Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
by Kirayoshi
Terrible Swift Sword
[reviews]
Chapter three
Terrible Swift Sword
"Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down.
Watch your heel crush, crushed, uh-oh, this means
No fear cavalier. Renegade steer clear!
A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies.
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives
and I decline.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine."
--REM
"It's The End Of The World As We Know It(And I Feel Fine)"
The Slayer stood alone on a street near the old school grounds. She was preparing her soul for her final battle. She knew what was expected of her. She knew for some time that this day would come. When she would be expected to lay her life down in battle with a terrible threat.
"The time of gods is at an end," she muttered in an almost sing-song voice, reciting the invocation she had read from the book that the Council had provided with the sword. "Give me now the strength and resolve to take down the goddess Glory. In the name of all mankind, I fight and die tonight." She bared her left arm, and ran the edge of the sword Ragnarok against her tender flesh. She cut deeply, wincing slightly at the pain. Blood welled from the wound, and coated the edge of the blade. As the Slayer gazed at her wounded arm, the cut grew less and less severe. She smiled; as the Slayer she enjoyed a heightened healing factor but it never worked this fast. She suspected that Ragnarok was responsible for her quick recovery; within ten seconds, the wound was nothing more than a reddish mark on her skin.
She could feel the bond forming between herself and the sword. As her own thoughts and emotions became subservient to the will of the blade, a tiny voice in her mind struggled to be heard. She ignored that voice. Ragnarok had offered her a chance to finally shed her weaker self, her human self, and she accepted. Buffy had failed time and again to saved those she loved. Let her fall away, the Slayer declared.
The Slayer.
As her humanity slowly ebbed away, Buffy realized the terrible truth. This was the terrible secret of the blade Ragnarok. The ultimate weapon of the Slayer. The doomsday weapon, which would give her the ultimate powers of all Slayers, down to the Primal Slayer, but carried a mystical failsafe; if she failed to slay her foe within the hour, that power would burn out its host. One way or another, she would die within the hour.
She looked forward to her final rest. She embraced darkness. As the power of the Primal Slayer continued to flow through her being, little by little, that which was Buffy Summers was being eroded away. And she made no motions to stop her fading away.
Her memories of Sunnydale, and Los Angeles before that. Gone.
Her hopes, her ambitions, her desires. Gone.
Her lost loves. Riley. Scott. Angel. Pike. Gone.
Her circle of friends. Tara. Anya. Faith. Oz. Kendra. Jenny. Cordy. Xander. Giles. Gone.
Her family. Mom. Dad. Dawn. Gone.
Her one true soulmate. Willow. Gone.
Be happy, Wills. I love you...
With that final thought, Buffy Summers simply ceased to exist.
There was only the Slayer.
The Slayer's power surged through her veins. The Slayer's strength fortified her bones. The Slayer's memories filled her mind. The Slayer's song sang through her muscles. The Slayer's war cry ripped from her lungs and echoed across the farthest rooftops of Sunnydale.
Buffy Summers, for the first and last time in her life, had truly become the Slayer.
"Hold, Slayer," a commanding voice boomed out behind her. She turned on her heel and faced the speaker. A tall figure covered head to foot in chain mail armor, his shield and sword at the ready. Six others likewise clad stood behind him, all fit fighting men, all ready for battle.
The Slayer recognized these men; the Order of Byzantium. An ancient order of knights devoted to the destruction of the goddess Glory. All equally devoted to the destruction of the Key, and of the one who protected the Key. Which made her their enemy. "Look, Sir Swish-a-Lot, I don't have time to deal with you guys. Go find a Holy Grail or something."
"Stand fast, Slayer," the lead knight glowered at the Slayer. "You will not stop us in our mission. We will destroy Glory, and if you stand in our way, you fall with her."
The Slayer smirked at the knight's bravado. "Oh yeah? Right now, Glory-hog has my sister, and I have to stop her from using the Key to destroy the world, so you're the ones in my way. Besides, mine's bigger than yours, Chain mail Boy!" She hoisted the blade she carried in front of her, adopting a battle stance. "Face it, boys," she grinned, "don't you feel just a little inadequate right about now?"
The knights stared at the blade, and within seconds fell to their knees. The lead knight's eyes still locked on the sword, as he whispered, "Ragnarok. The Godkiller!"
"Ah, you read the brochure," the Slayer nodded. "So you know what this letter opener's capable of."
"Lady," the knight looked in fear, "I beseech you not to use the blade; it would mean your death."
"Yeah, and not using it tonight would mean my death, your deaths, and the deaths of everyone else on the planet," she shouted in a voice of pure authority that shook the knights to their cores. "I'm going to take care of your little Glory problem, and I'm not expecting to survive the incident. So I'd appreciate it if you guys would cut me some freakin' slack!"
As the Slayer spoke, something changed within the knight; he started to look upon the woman with the sword in her hand with less contempt and more awe. Standing before him was a woman who was more than willing to sacrifice herself for her sister, for her world. The lead knight bent his knee in supplication to the Slayer, and motioned his fellow knights to do the same. "Slayer," he declared, "you have our respect and loyalty. Command us and we shall obey."
The Slayer raised a single eyebrow toward the knight, and allowed her expression to soften. "What is your name, sir?"
"Sir Ricardo," the young man answered.
"Then, Sir Ricardo," the Slayer answered, "I can use you and your men. I must concentrate on Glory, but no doubt she has a platoon of her minions guarding her six. I need you guys to engage her goons. I just need you to give me an opening to get to Glory."
"We will not fail you, my lady," Ricardo declared. The Slayer smiled. She knew that despite their initial enmity, she could trust this young man.
"Okay, men, saddle up. I know where Glory is, so I'll lead the way. Once we're there, I'm counting on you to give me a window to take down Glory. Forward, men."
Buffy and the Order of Byzantium headed out for their final battle with Glory. The knights had accepted a long time ago that they might not survive this encounter, but the Slayer knew that she wouldn't. While the other knights felt a faint twinge of apprehension at the prospect of dying, the Slayer felt calm.
After all, what fear does one have of dying when one has no more desire to live?
========
"Buffy?" Giles shouted as he hurriedly unlocked the front door of the Magic Box. Tara ran ahead of her, and when he heard no answer to his call, Giles feared the worst.
His fears were verified when he rushed into the back room. Willow was unconscious on the weights bench, the vault door was open and Ragnarok was missing. Giles felt a terrible dread clutch his heart as Tara ran to Willow's side and slapped her face lightly, in an effort to revive her.
"Huh," Willow murmured groggily as she stirred and tried to sit up. "Man, anyone get the license of that Star Destroyer?"
"Willow," Tara whispered urgently, "what happened? Where's Buffy?"
"Buff-" The name of her best friend caused Willow to shake off the effects of Buffy's nerve pinch. "Omigoddess! BuffyhasRagnarokshe'sgonnatakedownGlorybeforeDawn--"
"Slowly, Willow," Giles urged the young wiccan. "Breath, calm, relax. Now, what happened?"
Willow breathed hard, and continued, calming at Tara's touch, slowing her nervous babble. "Buffy has Ragnarok, she's gonna take down Glory. I tried to stop her but she gave me the Vulcan neck pinch."
"And I thought she had tuned out my lecture on pressure points," Giles cursed under his breath. He was about to ask Willow why Buffy would embark on this suicide mission. Willow provided the answer before he even asked; "Spike sold Dawn out to Glory. Glory has Dawn, she knows Dawn's the Key. I guess tonight's the showdown."
"Damn and blast!" Giles burst out angrily, slamming his fist on the bench beside Willow.
"Don't worry, Willow," Tara tried to assure her lover. "As soon as the alarm sounded I called Xander. He and Anya will be here soon. He'll drive us."
"But where?" Tara asked.
"The only place where Glory can use the Key," Giles declared. "The nexus of the dark forces that have bedeviled this Godforsaken town."
"The Hellmouth," Willow gasped.
"Yes," snapped Giles, "the Hellmouth. And we have to be there. Somehow, we have to save Buffy."
From Glory, and from herself, he added silently.
========
"Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" sang the mad goddess as she opened her ancient codex. "Tonight's the night, pals and gals!" She happily addressed her minions as she prepared to sacrifice the bound and gagged Dawn. "Within the hour, the moon will rise overhead, and shine its light over our Key. Then I sacrifice her, after which, it's my coming out party!" She cackled like a lunatic at her own amusement. "Yes, pals and gals, it's time for us to hop off this dirt ball, and burn it down behind us."
Dawn trembled as she heard these words. She glanced back at Glory as the goddess accepted an ancient book from one of her hench-demons. Glory placed the book on a makeshift podium and started thumbing through the yellowing parchment pages. "Geez Louise," Dawn muttered. "Ancient books, dumb fashions, waiting for the full moon. Are all you would-be world destroyers such drama queens?"
Glory chuckled softly as she cast an insane eye toward her captive. "Hey, if you're gonna destroy a world, at least you can make a party out of it, y'know? Give it a sense of occasion." She turned back to the book, and located the proper incantation. "Now, please be quiet, brat, I have some heavy-duty incanting to do before the moonlight hits you." She placed her hand on the page, and began to chant;
"When the moon reaches its zenith,
When its light is cast over the key,
Let the power of the key be unleashed.
Let the lock be sundered,
Let the barriers between this world and the next fall."
She began to mutter a string of arcane syllables, as a grisly white light began to pour from the book. Dawn gasped as she beheld this sight. She was more scared than she could remember. This madwoman would destroy all creation soon, and Dawn would be the tool she used to bring about this terrible end.
Glory found her concentration shattered by the sudden sounds of sword against steel. She had taken the precaution of chaining the doors behind her, to prevent anyone from distracting her from this final stage of the game. It never occurred to her that her enemies would be carrying swords.
"Boys," she barked to her minions, "Go kill those annoying humans. And please, be quiet, I can't concentrate with all those swords clanging." At her command, an army of minor demons marched forward, to meet their foes. Glory returned to her text, reading the words of power from a dead language.
Outside the doorway, the demons rushed forward and met the small band of knights, and their leader, the Slayer. "Forward, men," called Sir Ricardo. "Destroy the servants of the evil goddess!"
"Just hold them off," shouted the slayer, "so I can get a clear shot at Glory!" Ricardo and the other knights understood, and pressed their attack on the demon horde.
As the Slayer made her way through the press of attackers, she could see Glory, standing over an ancient tome, with Dawn tied to a stone slab. A tiny portion of her soul recognized her as 'sister', but the emotional connection was overridden by her battle sense. The key was about to be used. She knew that she didn't have any more time to waste. "Hold them off here," she called to Sir Ricardo, "I'm going in."
"They shall not pass," Ricardo declared. He looked briefly at the Slayer, and said somberly, "May God be with you."
"Thanks," she replied, although the wish meant nothing to her; God hadn't been with her before, it's too late to show now. "You too." She stopped to grasp him by the arm in a warrior's handshake, then left for her final battle.
========
"Glory must be at the old high school," Giles said grimly as he drove, the others sitting silently in the car as it sped forward. "Close enough to the Hellmouth for her to utilize the Key, and easily defended."
"Just get us there," Xander murmured from the back seat. "If we can get close enough to grab Dawn, maybe Buffy won't need to use the sword of Reaganomics."
"Ragnarok," Giles corrected absently. Anya sat shotgun, while Xander, Willow and Tara sat in back, Willow clutching the letter that Buffy had written for her to read after Buffy died. Willow had betrayed her curiosity by reading the letter, and her heart grew heavy with what she had read. One passage in particular moved her above all others;
"I always knew that I would go before you, Willow. That's how it was meant to be, after all. I am the Slayer, which means I have to fight on to my death. I don't get to retire, I don't get vacation time, I didn't even get bereavement time when Mom died. Don't spend too much time mourning me, it's not like I'm worth the effort. Just go. Take Tara and get the hell out of Dodge. I'm not around anymore to defend Sunnydale, and I suspect the next Slayer will be heading somewhere else.
"I have always loved you, in my own special way, more deeply and more passionately than anyone I ever loved before. Who knows, if Tara wasn't in the picture, maybe I'd have made a play for you. That's all behind us now, and it's for the best; I wouldn't wish myself on anyone. Besides, you've got Tara. Take good care of her, and make sure she takes good care of you. If she doesn't I'll just have to come back from Hell and knock her around a little.
Be happy, my beloved Willow, and be well.
The Slayer"
Willow shuddered as she re-read the letter, tears tracking freely down her cheeks. Tara looked uneasily at the young woman she loved, knowing that she was hurting but not knowing how to help.
"She signed it 'The Slayer', Tara," she whispered. "It's like she doesn't even acknowledge her humanity anymore. Like she's stopped being Buffy." Giles heard her words, and grieved silently with her. She was right in her assessment, Giles thought. He had looked into Buffy's eyes before that day, and saw only the Slayer.
Xander placed a comforting hand over Willow's knee. "It'll be okay, Wills. We take down Glory, then Buffy can go on with her life again."
"But what if she uses Ragnarok?" Willow wailed. "What if it's too late for us to save her?"
"Don't say that, Willow," Tara whispered to her love. "We'll get her back."
"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Remember that whole Master prophecy? She was fated to die then, but we pulled her through."
"Yeah," Willow admitted. "I just hope we're not too late now." The others silently prayed for the same. Giles grimly pressed down on the accelerator, jacking his car up to top speed.
========
Glory was continuing her recitation, disturbed slightly by the clash of swords outside. "Do you mind?" she called out in an irritated tone of voice, "I'm trying to incant here!"
"I wouldn't bother!" a voice of vengeance shouted from the doorway. "I will not let you survive tonight!" Tied to the stone, Dawn began to feel hope; her rescuer was here.
Glory stopped her incantation, and regarded the intruder who dared to stop her great work. "Buffy Summers," she chuckled. "You just don't learn, do you?"
"I'm the Slayer, bitch," she replied through clenched teeth. "You're going down now."
"Give her hell, Buffy!" Dawn shouted from her vantage point. The Slayer simply ignored her. Whatever connection Buffy had felt toward her sister, the Slayer only saw her as the Key, the power coveted by Glory.
"No, I'm going home now," Glory argued. "You're going down. And your world with you."
The Slayer stood her ground. "Not tonight, sister!" The Slayer drew Ragnarok from its scabbard. She displayed the blade in front of her, the fire of the moon reflecting off the sword's edge and glittering hungrily in her eyes. "I trust you recognize the blade."
Glory gasped, a measure of her arrogance fading as she beheld the blade. "Ragnarok," she whispered. "The Council gave you Ragnarok?"
"Yep," the Slayer twirled the blade around in a lazy arc, before pointing it again at Glory. "You feel lucky?"
Glory screamed at the night sky before launching herself at the Slayer. Despite her blinding speed, the Slayer was able to dodge Glory's initial attack. But Glory rebounded quickly, and kicked hard and fast. The Slayer stopped her first two kicks, but the third one connected with her right hand, sending Ragnarok clattering to the floor.
Glory beat the Slayer to the sword, and smiled. "Oh, this is too good," she grinned. "I get to kill you with the one weapon which could have killed me." She wrapped her hand around the sword's hilt, intent on plunging the blade into the Slayer's heart.
Her hand seized violently, and she yanked it away as though she had tried to handle a live wire. She shrieked in agony as she glared hard at the Slayer. "You've bonded with Ragnarok! Now none can wield it but you!"
"Funny how that works out," the Slayer sneered at her. She rushed toward the fallen sword, only to be knocked back against a wall by Glory.
"But still, you can't kill me without it," Glory announced. "And you won't get close to it before I kill you." She lunged into the Slayer's midsection, driving the air out of her lungs as she impacted with the far wall. "And I don't need no swords to do the job on you!"
The Slayer fought hard against the mad goddess, releasing a flurry of flying kicks and punches that would have devastated a platoon of Polgara demons. The sheer power of the blows even kept Glory off her feet briefly. But only briefly. Within seconds she was able to regain her bearings, and when the Slayer lunged at her in a flying kick, she grabbed her leg, and threw her down on the ground, hard enough to break a rib.
"So, Buffy," Glory smiled, "where are your friends now? Huh? Where are those two dyke witches, the ones who sent me two miles into the air?" She cuffed the Slayer hard across the cheek, drawing blood from her mouth. "You're all alone, Slayer. Your blond vampire boyfriend's not here to save you--"
"Spike was not my boyfriend!" the Slayer screamed.
"Fine, whatever," the goddess declared in an annoyed voice, backhanding the Slayer again. "But he's the one who lead me to the true key anyway. You can't trust him, your friends are gone, and now even your mommy's not around. Who's going to save you from me now?"
As the Slayer reeled from the agony of Glory's attacks, she recalled a similar moment in her life; the one called Angelus stood above her, preparing to drive a sword into her. "No friends, no weapons, no hope," he whispered. "Strip all that away, and what's left?"
The Slayer's eyes met Glory's, and the gleam of anger that flashed in her eyes generated fear in Glory's heart. "Who's going to save you from me now?" she asked. As far as the Slayer was concerned, the answer to Glory's question was the same as Angel's question.
She leaped high over Glory's head, arcing behind her, and landed in a rolling motion, close enough to grab the sword Ragnarok. She stood up, sword in hand, and grinned ferally at Glory.
"Me!" she answered Glory's question. She held the sword aloft, preparing to charge her enemy one last time.
"You don't want to do that, Slayer," Glory stammered, and the Slayer could smell her fear. She found the scent sweet. "If you use the sword Ragnarok on me, you will die as well!"
"Yeah, got the sales pitch from Giles," the Slayer answered. "But there's something about us Slayers you don't know." She grinned even more broadly at her enemy. "It seems we all have a death wish!" She hefted the sword high, preparing to deliver the death blow---
---when the figure before her shifted, flowed, morphed into a different but familiar form. "B-Buffy?" the young man who now stood where the goddess had been blinked in confusion. "What happened? What has my sister been up to?"
The Slayer shook her head in startlement. "Ben?"
The young man gulped as he looked around him. "Oh my..." his eyes trained on the site of Dawn, still tied to the altar stone, the book upon its podium, the candles lit around the altar. And the Slayer standing over him, the sword Ragnarok in her hands.
Ben stood his ground in front of the Slayer. "Buffy," he pleaded with her, "you have to finish what you started. You have to kill me."
"B-but you're not Glory," the Slayer faltered, the sword lowering in her hands. "You're not my enemy."
"I am bonded with Glory," he said plainly. "Kill me, and she dies as well. You must do this. For humanity, you must do this."
The Slayer stood above Ben, her resolve failing. "I-I can't, Ben. Forgive me, I--" Before she could finish, a terrible laugh cut through the night. Where Ben had been, Glory now stood, a mocking leer curling her lips. "Too late, Slayer!" Glory slammed her shoulder into Buffy's chest, pile driving her into the far wall. "Payback's a bitch," she announced with evil glee, "and so am I!"
The Slayer rose on unsteady legs, tasting the blood from the cut on her lip. She cursed herself for being caught off guard by Glory and her brother. She looked at the blade in her hand, a steel resolve flooding her veins. She regarded her enemy with a wolfish glare in her eyes, a ravenous set to her mouth.
"Well, Ding dong," the Slayer announced, "the Bitch is Dead!" She kicked her feet into Glory's gut, pushing her away. She glared at her enemy, sword in hand. Time to end this now, she thought. She grasped the sword with both hands and thrust forward, as Glory charged directly at her.
Neither combatant noticed the small group of people who had rushed through the door. But the Slayer heard a familiar voice crying out in one still moment;
"BUFFY! NOOOO!"
The blade entered Glory's heart as Willow cried out to her friend. As she pushed the sword down into Glory's body with the last of her strength, the Slayer could feel a small part of her, that part that was still Buffy Summers, emerging from her hard stone shell. Buffy could hear Willow's desperate cry, saw the anguish in Willow's eyes, and grieved with her, but it was too late for her now.
As Glory's energies flowed from the goddess into the body of Buffy Summers, she could feel her own strength fading. Her body simply couldn't handle the energies that were passing through her. She could feel lightning course through her veins and out of her eyes. With one last erg of strength, she gazed at her fading foe, as her powers burnt out. "I guess I'm going out," she announced, smiling one last time, "in a blaze of Glory!"
Willow started to rushed toward Buffy, but was held back by Giles. They and the others stood by helplessly as the nimbus of light engulfed both Buffy and Glory. The light seared their eyes, forcing them to look away. When they returned their eyes to the scene, the light was gone, and with it, any trace of Glory.
Buffy lay in a crumpled heap, still and small. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing. Just the way her mother's eyes were when she first found her dead.
Willow and Xander ran toward Buffy's body, while Giles rushed to free Dawn from her bonds. "Quick, Xand!" Willow ordered as they gently lay Buffy out on her back. "Start breathing for her, I'll pump her heart." Willow immediately went to work, placing her hands over Buffy's heart like she remembered from her CPR training, and pressing down quickly on Buffy's chest, while Xander tilted Buffy's head back and started mouth-to-mouth. Anya and Tara simply looked on and offered their prayers.
"Come on, Buffy," Willow muttered as they went to work. "Don't die on us now."
========
She was vaguely aware of hands grabbing her limbs, of scaly arms hefting her aloft, of foul-smelling bodies carrying her rapidly down, down---she didn't know where she was going. Or where she was. She tried to break free of the monsters' grip, but her limbs strained to no avail.
"Set her down nice and pretty," a familiar voice called out. The monsters dropped her like a sack of wheat, then departed. She lifted herself up, wondering why she wasn't as strong as she should be. Her memories were somewhat hazy but she recalled being stronger than she was now. Before she could lift herself to a sitting position, she was kicked in the jaw, and knocked back down.
She rolled on her back, wincing in pain, as the foot that had kicked her down now pressed hard against her chest. "Who's beneath who now, Buffy?" a dark Cockney voice crowed over her. "I'll bet you're regretting ever rejecting me now, ain't ya?"
The dark voice stirred her memory, and suddenly she glanced at the being who pressed his foot down on her. Black duster jacket over red shirt and black leather pants and boots. Short spiky yellow hair. A look of arrogance cast over his features. And an air of final victory aimed directly at her. "Welcome to Hell, Buffy Summers," he announced. Buffy groaned audibly as he laughed his triumph.
"Pleased to meet you," Spike whooped gleefully. "Hope you guessed my name!"