Return
by Kirayoshi
Ragged Glory
[reviews]
Chapter Seven
Ragged Glory
"In the locust wind
Comes a rattle and hum.
Jacob wrestled the angel
And the angel was overcome.
You plant a demon seed,
You raise a flower of fire;
See them burning crosses,
See the flames higher and higher.
Bullet the blue sky!
Bullet the blue sky!"
...U2
"Bullet the Blue Sky"
Two months ago;
"Tell her it's over," Buffy shouted to the fallen figure at her feet, after Glory retreated into the mortal form of Ben for the last time. "She missed her shot. She goes. She ever, EVER comes near me and mine again..." She left the sentence hanging, with just enough anger and menace in her voice to carry her message.
"We won't. I swear." Ben gasped again. Buffy gave him a final, warning glare and dropped the hammer, then ran off to rescue her sister.
As she left, Giles knelt gently over Ben. "Can you move?"
"Need a ...minute." Ben considered what had happened between him and the Slayer. "She could have killed me."
"No she couldn't. Never." Giles glared hard at Ben, a cold and terrible resolve in his heart. "And sooner or later Glory will re-emerge, and make Buffy pay for that mercy. And the world with her. Buffy even knows that."
He was surprised at how easy it was for him to do this thing. How necessary it was, and how little remorse he felt. He knew that remorse would come later, he didn't care. He might hate himself for the rest of his life, but at least he knew that he would have a life. "And still she couldn't take a human life. She's a hero, you see," Giles explained to Ben, replacing his glasses. "She's not like us."
"Us?"
Giles said nothing; he simply acted. He placed his hand over Ben's nose and mouth, shutting off his airways. Ben's feeble struggles weren't enough to shake off Giles' efforts and soon the young intern and former slave of the mad Goddess was dead.
Giles kept his face expressionless. He had no qualms about killing one man to save the world. To put the life of all over the life of one, that was the creed of the Slayer. He had to do this, to safeguard the world against Glory. By sacrificing Ben, he knew that Glory was dead as well.
He was wrong.
Ben's murder didn't kill Glory; it simply released her animus, her spirit. She drifted over the final battlefield, unfettered by mortal flesh or mortal failings. Bodiless she observed as the Key's blood dripped, opening the portal to her Hell realm. Sightless, she saw the Slayer dive into the portal, her body plummet to the ground with a bone-crushing force. Voiceless, she laughed with evil joy as the others gathered around the corpse of the Slayer.
She lived and her enemy died. And she would claim another body, one that she could nurture as she did Ben.
For how long, she had no recollection, but she flowed over and through the world, seeking a body worthy to contain her magnificence. One strong enough to contain her without being destroyed by the process, and beautiful enough to reflect the sheer perfection incarnate that was Glory.
When she discovered what the so-called Initiative was doing with the fallen Slayer's body, Glory's malevolent laughter echoed through the farthest reaches of the most barren dimensions. Buffy Summers, the sister of the Key herself, being restored, body and mind, to life! It was just too good to pass up. And without the hindrance of Buffy's soul in the way, it was simplicity itself for Glory to possess this new shell of flesh.
All she had to do now was wait. Wait for the scientists to finish the work of restoring her new body. Wait for the proper moment when the Slayer's friends would enter, to halt the process.
Wait for her dramatic entrance.
And now the wait was over.
========
Present day:
Graham had managed to give the incoherent Riley a sedative, rendering him unconscious. He would deal with him later. Provided, of course, that there was a later. From the tableau that unfolded before him, the odds weren't good.
"So," smiled the madwoman who bore the body of their friend. "Who wants their brains sucked out first?"
"You won't win, Glory," Giles growled at the woman. "We defeated you before, we'll beat you tonight."
"Wrong, Watcher-boy," Glory laughed. "Buffy beat me last time. And now, get this, I'm Buffy! Isn't it ironic, dontcha think?"
"You only wear her shape, you are not her!"
"Details, details!" she mocked the Watcher. "All that you need to know is that this is the last night of your lives."
"Not bloody likely!"
Spike launched himself at the mad goddess, his fist connecting hard with her face. "You call yourself a goddess!" he snarled. "You're nothing more than another ambulatory corpse, just like the rest of 'em. And that means, sister," he added as she scrambled to get back on her feet, "that I don't have to hold back!"
Knowing that this imposter wasn't the Buffy he knew, that she was nothing more than a walking corpse, meant that he didn't have to worry about the chip in his head stopping him. With each blow, with each fist, he channeled his pain, his rage and his anger. He pressed his attack and didn't let up, giving neither quarter nor sanctuary. "Come on," he snarled. "What the hell kind of goddess are ya? Livin' off someone's dead body! C'mon, you bitch! Fight me! FIGHT ME!"
"You mean like...THIS?" she pushed him off of her and against the far wall. The hapless vampire struggled to attain a sitting position, dumbfounded by what she had managed to do to her.
Glory staggered to her feet, wiping a trickle of blood away from her lip. "Oh, yeah, I was going to make it easy on you, Spike, but now I'm gonna make it messy!"
"As messy as your face?" Xander shouted. The others looked at him, worry coloring their faces. "To paraphrase an ep of the original Star Trek, 'Behold, a goddess who bleeds!'" He pointed to her lip, still welted and reddened with blood. "Haven't gotten the hang of Buffy's body, have you?"
"Dream on, Harris!" she shouted. "My strength is returning, and without the Slayer to stop me," she glanced at the mercifully sedated body of Dawn, on the nearby gurney, "I'll be able to use the Key again! Until then, I'm still more than capable of taking on the likes of you!"
"Take this on!" Willow clasped her hands in front of her, forefingers pointing at Glory. She started muttering in a language all but forgotten to humanity. Her hands glowed briefly, then flashed an ethereal fire.
Willow realized that attacking the body would do her no good; Glory would simply find another body to inhabit. She had to attack Glory's spirit, destroying her soul. The Spell of Soul-fire was her best option. And she was satisfied with the result.
Glory contorted in pain as the soul-fire scorched her essence. It didn't burn her physically, but her animus felt a thousand fires of Hell licking her skin, charring her deeper than any mere physical flame can touch. Willow stood over Glory, watching without emotion as she writhed in pain. Giles and Xander watched this unfold, desperately seeking some sign of the sweet young Willow Rosenberg remaining within this avenging angel.
"Your time is done, Glory," the witch intoned. "You can't use the Key, and we won't let you desecrate Buffy's body any longer. I will cast your soul out of this body, and into the lowest pit of Hell!"
"N-nice t-try, little wiccan!" Glory strained against the power Willow was channeling. "But this...this body is mine!" With a primal scream, Glory stood up, marshalling her own energies against Willow. With a supreme effort, the insane goddess channeled her own growing powers against Willow's soul-fire spell. The arcane energy fed back into Willow, knocking her off her feet. Giles and Xander rushed to her side, praying that she wasn't injured by the backlash of power. The three of them stared, horrified, at the monster who wore the body of their friend.
"You...you hurt me." Glory spoke, almost chattily, to the young woman. "I gotta say, I'm impressed. Over ten thousand years on this little dirtball, and no one managed to cause me as much pain as you did. Bravo, red, bra-friggin'-vo!" She clapped her hands three times, smiling toothily. "Of course, I'll have to return the favor. Don't worry, this will hurt a lot." She reached out to Willow's head, a gleam in her eyes making the girl think of a wolf about to make the kill. "Like I said to your girlfriend, Let's get crazy!"
Willow offered a prayer to her Goddess, asking for the repose of her soul and the well being of Tara, when she felt it. It was a stirring, an awakening power within her, a power that slept until now. A familiar power, one she only felt once before. She glanced at Giles and Xander briefly, and from their expressions, she received a silent conformation. With a strange certainty, Willow knew what she had to do.
As Glory's fingers brushed against her forehead, Willow linked hands with Giles and Xander. She could feel Glory's power entering her, corrupting her mind.
She felt her mind slipping away, behind the dark veil of Glory's influence. This is what Tara went through, she realized with a terrifying clarity. But the process wasn't complete, and while Willow's mind was still her own, she could act. She focused hard, and felt the minds of Giles and Xander bolstering her. She knew that this desperate gambit had a chance. She channeled her mind into one last plea to the Goddess;
"The power of the Slayer and all who wield it, last to ancient first, we invoke thee! Grant us thy domain and primal strength! Accept us in the power we possess! Make us mind and heart and spirit joined! Let the hand encompass us! Do thy will!"
There should have been a thunderclap. Graham, who watched silently by the sedated babbling idiot that had been his comrade in arms, thought that there should have been thunder, lightning, some discharge of power to accompany the figures of Willow, Xander, Giles and the reanimated Buffy as they all collapsed. He had no idea of what was going on, but a dread certainty told him that when the others regained consciousness, the fate of all that existed would be decided.
He glanced at Spike, who just watched dumbly as it happened. The vampire just shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me, Mate," he said. "I just work here."
Not knowing what else to do, he dragged Riley to his feet and hefted him onto an empty gurney. "You want to help me here, Spike?"
"Why?" Spike asked innocently. "After all he did, why should I lift a finger on his behalf?"
"Because he's dangerous to himself and others in this state," Graham answered impatiently. "At least he isn't in danger of a court-martial for desertion just yet. No court in the world would believe he is competent enough to stand trial."
"Why not just pop the sod?" Spike asked nonchalantly as Graham finished restraining Riley's body. "It's not like he's any good for anyone now."
"He's still my friend!" Graham shouted. "I owe him that much!" Lowering his voice, he added, "Besides, he's not getting off that easy. He's going to be treated for his insanity, and then, once he's recovered, he'll be court-martialed for desertion." Dropping his voice to an ominous monotone, he added, "And in all likelihood, he'll rot in a military prison."
"Right, mate," Spike harrumphed, "assuming, of course, that the world doesn't go 'poof' in the next five minutes or so."
Just before he finished strapping Riley onto the gurney, Graham stood beside Dawn's body, waiting for her to awaken. "Whatever you just did, Willow," he said solemnly, "I hope you succeed. For all our sakes."
"You said it, Brother," Spike added.