1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
A.Lite
DISCLAIMER: All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story
73 Days to Apocalypse
“What is it?” Adam asked the demon before him.
“A human. And a dog.” The demon placed the unconscious forms of Anya and Jeremy on the sewer floor in front of Adam. “It could be a wolf.”
“And you say they were trying to enter our domain?”
“Yes, Master. We attacked them like any common intruder,” The demon elaborated.
“I wonder what their purpose was . . . “ Adam contemplated that for a few moments. “This is not typical behavior.” He shrugged, “ It does not matter. Burn them.”
“As you wish, Master,” the demon took a can of gasoline and doused the two.
Anya coughed and opened her eyes in time to see Adam drop the lit match-
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
60 Days to Apocalypse
“NO!” Xander shouted, waking himself up. “Anya!” His chest was heaving, and his body was shaking madly.
Xander closed his eyes, trying to shove down the irrational fear that had sprouted in him. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Calm would be a long time coming.
Still shaking, Xander unsteadily reached into his nightstand and retrieved a half-empty bottle. He needed a drink.
As the bitter liquid burned going down, Xander attempted to reassure himself that he’d been only dreaming. That nightmare wasn’t what really happened.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
73 Days to Apocalypse
The door swung wide before her, and Anya didn’t hesitate. She marched forward, Jeremy running at her heels, as she became the sole source of attraction for every demon, vampire, monster, and half-blood in Adam‘s court. Some were watching her with clear fright, others with open contempt, and one particular cyborg with cold curiosity.
There was no time to waste. “You only have a first chance to make a first impression,” she mentally quoted from some commercial. She had to prove right now that she was a force to be reckoned with. “Separate!”
An unseen hand swept the ranks of minions apart to form a perfect aisle from her to the end of the chamber. Never breaking a stride, she and Jeremy confidently approached Adam.
From his raised chair, Adam was intrigued, “Who are you?”
He didn’t know anything about her? All the better. “Some of your little toadies may remember me. I was Anyanka.”
One of the demons closest to Adam yelled, “You lie! Anyanka is a Vengeance Demon.”
“Silence,” Adam carelessly decapitated him with a bone skewer. “Nevertheless, he had a point. I’ve met Vengeance Demons, and you are quite human.”
“I said I was Anyanka,” she used the exact same tone he had. “I lost my demonship. I’m here to get it back.”
“Fighting me will get you nowhere,” Adam believed she was crazy enough to challenge him. He rose, towering over her.
“You misunderstand me.” she steeled herself, “I did not come here to regain my status by fighting you.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
“What better way to earn it than by betraying all humans?”
It looked like Adam almost thought about that. “Human, we do not welcome your appearance here,” He nodded at two brownish demons, who rose and started for her. “We have no use for humans, except perhaps as meals.”
“Stop,” Anya raised her hand, and the two demons froze, magically stilled, “How many of your minions can pass for human? How many can be scanned and still seem human? How many can walk under the sun? How many are registered living Sunnydale residents?” she threw out all her trump cards.
No one dared twitch as Adam finally thought on her offer. She waited tensely, prepared to teleport if things turned ugly. At last, Adam spoke, ponderously,” I concede the point. There may be a place for you after all.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
73 Days to Apocalypse
“Buffy!” Someone called her name urgently.
“Huh? What?” Buffy sleepily mumbled.
“You need to get up,” The voice instructed.
She rolled over and stretched, “What do you want?”
Whistler walked through her door with another person right behind him, “We need you to come with us now.”
“Why?” she asked, instantly suspicious.
The other figure stepped into the light, “Because Riley killed Faith.”
That struck a cord in Buffy, and she heard it repeated in her mind. Riley killed Faith. Riley killed Faith. Riley killed Faith. Riley killed Faith.
Pulling at her arm, Whistler said, “We need someone to replace her. You’re it. You’ve gotta go to Riley.”
“But what about-” Buffy glanced at Spike. She couldn’t get up and leave him for Riley.
“He’ll understand,” Forrest cut her off. “We need you.”
“Can’t you get the next girl?”
“He killed her because he didn’t believe she could be the Slayer with you alive,” Forrest’s face was set in stone.
“You don’t have a choice,” Whistler dragged her out the door.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
60 Days to Apocalypse
“I don’t think so,” Buffy woke up from the dream.
As of the previous day, Faith had been quite alive and kicking, or so Spike had assured her. As a matter of fact, Riley was keenly interested in the dark Slayer. Maybe too interested.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
73 Days to Apocalypse
“You’re kidding me, right?” Faith took in the cozy den and the brown haired man with some mistrust, “All I hear about is this big secret powerful black-op military operation I’m joining, and your headquarters is in a rec room?”
If Forrest had dared, he would have agreed that she did have a legitimate gripe. He and Faith were meeting Riley and two people, whose purpose he suspected, in someone’s den, complete with sofas, toy boxes, and worn orange shag carpet. But he stayed silent for he could not interfere now in any way.
“Our actual headquarters is elsewhere. This is simply the site of our preliminary tests to determine the motives behind your actions,” Riley didn’t seem to take to her attitude. He snapped his fingers, and the two others stepped forward. “I will be asking you some questions. Try to answer as truthfully as possible.”
Inwardly, Faith shivered at the sight of the dark-skinned male and female. Aside from haircuts that belonged on Star Trek, their opaque eyes were creeping her out. Hoping her membership of the Tarot would protect her from their mental probes, she put attitude in her voice, “Wow, dime-store-psychics. They gonna try to bend me like a spoon?”
The two remained silent, gazing at her unfalteringly.
“Who are you?” Riley ignored her comments.
“Faith.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a vampire slayer. You know, the Chosen One. Fights vampires,” Faith saw Riley’s face harden, and his hand fell to his gun.
The male psychic raised a hand to stop Riley, indicating Faith was telling the truth.
“How? Buffy is still alive,” Riley doubted.
“A couple years ago, Buffy died for a little bit. Her replacement was called, even thought Buffy came back. Her replacement was killed by a vamp, so I was called. I guess that makes me the replacement’s replacement.”
“Then who’s your Watcher?” Riley wasn’t convinced yet.
She frowned, “Don’t have one. Got killed by a vampire: Kissing toast, Kicking toast. I try not to remember, but I know some toast definitely got it.”
Since the psychics didn’t react to that, Riley went on, “What’s the most common way to kill a vampire.”
“Stake through the heart, duh,” Faith tilted her chin. “Are these questions going to get harder?”
Riley continued, still not convinced, “What is necessary for a vampire to enter your home.”
“A death wish,” Faith smirked. “And an invite. Look, I know you want to make sure I’m the real deal. I am. I kill vampires. I’m superstrong-”
Faith grabbed the air behind her shoulder and tossed it forward. Something solid crashed into an end table, knocking off a bunch of knick-knacks.
Advancing on it, Faith said, “I can also pick out the invisible girls with my eyes closed.” She delivered a powerful kick into the empty air, and a muffled groan came from the space.
“How did you know where she was?” Riley was clearly impressed.
“I’m a Slayer. I just knew. Instinct,” Faith hoisted the invisible body up and threw her into the psychics. “You gonna explain?”
“Allow me to introduce, Marcie Ross, special forces,” Riley said, as the psychics scrambled up.
“Color me surprised; the government has invisible agents. Do they have pet psychics too?” She asked pointedly.
“No. They’re on loan from Wolfram and Heart,” Riley replied. “We don’t have any of our own.”
“Seeing that you’re sharing now, I guess I passed.”
“With flying colors,” Riley was convinced enough to shake her hand, “Welcome to the team.”
“Thanks,” Faith didn’t release his hand, “Glad to be here.” She ran her thumb slowly over his wrist and gave him a knowing smile, “Are we leaving now? Much as this domestic thing is going for you, I need to get some action, or else I get a little jumpy.”
Now Forrest stepped in before Faith pushed Riley any farther. Riley was notoriously straight-laced about that sort of thing. “She’s right, Rye.” He used his commander’s nickname, “Times wasting, and I haven’t seen my squad for two days.”
Reluctantly, Riley let Faith’s hand go, “I agree. Let’s clear out.” As everyone started to leave, he matched paces with Faith. “I promise you’ll get plenty of action. You’re going to have one of our recent acquisitions from Wolfram and Hart. Her name is Vanessa.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With painful gentleness, he tilted Eve's mouth open and began to pour the water down her throat. His hands shook slightly as the image of him doing the same to her parents floated by his mind. The water spilled, burning layers of skin off both hands. He paid no attention to it and reached for the stake. Taking a last glance, he brushed his bloody burned hand across her cold forehead.
She looked like a sleeping angel, marred only by the crimson stain his hand had left on her face. The angel opened her flat yellow eyes and gazed directly into his matching set. A flicker of recognition flashed in them just before Spike plunged the stake down into her heart. The angel dissolved into a smooth pile of dust.
“Oh, my dear Spike. You picked the wrong thing,” a voice chastised him.
Spike turned to see, impossibly, Dru holding the slumped form of Buffy, “Shut up, Dru?”
“Why should I shut up?” Drusilla shook the Slayer, “Because you don’t want to hear the truth? Your love blinds you to it.”
“Put her down,” Spike warned her, balling his burned hand into a fist around the stake.
“Or what? My Spike, would you put that hurtful piece of wood in me again?” she tossed Buffy to the floor.
Before Spike could move nearer to Buffy, Drusilla was there, face to face, her hand cupping his chin. “You interfered with my game. You saved her life and doomed us all. You should have let the Slayer die.”
“No. I don’t believe you,” he denied her opinion.
“True, it is. I Saw it. Thanks to you, everybody dies, even her,” she prodded Buffy with her foot. A closer look revealed Buffy’s face to be a sickening shade of purple.
Spike stared in horror, “Dru-”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
60 Days to Apocalypse
She didn’t hear that. She couldn’t have. It simply wasn’t possible.
The whisper came again, and Buffy knew she wasn’t mistaken. It was one word, uttered from the sleeping lips of the one she loved.
“Dru.”
Breaking free of the icy paralysis that had gripped her bones, Buffy stumbled out of bed. She snatched up a robe to cover herself and went out the door. Stopping a few rooms down, Buffy knocked softly on one door.
Pike opened it. He took in her pleading expression.
He let her in.
The door closed behind them.
TBC...?
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20