





“You just had to say it, don’t you!” Buffy said accusingly before the flames blocked out everything. For a moment everything turned to gold, then a shockwave hit her, sending her away flying.

Just as fast as the shockwave sent her away flying, she crashed into what felt like a brick wall. Only brick walls no longer felt like they used too. In fact nowadays they felt more like papier-mâché when you crashed into them. But hey, you had to call an indomitable wall something, right? Wouldn’t do to call it the indomitable wall of invisible strength capable of stopping a chi supercharged Slayer. Even if that was what it was.

Somehow an invisible barrier had been erected between the eruption coming from Porno Saiyan and the town. Which was probably for the best because Porno Saiyan was emitting some serious juju. She was surrounded by a helix of golden energy, swirling around her as she stood motionless, frozen in a silent scream.

“What on Earth is happening here, Gandalf?” Buffy yelled to make herself heard above the noise.

“I erected a barrier to contain the phenomenon,” Shimrod’s voice called from the other side of what he euphemistically called ‘the phenomenon’, “No need to thank me. I managed to freeze time for two days and work on a containment field to shield us from the town. I fairly sure it went unnoticed down there thanks due a chameleon field I also erected to…..”

“I didn’t mean your fancy force field, Gandalf, I’m talking about volcano girl here,” Buffy called out pointing to Porno Saiyan, then something sank in, “what do you mean you froze time for two days?”

“Quit showing off your temporal shenanigans, Doc,” Xander yelled towards the mage, “were you able to drive Ferucca out?”

“I wish I could claim merit but except for laboring two days solid to come up with the containment and chameleon fields none of this is my doing,” the mage said back, “this all happened when you struck her.”

“XANDER!” Buffy yelled angry, “you just had to do something stupid!”

“I’m sorry, Buff,” Xander said, “I, uh, um….”

And then the shit really hit the fan.





High in the skies over Sunnydale Belmovekk and Vegeta were in the middle of a shouting match when suddenly Belmovekk’s scouter peaks again and the Saiyan looks to the northeast again.

“Hello, my eyes are here, Movekk,” Vegeta said pointing to his face, angered by the Saiyan’s rude behaviour of ignoring his royal presence in the middle of his speech.

“I am sorry, my prince,” Belmovekk said apologetic, “my scouter noticed something.”

“It’s amazing it can pick up anything in this disgusted soup,” Vegeta growled as he folded his arms across his chest, “now, about the boy….”

He didn’t sense that, Belmovekk thought, the great Prince of all Saiyans who claims he can sense anything without a scouter nowadays didn’t sense that for a brief noticeable moment somebody just went Ozaru in those hills.

Belmovekk glanced briefly towards the hills.

I just hope those Necessities know what they are doing.






“There’s something you don’t see every day,” Buffy said almost absentminded as she took a step backwards. In fact it was more then just a single step. Quite a lot of steps actually as Porno Saiyan suddenly ceased being volcano girl and stopped spewing energy into the air. Instead she threw up her arms into the air and began to grow in statue.

As she did her hands turned into sharply nailed claws, her legs grew a little shorter and apelike and her face…. It began to grow a large snout.

“Oh shit,” Xander muttered aghast, “what have I done?”

“Ozaru,” Shimrod said both horrified and spellbound, “I’ve heard about it but this is the first time that I’ve seen it happen up close.”

“This might be a good time to watch it from a distance, Gandalf,” Buffy said as she jumped next to the mage and put her arms around his waist so she could lift him to safety, “trust me, there’s not a whole lot of control left in them at the best of times and if Porno Saiyan’s in charge you don’t want to be here.”

She was about to lift off when Xander gestured her to wait.

“Wait!” he said pointing to the still growing Ozaru, “Look at her fur.”

“Yeah, it’s blonde,” Buffy said, “so what? Can we go now?”

“Saiyans don’t turn into blonde Ozarus,” Xander countered, “Belmovekk turned into a dark brown one, remember? Ferucca also turned dark brown in Tanjecterly.”

Buffy gave Xander an incredulous look.

“Hello, Earth to Xander, Angela was a blonde, Belmo’s not. He told me there were no blonde Saiyans. If there were I’m sure there were some yellow haired Ozarus as well.”

Now Shimrod also gestured Buffy to wait.

“Your friend may be right though, Buffy,” the mage said, “in fact, if what he thinks is the same thing I am thinking…..”

“ROOOOOOAAAAARRRR!”

With a load roar the golden Ozaru had reached its full stature, then it began to glow in a equally golden glow and belched up a ball of blue fire and shot it into the air where it dissipated high in the sky.

As it did Buffy could almost swear she heard a scream of frightened desperation.

As soon as the ball of fire had disappeared in the sky the Ozaru looked at the gathered threesome standing at its feet.

“Angela?” Xander said almost mournfully as he took a step towards the beast.

For a moment the beast didn’t react. Then it spoke in a low rumbling voice.

“XANDER?”

Before anyone could react the glowing golden Ozaru began to shrink again, transforming back into a human shape as fast as the transformation originally had taken place, until all that remained was Angela’s body, resting on one knee, panting heavily as a golden glow surrounded her body, her hair waving gently back and fro in the stream of unseen energies..

“Angela!” Xander yelled as he ran towards her to help her. Dropping on his knees he took hold of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. Those cold blue green Super Saiyan eyes. The very color that had so many shaking in their boots.

But Xander was no stranger to Super Saiyans. So the cold blue green stare didn’t frighten him. Cause for the first time in a long time there was intelligence behind her eyes. And not the malicious indifference that characterized Ferucca. There was love in her eyes again.

“Xander?” Angela said tentatively, “is it really you?”

“It is, Ange,” Xander said smiling. Next thing he knew she almost crushed as she leapt around his neck.

“XANDER!” Angela yelled, then she buried her face on his shoulder, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

“Not half of much as I did,” Xander said, his face turning red, “Ange, please….., breathing…., hard…”

“ Oh, sorry,” Angela smiled and let go so Xander could breathe. Buffy and Shimrod took this as their cue to give the two some privacy.

“I can’t believe it,” Buffy said incredulously as she watched the two from a distance, “She really is a Super Saiyan. I couldn’t believe it when I heard it, Belmo couldn’t even believe it. And somehow she is. How does she do it?”

“It boggles the mind, I have to admit,” Shimrod said equally puzzled, “maybe the spell did transform her into a Saiyan body.”

“But Gandalf, she barely registers as a Saiyan,” Buffy said pointing to Angela, “Belmo told us you had to be pretty powerful to become a Super Saiyan. He also said nothing of becoming a big giant ape also.”

“Then maybe there is more then way to become a Super Saiyan, my dear Buffy,” Shimrod shrugged, “admittedly my knowledge of Super Saiyans is virtually non-existent. To be honest, until your friend told me of them I did not even knew they existed. And while I doubt your teacher is a bit more of an expert on the matter I would not be so presumptuous to think there is only one way to skin a cat.”

“I suppose,” Buffy nodded.

Meanwhile Xander and Angela were still embracing each other.

“Xander, how can this be?” Angela asked, “this is Earth. Why aren’t we on Tanjecterly?”

“Ssssh,” Xander said as he tried to stroke her head through the upstanding hair, “lets just say it’s a kinda magic. Shimrod, you remember Shimrod, right? He did this. You’re safe now.”

“Did we make it?” she asked, “Did you succeed in the quest? I remember so little after what happened in the Citadel.”

Xander bit his lip and looked down. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it had all been for in vain.

“We did, Ange, we did. We made it back. Fisk and Liana, they’re alright. And Shimrod did his thing.”

“Is that her?” Angela asked nodding towards. Xander glanced over his should towards Buffy.

“Yep, that’s her,” he replied as he smiled softly, “the one and only. Accept no substitute.”

“Does that mean you will be leaving again?” Angela asked as she looked Xander in the face.

“Not a million years,” Xander said so resolute he made her smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re aiming for a threesome now?” she smiled, “cause that will cost you extra.”

Xander chuckled and looked over his shoulder towards Buffy.

“Hey, Buff, are you in for a threesome?”

The very ugly words coming back from Buffy soon laid to rest any idea regarding that particular coupling.

“I don’t think she wants to share you with me,” Angela chuckled mildly.

“She’ll come around,” Xander grinned confidently, “you’ll see.”

“Oh,” was all Angela said sullenly, “so what now?”

“Well, first we’re going back to Doc’s place, to check you out,” Xander said, “and then you’re coming home with us.”

Angela looked at Buffy.

“Wouldn’t she object? I mean having a girl who… “

Xander’s smile evaporated and then he bit his lip.

“Look, Ange, I didn’t want to bother you with this at this moment, or get your hopes up. But it didn’t quite work out as planned on Tanjecterly. And Buffy here, well, it’s not her. This is friend Buffy, not love Buffy.”

“You sure have a way with words, Xan,” Buffy called back, her Slayer enhanced hearing apparently enabling her to hear his words..

“Then what happened?” Angela asked, “Did something go wrong? Did I….?”

Before Xander could reply Angela fell to her knees again and the chi flames around her flared up again, causing strong winds to blow.

“What’s wrong?” Xander asked concerned and Buffy and Shimrod came running also..

“Something’s wrong,” Angela panted, “I feel…., I….., there’s this noise I keep hearing.”


“What kind of noise?” Shimrod asked with keen interest.

“A voice,” Angela said, “a faint whisper. I’ve been hearing it ever since I got here but now….”

“Crazy Saiyan,” Buffy said as she came by their side, “bitch’s coming back.”

“We have to get her back to your place, Doc,” Xander yelled at Shimrod, “something’s wrong!”

“Maybe it is the spell breaking up,” Shimrod suggested as he pulled out some artifact of unknown origin to examine Angela, “it shouldn’t have any effect though. The spells I wrought were intended to counteract that. She should remain herself even after Ethan’s spell is over.”

As if to illustrate his point an almost unnoticeable shockwave came from Sunnydale.

“See,” the mage said pointing towards the town, “the spell has been broken by the act of Buffy’s Watcher breaking the Janus statue. And Angela is still herself, isn’t she?”

“I’m not so sure, Shimrod,” Angela said shaking her head, “the voice keeps getting louder.”

“Crazy Saiyan,” Buffy said shaking her head, “it’s got to be that bitch.”

“Now, let us not jump to conclusions,” Shimrod objected and reached inside his coat to pull out a small mirror, through which he looked at Angela. Xander recognized it as the same mirror Shimrod had used to examine him for what he had called Xander’s true nature. As soon as Shimrod looked through the small mirror his cautious optimism vanished.

“Oh dear,” he said aghast.





Under the light of a bright blue sun Buffy sat in the back of an old Ford Thunderbird convertible outside Shimrod’s place on whatever planet or fun dimension it was built. After they had raced back through one of his portals Gandalf had taken Angela to one of his labs, with Xander in his wake.

Buffy felt she should have been there, at Xander’s side. But she wasn’t one who did the whole hospital sidekick thing very well. Sitting helpless by the sidelines wasn’t her thing. Far better to let the professional handle things while she got out of the way. If they needed her they knew where to find her.

So she sat out here, in the sun. Wishing she had someone or something to pound upon.

To her right the door to Shimrod’s mansion opened and the magician came out, looking very tired.

“Everything okay, Shim?” Buffy asked. But she didn’t need to ask. The mage’s face told the story for him.

“That bad, uh?”

The mage nodded as he sat down on the stairs leading up to his door.

“She has faded away,” he sighed, “she has faded away. Despite the best I could do she has faded away.”

Just as soon as he had sat down the magician stood up again.

“I need a drink,” Shimrod muttered to himself and went back inside.

Buffy watched him go inside, then she stared ahead blankly for a few moments. So the worst had came to pass. Buffy let out a deep sigh. Then she got up and out of the car.

“Should have gotten Willow along,” she said to herself and went inside.

Inside she found herself in Shimrod’s endless corridor of a thousand identical doors and halted. Now which door to take? Gandalf seemed to find his way effortlessly through this maze but to Buffy it felt like she had fallen into Alice in Wonderland meets the Wizard of Oz. Normally she’d use her chi sense to find Xander, but in this Wonderland it was hard to sense anything at all. And Shim seemed to have already vanished into whatever door led to his liquor cabinet.

Damn! If only she had brought a scouter along! Too bad she ruined them all using her EMP attack a few months back.

The memories of her EMP attack brought a momentary smile to Buffy’s face. Oh, did she ever receive a mouthful for doing that stunt afterwards. As usual Belmo took the fall for that little stunt but the military was furious. They could explain that Sunnydale High had been leveled in some for of explosion, but that every electrical appliance inside the town and beyond had been roasted…. But hey, it got Mullet Joe of her back.

Unfortunately Buffy’s EMP attack also blew up every scouter in the greater Sunnydale area, leaving them scouterless for the moment. New ones had been ordered from the good people at Capsule Corp. But it would seem that Bulma was still too pissed off at Belmo for ditching her on some alien world. That, the many notes she had taken from alien tech and being about to give birth at any moment meant that for the moment providing them with new scouters just wasn’t high on Bulma’s list of things to do. Not that it mattered much right now, it gave them a good opportunity to train their chi sense, but oh boy, Gandalf’s funhouse and chi sense just didn’t go together well.

Buffy was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed one of Shim’s ethereal creatures passing her in the hallway. She still didn’t know what the thin frail creature was, some kind of elf or something. Shim may have explained it to her but he tended to drone on like Giles and when the droning got to long she had a bad habit of zoning off. Which happened a lot when the details were all about the not vital for slaying variety.

“Hey you,” Buffy said as she reached out towards the veiled creature, “I’m looking for my friend. Do you know where he is?”

The almost human looking creature stopped and looked at her through its veil like it didn’t understood her and Buffy was tempted to yell at it, like adding volume would suddenly make it understand her question. Then it lifted a thin arm towards a door and pointed for a brief moment before moving on.

“Uh, thanks I guess,” Buffy said, then she walked towards the door. Hoping it was the correct one, not some door leading into the heart of a fiery star to get rid of unwanted or rude visitors (like her) Buffy stepped inside.

Stepping through Shim’s doors was like stepping into different worlds, like being taken to the past, present and future by the ghost of Christmas past, present and future. For a brief moment she felt disorientated, like always. She had asked Xander if he felt the same way but he just looked at her funny. She had wanted to ask Shim but never gotten around to ask Gandalf about why it affected her like that. Maybe it was the Slayer, noticing things that others would not.

Inside the room she saw Angela lying in a bed, staring absentminded towards a wall. It looked like she had the blank thousand mile stare again. Like she had reverted to her coma routine. God, it must be awful for Xander. Poor Xander. Who had put so much hope in this plan, first suggested to him by Oz, to make use of Gandalf’s mastery of space and time to go back to that Halloween night and dress her up as herself. To bad it didn’t stick.

But where was Xander?

“Hi, Buff,” Xander’s tired voice said behind her. Okay, question answered, Buffy thought as she turned around and saw Xander sitting on a chair in a corner close to the door.

“Hi Xan,” she said as she put on a brave face for her friend. If Shim had looked tired, Xander looked like he had gone ten rounds with the Mayor, in his final form. She knelt in front of him and put her hands on his. He looked… almost un-Xanderlike. Like everything that made him who he was had been taken from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

Xander looked at her for a moment, then he shrugged and said nothing. Oh, that didn’t look right. She’d rather have her friend scream bloody murder, sob like a little girl or trash the place. Anything but this.

“We should have brought Willow along,” Buffy said, “And Giles. Don’t get me wrong, Shim’s good, but Willow’s smart, and Giles knows things. Even Belmo could be of some use.”

She didn’t really mean it, much. She said it more to rouse Xander out if this, this, un-Xanderlike sullenness. And it worked as Xander raised an eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Buff,” he said flatly, “Shimrod knows what went wrong and Willow couldn’t have helped. Giles couldn’t have helped. They wouldn’t have know what to look for.”

“Which is?”

“It’s that friggin’ ape, Buff,” Xander said as he nodded towards Angela, “we thought Ferucca might show up and she did. But we didn’t expect that the Ozaru also came along for a ride.”

“Your friend is right, Buffy,” Shimrod’s voice said as he stepped into the room. He was carrying two large cups of wine and gave one to Xander as he took a sip from his own before continuing, “somehow in Tanjecterly Angela’s core got linked to the Saiyan untergestalt that is that monstrous ape creature. Xander told me the gestalt I sent into Tanjecterly changed behavior. When he first met her she was hesitant, more in line with Angela’s persona. Then she transformed into an Ozaru and changed. From then on the Ferucca personality was in control and seems to have kept Angela’s personality under control. She must have pushed Angela so far down deep that she somehow got pushed into the Saiyan unconsciousness. And that’s where the beast dwells. It has to be the source of her Super Saiyan power. She’s linked to the beast now. And unfortunately the spells I put in place to trap her essence weren’t enough to also trap the beast.”

Suddenly the mage threw his cup of wine and threw it across the room.

CLANK!

“Damn!” he yelled angry, “I should have foreseen this! I should have examined first the cause of her Super Saiyan transformation. I….”

Some of the wine had landed on the bed and to Buffy’s surprise Angela reacted. She turned her head and looked at the wine stains that had landed on her blanket.

“I am wet,” she said in a neutral voice, like it was a mere observation and not a request for a new blanket like a normal person would.

Surprised Buffy looked at Shimrod and then at Xander.

“I… I thought you’d said she was gone?” she said astonished.

“I said she has faded,” Shimrod said, “talk to her and you’ll know.”

Looking one time at the mage Buffy walked over towards Angela. As she did she saw Angela look up towards her.

“Uh, hi…, :” Buffy said not sure what to say, “do you know who I am?”

To her surprise Angela just looked away disinterested.

“I know who you are,” she said in a flat disinterested voice, “you’re Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A friend of Xander Harris, who traveled to Tanjecterly to find the Axis of Pythia so he could cross over to an alternate universe so he could be with an alternate version of you.”

Buffy looked around incredulously at Xander and Shimrod.

“I…, I thought you said…..?” she asked.

“Come,” Shimrod said and beckoned Buffy to follow. Taking her by the hand he led her towards the door and opened it. Instead of entering his hallway of a thousand doors they emerged into Shimrod’s private study. There on his desk stood a bottle of wine, from which Shimrod poured himself another cup.

“What is wrong here, Shim?” Buffy asked, “what’s wrong with her?”

Shimrod drank from the cup before putting it down, then he leaned on his desk and sighed.

“You must understand the depth of her bane,” he said with eyes closed, “the magic I wrought to keep her spirit brought back more then just her. The beast, the one that lurks within each Saiyan also came back. That is more then a mere human like her could bear.”

“Shim, what are you saying?” Buffy asked with a growing sinking feeling.

“Two minds cannot occupy the same body,” Shimrod sighed, “not one so powerful as the Saiyan beast and not one so frail as hers. To put it in simple terms, the ending of the chaos mage’s spell caused an overload as it were. She is barely in there, Buffy, but a shadow of a shadow.”

“But she talks,” Buffy countered, “how can she talk if she…..”

“She’s not mindless, Buffy,” Shimrod said looking up, “she still has Angela’s memories. She….., I’m not still not sure. You know those blue carbon copy papers you could stick underneath a piece of paper and make a copy of what you wrote? And….”

The vacant look Buffy returned was enough to tell that his little analogy wasn’t hitting home.

“Well, um, …., the point I was trying to make is that while she still has Angela’s memories, her essence, maybe even her, um, soul? It has all been seriously, uh, eroded?”

Poor Xander, Buffy thought, he had had his hopes up so highly on this plan, contacting Shim and first proposing his plan, then working out the details with the mage. Only to have it fall apart like this. Of course, it probably sucked even more for the girl . But Buffy never knew her. Aside from helping Xander bringing her drooling body to Sunnydale and help him clear out her apartment in Los Angeles the only real instance she had gotten to know her was when Oz had come up with a DVD detailing her more ‘intimate’ exploits.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Buffy asked, “you’re like the smartest wizard we know. Surely you can do something.”

“I wish I could,” Shimrod said as he reached for his bottle for a refill, “and I know of a few dark arts that might help. But….”

The mage downed his glass in one swig..

“But what, Shim?” Buffy asked and the mage looked back at her sternly.

“The beast, Buffy, it’s still inside her. They’re linked together now. When she’s looking like you don’t exist, she’s not being rude. Or, how should I say this?”

The mage looked aside, like he was thinking of the right words to describe Angela’s current situation.

“Absentminded?” Buffy suggested, “Vacant?”

“She hears the beast, Buffy,” the mage said, “its constantly with her. She hears it sing.”

[Inquisitor]

thanks for taking up my idea of using Ethan's Halloween possession spell but i wasn't expecting u to do a back to the future event to minimize the risks if u consider time travelling into the past would reduce it without changing the timelines...i did like Ferucca's reference to Buffy the VampireS Layer...

as for Shimord, somehow your scene in Ethan's costume shop reminds me of him looking like Back to the Future's Doc Brown as a crazy old man with the wild hair...i think Shimrod and Master Roshi would get along just fine with their voyeuristic hobbies...

as for Angela, i liked your description of how she turned into a golden oozaru...while i was expecting her to come back, i think i see where the problem had come from...when she first turned to oozaru, she had merged or come into balance as she co-existed her mind with the beast as she accepted her fate...when Ferucca was driven out, Angela's mind became dominant but a human mind in a saiyan body needs to mesh their mind, body and spirit in balanced integration...what Shimrod or Xander did is kept their minds separate instead of naturally allowing Angela's and the oozaru's mind to integrate just as it did in the other world...

also i noticed that Angela's oozaru form kept its golden fur so she didn't become a full Super Saiyan4 while Goku and Vegeta had red fur...i think Angela's still in between transformations from golden oozaru to SS4...Goku completed that final transformation since he breached that mental barrier and accepted the oozaru's presence in his mind and controlled it...that's why Goku can immediately go to SS4 without turning into a golden oozaru in the DBGT series since he has full control of the oozaru beast...IMHO, i think Goku's oozaru mind is too mentally retarded just like him...Goku had Pan as his anchor to complete his transformation to SS4 and Angela didn't know what was going on that her transformation wasn't completed yet...it's like running a marathon thinking that u won but wasn't sure if u already passed the finish line...Angela had to breach that mental barrier and she could use Xander as her anchor to push her forward so that she can keep her mind and keep control of the oozaru...hopefully this is the case with Angela and i think that Xander should really approach Belmovekk to properly integrate Angela's mind and the oozaru...

i think u mentioned that Belmovekk had encountered the same problem when he reached Super Saiyan3...since he had the experience of being in oozaru form, he had the mental strength to control it...i think the best solution is to let Angela run around as a golden oozaru on a deserted planet(especially without any naquadah) and let her mind get used to her new body and then naturally allow Angela's mind to mesh and become dominant...what Shimrod and Xander tried to do is prevent something that should had happened naturally and it's causing more harm than helping her...

Vegeta didn't had problem like this when he turned Super Saiyan4 since he had lived with it all of his life as well as had been trained to control the beast...Angela just needs a lot of that...maybe Vegeta can teach her but i don't think he has the patience to teach anyone...then again if he see that there's a level he can reach, he might just have the patience to help Angela so that he can learn to reach that level as well if Belmovekk is too busy with other things...

anyway i'm glad that Angela might be fully back eventually or she'll have Vegeta's attitude who's eternally pissed off at something ince someone else is stronger than him...i would like to see more of Shimrod and maybe Master Roshi sharing their collection...as for the rest, u still have to catch up with several months of what happened in the SGC after the mayor's death...

[krinsbez]

Not bad.

I'm still annoyed that you still have almost no Eddings, though.

[Muad'zin]

Originally Posted by Inquisitor

thanks for taking up my idea of using Ethan's Halloween possession spell but i wasn't expecting u to do a back to the future event to minimize the risks if u consider time travelling into the past would reduce it without changing the timelines...i did like Ferucca's reference to Buffy the VampireS Layer...

as for Shimord, somehow your scene in Ethan's costume shop reminds me of him looking like Back to the Future's Doc Brown as a crazy old man with the wild hair...i think Shimrod and Master Roshi would get along just fine with their voyeuristic hobbies...

Henceforth why Xander calls him Doc.

as for Angela, i liked your description of how she turned into a golden oozaru...while i was expecting her to come back, i think i see where the problem had come from...when she first turned to oozaru, she had merged or come into balance as she co-existed her mind with the beast as she accepted her fate...when Ferucca was driven out, Angela's mind became dominant but a human mind in a saiyan body needs to mesh their mind, body and spirit in balanced integration...what Shimrod or Xander did is kept their minds separate instead of naturally allowing Angela's and the oozaru's mind to integrate just as it did in the other world...

also i noticed that Angela's oozaru form kept its golden fur so she didn't become a full Super Saiyan4 while Goku and Vegeta had red fur...i think Angela's still in between transformations from golden oozaru to SS4...Goku completed that final transformation since he breached that mental barrier and accepted the oozaru's presence in his mind and controlled it...that's why Goku can immediately go to SS4 without turning into a golden oozaru in the DBGT series since he has full control of the oozaru beast...IMHO, i think Goku's oozaru mind is too mentally retarded just like him...Goku had Pan as his anchor to complete his transformation to SS4 and Angela didn't know what was going on that her transformation wasn't completed yet...it's like running a marathon thinking that u won but wasn't sure if u already passed the finish line...Angela had to breach that mental barrier and she could use Xander as her anchor to push her forward so that she can keep her mind and keep control of the oozaru...hopefully this is the case with Angela and i think that Xander should really approach Belmovekk to properly integrate Angela's mind and the oozaru...

Angela's transformation was inspired by the SSJ4 transformation. But only loosely as I plan to stick mostly to the manga, not the anime. I sought an alternative form for Saiyans to transform and thought that one linked to their Ozaru form might be interesting. After all, it used to be an important ability to Saiyans and then all of a sudden it was a dead end? So I figured, and that is just for the purpose of this story, maybe what if going SSJ was just a shortcut to unlocking a Saiyan's true potential. And a poorly one of that? What if the true way to unlocking a Saiyan's potential was to embrace the madness and truly become one with it? But again, that's a idea for this story, not a general take on Saiyans.

i think u mentioned that Belmovekk had encountered the same problem when he reached Super Saiyan3...since he had the experience of being in oozaru form, he had the mental strength to control it...i think the best solution is to let Angela run around as a golden oozaru on a deserted planet(especially without any naquadah) and let her mind get used to her new body and then naturally allow Angela's mind to mesh and become dominant...what Shimrod and Xander tried to do is prevent something that should had happened naturally and it's causing more harm than helping her...

It could be. I haven't decided yet. It might be another useful suggestion from you that I would use.
I have to correct one thing though, Belmovekk is most definitely not a SSJ3. Just SSJ. Nor is he as gifted as Goku or Vegeta in reaching the higher levels.

Vegeta didn't had problem like this when he turned Super Saiyan4 since he had lived with it all of his life as well as had been trained to control the beast...Angela just needs a lot of that...maybe Vegeta can teach her but i don't think he has the patience to teach anyone...then again if he see that there's a level he can reach, he might just have the patience to help Angela so that he can learn to reach that level as well if Belmovekk is too busy with other things...

anyway i'm glad that Angela might be fully back eventually or she'll have Vegeta's attitude who's eternally pissed off at something ince someone else is stronger than him...i would like to see more of Shimrod and maybe Master Roshi sharing their collection...as for the rest, u still have to catch up with several months of what happened in the SGC after the mayor's death...

What happened at the SGC after the mayor's death? Stuff.

That's the difference between this story and the previous ones. They were my takes on Buffy seasons 2 and 3. This story is just an episode of what happens during season 4. The rest, I leave up to the imagination of my readers.

Originally Posted by krinsbez

Not bad.

I'm still annoyed that you still have almost no Eddings, though.

I can spare your further annoyance and say flat out not to expect it in this story. But there are some ideas for future stories.......

[Muad'zin]

Chapter 2

‘Like Unto The Gods’




Madness comes, and madness goes
An insane place, with insane moves
Battles without, for battles within
Where evil lives and evil rules
Breaking them up, just breaking them in
Quickest way out, quickest relief wins
Never disclose, never betray
Cease to speak or cease to breathe
And when you kill a man, you're a murderer
Kill many, and you're a conqueror
Kill them all ... Ooh ... Oh you're a God!

Megadeth, Captive Honour
Lyrics and music by: Mustaine, Ellefson, Menza, Friedman




AN: By contrast to the torturous labor that was chapter 1, this one wrote itself pretty quickly. If there’s anything wrong with the street names that I’ve used, blame Google Maps, not poor me.




A-Day minus 312



You could say that Quentin Travers was a man on a mission.

Some would say very diplomatically that Travers was a man who would take the Council’s business very personal.

Others would say that Travers was an asshole who turned his own business into that of the Council’s.

Both sides agreed that whatever his business was, Quentin Travers was a man who would go to any length, make any sacrifice to make it happen. His admirers in the Council admired his will and determination in getting the job done, no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice. His enemies in the Council loathed how the sacrifices he was willing to make always tended to be amongst their ranks. Both sides tended to agree though that it was the Slayers who bore the brunt of his determination and willingness to make sacrifices.

But that was how it had always been.

Historically Slayers had been both gifted and cursed by their gift of strength and ability. For it meant that no man could truly fight along their side. Which meant Slayers were in the end always alone. And all the Council could do was help them and point them in the right direction, to give their sacrifice meaning.

In a sense it was as hard on the Council as it was on the Slayers. It bore a stark resemblance to a story called Who walks away from Omelas. Omelas was a fictitious city where peace and prosperity were abundant and everybody could have as they desired with no consequences. But the price of that prosperity did not come cheap for it was fueled by dark magic. For in order for Omelas and its citizens to prosper someone had to suffer. And in this case a child.

In Omelas a child would be taken at random at age six and then incarcerated in a small room. He or she would have to live out its life living in its own excrements, with no companionship other then daily mistreatment by its jailors until the day it would die from malnourishment and neglect. Then a new child would be chosen.

The knowledge of this was not kept a secret. All citizens of Omelas knew this. They were shown the child when it was being fed or mistreated. Many would protest upon learning of this practice. But what could they do? Their society prospered and to free the child, which was by then usually beyond help, would mean the end of Omelas. In the end most came to accept this or chose to ignore it. Those that couldn’t left the city and walked away. Never to be seen again.

The Council was like this. Sure, the lives of Slayers were short and brutal. And it wasn’t fair. But what could they do? The system had worked for Millennia to keep humanity safe. If the price for the millions of lives saved was a small number of girls having to die, then maybe that was a sacrifice worth paying for the greater good. Some in the Council viewed the Slayers as nothing but mere tools. Lose one, another will always come. Others genuinely tried to help the Slayers as best as they could. And some left the Council altogether.

Quentin Travers believed in the Council. He believed in the system of Watchers and Slayers. Yes, it wasn’t a fair system. But the world wasn’t fair either. And if a vampire put his teeth into your neck you’d better hope that the Universe was fair enough to make sure a Slayer was patrolling nearby, otherwise fair, schmair. Despite its imperfections the system worked as the world was still turning and humanity still the planet’s dominant species. And he wasn’t going to risk anything endangering the system. Or anyone for that matter.

Which was what brought him here to this present place.

Quentin was sitting in a blinded SUV, one in a series of SUV’s that drove across interstate 480, after having picked him up from Cleveland-HopkinsInternationalAirport. Cleveland, with its own Hellmouth had a small Council presence to keep an eye on things. But things had been peaceful as far as Hellmouths go. The local demon population seemed more interested in keeping a low profile and making money then creating havoc. Which meant that as far as the Council was concerned they were more then happy to let sleeping dogs lie.

Which is also why as part of that strategy Quentin Travers had not informed the local Watcher of his visit. In fact few even in the Council knew that Travers was currently as they called it, Stateside. In fact he was even traveling alone without his Council bodyguard. A breach in Council protocol. But a necessary one.

Without anyone to speak to to ease the current monotonous journey Travers entertained himself by looking out of the window. While the fellow road users couldn’t see who was inside his blackened SUV Quentin had the luxury of watching them. He had long given up on taking in the sights of a new city. After a while they all seemed the same. But he liked to entertain himself by watching his fellow road users. Imagine if their lives would one day be touched by the super natural.

It was a childish game, but knowing that that woman driving in her cheap Honda, chattering obliviously on some cell phone, that she could do so because the Council had been on the ball for all those Millennia, that was something that truly inspired him. That that old grandmother holding up other drivers because she was old and cautious could only do so because a certain Slayer in 1975 staved off an apocalypse in the greater Cleveland area at the time.

Some people he could instantly see if they would be vampire bait. Just by looking at them you could see that they would give up the moment death personified knocked on their doors. While others, they looked like they would put up a fight. Vampires could also see that. Most preferred the submissive ones, for it allowed them to feed relatively unnoticed, as the feisty ones put up a struggle. And struggles tended to get noticed more often. Of course there were always a few vampires who preferred their prey to put up a fight. Luckily odds tended to favor the cautious ones as most of the brash ones got thinned out.

In no small thanks to the Slayers. God bless them. It came as a surprise to many considering his distant opinion on Slayers but Travers was one of the few in the Council who could name every Slayer of the last hundred years. They may be tools, but even valuable tools are worthy of some remembrance.

As he mused interstate 480 gave way to interstate 77 and the small convoy turned north. The two men up front hadn’t said a word, except in their small radios as the other vehicles called in with updates and information. Other then that they ignored Quentin in the back. Which was to his liking anyway. After all, he wasn’t here to deal with underlings.

Eventually the convoy turned right and drove northeast over interstate 90.Then to Quentin’s surprise the convoy turned west again towards the city center and entered the campus grounds of ClevelandStateUniversity. Driving almost the entire length of the campus grounds they entered a small road leading towards the edge of the campus grounds until they reached a small cluster of buildings that according to their signs were part of the University Maintenance department.

As they halted near one of the buildings two men came outside, dressed as maintenance workers. But maintenance workers didn’t carry small concealed sub-machine guns. One of the men came towards the vehicle Travers was in and opened the door.

“If you please, sir,” he said.

Quentin nodded and stepped out of the car. A chill November wind greeted him, blowing all the way from Canada from across Lake Erie, so he pulled his coat closed. As the man that had opened the car door closed it again the other one pointed towards the building they had come from.

“This way, sir?” the man said and Quentin nodded again. The guard walked beside him while the other one kept a keen eye around him. Behind them the small convoy drove off again the way it had come.

Stepping through the door that one of the guards opened for him Travers entered the building. It seemed like an average maintenance building, full of equipment needed to maintain the university campus grounds. To his left was a small kitchen which seemed to be used by the guards as a restroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact one of the guards that had closed the door behind them even went back inside the kitchen.

“If you would, sir,” the leading guard said pointing towards the small kitchen. Shrugging Travers heeded the guard’s request and went inside and sat down on a chair by the only table. Meanwhile a radio was playing a popular tune, Quentin was unsure which, he had long given up on following popular music culture. Nor did he care.

“Coffee or tea, sir?” the other guard asked as he stood in front of a small hot drinks vending machine. Quentin was tempted to ask for tea but chose not to.

“Coffee would be okay,” he said. The guard nodded and pressed for coffee. There was no way in hell any vending machine would do justice to a cup of tea so why even bother. A decision vindicated as soon as the guard put down a plastic cup in front of him. It didn’t even do the name coffee justice.

“Here, sir,” the guard said.

“Thanks,” Quentin replied as he picked up the plastic cup, cautiously sniffed its content, then put it back, “so what now?”

“Now we wait,” the other guard said as he put his sub-machine gun on the sink and went to the vending machine to get a hot drink himself, “someone will come for you, sir.”

“Okay,” Quentin sighed as he resigned himself to the wait. It would seem his new allies were no strangers to the waiting game either. He took a sip from the coffee and nearly pulled a grimace. The coffee look alike tasted as foul as it looked! Not even the lowliest employee at the Council headquarters would have to endure such disgusting coffee back home. In a sense it was ironic since the Americans tended to pride themselves on taking care of their workers.

Once both guards gotten themselves some coffee they sat down on the table. Then one of them reached out towards the radio and changed the channel.

“… and now the true face of these so-called Democrats is revealed,” a voice on the radio droned on, “for do these so-called Democrats respect the will of the people? No. They reach for their perennial allies, the fat cat lawyers, and bury the election process in lawsuits. But it doesn’t matter, America, for the will of the people will be heard. Including the people of Florida. And…”

“Rush Limbaugh?” guard one said incredulously, “you listen to that fat idiot?”

“Hey, I happen to think he makes a lot of sense,” guard two said sipping from his coffee, “I fail to see why Gore has to demand a recount.”


“Oh, please,” guard one snorted, “that election down there was clearly rigged. That’s what you get if you put Bush’s brother in charge of the…”

“Oh common,” guard two protested, “that’s just loser talk. Do you think high and mighty Al would have protested if Florida had gone his way? Its his own damn fault that he lost the election. Just take West-Virginia. Always staunchly democrat but not this time. If he had paid a little more attention to the small states instead of pouring everything in the big ones he could have easily afforded to lose Florida. He got what’s coming to him.”

The two guards kept bickering for a while, much to Travers’ dismay. Typical lowlife behavior of the Colonies, he thought disapproving. Eventually the two guards were interrupted when somebody else entered the kitchen.

The newcomer was dressed in everyday civilian garb, but everything about him, from his stance to his short cropped hair shouted military.

“Sir Quentin Travers?” the newcomer asked formally. Travers didn’t reply, he just rose.

“If you would come this way, sir,” the newcomer said and pointed outside of the small kitchen. Travers said nothing to the two guards but instead left the kitchen and followed the newcomer as he walked towards the back of the storage room.

In the back, behind a large snow mobile he touched a part of the wall, after which a large doorway slid open.

“If you would, sir,” the man said, gesturing towards the door opening.

Typically American, Travers thought as he stepped through into an elevator. Always resorting to complicated gaudy and flashy solutions straight from bad Hollywood movies. Which wasn’t so strange if you considered that few of them read anything even remotely considered literature as a counterweight to all of those bad influences.

The man joined Travers in the elevator and the door closed behind them. The man leaned forward into a small mirror and a glowing green light scanned his face.

“There can be only one,” the man said aloud.

“Initiative vocal code match complete,” a computer voice said in response, “special agent, Jackson, Thomas. Identity number 64921”

No sooner had the computer voice spoken as the elevator began moving downwards. For quite some time. When it came to a sudden stop the doors went open and a long white corridor became visible. Inside the corridor a soldier in uniform stood guard and stood to attention.

Travers and Jackson left the elevator and passed the soldier, who seemed to be guarding a small guardroom where another soldier sat watching rows upon rows of screens. On one screen Travers could see the two guards from above still in heated argument.

Jackson led Travers through the seemingly endless corridor until they reached the end of it. Then he halted and opened a door for Quentin.

“If you’d please, sir,” he said firmly and Travers stepped inside. He entered what seemed like a conference room, with a large u shaped table with built in viewing screens at separate intervals.

“If you would please sit down, sir, somebody will come for you shortly,” Jackson said, “can I get you anything, sir? Coffee, tea?”

Remembering the atrocious coffee from upstairs Travers declined.

“No thanks,” he said. Jackson nodded, then he closed the door behind him and left. Being intimately familiar with the waiting game Travers then decided to spend the time productively by picking a seat that would give him the most commanding position for the meeting that was about to happen. At least the Americans got this part right as he approvingly noticed that all the chairs at the table were slightly uncomfortable, forcing the seated to sit in an uncomfortable upright position.

So he made himself comfortable in the only comfortable chair that there was, the one at the head of the table. If they wanted to play games with him, well, he wrote the book on them.





After having made their guest wait for fifteen minutes director Maggie Walsh decided she had made Quentin Travers wait long enough. With lieutenant Jackson in tow she made her way to the conference room. Only to find their guest sitting comfortably in her chair.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Travers,” she said to her guest who made no signs of getting up from her chair.

“Likewise, Ms. Walsh,” Travers replied amiably, “I trust everything is well now?”

“As well as can be expected,” she replied back. He wants to be play the diplomat, well so can I, she’d thought. Travers nodded politely in response.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, then he waved around him, “this is quite a setup you have here. It’s quite….., dramatic?”


Dramatic my ass, you pompous British ass!

“The Initiative is housed in a former Cold War installation,” Lieutenant Jackson said in that tone of voice like he was playing tour guide, “It was build in the late 1950’s by the US government to house in case of a nuclear attack the Eastern Great Lakes recovery administration and the headquarters of 5th Army. The facilities were completed in 1961 and briefly used during the Cuban missile crisis. After that it was deemed that command and control centers in major cities proved too much of a risk in case of all out thermo nuclear war and the facility was abandoned. As of 1964 the facility was turned over to the National Security Council but never used until the NID acquired ownership once we learned it was situated near a Hellmouth.”

“Fascinating,” Travers said in a tone that suggested anything but that. Again Maggie Walsh cursed that she was forced to work with this cretin. That Senator Kinsey had ordered her to work with this man. She still thought that if given enough time they would succeed.

Unfortunately time was not their friend.

It never was.

“So how was your flight, Mr. Travers,” she asked him, “or can I say Quentin?”

“Sir Quentin Travers,” the cretin replied smiling a wry smile, “But you may call me Travers. And in answer to your question, yes, I had a good flight.”

Asshole!

“Fine, Mr. Travers,” she said blandly, “would you like a tour of the facility?”

“I’d like that,” the cretin replied. So they left the conferencing room and moved into the Initiative proper.

“The base is divided in two parts,” she said as she and Lieutenant Jackson led Travers through the base. The old civilian administration part now houses our logistical and research facilities. Like these.”

They entered a large room where several scientists were working behind rows and rows of computers.

“As luck would have it the university uses part of the old communications network to install their own glass fiber network,” Walsh continued as she pointed to a computer, “Our engineers were thus able to hook up our network right up to that of the university’s. That way our data connections will be masked by that of the university, which as I’m told has a significant file sharing and illegal software community active on its servers.”

“Hiding behind the chatter of the university, quite clever,” Travers conceded, “But what if one of those internet savvy people tries to hack into your systems?”

Walsh suppressed a snort. Stupid technophobic Council, they probably just used the nearest internet café rather then let this new thing called computers into their sacrosanct and undoubtedly stuffy headquarters.

“In order to hack into our servers they would first still need to know we exist,” Walsh said confidently, “trust me, our existence is secure.”

“I’m sure they said similar things when the Titanic first sailed,” Travers replied, causing Walsh to represh a mighty urge to strangle the bastard.

“We are also well protected by the latest in passive and active firewalls and guardians,” she said, which didn’t impress sir Cretin much. Probably because he didn’t have a clue as to what it meant, the medieval dimwit!

Moving on they passed through the base canteen. Where Travers again made some disparaging remarks. Which were hilarious in hindsight considering the low international reputation of British cuisine. But as it would seem, nothing but the finest French and Italian cuisine would do for the gents of the Council.

Beyond the canteen were the military facilities, where people like Lieutenant Jackson honed their skills. Sir Quentin Travers was mightily surprised to learn that most of his men weren’t even based in the base but instead were quartered in the dorms of the university above.

“That makes no sense,” Travers remarked, “What could the possible benefits be?”

“We think it does,” Maggie Walsh smiled, “not only do we base our men amongst the student population of both universities, I myself teach daily as a professor at the university.”

“Doesn’t that increase the risk of possible exposure?” sir cretin asked.

“HST’s like to prey upon students in particular,” Lieutenant Jackson interjected, “many of them are away from home and feel lost and lonely, making for excellent prey. Also many students tend to drop out during the first year so a missing student tends to go unnoticed for a long while. And some HST’s are just drawn to so many young people in the prime of their life. By mingling with the student population and going to their clubs and social activities we were alerted to and managed to bag ourselves quite the number of local HST’s.”

“In my case I deemed it necessary not to drop out of public life altogether,” Walsh said, “as I was quite known in the academic circuit. Teaching in the university allows me to keep up my public cover. Plus it allows me to keep in touch with the men, like Lieutenant Jackson while they are under cover above.”

“I see,” Sir Cretin said, but from his body language she could see that the very idea abhorred him. Not that surprising though. From what she had been briefed about the Council it preferred to keep a hidden profile above all else.

“There is another benefit to housing most of the staff off base,” Walsh continued as they entered another corridor. At the end of which were two soldiers armed with assault machine guns. Walsh pulled out her ID card and put it into a card reader, then she punched in her code. As the doors opened the soldiers kept a weary eye on the entire procedure.

“By housing most staff off base we can utilize more of the base for other purposes,” Walsh said as they entered the high security zone. As if in answer a side door opened and two soldiers emerged pulling a trolley along. On the trolley were the remains of a cut open and gutted demon.

Frowning disapproving Travers followed the gurney of death as it passed them.

“I think I just saw breaches of at least half a dozen international agreements,” he said disapprovingly.

“Well, the times they are changing,” Walsh shrugged casually, “we don’t live in the middle ages any more and as far as I know the United States never was a signatory to the Saint-Marc convent, nor the charter of Mieux or the treaties of Constantine.”

“Only because it didn’t exist in those days,” Travers countered, “but the Hague covenant of the Munster peace treaty of 1648 clearly stipulates that any new state shall only receive international recognition unless it agrees to adhere to any past treaties between states and the Watchers Council.”

“Whatever,” Walsh shrugged, the pompous ass really getting on her nerves by now, “look I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here to preach us on breaches of international protocol. You got people for that, we got people for that.”

“You’re quite right, Ms. Walsh,” Sir Cretin replied as they went through another door, “Oh my, that is quite the selection you got here.”

He was talking about the large numbers of cages that could be seen in this corridor. Inside each cage a vampire or demon could be seen. Imprisoned behind a massive glass wall. Somewhat nervously Travers reached out towards a cage and almost expected the demon inside to throw himself against the glass. It was what they did in the cages underneath the Watchers Council headquarters. Only here the demon just watched him in complete apathy.

“The glass is a new carbon composite that we are currently marketing,” Walsh said proudly, “although the one we use here is more advanced. If a demon or vampire were to touch it for instance they would receive quite a nasty electric shock.”

Travers withdrew his hand from the glass like it was infected with the plague.

“Don’t worry,” Walsh chortled, “only those on the inside will get the nasty shock.”

“I see,” Travers said somewhat impressed, “I must say the Council might be interested in placing an order ourselves.”

“Good ole fashioned American ingenuity,” Walsh grinned. They moved on past cage after cage. Some of the caged demons and vampires still had some spirit left in them and shouted insults as they passed, but most kept quiet.

Next they went to some of the laboratories that were inside the high security area. Where they came upon a team of scientists in surgical clothes that were busy performing an autopsy on a demon. After that they returned to the conference room where Maggie made sure that this time she would be seated at the head of the table.

“This is quit an impressive operation you have here, Ms. Walsh,” Travers said as he seated himself as far away as was possible from the Initiative leader, “I’m not quite sure what you need our expertise for.”

Walsh pulled out a file map and slid it across the table. The map contained a series of files all marked top secret. He had to reach out for the file but Travers pulled it towards him, then he opened it and read its content.

“I am not familiar with this prophecy,” he said after having read the file, “in fact none of our prophecies ever mention something about an apocalypse caused by a pair of robots.”

“Well, I think they had other things on their mind in the dark ages,” Walsh said derisively.

“They do tend to be quite thorough though,” Travers countered, “do not underestimate the powers of the ancient visionaries to foretell the future. You would be interested to learn what modern advances they did foretell. For instance the rise of the internet was foretold already by an ancient Sumerian oracle living in the third millennium BC.”

“Prophecies can be twisted to explain whatever you want to them to,” Walsh said unimpressed, “Especially after the fact. We on the other hand have supporting evidence regarding the coming of these androids.”

She activated her screen and that in front of Travers. On it the body could be seen of a small man of black origin.

“About a year ago three androids appeared looking for information. This one was captured in Sunnydale California. He was damaged beyond repair but once you stripped away the outer layer of flesh he was all robot inside.”

Travers looked up from the screen and looked at Walsh.

“Did you just say Sunnydale California?” he asked, his arrogance gone like he had just seen a ghost.

“I did,” Walsh said, then she grinned, “In fact, records have it that you were in that same town not that long before. Coincidence?”

Whatever seemed to have shaken Sir Cretin shook him no more as he quickly composed himself.

“A mere unfortunate set of coincidences,” he said, “after all, as you probably know, the town has been build upon an Hellmouth.”

“Oh, I know,” Walsh echoed, then she touched her screen again and another body became visible. This time that of a large brutish body builder.

“This android was recovered in San Francisco. SiliconeValley to be precise. Capsule Corp. corporation to be even more precise. Where it tried to attack the daughter of the owner of said company. This happened early this year. Despite a massive search by both the FBI and the US armed forces for this android.”

Then the picture changed to that of a severely mauled human body, barely recognizable. The body lay on a surgical table similar to the ones in the Initiative.

“This one was recovered about half a year ago. Again in Sunnydale California. Around the time of the chemical explosion that leveled the town’s high school and surrounding area. Like the other two androids this one was all robot underneath an one inch thick layer of flesh skin.”

”I see,” Travers nodded, “that does point to some credence to this prophecy of impending doom by robotic hands. It still doesn’t explain why none of our prophecies make mention of it.”

“Blind chance?” Walsh shrugged, “Wasn’t US history irrevocably changed when one man fired three bullets at a moving car in Dallas in 1964?”

“Our prophecies foretold even of that event,” Travers said, causing Walsh to snort.

“Oh, really? It never occurred you guys to give us a heads up? Or was it just something you guys ‘learned’ after the fact?”

Travers didn’t respond.

Maggie Walsh sat up straight in her chair and put her hands together in front of her.

“From what I can gather your organization is engaged in a cosmic struggle between good and evil. A delicate balance that has to be maintained for order to exist. Sometimes the good guys win, sometimes the bad guys. The end result is always the same. So you get your prophecies from the good guys. Or at least I hope they are the good guys. I take some of the bad guys get their own clues. But even in the best of all regulated systems there is still a measure of chaos. Something that is not planned, something that could go wrong that suddenly does go wrong.

We think that this professor Gero is that chaotic element. Did you know I met him once when I was a freshman student? He gave a guest lecture back then and I think most of what he was saying about robotics was so advanced I forgot most of it. I’m pretty sure that if it had been taped it would still be cutting edge today. Based upon the androids we so far encountered I totally believe that in less then a year we will be royally screwed. And if none of the your precious assorted ravings of madmen and lunatics mention Gero it’s because he is that random chaotic element that crops up from time to time.”

“So what do you want from us,” Travers asked. In response Walsh brought up schematics. Schematics that had Travers gasp for air.

“You must be joking,” he said aghast.

“Do I look like a joker?” she said deadpan, “The Initiative was founded to come up with ways to enhance our soldiers in a galactic war that is even now being waged. I’m sure even the mighty Watchers Council has learned of the existence of the SGC and the Goa’uld. We are fighting as much a battle to stave of annihilation of mankind as the Council is. Only our adversaries use cutting edge technology instead of magic.

We tried coming with cybernetic implants to enhance our soldiers. And some of them work. Lieutenant Jackson is a prime example of that work.

But we need more to stop the Goa’uld. And we need even more to stop these androids. We tried installing better, stronger implants. Unfortunately after a certain level they kept on killing our volunteers. The we hit upon the idea of using demons. Demons are stronger, they can take on the more powerful implants humans can’t. We want to build an army of enhanced demons so we can not only take the fight to the Goa’uld and win, but also defeat those androids.

But for that we need the Council’s aid. We need time to study demons. Better understand their physiology. In a perfect world there would be plenty of time. Unfortunately we don’t have that time. And that is where the Council comes in. We don’t have the time to study demons. But you have the information we need already. If you could release that information to us it would allow us to field that demon army in less then a year, instead of years.”

Quentin Travers had been listening to the woman’s lecture. He knew she disliked him. That was okay. Plenty of people disliked him. In fact it was part of his outward persona that he carefully cultivated. It put people on the wrong foot and he found that it made people constantly underestimate him.

Even now he could see in the good professor’s eyes that she feared that he might block the transfer of knowledge based on some old Council distrust of governments and their experiments on demons. Truth be told he couldn’t care less. Governments had been caught dabbling in demon hunting since the rise of the first states in places like Egypt, Sumeria and the Indus valley. Hell, more often then not they had even been caught dabbling in the black arts or employment of demons.

While official Council policy was to forbid government interference in the super natural, this had not always been the case. Sometimes governments and the Watcher’s Council had worked together closely. In medieval times many a Watcher occupied important government positions that would allow them to deal with the super natural. Of course in medieval times governments had been relatively weak and very much dependent on the few people that were literate in a time when most people couldn’t read. So the arrangement was to everyone’s satisfaction.

That had changed with the Renaissance and the rise of Reason. As more people abandoned blind faith and superstition, governments seemed less inclined to be associated with the Council. And as governments grew ever more powerful the Council thought it more and more prudent to make sure that the less they were involved with the super natural, the better. Up to the point that there had been some in the Council in the 1930’s who encouraged a certain Adolf Hitler to act against the Soviet-Union, as they feared Stalin’s grasp on all things super natural inside the Soviet-Union as a terrible danger in itself. Of course Stalin found out. He always did. As a result of that the Council found it extremely hard to operate at all in the Eastern Block until the fall of Communism. And even that was only possible by giving Stalin the heads of those who had encouraged Hitler on a silver platter.

As a result the Council nowadays was extremely skittish regarding any government involvement in anything super natural and guarded its prerogative with extreme prejudice.

But Quentin Travers had other priorities in mind. Gradually, over time, he had come to learn certain truths. Truths that had shocked him to such a degree that when US Senator Kinsey had approached him on a matter of common interest in certain areas, instead of treating the message like the proverbial plague he saw an opportunity. And when he saw to what a degree Kinsey’s Initiative was willing to do he saw even greater opportunity.

Yes. He would have to thread carefully. If his enemies in the Council were to learn of this it would be his downfall. His death even. But the gains…. And in the end things could be in the Council’s favor even in the long term. The Council had learned of the US governments war with the Goa’uld and the chance of impending planetary destruction. If by agreement these cyborg demons would only be used off planet it would mean harnessing mankind’s eternal enemy against its newest enemy. Whilst restoring also that which should be rightfully the Council’s. But he had to thread carefully. So careful.

“I have to say I am very much displeased,” Travers said with mock indignation, “Not since the days of the Roman XXXIII legion, the black legion, have I seen so much blatant government meddling in affairs that do not concern it. If other nations were to learn of this the implications could be most dire.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. If other countries were to learn of these experiments there would be repercussions. But at the same time Travers was realist enough to know that the United States was the world’s sole superpower and to many other countries were dependent on it for them to act against it. In that sense the Council thought it prudent to remind countries that it had power of its own, but never give them cause to actually be forced to use it.

So he put up a struggle. Let her talk some more to convince them, play hard to get.

Only she didn’t play that game.

Walsh stood up and leaned on the table.

“Let’s cut the bullshit,” she said coldly, “Let’s not pretend that you’re going to play hard to get, and I’m not going to pretend that there is imminent danger. Truth be told, I’m not sure Gero is crazy enough to destroy the world to get revenge. Crazed scientist trying to destroy the world is after all such a cliché and the guy seemed pretty sane when I met him.

But you and I know perfectly well that there is something wrong with that place in California. I saw you stiffen up when I mentioned the place. It’s no accident that two of those three androids were destroyed there. There is an alien presence there. You know it, I know it. Senator Kinsey knows it. In fact he knows even more then me. Whatever it is, it’s interfering with your Council business and the Initiative was founded to help fight alien dangers.

So let’s not beat around here, shall we? What does it take? What is your price?”





“He wants us to do what?”

Senator Kinsey looked incredulously at the small hologram of Initiative Commander Walsh.

“He wants us to either assassinate or use the new demon warriors to kill three people,” holographic Walsh said without blinking an eye. Of course she had been privy to that information a little earlier.

“Then why doesn’t he do so himself?” Senator Kinsey said into the small holographic projector on top of his desk in his office, “He’s the head of the friggin’ Watcher’s Council. He could order the assassination of the new president elect if he wanted to and get away with it.”

“Oh, has it been settled then,” Walsh replied offhand. The woman had a very annoying quirky side, Kinsey thought.

“I wish,” Kinsey snorted, “Al Gore is as stubborn as he’s mind numbingly dull . Back to the point. Who does he want to get killed?”

Walsh let out a chortle.

“You’ll get a real kick out of this one,” she said, “apparently he wants us to kill two girls and one guy in Sunnydale.”

Kinsey’s face turned slightly pale.

“Not HIM?” he said aghast.

“Told you you’d get a real kick out of it,” holo-Walsh smirked. Kinsey leaned back in his seat for a moment and mulled things over.”

“I can see why he wants HIM dead,” he finally said, “he’s on our list as well. But we are not yet ready to move on him. What about the girls?”

In response Kinsey’s personal fax machine, the one only few people had the number to, came to life. Kinsey reached for the fax print outs and read them.

“She’s his daughter?” he said surprised, “I thought he was childless.”

“Step-daughter,” Holo-Walsh corrected him, “To be. From what Jackson could gather he’s engaged to his mother.”

“There’s little to no information about the other one,” Kinsey said as he flicked through the papers, “just some juvenile records from Boston and…. Sunnydale again?”

“Nothing recent though” Holo-Walsh shrugged, “Jackson tried all that he could but he couldn’t find anything recent. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

“I see,” Kinsey said as he put the papers down, “You know, Director Walsh, these are some pretty stiff demands. Try as we might we aren’t ready yet to move against HIM.”

“I think Sir Cretin knows this,” Holo-Walsh said, “he’s not expecting payment up front. He expects payment on delivery. Once we get what we want he gets what he wants. And as it so happens at least one of his targets happens to be ours. Does it not, senator?”

“We should never have made a deal with this ‘alien’,” Kinsey said as he felt his anger rise again, putting extra vitriol on the word alien, “It’s bad enough that we have Hammond’s bunch cowtowing to various alien governments, now he made a Faustian deal with this ‘alien’ as well. We will not stand for this, I tell you.”

Holo-Walsh said nothing ,just giving Kinsey an amiable smile as he finished his rant.

“Does this mean I should tell Sir Cretin he has a deal?” she said.

“He has a deal alright,” Kinsey snorted, “if he gives us what we need to achieve Project 314 we will take care of his little problem.”

“I’m sure he will be pleased to hear so,” Holo-Walsh said. Then she cut off the connection and the hologram disappeared, leaving Senator Kinsey to contemplate the deal he just gave his okay to. Then he picked up the fax print of HIM and looked at the picture.

“We’re going to kill you and your kind, mister,” he said coldly, “and you know what, this time Jack’s not even going to stop me. He’ll be cheering me on.”





As Walsh re-entered the conference room she found Travers once again sitting in her chair, like he owned the place. Sir Cretin was now really beginning to piss her off. If only they weren’t so strapped for time….

“So what did our mutual associate have to say,” Travers smiled amiably at her, “I take it he wasn’t averse to our terms?”

Oh how she wanted to order Jackson to beat that smirk of his face.

Instead she put on her business face.

“Kinsey agreed to your terms,” she said and walked up to Sir Cretin, “He can understand why you want to take him out, but like me he expresses puzzlement as to why you want the two girls to die. And FYI, that is my chair.”

“Force of habit,” Travers smiled condescendingly as he stood up, “as for the girls, you do not need to concern yourself as to the why. All you need to know is that it is the will of the Council. The how is all you need to worry about.”

“You do realize that if it were known that we were to conspire with a foreign agency to kill American citizens there would be a public outcry,” Walsh scoffed as Travers passed her.

“Think of it like this,” Travers replied, “there would be a public outcry regardless if it were known that the US government experimented on people. At least this way public anger will be directed at the both of us. Now we both have an incentive to succeed lest we both hang.”

“Somehow I don’t feel much reassured,” Walsh snorted as she looked at Lieutenant Jackson, who just stood their implacably at attention, like the whole proceeding was the most common thing in the world. Or like he just had his hearing switched off.

“The world is as it is,” Travers shrugged, “Now, before I go and would like to see your current project.”


“What do you mean?” Walsh asked innocuously.

“Come on,” Travers said like he had caught a small child in the act, “You tell me you’re experimenting on people and demons and all I get to see are corpses? Where’s the big project? The current demon you’re working on? I can’t help you people if you don’t show how far you are.”

Giving one more look at the implacable Lieutenant Jackson Walsh sighed.

“Come,” she said and led Travers back into the maze that was the Initiative, with the lieutenant in their wake of course. Into the secure zone all the way towards the back, where another pair of soldiers armed with assault machine guns stood guard.

“We used this specimen for various reasons,” she said as she punched in her code to open the door, “but most of all because he showed exceptional promise and aptitude for what was required.”

The doors swung open and another laboratory was revealed.

“It took four full teams to capture this HST,” she continued, “a record that stands unrivaled until today. Four men were killed trying to capture him and even more were wounded. And even although we probably reached the end as far we could take with his designs, they are the furthest we’ve gotten so far.”

As Travers followed Walsh he saw that while at the right end of the laboratory Initiative scientists were working on their workstations, the left side was used exclusively for a large test bed.

“Good God!” Travers exclaimed as he recognized who was on that test bed.

It was the vampire Spike.





A-Day minus 346



The brute was strong.

He had to give him that.

Strong enough to give him a strong licking.

They must have dug deep to find this demon. Deep in some faraway shithole Crappistan or hell dimension to come up with this particular beast that proved itself strong enough to stand up to him.

He had to bring out all the stops except for the energy attacks to keep this demon from trouncing all over him. And Spike was loving it!

When he had fled from that accursed town in California he swore never to return to that place. At first he had gone South to see Drusilla again. But halfway down Mexico it occurred to him that there was no point to going back to Dru like some lovesick puppy. So he had shaken his funk off of him. Big deal. It still didn’t mean Dru would take him back. Besides, if he went back to her that would give her the advantage. Better that she’d come to him. Let her come to her senses and stop screwing every disgusting demon she came across to punish him once she learned he no longer cared. Then she’d return to him.

Meanwhile he would be best served if he became his own man again. So he went to Mexico City in search for a place to rule.

Mexico City was unruly, ungodly, the deathrate was insane with human life meaning nothing there. And that was almost all the work of humans themselves.

Even when he was still Angelus, that tosser Angel had his bouts of the broody. It was in one of his broody moments that Angelus had said that the biggest demon preying upon humanity was humanity itself and that by comparison he was just an amateur. In Mexico City Spike again learned how right brood boy had been. He killed five people on arriving that night and within a week had created his own private band of followers again. And nobody seemed to take notice, just some more statistics.

But even in Mexico City vampires and demons didn’t own the night. By the next week his private band had been all but destroyed by what he would later learn was a private army of demon hunters, armed and trained by the Mexican Catholic Church called La Inquisition. Apparently it was alright for drug lords and corrupt politicians to kill people by the dozens, but an honest master vampire, no he’d get the cross and holy water treatment in no time.

Such was the way of the world though and complaining got you nowhere. He was about to leave Mexico City again when Spike learned of the Circuit.

The Circuit was a network of no rules underground to the death fighting. Mostly between demons, but sometimes between demons and humans. And best of all, what happened in the ring, stayed in the ring.

Not long after he had been turned Angelus once mentioned that there were demons and vampires who made a living in underground fights. It piqued the brawler interest inside Spike, but Angelus had made it damn certain that such thing were beneath them. After that Spike had found other diversions, but now that he learned of the Circuit his interest was again piqued.

He attended a match as a visitor and found this was where he belonged. There were no complications, there was no ideology, just an honest to God fight. It may be beneath that Nancy Boy Angel, but it was at the right gutter level as far as Spike was concerned. No sooner had he witnessed the fight as he challenged the winner to a duel.

At first he noticed that vampires were frowned upon. Maybe it was for certain racist reasons because of their human origins. Or because as he later learned that some vampires had tried to masquerade themselves as human fighters. In the end it didn’t matter. As long as he provided a good honest entertaining fight he found that people began to cheer for him.

And he did try to give them a good honest entertaining fight. Thanks to Sunnydale he was at least ten times stronger as any other vampire and stronger then most demons. This meant that he could finish off almost any opponent before he even had to break a sweat. But what would be the point in that? Or the fun both for himself and the audience? So Spike made it almost a point of religion to lower himself to the point of his adversary and defeat him purely on skill and determination alone. And as he also became very adapt at playing the crowds it meant he also became a crowd favorite.

El Gringo Blanqueada

As the Circuit and La Inquisition had an agreement with each other that whatever happened in the ring, stayed in the ring, Spike finally had what he wanted. He was his own man again. He got to fight to his hearts desire and got paid handsomely for it. The only downside was that the Circuit frowned on its fighters being ‘active’ outside of the ring or the gym.

Still, he had all the blood he could ever want donated by loving fans. Mexicans were a strange lot in that respect as the only thing they loved more then a real game of football was to see a good fight. It was almost like he was living the life of a rock star. And he loved it.

Eventually though the life in Mexico grew repetitive and stale. While Spike had always loved to overindulge himself from time to time, constant open debauchery grew boring even for him, so Spike decided that maybe the time had come to become a real professional and travel the Circuit worldwide. The Circuit in Western-Europe was only a short tour as West Europeans weren’t so much into blood sports as they used to be. Eastern-Europe however, and Russia in particular, proved more fertile. But before he knew it he fell back into the same pattern as in Mexico.

So he moved to New York instead. Just the right kind of money and interest to make it worthwhile but nothing like the abject hero worship that grew boring after a while.
It was in New York that he awaited the World’s best to come to him. And for Dru to make his way back to him. It was in New York that he awaited the arrival of a mysterious young man who was beginning to make a name for himself and who had even defeated the famed demon/fighter Drum from Cleveland. But he never came.

Nature abhorred a vacuum in the illegal underground demon fight circuit as much as it did elsewhere though, so a next hottest fighter always took the place of the last promise. A fine specimen that Spike was even now fighting. A young demon of an unpronounceable species, champion to a demon clan with an even more unpronounceable name.

From what his manager had told him the clan had fallen on hard times and was now desperate for money, putting up their best and finest for the Circuit. He (at least he looked like a he) had cut a sway through various fights in the Far East before coming to the US via Los Angeles, making his way towards New York. Apparently his clan now believed he was ready to take on El Gringo Blanqueada

And truth be told the kid was magnificent. If he hadn’t received Angelus chi training Spike was certain that the brute would have finished him off long ago. Combining above vampire levels of strength with superb oriental martial arts. It almost made Spike wish Angelus had received the full Saiyan curriculum from the Big Scary. All the flashy moves instead of just the basics.

But Spike also had the heart of a street brawler and he knew that most fights weren’t decided by flashy finishing moves. 95% of all fights were decided by simple basic moves. Simple punches, kicks and blocks served you well until your opponent finally made a mistake. And while the kid was good and strong, probably even had some training in less advanced martial arts involving chi, he still liked to flaunt his strength by making flashy moves. And there were probably at least half a dozen moments when Spike could have finished the fight with a simple basic attack.

That off course would be depriving the audience of a great fight. And Spike had seen enough martial arts movies to know that any good fight involved letting yourself get beaten up for a while before turning the tide. Audiences love a come back from behind. The key was in making sure you made no mistakes while getting beaten up. It was different from the go straight to the jugular tactics that he had used in the past, but then again, back then he wasn’t into providing entertainment either.

So now the question became, how to take him down without becoming accused of toying with the brute? The sudden just increase your strength and knock him down approach would probably cause some heads being turned. It had to look both pretty and believable.

In the end the answer was as simple as it was a classic. Basic attrition.

While the kid was well trained, any fighter still suffers fatigue as a fight drags on. And the fight had been dragging on for quite some while now. The kid had been keeping up a steady attack since the beginning. Occasionally Spike had taken the initiative himself, after all, he had to show he wasn’t the champion for no reason.

Eventually though his challenger showed more and more signs of wearing out more then Spike was. Maybe it was because the kid had fought to many battles in too short a time. Maybe it was because Spike had been living a way healthier lifestyle then he used too (living of the finest human blood from bloodbanks, regular exercise). Or maybe because if he really wanted to he could still draw on infinitely larger reserves.

Probably it was the latter. As there was not enough money in the world that could persuade Spike to give up smoking. Or the occasional greasy fried up foods.

Sensing that his opponent was wearing out Spike began to take the initiative and upped up his attacks, causing even more wear and tear on his opponent. The crowds roared as they sensed that the tide of battle had changed. Those with money running on Spike roared their approval, those who had betted on the newcomer didn’t. Shouting ever more desperate encouragements to the new kid instead.

It wasn’t lost on the demon either. He looked like he was starting to realize that he might actually lose the fight. He tried to compensate, throw in his last reserves. At Spike’s current level it should be enough to sway the tide against him again. But the vampire had enough of this fight and raised his power to compensate accordingly. Concern on the demon’s face now gave way to fear as he realized that there was no more way for him to win, other then maybe a mistake by Spike.

But Spike wasn’t going to give him a mistake. Sticking to purely basic attacks he hammered the demon.

“Who’s your daddy now, huh?” he yelled as he rained down blow upon blow on the luckless demon. The demon didn’t reply. Instead he resorted to every trick in his extensive arsenal to keep the vampire at bay. Which was what Spike had been after all along. For desperation plus to much techniques plus exhaustion equaled a recipe for disaster.

Which ultimately came to fruition as a defensive move meant to ward off an attack backfired and created an opening that Spike immediately exploited with a massive blow to the head. The impact of which sent the demon to the floor. He wasn’t out yet, but Spike ruthlessly exploited that his opponent had lost his mobility lying on the floor with a series of vicious kicks and blows to finish him off for good

The crowds now really sensing that blood and death were imminent howled for the slaughter to commence. After he pummeled the luckless demon for two minutes straight a bloodied Spike, glistening in sweat turned his back to the demon for the first time in the match and looked towards the crowd.

“SPIKE! SPIKE!” the chanting went and Spike raised his arms in the air to acknowledge their bloodlust.

“Is this what you want?” he yelled. The crowd roared in response.

“IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?” he yelled again as he kicked the demon’s head without looking for good measure. Again the crowds roared.

“FINISH HIM, SPIKE!”

“RIP HIS HEAD OFF!”

Grinning wickedly Spike turned towards the demon.

“As you wish,” he grinned as he knelt beside the demon and took its head in a choke hold. Then he vamped out and sank his teeth into its throat.

“SPIKE! SPIKE!” the crowds roared as he ripped the demon’s throat out. He even drank from its blood. Normally demon blood was a poor substitute for human blood. But drinking his enemy’s blood had also become sort of his finishing move trade mark. He also greatly enjoyed the massive amounts of adrenalin that had been pumping inside his victims blood. Now adrenalin wasn’t something rare in a vampire’s victim’s blood. The body seemed to be making a lot of when under attack. But it released massive amounts of it in fighter’s blood.

“Yeah!” some of the people yelled approvingly as he drank deeply. While normally a demon’s blood taste ranged from atrocious to bearable, this one had a surprising sweet aftertaste. And while adrenalin served to make it more sweet this demon had to be pretty drinkable to begin with. Causing Spike to drink much longer then he normally did.

Eventually though he let go of the now limp body and stood up, hands in the air.

“Who’s still the man now, you prancing fairy?” he yelled as an official from the Circuit came by and knelt beside the demon’s body, checking to see if Spike’s opponent was really dead. After checking he looked aside and shook his head, all while Spike was making his victory lap around the underground arena, high fiving some of the front row spectators. .

“Who’s the fuckin’ man,” Spike yelled, “certainly not that tosser.”

As Spike made his victory round a man in a tuxedo joined the Circuit official with a microphone.

“And the winner, through certain death, is still New York’s reigning champion, SPIKE!” the newcomer said.

“SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE! SPIKE!”

It was good to be alive!

In a sort of way.

What exactly happened next went in a sort of daze for Spike, with the post-battle rush still high on his brain. Circuit officials guided him towards what passed for a dressing room. He plopped onto a chair next to a table. On the table stood a large glass with a warm pint of blood. Human blood. He never asked where it came from. Probably from a human blood bank, although you never really knew with these guys. It was always at body temperature even though there wasn’t a microwave in sight.

Drinking deeply from the blood Spike ignored the Circuit official who congratulated him on yet another victory. The money, like always was on the table in an attaché briefcase. After he had finished drinking the blood he put the glass down and reached for his leather overcoat, taking from a pocket a packet of cigarettes. Pulling out a cigarette he put in his mouth, then lit it.

It tasted glorious.

After the Circuit official had left two girls entered the dressing room. They were the epitome of sluts in their skimpy outfits and high heels. And they just wanted to please him. Vampire groupies. Just two. Any more would be decadence.

And to think that wanker of an Angelus had wanted to end the world.





Spike’s limousine drove over the streets of Brooklyn. The limo and driver were courtesy of the Circuit, for their star performer. The two girls giving him a sponge bath with their tongues, well, you could say the Circuit was partly responsible. God bless the groupies! And their tongues of course.

Okay, it might be a little self-indulgent. It still was peanuts compared to Mexico. Mexicans were crazy as fuck though.

Besides the driver and the girls there was also a minder sitting up front. The minder’s job was not so much to look after Spike but to keep an eye on him. The girls came from a Circuit venue and if he killed them that would look unfavorably on the organization. Not that he was necessary though, for the girls knew tricks with their tongues that made them far more worthwhile alive then dead.

“Yeah, baby, that’s the stuff,” Spike moaned as he threw his head backwards in the comfortable chair. Life was good!

He was about to enjoy it even more when the limo came to an abrupt and full stop. It was fortunate indeed that the girls were orally gifted otherwise he could have been hurt. Or sung soprano for the rest of his undead life. Now all he did was spill lager all over the car.

“Aw, come on, you wanker,” Spike called out in annoyance to the driver, “can’t you drive a li….”

Kretsch.

Kretsch.

Both the driver and the minder spasmed momentarily before slumping in their seats as two holes appeared in the front window.

“Aw bugger,” Spike muttered as moving flashlights began to surround his car. As the two girls began to panic Spike reached for his trousers and zipped himself up.

“Spike, what’s going on?” one of the girls asked scared.

“Change of plans, love,” Spike said deadpan, “and don’t worry your pretty heads, it’s most definitely all because of me.”

Spike coiled his leg muscles and then jumped right through the roof window, 40 feet into the air. No sooner had he done so as dozens of bullets riddled the limousine turning it into Swiss cheese.

“What a waste,” Spike sighed as he looked downwards. At least a dozen men dressed in black had surrounded the car and emptied their guns into the vehicle he had jumped from. Two black SUV’s had sandwiched the limo, explaining why it had come to its untimely halt.

Coming down Spike landed 20 feet from one of the black SUV’s.

“He’s getting away,” one of the blackened commando’s called. Instead of running Spike straightened his leather overcoat and took stock of the situation.

“What, you and your little pea shooters?” he snorted derisively. Guns had long ceased being a threat to him. They could still hurt though, or damage that would slow him down. Not any more since Angelus taught them the Big Scary’s tricks. Now bullets would just bounce off him like he was superman.

To his surprise instead of riddling him with bullets the black commandos shouldered their machineguns and pulled forth something different. Next thing he knew Spike was dodging lightning bolts.

“Bugger this, I’m outta here,” Spike muttered as he deflected yet another lightning bolt. If he wanted to deflect energy beams he could have stayed in Sunnydale. It would seem that New York had outlasted its welcome.

As he ran as fast as he could (which was quite considerable) the black dressed commandos made for their SUV’s and began to give chase. It wasn’t long before they were chasing him through New York’s night lit streets.

Soon a third car, of the same black SUV variety, almost struck him as it came racing out of a side street, with Spike only narrowly avoiding it by jumping over it. Racing into a side street of his own a lightning bolt struck a little to close to home for comfort.

Running through the alley, with three black unmarked SUV’s in hot pursuit it dawned on Spike that now might be a good time to change tactics. After all, as a vampire he had done the chase game long enough to know that as long as you danced to somebody’s else’s tune you weren’t going to come out on top.

It was time to stop dancing to their tune. If he had been fully rested he might have been able to outrun three SUV’s. For a while. But he wasn’t rested. He had gone through a grueling fight and the post match cigarettes didn’t help either. What he still did have was greater strength and a few tricks up his sleeve.

While running Spike held his two arms apart and concentrated to form two globes of yellow energy in them. Which wasn’t as easy as he’d thought as he stopped using energy attacks after leaving Sunnydale. And then there was the whole being chased by crazy blackened commandos in unmarked SUV’s bit. But as soon as he felt he had amassed enough power he jumped into the air and fired off his chi.

But not to hit the three cars. The chi hit the ground right where he had been and created a large explosion. The three cars in hot pursuit hit the brakes almost immediately, but not soon enough. The second car was barely able to evade the blast by hitting a parked car, the third one came to a stop just in time. But the first car drove right into the heart of the blast.

Spike used the momentum of his blast to fly upwards, then used one hand to blast him sideways until he landed on top of one of the buildings.

“How do you like that, you bastards,” he yelled defiantly downwards.

The reply came in half a dozen of lightning bolts vaporizing chunks of concrete around him.

To his horror he saw that some of the commandos used their comrades covering fire to climb up the walls towards . Faster then was humanly possible.

Were these commandos demons? Or vampires?

It was probably best not to find out. Anyone going to all of this length to get to him probably had done more then just their homework. They might actually have a plan.

So Spike braved the lightning bolts and shot two attacks down below that destroyed the two remaining cars. Then he ran away and jumped to the roof of another building.

“So long, suckers!” he said defiantly as the first commando reached the rooftop he just vacated.

While not going as fast as on the streets Spike was at least confident that without a car they wouldn’t keep up with him. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that a few of the commandos were giving chase to him. And making decent time as well as they also were able to jump over streets from rooftop to rooftop.

This wasn’t going so well as he had hoped. Because if they could more or less keep up with him on these rooftops, their friends down below could do so even more on the streets.

He needed to get rid of his pursuers.

Spike halted for a moment behind a large air-conditioning unit. Then he pulled himself on top of it and leaped right back towards the nearest commando.

He landed right in front of the surprised bugger before he had time to react and punched him with so much force in the chest his fist disappeared right into the ribcage, crushing the commando’s heart.

“Human, huh?” Spike remarked as the commando spasmed around his fist. Then he pulled his fist out and before the commando could fall to the rooftop’s floor he made a leap towards another one.

This one had seen what had befallen his comrade and tried to bring up his ray gun. But Spike chopped it right clean in two with one stroke. To his credit the commando resorted to hand to hand combat without blinking an eye. And put up quite a struggle to boot, forcing Spike to dig deep.

But his reserves were deep, deep enough to overcome the commando. He swatted away the commando’s defenses and took him in a sleeper hold, followed by the snap of a broken neck.

Dropping the commando he wanted to jump towards the next one but instead was hit by a lightning bolt, causing excruciating pain to coarse through his body.

Fuck!

He staggered back from the impact, then got hit by another bolt, causing more pain.

Maybe it was not such a good idea after all to come back and try taking out these guys.

More bolts hit him now, as he spotted at least five more of them coming towards him, all firing their ray guns.

“NO! Not like this!” Spike exclaimed as he erected a bubble of chi to protect himself. A shimmering wall of energy surrounded him and deflected the lightning bolts. But the cost was enormous. Having never had more then the basics of Saiyan chi techniques his shield was crude and inefficient, causing him to hemorrhage energy at an enormous rate. Plus he was unable to do anything else but just stand there and maintain the shield.

Meanwhile the commandos closed in and continued to barrage him with lightning bolts.

Then something else happened. A series of concentric rings appeared out of nowhere and three more commandos appeared inside them, then the rings vanished leaving just the three commandos. They were carrying what appeared to be a large rocket launcher.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Spike exclaimed as the newcomers aimed their rocket launcher towards him, then fired it off. Like it almost went in slow motion Spike could see the projectile coming towards him, then it hit his shields causing a large explosion and tremor throughout his shield.

But as it exploded with a combined force of chemical explosion and kinetic impact the projectile weakened the shield just enough for a second projectile to pass through the shield. The smaller projectile seemed like it was guided or something for it came straight towards Spike and hit him in the neck.

“Bollocks to this!” Spike said as he reached for the dart like projectile and pulled it from his neck.

And that’s when everything turned to black.





A-Day minus 312



“You have got to be kidding me,” Travers exclaimed as he kept his distance from the unconscious vampire, “This is Spike!”

“Actually his designation is Hostile 17,” Lieutenant Jackson interjected calmly.

“That is Spike,” Travers said again pointing to the vampire, “William the Bloody. The only vampire in history to have bested two Slayers. Two Slayers!”

He kept looking at the lieutenant and Walsh like it actually meant anything to them.

“He tortured people with bloody railroad spikes for God sakes!” Travers said.

“He won’t be torturing anybody,” the lieutenant said calmly and held up a small electronics component, “We install these in all our test subjects.”


“It’s a neural inhibition chip,” Walsh explained, “it prevents any HST from attacking a human by causing a sensory overload in their pain receptors. If he ever tries to attack a person he will feel so much pain it will cause him to pass out.”


“And that works?” Travers said incredulously as the lieutenant gave him the chip.

“Of course it does,” Walsh said confidently, “I designed it.”

Travers gave the chip a close look over. The Council used drugs to keep vampires placid by getting them addicted. This by contrast seemed like such a simple solution it almost felt like an insult that no one at the Council had come up with it. Then again it was ordinary. And most definitely American. Always hooked on electronics gadgets.

“I almost feel sorry for him now,” he said as he handed the chip back to the lieutenant.

“Don’t,” the lieutenant said back, “he killed at least four of my man before we captured him. As far as I’m concerned he’s just meat.”

“Installing the chip has been the least of his improvements,” Walsh said almost excited as she touched a computer and brought up a series of schematics on the big screen, “We not only gave him superior versions of the technology we found in the recovered android, we also installed miniaturized versions of captured Goa’uld technology inside him. He literally has the best of both worlds inside him.”

Travers approached Spike cautiously and examined him.

“Amazing, I can’t see anything,” he said, feeling a sense of awe, then he looked at Walsh again, “I still do not feel comfortable with using a vampire though. Even with a chip they tend to be headstrong. It is not for nothing that they have been giving us the most trouble. There are many kinds of demon that are far more powerful or vicious. Yet its always vampires that cause the most trouble.

I feel better if we were to use demons instead for the project and destroy this one altogether. At the very least erase his mind completely so he won’t cause us any more troubles. He always does.”

“Have no worry, Sir Travers,” Walsh said confidently, “Hostile 17 is just a prototype. We only used him because, well, he’s the only one who survived the program this far. All the others died long before. That is why we need your help.”

“When we were tracking Hostile 17 he exhibited behavior and tactics similar to those participants who took part in the US Air Force Babylon project,” Jackson added, “Men who received training by the Alien. They now all exhibit increased agility, muscle speed, dexterity and strength. Hostile 17 has similar traits.”

“It could be vampire related. They are known for their increased strength,” Travers countered but Walsh shook her head

“The men under my command have received improvements that place them well above vampires and most demons,” she said, “They are easily equal, if not better to those soldiers that have partaken in the US Air Force Babylon Project. It took them great guile to capture Hostile 17. He was at least ten times as strong as a regular vampire when we caught him. And as luck has it it turns out that Hostile 17 was reported as sighted in Sunnydale in 1998-99. When the Alien arrived on Earth.”

“You think there is a connection?” Travers asked incredulously. But he knew the answer before she even gave it. Hell, he knew it even better then she did. Spike had been in that town during that time. And Rupert Giles had stated that Spike had been involved in many of the problems of that time, until he switched sides against Angelus and helped them defeat the Judge. So who knew what had happened at the time?

What he did know was that Spike was reported to have joined the professional underground fighting circuit. Taking on demons that no vampire should be able to take. And win.

“I know there is a connection,” Walsh said as she displayed some more graphs on the big screen, “as you can see Hostile 17 had increased vital statistics upon capture, making him the strongest HST we’ve captured so far. Which is why we were able to introduce so much improvements into him. But as I said before, we are reaching the limits of what we can do. Either we need better technology, or we need better knowledge on demons. And since we are unable to consult either Gero or the Goa’uld we must resort to the latter.”

Walsh brought up some new designs and schematics that piqued Travers’ interest.

“Now, this is what I have in mind,” she said and began to explain. After she was finished Sir Cretin actually looked impressed.

“What we are trying to do,” he said in awe, “the power, it’s like unto the Gods.”





A-Day minus 254



“Wake up.”

“I can’t.”

“You will.”

“I can’t. Don’t you think that I’ve tried, you git?”

“Try again.”

“Sod off!”

The voice fell silent for a moment. Then it returned.

“So this is how it’s going to be then, William? Never figured you for a quitter”

“Don’t call me by that name, you git!”

“So there is some life in you left?”

“Sod off. Leave me alone.”

“They’re going to wipe your sorry ass and all you care about is moping?” the voice said incredulously, “You’re pathetic. If Angel knew this he would laugh his ass off.”

“Angel is dead. Sod off.”

The voice said nothing for a while.

“Wake up, William! Also known as William the Bloody! Also known as Spike! Wake up before they will erase whatever is left of your sad vampiric existence and all that will be left of you is your pathetic undead carcass!”

The voice spoke with so much force that Spike couldn’t help but open his eyes. As he did he noticed that he was looking towards a ceiling. Always the bloody ceiling.

It wasn’t the first time he had awoken in this funny farm of the demonically insane looking up to the ceiling. Each time he had been helpless. Unable to move, like his body wasn’t his anymore and just some unseen observer, while people dressed in sterile suits hovered over him.

But this time the ceiling was moving.

To his increasing surprise he could even move his head as he looked around. He was being dragged by two men on a trolley through what seemed like an endless white corridor.

“Get up, Spike,” the voice in his head spoke again, “Get up and escape. Because once this ‘ride’ is over I won’t be able to help you anymore. Once you ‘arrive’ it’s going to be ‘game over, man’.”

Carefully not to alert the two goons pulling his trolley Spike tried to move his right hand and found that, again to his surprise, he could move it.

“Get up and kick their ass,” the voice told him.

“Are you daft?” Spike thought back, “Nurse Ratchet told me she had implanted some chip in my brain. I can’t hurt anybody.”

“I can see that might be a problem,” the voice conceded, “Still, there are other ways. They were going to turn you in some super soldier, remember? What good is a super soldier who can’t hurt anyone? Maybe there is some de-activation switch or routine. Something to turn the thing off and on.”

“If there is then they didn’t tell me, you dumbass!” Spike thought back annoyed.

“Why do I even bother?” the voice responded dispirited.

Before Spike could respond one of the goons pulling Spike’s trolley turned his head around.

“Oh bugger.”

“He’s awake,” the goon said and reached for something that was on his side. The other goon turned around as well and did the same.

“Oh bugger,” Spike said, now aloud.

Then something weird happened as time seemed to slow down, with the goons movement now reduced to a snails pace.

“Quick, do as I say,” the voice said in Spikes mind and showed him something.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Spike responded aghast, “I’ll fry up faster then an Englishman in the sun.”

“Have a little faith,” the voice said with just a hint of condescending, “Just do it, you don’t have much time to lose and if I may add, not much too lose anyway. Permanent erasing of your personality, remember?”

“Over my dead body,” Spike thought back.

“Weren’t you dead already?” the voice said droll.

“Ha, ha,” Spike said annoyed. Then he sat up straight, faster then he ever could have done before his capture and brought the fingers of his hands to both temples of his head.

“TAIYO KEN!”

A blinding flash erupted from him and both goons reached for their faces, like they had seen directly into the sun. At point blank range. Still in slow motion though.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Spike said surprised, “it worked.”

“Of course it would,” the voice inside his head said smug, “Now if I may give you another suggestion, “this might be a good moment to bugger off?”

“Of course,” Spike said and jumped off the trolley. As he ran away something occurred to him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked the voice, “Did I go insane in this place? Gone Dru or something?”

“Sanity is relative,” the voice said chortling with glee.

“Very funny,” Spike snorted, “Great, now I’ve gone bonkers too. Next thing I’ll know Miss Edith will make an appearance.”

“Maybe your former girlfriend was attuned to a higher level of consciousness? Maybe she actually did saw all the beings you thought were just imaginary? Have you ever considered that?” the voice asked.

“Look, figment of my imagination, “Spike said back, “I’m the first to admit that Dru was plugged into something. Always had been. Always been a bit loopy though. But never as much as after Prague. She never talked to invisible people before and….. aw, bugger! Just give it to me straight. Am I insane or not?”

“They say that sane people worry about being insane whereas the insane just know that they are sane,” the voice responded.

“That’s no answer,” Spike grunted, “sane people also don’t tortured by Nurse Ratchet for God knows how long.”

“You’re as sane as you ever were,” the voice replied offhand, “that is, as sane as a 140 year old human turned vicious demon filled vampire could ever be. So no, you’re not talking to your former girlfriend’s imaginary voice.”

“Then who the fuck are you?”

“Let’s just say that Drusilla isn’t the only one attuned to voices from higher spheres,” the voice said droll, “that a certain alien from another planet, who resides in Sunnydale California, also talks to voices inside his head. That he is also attuned to certain higher spheres. MY higher sphere.”

“Aw bugger,” Spike groaned, “don’t tell me it was you who sent the Big Scary this way?”

“Well, don’t be so droll, Spike? Curse him for all you want but once you escape, who otherwise will be able to protect you from Nurse Ratchet and her goon squads?”

[Inquisitor]

thx for the update...so i assume that Spike is talking to Kami and he's helping him a bit to get out of the Initiative...good idea that they moved it to Cleveland considering that Sunnyhell is constant supervision by the military...i would like to see the Initiative royally screw up and that Kinsey and Travers would not get away with their involvement...as for the enhancements, the jaffa and military officers that were trained were just in basic training...they need more practice and honestly i think Krillin, Yamcha, Tien and even Yajirobe&Roshi can still wipe the Initiative flunkies...overall i rate the initiative goons to have the same abilities and power as the robotic versions of SG1...

[3D Master]

Okay, first of, if a person speaks and his speech crosses into new paragraph(s), although you don't close the speech in the first with closing quotes, the new paragraph(s) do need to start with opening quotes.

Second, Krillin got reduced to a thousand little pieces, torn to shreds by Frieza, remember? Then Namek exploded with him on it, no doubt vaporizing whatever was left. Yet he was brought back by the dragon balls just fine. (In fact, you have him running around just fine.) Similarly, the people Cell completely sucked (will suck) up, destroying their body entirely were brought back to life by the dragon balls just as well. When you ask the dragon to bring people back to life, it doesn't matter how destroyed the body is, the dragon will repair it or just create a new one from scratch. So those 176 people should be alive just like anyone else revived.

Now, you can say you changed this, you've changed other things in Dragon Ball, but then Krillin, Choazu and Yamucha have to be dead as well, as they're bodies were worse off than those 176 people. You can't have your cake and eat it to. Either bodies too mangled can't be revived, and Krillin, Choazu and Yamucha are dead, or they're alive an those 176 people are alive as well.

(Of course, if Cell kills them, then wishing to the dragon won't bring them back a second time, as they can be revived by the Earth dragon only once. It would allow for a nice delayed guilt trip for Faith later on.)

[Muad'zin]

Originally Posted by 3D Master

Okay, first of, if a person speaks and his speech crosses into new paragraph(s), although you don't close the speech in the first with closing quotes, the new paragraph(s) do need to start with opening quotes.

I shall try to remember that.

Second, Krillin got reduced to a thousand little pieces, torn to shreds by Frieza, remember? Then Namek exploded with him on it, no doubt vaporizing whatever was left. Yet he was brought back by the dragon balls just fine. (In fact, you have him running around just fine.)

Ah, but Krillin was brought back to life after his death on Namek by Porunga, not Shenlon. These dragons don't have the same powers. Shenlon could revive multiple people, Porunga only one at a time (he got upgraded in the Buu saga though) but had no limit on the number of individual revivals. That being said, recovery of the bodily remains was important even in the manga, as in the aftermath of the Saiyan saga, Goku's non fighting friends recover the bodies of the fallen. If that didn't matter, why bother?

Similarly, the people Cell completely sucked (will suck) up, destroying their body entirely were brought back to life by the dragon balls just as well. When you ask the dragon to bring people back to life, it doesn't matter how destroyed the body is, the dragon will repair it or just create a new one from scratch. So those 176 people should be alive just like anyone else revived.

Now, you can say you changed this, you've changed other things in Dragon Ball, but then Krillin, Choazu and Yamucha have to be dead as well, as they're bodies were worse off than those 176 people. You can't have your cake and eat it to. Either bodies too mangled can't be revived, and Krillin, Choazu and Yamucha are dead, or they're alive an those 176 people are alive as well.

(Of course, if Cell kills them, then wishing to the dragon won't bring them back a second time, as they can be revived by the Earth dragon only once. It would allow for a nice delayed guilt trip for Faith later on.)

The bodies of those people killed/sucked/absorbed by Cell were restored by Shenlon Mk.2, which was an upgraded version by Dende on the original design of Kame. The bodily requirement may have been dropped. Note that in the time between the Cell and Buu sagas Dende further upgraded Shenlon from two to three wishes.

For the moment I stick to the bodily remains are necessary for two reasons. One, it's not that much different from the canon as established by the manga. Two, the DBZ verse has to be brought more into alignment with the Buffy verse were in most cases the dead stay dead.

[3D Master]

Originally Posted by Muad'zin

I shall try to remember that.

Ah, but Krillin was brought back to life after his death on Namek by Porunga, not Shenlon. These dragons don't have the same powers. Shenlon could revive multiple people, Porunga only one at a time (he got upgraded in the Buu saga though) but had no limit on the number of individual revivals. That being said, recovery of the bodily remains was important even in the manga, as in the aftermath of the Saiyan saga, Goku's non fighting friends recover the bodies of the fallen. If that didn't matter, why bother?

Choazu blew himself up; there was nothing to recover, yet he became alive just fine. The only reason that Krillin's reconstructed body had to be brought to Earth before being reincarnated was because if he was revived at Namek, he'd be revived in vacuum and simply die again. Not because the body itself couldn't be reconstructed and brought back to life.

If there still is a body, the dragon will revive the body/put the soul back in. If the body is not taken with them, he'd wake up in the middle of nowhere all alone. If there is no body there is nothing stopping the dragon from reconstructing it.

The bodies of those people killed/sucked/absorbed by Cell were restored by Shenlon Mk.2, which was an upgraded version by Dende on the original design of Kame.

Kami. Kami = god.

Kame(-sennin) = turtle(-sage).

[Muad'zin]

Originally Posted by 3D Master

Choazu blew himself up; there was nothing to recover, yet he became alive just fine. The only reason that Krillin's reconstructed body had to be brought to Earth before being reincarnated was because if he was revived at Namek, he'd be revived in vacuum and simply die again. Not because the body itself couldn't be reconstructed and brought back to life.

If there still is a body, the dragon will revive the body/put the soul back in. If the body is not taken with them, he'd wake up in the middle of nowhere all alone. If there is no body there is nothing stopping the dragon from reconstructing it.

But you are still speaking of what Porunga, the Namekian dragon, could do and attributing the same powers to Shenlon Mk.1, the Earth dragon, when canon deliberately states that the two dragons have different powers. Krillin, Yamcha and Tien were revived by Porunga. Not by Shenlon. In DBZ the only times a person gets revived without his body intact was through Porunga and Shenlon Mk.2 after his tune up by Dende.

[3D Master]

Originally Posted by Muad'zin

But you are still speaking of what Porunga, the Namekian dragon, could do and attributing the same powers to Shenlon Mk.1, the Earth dragon, when canon deliberately states that the two dragons have different powers. Krillin, Yamcha and Tien were revived by Porunga. Not by Shenlon. In DBZ the only times a person gets revived without his body intact was through Porunga and Shenlon Mk.2 after his tune up by Dende.

But nobody considered it impossible for Chaozu (except that he's been revived before) and Yamucha to be revived. If the Earth mk1 dragon had a problem rebuilding bodies, everyone would have considered them dead, they wouldn't think Porunga would be able to revive them either - well, maybe an idle hope, "maybe the Namek dragon can do more", but they'd essentially considered them dead. They didn't.

Also, I'm pretty sure some of the Namek's got completely fragged by Frieza and his men and Vegeta, yet Shen-long mk1 had no problem bringing them back to life.

[Muad'zin]

Originally Posted by 3D Master

But nobody considered it impossible for Chaozu (except that he's been revived before) and Yamucha to be revived. If the Earth mk1 dragon had a problem rebuilding bodies, everyone would have considered them dead, they wouldn't think Porunga would be able to revive them either - well, maybe an idle hope, "maybe the Namek dragon can do more", but they'd essentially considered them dead. They didn't.

But then again Chaozu's resurrection was moot to begin with because he had already died and been resurrected once. As for Yamcha, he did leave a body behind to revive.

Also, I'm pretty sure some of the Namek's got completely fragged by Frieza and his men and Vegeta, yet Shen-long mk1 had no problem bringing them back to life.

Theoretically you're right. Theoretically some of the Nameks should have been fragged. Both the show and the manga however never showed us any Nameks getting fragged. So it could be argued that Shenlon Mk. 1 did only revive bodies and reconstitute them. But I'm willing to concede the argument because at least canon evidence doesn't really contradict my story amendment that the Dragon can only restore bodies back to life. Except for the odd unimportant Namek that got fragged it doesn't mean that either of the Z-senshi or any of the people important to DBZ canon wasn't revived back as they did in the series.

[Muad'zin]

Interlude

'Sleep Now in the Fire'




AN: This started out as part of the overall story but as I progressed I couldn’t find a place in any of the chapters to put it in. But it is still a part of this story. So here it is instead.




The battle against the mayor was by now beyond exhaustion. It had gone beyond extension and injury time into sheer survival or else. The massive demon that used to be the town’s major had shrugged off anything but the kitchen sink and then some. By now they were beyond desperation and all that kept them going was the knowledge that neither escape nor surrender was any option.

Pickles had just gotten a bad case of the smack down but two of Goku’s friends were coming in to distract the demon-mayor long enough for Pickles to pick himself up and get back into the fight. Say one thing about the Green One, he was committed. Even the Dynasty wardrobe had come off long ago.

Not wanting to prove herself any less Buffy launched her own attack right after Goku’s friends, to give them a chance to retreat as well.

It worked.

Only nobody was able to distract the demon-mayor long enough to buy her time to get away in return.

She managed to get away, but only just as she fell to the ground after having received the mother of all smack downs.

THUD!

The ground, usually so comforting, made for a very hard place to come to a sudden hard stop, Buffy thought. Especially when your whole body aches and tires. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the pain take over for a moment. Over the years she had learned that if you gave yourself briefly over to the pain it made it easier to deal with it and put it away in a closed section of her mind. Kind of acknowledging its existing so the pain knew it was being heard.

She must have been hurt pretty much because she could swear her pain was giggling.

Taking a deep sigh Buffy hoped Willow would come by and do that nifty magic thing that would take away the pain. Not the tiredness. That was impossible. But Buffy could definitely settle for the pain thing.

Somebody knelt by her side. Ah, Willow was here. Buffy opened her eyes.

And looked straight into those of Faith.

“Faith?” she said surprised. Faith said nothing, she only grinned. And let her fist do the talking. Only sheer Slayer instinct was helped Buffy move her head just in time to evade Faith’s fist as it impacted with the ground beside her with so much force the ground cracked. Buffy counter attacked swinging her legs, trying to hit Faith on the one hand and gain enough momentum to leave the ground.

Unfortunately for Buffy unlike her Faith was fresh and easily evaded Buffy’s leg swinging for her. But it did serve the other purpose of bringing her on her feet.

“Look Faith,” Buffy panted as the two Slayers eyed each other wearily, “I’m sorry. We should have done better. We….”

“Don’t bother, B.,” Faith said as her grin turned to a psychotic smile, “I’ve heard enough of your lame excuses.”

“Then what do you want, Faith?” Buffy asked as the two began to circle each other.

“Simple, B.,” Faith smiled, “You killed my boss, now I’m gonna kill you.”

Faith launched herself at Buffy and the two began to fight. And it wasn’t an even handed fight as Buffy was aching and tiring from having fought Faith’s boss all day while the dark Slayer had entered the game fresh.

“Your Watcher should be thrilled,” Faith laughed as she whipped Buffy’s ass, “finally the Slayer line will be united again. No more senior and junior Slayer. In the end there can be only one.”

“Funny,” Buffy said as she counterattacked with a series of punches that proved she still had a few tricks up her sleeve, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

Buffy followed up her attack with an energy attack, but Faith easily deflected that.

“Come on, B., you can do better then that,” Faith taunted her opposite, “Let me show you how it’s really done.”

Faith brought her right hand to her head and put two fingers on her forehead, letting them glow. As she grinned ferally Buffy recognized what Faith was going to do and decided to go all out as well. Taking a few steps backwards she cupped her hands beside her and began to concentrate power in them.

“Ka. Me. Ha. Me.”

“Again?” Faith sneered as she saw the pale blue energy begin to glimmer inside Buffy’s hands, “how unoriginal.”

“Like your move is so original,” Buffy huffed back, “Hello, Pickles called, he wants his Makankosapo back.”

“At least I didn’t chose mine based on the pretty lights alone, little miss cheerleader,” Faith bit back.

Buffy wanted to yell that she wasn’t a cheerleader. At least, not since quite some time that is. Instead, as both girls powered up their attacks she heard something.

Somebody was giggling.

Normally she would have shrugged it off as a figment of her imagination but she could see on Faith’s face that she had also heard it.

“Did…., did you hear that as well?” Faith asked tentatively and Buffy nodded.

“I also heard it,” Buffy echoed as her eyes moved from left to right to find a source of the laughter.

“That’s like the second time I’ve heard it,” Faith said nervously, “You know what they say.”

“One’s an accident, twice a conspiracy?” Buffy replied, “do we really want to wait for the third?”

In Sunnydale the creepy took precedence over personal vendettas.

“Truce?” Faith asked wearily.

“Truce,” Buffy agreed, “You go first?”

“Like hell,” Faith snorted, “on the count of three?”

Buffy nodded.

“One, two, three.”

The two Slayers stopped energizing their attacks and absorbed the energy back into their bodies. No sooner had they done so when there was another bout of giggling.

“It came from over there,” Faith said as she looked over her shoulder.

“I think it came from over here,” Buffy said and looked over her shoulder. She didn’t see anything but as soon as she looked back at Faith, the Dark Slayer was gone.

She was also no longer amongst the rubble of Sunnydale High.

Instead she appeared to be in what looked like some old temple. The kind built by old geezers who died a long, long time ago. Like the ones you saw on documentaries on the Discovery Channel in some jungle or desert in faraway Crapholistan. This one could have been taken straight from one of those documentaries as there seemed to be evidence of recent digging and excavations all over the place.

Somebody had been busy here as Buffy examined the abandoned gear amidst the ruins. Abandoned digging equipment lying about amidst electrical lighting gear being strewn across the ruins spelled doom in Buffy’s book. For three years in Sunnydale and all three Indiana Jones movies had taught her that no good ever came from excavating in ancient ruins and crypts. Especially the lights seemed ominous as the old temple no longer had a roof over most parts and was open to the sky.

As Buffy looked up she looked into an orange sky. Uh oh. She no longer seemed to be in Kansas any more. Where was Shimrod the Grey when you needed him?

She moved closer to the walls and saw they were covered in writings. Giles would probably have a field day with this. She didn’t recognize any of it herself. And not because she was the research ditz of the group. She may be action girl instead of research girl, she had however spent quite a considerable amount of time in Giles’ books to at least gain a passing knowledge of every language. Knowledge in the sense that she could recognize if a written language looked like the ones in Giles’ books. And these writings didn’t look like they were even mentioned in any of the footnotes.

That worried her even more, for the only thing more uber wig then creepy ancient temples with creepy ancient artefacts were creepy ancient alien temples with creepy ancient alien artefacts.

She didn’t have time to freak out as suddenly she heard the giggling again. Buffy turned around to see where the annoying sound was coming from. Instead she was alone still.

But not for long as she could see that something was moving in the temple’s entrance. Somebody or something was coming. Considering that discretion was the better part of valour Buffy hid behind a large stone something and watched what happened next.

A group of humans entered the temple. To her surprise she recognized most of the people. They were Colonel Cassandra and his merry men, Major Blonde, Murray the alien tough guy. And the new guy. Another guy was with them also, an bald older man who seemed to be guiding them. And then came the greatest surprise of all.

Belmo!

Why on wherever the hell she was was Belmo with these guys? He should know by now that bad stuff happened whenever he went off world with these guys.

Old guy led them into the heart of the temple, close to where Buffy was hiding. Upon finding the dig site old guy stopped cold, then he began to express great despair, like they had arrived too late.

Well, duh. No surprise there, Sherlock. What gave it away? All the abandoned gear from Archeologists r’us?

While old guy was experiencing his ‘game over, man’ moment the others began to examine the dig site. While the blonde major took pictures the new guy of the group, Buffy had never bothered to learn his name even though he had been at the wedding, he jumped right into the dig site to get a closer look. Firmly a believer in the hands on approach. Belmo just crouched at the edge to have a look, then he turned to the old man and spoke to him. Probably to get a grip on things. With Colonel Cassandra joining in. The only person unperturbed was the large alien guy, Murray. Actually his name was teal slash something, a real tongue breaker. Which is why she stuck to Murray. But he was the stoic of the group, really unflappable.

As it seemed like the group had come too late Belmo took charge and demanded that old guy explained to him some of the markings that were on the walls.

Typical!

Can’t get to the artifact in time? Find out as much as you can so you can destroy it.

As the group moved on to examine some of the walls Murray suddenly came around the big stone something that Buffy was hiding about. Holding his big f***ing alien ray gun he looked right at where she was.

And walked on like she wasn’t even there.

Perplexed Buffy looked first at Murray, then at her own hands like she could see straight through them. There was no way he could have missed her. And even if he did, the guy was chi trained. He had trained alongside Riley. Riley even said he thought that Teal’c, that was his name, that Teal’c had been the best of them. If anybody should have seen her hiding, it was him.

But Murray walked straight on like she didn’t even exist. Was she invisible or something? She pushed against the big stone something. At least she wasn’t incorporeal as her hand didn’t disappear in the big stone something.

Colonel Cassandra called out towards Murray and the big alien nodded, then came towards the others. Again passing Buffy and ignoring her. That clinched it, she was invisible.

Buffy got up from behind the big stone something and walked towards the others, who seemed all intent on watching a particular section of the wall. Old guy was explaining or translating with Belmo and new guy asking questions. Then the group began to discuss.

It was then that Buffy heard giggles again. Again she turned around to look where the infernal giggling was coming from. She half expected not to find anyone or anything. It didn’t happen the last time, why should it now?

Only this time she did saw something.

Crouched on top of the big stone something she had hidden behind sat a monster. Not a big one as it was about her size. If she had been twelve. And it kinda looked like the monster from Alien. Only without the teeth and the tail. And in pink.

It was sheer demonic evil as her speedy senses began to scream bloody murder.

“Uh, guys,” Buffy said out loud. But whatever was making her invisible also made her inaudible.

To Belmo and the others that is who continued their discussion. The creature however looked at Buffy like it had heard her and could see her. Then it grinned and shook its head. It leaped off the big stone something and made for her.

It closed the distance like it was a Saiyan on steroids. Teal’c was the first to notice it and brought his big f***ing alien ray gun to bear. But not fast enough as the creature swatted him aside like he weighed nothing, sending him and his big f***ing alien ray gun halfway across the temple. The others, not trained in the art of chi fighting followed even faster. That left only Belmo.

To his credit the Saiyan knew something was up the moment Teal’c started his lesson in unpowered flight. Upon seeing the monster Belmo stepped in front of the blonde major before it could lay a finger on her. The price however for protecting her was that it slightly delayed Belmo’s power up to deal with the monster.

Naturally the monster took advantage of that. Grinning ferally it leaped and crashed into the Saiyan, sending it down to the ground. As it did it managed to get behind the Saiyan, wrap its legs around his waist and its arms around his neck and began to squeeze the life out of Belmo..

“Shoot it!” Buffy heard Colonel Cassandra yell to the blonde major.

“I can’t!” the major yelled back, her gun trained on the creature, “I’d hit him as well.”

“He’s fuckin’ bulletproof!” the colonel yelled, “Just shoot!”

The blonde major looked at the colonel like she couldn’t believe her own ears

“If it can take him down, what good’s a P-90 going to do?” she said back.

As the two officers bickered Buffy tried to step in. She reached out and tried to yank this creature off of Belmo. But instead of yanking him free her hands passed right through the thing.

Great. When it came to everybody else she was the Invisible Girl, but when it came to this thing she was suddenly Casper? What kind of twisted logic was this?

Then the monster looked at Buffy again, his face in a malicious grin. Like her hands may have passed right through it but somehow it again showed it had taken notice of her. She could swear it even winked at her.

And then with a loud snap it broke Belmo’s neck.

SNAP!

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

With a loud yell Buffy opened her eyes and sat up straight in her bed. Panting heavily she reached for the light switch. After she switched on the light she put her head in her heads and sat there for a while.

“That does it, no more late night cheese,” she eventually said. For a moment she looked out of her window and wished Angel was still here. Or that she was over at Riley’s. Just somebody who could put her arms around her right now and tell her she just had a bad dream.

But as much as she liked to shove this crazy dream into the darkest recess of her mind and go on sleeping in her sweat soaked sheets, deep down she knew what had to be done.

She reached for her cell phone and dialed a number.

“Hi Giles, it’s me,” she said, “are you awake?... Oh, I’m sorry…. At least I didn’t disturb you with some gi….,I’m sorry …. I know, even though it never happens it might…. You don’t have to get all snippy over it…… I know you’re a healthy middle aged man with urges. I was just….. Why I called? …… I had the dream again…… Yes, the same one….. I thought you might be interested….. Why I’m calling in the middle of the night?...... I remember a time when I had to tell you every itsy bitsy dream. Preferably in Technicolor….. So you’re gonna look it up tomorrow? …. I was hoping you would get a head start right now and…… I know it’s three in the morning…. And yes, sometimes the dreams mean nothing….. But I got a bad feeling, Giles. This one was different. This time I got a look at the thing’s face. And I touched it. It’s evil, Giles. Demony evil. And it knows me. It looked right at me like I was there…… Oh dear indeed….. How it looked?..... Same as before, all pink, only this time I got a better look at its face. It had this mark on its forehead. I think it’s a symbol….. You’re coming right over?…. No, no trouble at all. It’s not like everybody left for Vegas and left me behind or something…. See you in ten minutes.”

Since she was now clearly awake Buffy left her bed and moved to her study desk. She sat down behind her desk, switched on the light and picked up a pencil. Next she reached for a slip of paper and began to draw while she could still vividly remember her dream. Starting with the mark on the demon’s forehead.

It kinda looked like an M.

[3D Master]

Majin Buu, the Kid version. The most powerful version barring the composite Z-fighter super versions.

The pink one better not come out before they reach SSJ2 levels and beyond, or they're screwed.

[Muad'zin]

Chapter 3

'Calm Like a Bomb'




AN: w00t! Chapter three already. The plot thickens!




A-Day minus 252



“Ha! Buffy with food, my favorite combination.”

Buffy turned her head and saw Xander enter the Summers’ kitchen through the backdoor.

“Hi, Xander,” Joyce said as picked up a large trey full of assorted raw meat, “glad you could make it.”

Seeing that the woman had her hands full Xander gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“And miss the patented Summers barbeque?” he grinned, “Do you think you have enough?”

Joyce gave him an frowning look.

“You know who’s going to be eating, right? Saiyans and their stomachs.”

“I’m sure he can whip up something extra,” Xander grinned, “He and Willow are pretty good at that kind of stuff.”

“He prefers not to,” Buffy said as she was cutting vegetables for a salad, “something about it being a copy of a copy and how it is much easier to ‘create’ some money instead.”

“I hear Will can do it digitally,” Xander nodded, “create virtual money out of nowhere.”

“That’s no magic,” Joyce snorted as she walked to the backdoor, “The Fed can do it also. They just print some extra money. Oh, and FYI, it’s no longer the Summers barbeque. I’m a married woman again, remember.”

“You should change the sign on the porch then,” Xander called after her as she went into the garden, then he turned towards Buffy, a grin appearing on his face from ear to ear, “So how does it feel to be BuffyMovekk?”

“Well, don’t expect any change in my passport just because Belmo put on a show,” she said dicing an onion.

“But it rolls so nicely of the tongue,” Xander smirked as he leaned beside her on the kitchen counter, “BuffyMovekk. Hmmm, Buffy Movekk the Vampire Slayer ”

“Not like there’s a whole lot to slay these da…..,” Buffy said , then she looked at Xander and pointed her knife at Xander, You knew!”

“How should I know? Am I your father’s keeper?” Xander said quasi-innocent as he tried to fish for a tasty morsel from the salad Buffy had been working on.

“Don’t you play innocent with me,” Buffy grumbled and lunged her knife at Xander’[s hand, which he narrowly evaded by pulling it back, “The moment I saw Faith roll over the grass I saw your goofy grin, mister. You knew he was going to pull that stunt.”

“You could have hurt me,” Xander said aggrieved as he looked at her knife, then his hand.

“You would have lived,” Buffy shrugged indifferent.

“There would have been blood in the salad, Buff,” Xander said pointing to the salad, “blood in the salad!”

“Think of it as my special sauce,” Buffy smiled impishly, causing Xander to shake his head.

“Summers Women are crazy,” Xander sighed, “Alright. I admit it, I did suspect he was going to pull that stunt. It’s what they have to do, Buff. If a Saiyan father doesn’t publicly recognize a child as his own it doesn’t inherit anything.”

“What’s there to inherit?” Buffy said as she pointed around her mother’s kitchen, “Planet Bad Hairdo’s gone. Do I own the family asteroid now?”

Xander cupped his chin as he pretended to think.

“He probably did it for Vegeta’s sake. To clear up any potential problems.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, then used her free hand to smack her forehead.

“Oh god, does this mean the Prince of Dorkness is now also the boss of me?”

“I reckon so,” Xander echoed, then he again reached for that tasty morsel he had his eyes on before.

“He wasn’t even there,” Buffy said dispirited.

“Who?” Xander asked, popping the morsel in his mouth.

“Vegeta, who else?” Buffy replied, “I mean, if his royal assholeness can’t be bothered to come, why put up the show to begin with”

Xander looked upwards, then shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter if the Prince of Dorkness was there or not. There were witnesses,” he said, then he put a hand on her shoulder, “Besides, I think all that he really wanted to do was to show that he loves you.”

“I know,” Buffy said, averting her eyes, “But if he wanted to do that, why not so in the time honored tradition of buying me a pony?”

Xander raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a little to old for a pony?”

“A girl’s never to old to get a pony,” Buffy pouted.

“I’ll pass it along,” Xander chuckled, then his face turned serious, “I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda invited Faith and Pickles along.”

Buffy gave him a stern look, then she shook her head.

“Why would I mind?” she said, “It’s not like it’s going to be like, you know, awkward much? Like at the wedding.”


“I know,” Xander admitted, “but I think it’s important. We have to make her feel like she’s part of the gang again.”

Buffy put down her knife and rested both her hands on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t think she ever was part of the gang, Xan,” she said softly.

“We didn’t make her feel part of the gang,” Xander replied, “We were the ones who chased her away.”

“She’s not a team player,” Buffy countered, then she put up her hand to stop Xander from interfering, “Hear me out, I don’t mean that in a bad way. She’ll work with a team. But she’s like Pickles. He’ll fight with his friends, and hang out with them, but he doesn’t want to stay with them. He always goes into the wilderness at some point. That’s his thing. And his friends understand that. She’s like that. She wants to be accepted, but she also has to do her own thing. Separate from us.”

Xander mulled that over for a moment.

“That’s very….. insightful of you, Buff,” he said softly.

“Well, I kinda come from the same experience,” Buffy shrugged as she picked up her knife again and began to dice again, “there were times when I’d rather wish you guys had an elsewhere to be. So I could deal with the bad guys more effectively.”

“We were such klutzes back then, weren’t we,” Xander said as tried to pick another tasty morsel again, “always getting in the way of slay adjacent.”

“Quite,” Buffy said as she hit Xander’s hand with the flat side of her knife.

“Auw!” Xander said as he withdrew his hand and rubbed the sore spot of where she had hit him, “Watch out with that thing, will ya? You could have cut me.”

“Puhlease,” Buffy snorted with a wicked grin, “Slayer handling skills with weapons, remember? And even if I did, special sauce, remember?”

“Summers women,” Xander muttered in semi-disgust.

“Shouldn’t you say: Movekk women?” Buffy chortled.

“Ha!” Xander said triumphantly as he pointed towards Buffy, “so you do admit it!”

“Well, don’t count on me going to the CountyClerk yet,” Buffy snorted, “I like being Buffy Summers.”

“You’d think considering the way your father abandoned you, you’d jump on the first chance to get rid of his name,” Xander mused.

“Whatever my sperm donor did has nothing to do with who I am,” Buffy said as she shot him an angry look, “I like being Buffy Summers. I think I earned being Buffy Summers. If anyone has to change his name it’s the sperm donor that impregnated my mother. Belmo understands, so drop it.”

Xander pretend to zip an imaginary zipper across his lips.

“Consider it dropped,” he said deadpan.

For a moment neither said nothing. Buffy continued chopping vegetables and Xander decided to get himself a soda from her fridge. As he did Buffy glanced outside, to the garden where the others were. Giles was chatting with the giant Namek, probably discussing old stuff again. Will was there with her girlfriend Tara. Which was probably another victory in her battle against Belmo’s gay prejudices. He hadn’t given her a hand yet today but Mom had said that Belmo had actually said hello to the girl. Which was a huge victory for Will in its own right.

Mom meanwhile was holding her sister Mayan as she was with her husband. Who was busy with the barbeque. Occasionally Belmo looked towards her mother and smiled. Causing Buffy to smile herself. It still felt weird to her, but she could see they were happy. And that made her happy as well.

Not that far from them sat Faith, with little Dawn in her lap, peering at the Dark Slayer like she was the most interesting thing in the world. Typical. While Mayan was a very quiet and easy to handle child Dawn was always on the move. Always interested in the latest and newest thing. And today that was Faith. And Dawn just had to show Faith her new toys. To her credit the Dark Slayer held herself well under all the attention.

But something was amiss. Cause Buffy could see that Faith wasn’t paying full attention to Dawnie’s toys. She was glancing a lot to a different direction. And even from here Buffy could say their were glances of suspicion.

Faith was eyeing Xander’s friend Angela wearily.

The former pornstar turned empty shell with just a hint of crazy and dangerous monster inside her sat alone, in her traditional bored pose.

“I can’t believe you brought her here,” Buffy said as she shot Angela a suspicious glance of her own, “She gives me the wig. Extra-large with fries and a coke.”

“I can’t just leave her,” Xander said with closed eyes, “all she does is stare ahead. She almost never talks, she never looks up when I walk into the room. All she does is sit there doing the thousand mile stare.”

“I’m sorry, Xander,” Buffy said apologetic. She may not like having Xander’s weird friend in the house, but knowing him it sucked even more for him.

Xander didn’t reply for a moment, then he looked away.

“You wanna hear something funny,” he finally said.

“What?”

“Sometimes I wake up at night and she’s gone,” Xander said deadpan.

Suddenly Buffy felt even more creeped out, having visions of Angela sitting in her room watching her sleep. If that was funny to Xander then so help her that green god, she really didn’t want to know what Xander thought was creepy.

“Ew,” she shuddered, “maxi-wig here, Xan. Angelus just called, He wants his obsessive stalker behavior back.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Xander said waving his hands as he tried to put her at ease, “she goes out and sits on the roof. Looking at the night sky. Mostly the moon.”

Buffy nearly hit Xander on the head.

“And what part of there being a mindless full moon transforming wereape inside her don’t you get?” she asked incredulously.

“She’s got no tail,” Xander shrugged indifferent.

“Hello, Earth to Xander, reality department calling in,” Buffy said even more incredulously, “And what part of her transforming without a tail in the past don’t you understand?”

“There was no full moon in the past,” Xander shrugged again, “I’ve seen her sit on the roof during a full moon and she didn’t transform.”

“Isn’t it better to be safe then to be sorry?” Buffy asked.

“I dunno,” Xander sighed, “I think she becomes more lucid when the moon grows full.”

Buffy glanced over her shoulder at Angela.

“You mean she actually replies in full sentences?” Buffy asked. She immediately regretted saying that. Xander had gone above and beyond the call of duty taking care of this girl. Especially after they had gone back in time thanks to Xander’s magic buddy Gandalf the Weird. And to this day she still wasn’t sure if it was more then this debt he owed her. What she did know was that Crazy Lady was sucking the cheer out of her Xander shaped friend. And that she really should learn to keep her big mouth shut in regards to her.

Even if Crazy Lady did freak her out.

“I could use a beer,” Xander sighed.

“Alcohol free zone, remember?” Buffy said quasi-apologetic, “Riley said he would bring some though.”

“Ah, the US Cavalry to the rescue,” Xander said approvingly.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Buffy chortled, “You know them army types, always insulted if you say they are part of something they’re not.”

“Not my fault they have so many kinds of army,” Xander shrugged, “if you ask me they should have stuck with just one.”

”Amen to that!” Buffy echoed. No sooner had she said it when the back door opened and in walked Riley Finn.

“I come baring gifts,” Riley grinned as he held up two six-packs of beer and put them on the kitchen table. Xander immediately grabbed a can.

“If I were of the female kind I would so want to bear your children right now, Major Finn, “ Xander said as he opened the can. Causing Riley to give Buffy a weird look.

“Did I, uh, miss something,” he asked somewhat puzzled as Xander drank deeply from the can.

“Oh foamy nectar of goodness,” Xander said as he smacked his lips, “take me in your loving embrace. Oh, cold one.”

Buffy didn’t rep