Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
by Kirayoshi
Carry That Weight
[reviews]
Chapter two;
Carry That Weight
"Once there was a way
To get back home,
Once there was a way
To get back home.
Sleep little darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
Boy, you're gonna carry that weight,
Carry that weight a long time."
--John Lennon and Paul McCartney
"Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight"
She made it back home after a cursory patrol. She felt the need to look in on Dawn. Then she would continue her patrol.
"Dawn?" she called out in the hallway. No one answered. "Dawn? Where are you?" Still no reply.
She then noticed a pale pink envelope on the floor in front of her, bearing the name 'Buffy' in an immaculate script. She opened the envelope and pulled out a linen paper card, that also bore the same script. The message within, however, made her blood run cold;
Dear Buffy,
I have your sister.
The monks lost.
Just so you know,
the world ends tonight.
It's been fun,
Toodles,
Glory
Buffy immediately rushed to her room, stopped to grab some more stakes and holy water, and ran out the front door. She had to find Glory and stop her once and for all. And there was only one way to do it.
On her way to the Magic Shop, she was stopped by a familiar voice; "Hey, friend, where's the fire?"
She didn't even stop to acknowledge the voice. He tried again; "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to shrug me off!"
"Die in pain, Spike," Buffy shouted.
"Already did that," Spike grinned. "I do it every night you refuse my affections."
"Buy a clue, Hannibal Lechter," Buffy growled. "You're a vampire, I'm a vampire slayer. What sort of relationship should we have?"
"Why, Buffy," the punk vampire feigned innocence. "You wound me. And after all the trouble I went through for your sake."
Buffy slowed her pace but did not stop. "Not that this indicates any kind of curiosity on my part, but what the hell are you talking about?"
"Your brat, Slayer," Spike smiled ferally. "The sister who isn't really. I put her out of your misery."
Buffy stopped sharply and spun around, glaring at Spike. "I didn't even have to do anything directly to her," he continued. "Just told our mutual friend Glory what she was looking for, key-wise--"
"You -- Son -- Of -- A -- BITCH!" With each word, Buffy took a step toward Spike, ending her statement by connecting a blow to his jaw that would have killed a mortal. "You realize what you've done?" she shouted at the fallen vampire. "She's going to use Dawn to reenter her native demon realm, destroying the Earth in the process! You sold out the planet!"
"Let it die, Slayer," Spike laughed. "We will be the Lord and Lady of the new Hell. The two of us together, the way the fates decreed!" He leaned in closer, and growled lustfully, "Glory has promised to give me the state of California as my personal hunting ground. I want to share my triumph with you. Together for all eternity."
Buffy looked long and hard at Spike, before rendering her opinion; "You, Spike, are completely and totally NUTS! I'm talking one toy surprise shy of a box of Cracker Jacks! Let me take this opportunity to spell it out, Spike! I don't want you in my life! I hate you! I want you dead! How much more clear do I have to make myself?"
Spike glared darkly at the Slayer. "I'd remind you, Buffy," he snarled, "that chip in my head isn't a governing issue. You will be mine, Buffy Summers, either as a human, or as one of my kind. I will never let anyone come near you again. You are mine!"
Buffy glared at the vampire as he ranted, and realized the truth. Another failing of hers. She made the mistake of letting Spike live when she could have taken him out in a heartbeat while he was under the power of his microchip. Now he was back to his evil self, and her sister had paid for her hesitation.
She stood in front of the monster, her rage threatening to consume her. Spike looked at her fondly, his words as mellow as he could make them; "Yes, Buffy. You and I aren't so different, are we? We are of the night. We belong to the darkness. Come with me, be mine forever -- and remember that when I say 'forever', it ain't an exaggeration."
Buffy calmed herself, seeing her chance. She walked toward the vampire, her expression softening, her posture suggesting a raw sexuality. "Why Spike," she cooed, "I didn't know you could be such a poet." Spike grinned lustily, knowing that the moment he had dreamt of for so long would soon come to pass. Buffy would be his.
The Slayer took Spike in her arms, and felt his cold hands run gracelessly along her body. She caressed the back of his neck with her left hand, distracting him with her touch.
He didn't feel the stake that she thrust with all her strength into his back, not until it pierced his black heart.
As the last ashen remains of William the Bloody, aka Spike, drifted past her, Buffy spat on the ashes. "So, Spike," she asked, "was it good for you too?"
She felt nothing. Her limbs were numb and simply moved when she willed them too. Her heart was callused, hardened against any further breaking. Her coping mechanism. She recognized it for what it was. She simply was no longer able to feel. She did not think of Willow, Xander, Tara and Anya as friends, only people who, for some insane reason, chose to hang with her. She could no longer work up the energy to hate Spike or Glory, or miss Angel or Riley, or even mourn her mother. There was nothing left for her. No, a voice in the back of her head demanded. One thing. She found herself thinking of what Spike had said to her a few months ago;
"The thing about the dance is, you never get to stop. Every day you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: is today the day I die? Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you. And part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it. Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish.
"The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here but you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second- that happens...You know I'll be there. I'll slip in...have myself a real good day. Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did."
A strange calm overtook her at that point. Her ties were dissolving and she didn't feel a thing. Riley betrayed her. Her mother was dead. Dawn hated her, blaming her for their mother's death. Her friends were embarking on new lives, lives that soon wouldn't have any room for her.
And tonight, she knew with absolute clarity, was the last night of her life.
That thought should have filled her with dread, with unspeakable fear. It just left her feeling finished. Complete in some unfathomable way. Tonight was what her life as the Slayer was coming down to.
"Time for my last dance, Spike," she spoke to the ghost of her mentor/nemesis one last time, and ran back home.
She opened her footlocker, and pulled out three sealed envelopes; one addressed simply to Dawn, one addressed Giles, and one addressed Willow. She had gotten into the habit of writing letters to her closest friends and family, to be opened and read In The Event Of. She took these three envelopes and stashed them in her bag. She then left the house, taking one last look behind her, before she left for the Magic Box
She unlocked the front door, made her way to the back room and located the vault. Giles had stashed Ragnarok in the vault to keep it save overnight before shipping it back to the Council. He wanted to find a solution that wouldn't endanger Buffy. Yeah, right, she grumbled to herself. Like she's any prize. She started turning the dial of the combination lock, and after a few failed experiments was able to determine the combination easily. "Real original, Giles," she muttered quietly. "Jenny Calendar's birthday."
She pushed down on the handle and heard the latch click. The door swung open with a slight squeak. Buffy reached in and grabbed the handle of the ancient sword. She hefted it briefly above her head, and tried a few practice feints and parries, to gauge the weight and attitude of the sword. It felt good in her hand. Like it was made for her, an extension of her arm.
She located the book that came with the sword, and read the pertinent texts; to use the sword to slay Glory, Buffy had to cut her own body deeply, and coat the blade's edge with her own blood. That bond would allow her power to pass through the sword and into Glory's body at the moment the thrust is made. But the psychic backlash that resulted would kill Buffy the second after she killed Glory. Almost instantaneously, if the text was correct.
At least it would be over quickly.
========
"I'm gonna swing by the Magic Box before heading back, Tara," the voice on the answering machine announced. "Just wanted to make sure everything was secure and the hatches are battened down, whatever that means. I'll try not to wake you up when I get in, honey, I just needed to work off some off the collected despair. See you tomorrow. Love ya." The answering machine clicked off and again Tara McClay was alone.
Over a year ago, an incredible young woman named Willow Rosenberg showed up on her doorstep, a candle in her hand, offering Tara her heart. That moment was the validation of Tara's previously unhappy life. She had left an uncaring family behind her and had found in Willow, and later in her friends, the real family she had craved for so long.
But now that family was falling apart.
Buffy Summers, in many ways the very heart and soul of this family, had lost the core of her own life. Her mother was dead. The man she pledged to love was false to her. And now, with this cursed sword in their midst, she felt that she had an easy out. Sacrifice herself to save others, that's what a Slayer does, right?
Only is it sacrifice if there is already a death wish?
She could feel how this was destroying her Willow. Her beloved. And Tara certainly understood why that should be. After all, Buffy was the one who first brought Willow out of her shell, who in many ways was responsible for the sweet, vibrant young woman whom she loved with all her heart and soul.
But did Willow love her? She didn't doubt that, not at all, but still...
Over a year ago, Willow had chosen Tara over Oz.
If the choice were now, and between Tara and Buffy, she had no guarantee that Willow would choose her again.
A faint tingling across her scalp distracted Tara from the downward spiral her thoughts were taking. The tingling slowly grew in intensity, until it threatened to overpower her. She realized quickly the terrible truth; the alarm spell that she and Willow had cast over Giles' vault had been activated. Someone was breaking into the vault. And she knew without question who it was.
She immediately dialed a number on the telephone, and prayed that he was home.
Three rings later, a slightly groggy voice answered, "Giles speaking."
"Mr. Giles," Tara said, trembling, her nervous stutter returning with a vengeance, "B-B-Buffy's stealing Ragn-na-r-rok!"
"Good lord!" Giles gasped loudly. "Are you sure?"
"The alarm spell's been b-broken," Tara replied. "Who else c-could it be?"
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Giles answered. "Is Willow with you?"
"She said she was going to check out the Magic Box," Tara said. "She's probably already there."
"Good," Giles said rapidly. "I'll pick you up in a second, you call Xander and have him and Anya meet us at the shop. See you soon." The phone connection cut off, and Tara tossed on some jeans and a shirt. As she waited for Giles, she lowered her head and held out her hands.
"Bright lady," she prayed to her Goddess, "please watch after Buffy Summers. For her own sake, for the sake of the world, and for the sake of the woman who holds my heart."
========
"A little late to take your sword for a walk?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway. Buffy turned on her heel to face who was speaking behind her, the sword drawn and at the ready.
"Geez, Willow!" Buffy shouted at the interloper. "Don't ever do that!" Lowering her blade, Buffy glared at Willow, who bore her infamous 'Resolve Face'. She was going to try and stop Buffy, that much was certain. "What're you doing here, Willow? Thought you'd be with Tara."
"She's back at the dorm," Willow answered. "And you didn't think I'd leave the Magic Box unguarded? I had the vault spelled, kinda like a silent alarm, so I'd know if anyone tried to tamper it." She crossed her arms, and said, "You're going after Glory, aren't you?"
"We're out of options, Wills," Buffy stated plainly. "Glory has Dawn. She knows Dawn is the Key." Willow gasped at Buffy's statement. "Yeah, Spike told Glory about Dawn to get to me. Don't worry about him, he's dustbuster chow now." She belted the scabbard around her waist as she continued; "I know where she is, the only place where she could use the Key around here. The old high school, just over the Hellmouth. She's going to sacrifice Dawn, using her energies to open the door to her realm, opening the Hellmouth in the process."
"I'll call Giles," Willow started, but Buffy grabbed her wrist, hard enough to cause pain. "NO!" she shouted. "No one else can be involved. This is my last battle, Wills. I'm ending it one way or the other." She reached in her purse, and withdrew the three envelopes. "Don't open these until tomorrow, that is assuming there is a tomorrow. If you're not dead in the morning, or transported to some hellish realm, then I'll have beaten Glory. Then you, Giles and Dawn can read these. My farewell messages."
"You're not leaving me behind, Buffy," Willow insisted. "I've been there from nearly the beginning. I won't be shut out now. If being my best friend ever meant anything to you, you won't leave me behind."
Buffy stepped forward, as Willow took her in her arms and held her desperately. "It means the world to me, Willow. More than you can imagine." The faintest embers of her feelings started to flare as she cupped Willow's face in her hand and lifted her eyes to meet her own. "It says so in my letter, but I can't say goodbye to you without letting you know the truth. Before Riley, before Scott, before Angel, there was always you. You were my first true friend, my confidante, my most trusted ally in this battle. I never said this because of my past experiences in love, but I have always loved you. More than anyone I have ever known in my life. You were, are, and always will be the most important person in my world. And I can't give you a greater gift than this." She disengaged the hug and resumed her cold mask. "I'm letting you go. From now on, the Scooby Gang is disbanded. You can start your own lives now, away from Sunnyhell. One way or another, I'll be dead in the morning. I've accepted that."
"WELL, I HAVEN'T!" The force of Willow's shout shocked the Slayer. "Haven't we lost too much already? Your mom was closer to us than our own parents. Yeah, we still hurt, but at least we're sharing our pain. Helping each other through it. You, no, not the almighty Slayer! You gotta face it alone! Forgive my language, Buffy, but that's BULLSHIT!"
The vehemence of Willow's outburst caught them both off guard. Willow stopped suddenly and tried to slow herself, speaking as calmly as she could; "Look Buffy, I won't tell you I know what you're going through, but you don't have to go through it alone. And if you don't mind me saying so, your trying to shoulder the burden yourself is pretty damn selfish of you." She could feel hot tears stinging her eyes, but she continued. "Buffy, you're too important for us to just walk away, so don't you dare expect us to go. We're family, Buffy; you, me, Tara, Giles, Xander, Anya, Dawn, we're practically the only family we've got. Don't expect us to abandon you just because you tell us to, because we won't!
"Too bad I don't have time for the grief counseling, Willow," Buffy shouted back at her friend. "But it's too late for that. We're talking ten seconds left in the fourth quarter and we're down by six! There's only one play left in the playbook, a Hail Mary at best, and I'm using it. No discussions, it's done. If there were another way I'd do it."
"Would you," Willow accused her, "would you really?" She no longer tried to fight the tide of tears that now spilled freely from her face. Buffy rushed to her side and took her in her arms again. She soothed her soft red hair, kissed her forehead, knowing that this would be her last chance to hold her beloved Willow again.
"I'm sorry, Willow," she whispered into the redhead's ear.
"So you're gonna take me with you, at least?" Willow asked hopefully. "We can come up with a last minute plan on the way?"
"No, Wills," Buffy replied, her face turned again to stone. "I'm sorry for this." Her right hand had been tracing the sides of Willow's neck. She now located a specific nerve cluster beneath the skin of her neck, and pressed the nerves between her forefinger and thumb.
Willow dropped like a sack of potatoes, unconscious. Buffy gathered her body and rested it on the weightlifters bench. "Goodbye, Willow," she whispered one last time, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "It's better this way. Don't waste any more time loving me. It's not like I ever earned it."
She stole one last glance at the sleeping Willow, and found that she had to summon her resolve to finish what she set out to do. Wearing the Godkiller sword at her side, Buffy Summers left for her date with death.
========
Dawn awakened to pain. Her head pounded like twenty kettledrums. Her wrists were scraping against something, and when she tried to move them, the pain was worse. She stirred her head to look at her arms, she saw that her wrists were bound tight to the headboard above her. Continued examination showed that her ankles were bound as well.
She glanced furtively at her surroundings. The dingy room was half-collapsed, with wreckage of fallen walls breaking beams of floodlights outside in a strange dappled pattern. It struck her then; the old high school, the one that Buffy and her friends had to torch to destroy the Mayor at graduation. She suddenly remembered what had happened, who had brought her here. "Glory," she gasped, coughing as dust entered her lungs.
"You called?" an unpleasantly chipper voice announced. The mad goddess appeared before her, wearing a red silk strapless dress with matching silk scarf. "Just had to finish dressing. It's so hard to accessorize for the end of the world." She did a neat pirouette, and curtseyed before the bound girl. "What do you think?"
"L-lovely," Dawn stammered, desperately trying to hold down the wave of fear behind a dam of anger. "S-so you gonna kill me or what?"
"Oh, sorry, I can't right now," Glory shook her head. "Love to, but can't. You know how it is, I gotta wait for the full moon to shine at just the right spot, then use the proper incantation, so we gotta wait an hour."
"Too bad," Dawn spat out. "Buffy'll be on your case before then. You're godlike ass is grass, sister."
"Yeah, right," Glory laughed mirthlessly. "So far, I've beaten her every time we've gone at it. The only time she managed to stop me was when those witch-bitch pals of her pulled that transport spell. I ended up miles out of town, thousands of feet in the air. The impact drove me into the ground like a tent peg. Let me tell you, it hurts like heck!" She turned back to Dawn and grinned, saying, "I hope your big sister does come, my little Key. I want to knock her around some before I kill her." She chuckled throatily to herself, as Dawn trembled.
She feared the inevitable. She had lost her mother two months ago. And now, she was going to lose her sister. Assuming that she didn't die herself.
All that she was certain of was that one way or another, tonight was when it all would end. And she was at ground zero.