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THE GOLDEN SUN
She called an army of children to die for her.
There was no other way about it. She took the demon that made her and shoved it to an untold number of young, teenage girls in order to give her and hers a chance at survival.
Girls all over the world, not just the ones clawing at any option to save their own lives. Girls who had no idea what Potential or Slayer meant. Girls who got ready for dances with out Death looking over their shoulders.
She'd been slaying too long to think they'd all make it out alive. She just hoped as few as possible would die. Maybe all the potentials around the world that she made into heroes would have died anyway. Evil liked to kill it's foe before it could even defend itself. Maybe they would have died.
Maybe they would have been allowed to live as the girls, the children, they were. Maybe they'd never know what went bump in the night. Maybe the world would let them stay safe from demons.
But maybe it wouldn't. Buffy was old enough to know that some demons wore human faces and some of the bravest, most honorable people she knew wore the face of a demon. It took years for her to learn but Good and Bad are not always as simple as the face one wears.
They never evacuated the city. They hadn't needed too. Even stupid, oblivious humans knew when an entire city was aching to shake and crumble until nothing was left standing. Even stupid oblivious humans could read when the end of days was spray painted along the walls.
Only Buffy, the Scoobies, Andrew, Giles, Faith, Spike, Dawn, Robin and the children they called to be soldiers stayed. Seven years after she'd been called she called more. Life came full circle it seemed. Faith called it Stockholm Syndrome for heroes decades down the road. Buffy didn't disagree.
Sharing the power, Willow said, sharing the burden. Save more innocent lives. For the greater good.
Buffy stopped believing in the greater good when she crash landed out of heaven and into a coffin.
That was a lie, she'd stopped believing in the greater good when she wore sacrificial, virginal, white to die for a city she barely knew at the behest of a man charged with watching her die. Believe in the greater good chipped away with every stone that tried to bury her. Still she tried to hold on because she was fifteen, she was scared, she wanted to go to the dance, she was Chosen, she was promised, she was a hero, she was fifteen.
There is no greater good in a fifteen year old girl being asked to die for something she didn't even know existed less than a year before.
There is no greater good in being given a life that would end soon and end bloody. Because how could she say no to this war? How could she say no while classmates, friends, innocents died in the streets? How could she stand by when she had a duty, a calling, a gift to stop it.
It didn't matter what they called it in the end Slayer meant dealing death and dying young.
Slayer meant alone.
All because some men decided a girl was an acceptable sacrifice to saving the world.
She figured she couldn't judge them. They only sacrificed one ever few years. She called hundreds.
Number of years a Slayer survives, divided by the number of slayers, compared to one girl dying every three years.
Buffy did the equation over and over in her head and never let herself solve it.
She wondered if those men, eons ago, hated themselves as much as she hated herself. She wondered if they held their abacus and weighed girls doomed to die against men to scared to fight themselves.
She wondered if they ever found themselves as wanting as she found herself.
She wondered if they cried every time a child died in the name of their war. She wondered what words they used to justify the amount of child's blood on their souls. She wondered if they slept with the peace of those who condemn without ever stepping into the fray.
She wondered if they believed in the greater good.
She hoped they choked on their righteousness. She hoped their lungs filled with all the blood they soaked into the sand and they choked on it. She hoped a vamp found each and every one of them and drained them dry. She hoped they saw the devil they made and knew it was not good.
She had only been fifteen.
THE DARK KNIGHT
William wrote terrible poetry to pretty girls who couldn't see past his spectacles and his foolish words to see the man he was. Spike, because his poetry was so bloody awful you'd rather drive a railroad spike through your head than listen to him. Laughter followed him out of a society party and into an alley. William the Bloody crowned before he sank a single fang.
Run and Catch, Run and Catch...
There's a lamb caught in a blackberry patch and a beautiful woman who said his soul sparkles and she wanted it for her own.
A bad poet but a good man.
A bad demon who loved and cared violently.
Angelous was a poncey dick as a human. The soul shoved in him had not been his own. Didn't he realize that? Didn't he remember who Liam had been? The soul cursed to him could never live happily in his body, it hadn't been his to begin with. One moment of pure happiness and the soul fled his body. Released to be what it wanted or needed, where ever magically manufactured souls go once they're freed. The brooding dick must have known on some level because he never sought out a permanent soul. He allowed it as his penance because that was the only way he could survive. If he found his own tattered, decrepit soul he couldn't be sure it'd stop the demon inside or work with the demon.
William loved Drusilla in death as much as he loved anything in life. He turned his mother because she loved him and he loved her and he didn't know how to leave the ones he loved.
Human or Vampire, Spike never learned that lesson.
I look at you and all I see is her.
The Slayer of Slayers. The one who sought out death as much as his opponent did. The one who loved a broken, mad, woman who saw dead fish around his head and sparkle in his soul and decided she wanted to keep him as a new toy. A pretty little bauble that she could play with and fuck as she desired. She saw things and they scared her but she had her Angelus and her Dark Knight and all the blood she could spill.
Spike fought for the right to earn his soul. He selfishly loved and lusted for a Slayer as much as the demon in him allowed. He killed for her and in the end he died for her. When he died his soul was his own, not a fleeting thing waiting for happiness to jump ship.
A bloody demon, suffocating a good man.
For years he looked at Buffy as the golden sun that a dark, dirty thing would never be allowed to touch. But she wasn't the sun, and he wasn't a knight in rusty armour. She wasn't his salvation and he wasn't her damnation. They almost tore each other apart trying to pretend that was true.
A bloody soul suffocating a demon.
THE SECOND CHOICE
Unwanted.
For years if there was a word Faith stumbled upon during rare moments of self reflection the one she always landed on was unwanted. Daddy ditched years before she had memories and Mommy Dearest was too busy trying to find love in all the wrong men to even notice when her daughter ran off. But suddenly she was strong, she was fast, she could see and hear things she never imagined.
And some douchebag in a suit worth more than her rent showed up and told her she was special.
Of course to them special meant controlled, special meant weapon.
Weapon was better than anything else she had been so she might as well take the mantle.
Special didn't even mean alone. There was another girl, another teen who'd been called just like she had, who fought just like she did. There was someone like her. Someone bonded by this gift they had. Two girls against the world sounded better than one when Faith thought about it. Two girls fighting against the hordes of hell.
During the nights on the journey to Sunnydale right before she slipped into sleep Faith allowed herself to think sister, to think family, to think found.
She wasn't though. Weasley had told her Slayers stood alone and here was this pretty blonde girl surrounded by a watcher who loved her the way fathers were supposed to love their daughters and friends who loved like family. Once again she was an intruder.
Unwanted.
Unpoised.
Too much.
Too rough.
Too horney.
Too blunt.
Too trashy.
The way she'd been her entire life. The golden heir and the dark spare. Faith looked and Buffy and saw everything she didn't have, everything she wanted and everywhere she was lacking.
The moon is always blotted out by the sun. The devil never gets to dance with the angel.
Faith slammed her stake into the heart of a man and damned herself in the eyes of all. She thought she was saving humanity but she killed a man trying to bring them information.
It was an accident.
It was instinct.
It was Slayer.
Faith ran. She ran to the Mayor who treated her like she was forgiven. Like she was enough.
This chair is too hard.
This chair is too soft.
This megalomaniac is just right.
She fought, she almost died, she stayed in a coma for years, she ran, she stayed in jail, she returned to fight the final battle. Somewhere inside of her she saw more girls being damned to being heroes and she thought family. She thought sisters.
She thought damned.
Hero stopped being a promise years ago. Buffy was no longer the golden sun goddess but a tarnished alter to broken dreams and promises.
And Faith still wanted to be good enough. Faith still wanted to be a hero.
Faith tried to lead but she wasn't the leader. She was the shadow. She was the dagger in the darkness. It took her five years after Sunnydale fell into the Earth to finally learn that different didn't mean less. That leader didn't mean promised. That shadow didn't mean worth-less.
Second in command, the one who was willing to suggest the dirtiest solution to the problem, the one who'd stand side by side with Buffy when that became the only solution, the one who'd seen how dark Slayers could turn and made sure it never happened again. That was her place.
Buffy wasn't the sun, Spike wasn't the devil and she wasn't the second choice. She wasn't even on the table for those two. If clever fingers dipped and twisted inside her underwear thinking of being between the two of them on a regular basis that was no one's business but her own.
HEROES
The first potential they found after Sunnydale was thirteen years old. She was in Cleveland because of course a Hellmouth would spit out a slayer who hadn't even gotten her first period yet. Giles and Willow had theories about world wide increase of evil, times magical boost of slayerdemonfearmagic, not to mention being on a Hellmouth in the first place with many potentials killed or fled the new kid was called extra early.
They found her before anyone else did. Faith kept reminding herself. They found her before a vampire figured out what happened and saw an easy claim to fame. They found her before the Hellmouth decided to chew her up and spit her out.
They found her.
They found her in a small suburban house with about fifteen vampires outside her house waiting for her, her mother, her father, her little sister, for anyone to leave.
Still fifteen regular vamps were nothing for the two oldest slayers.
It had been a long time since they'd had a chance to do some typical slayage.
They found her and her family hiding in the living room. Away from the windows and huddled together like their closeness could drown out the vampires taunts. The slaying. The violence that was about to invade their lives forever.
They couldn't hide from that but Faith wasn't going to be the one to tell them that. She didn't know how to introduce violence. Violence had been an intimate part of her life long before she was strong enough to fight back. Buffy had a family like this. Had a nice house, a kid sis, mom, dad, picket fence.
"I can be a hero?" the girl asked.
"Excuse me." Buffy choked out as she fled out the door, leaving Faith and Giles awkwardly on the couch.
"G-man can help explain everything." Faith said as she stood, "We thought we heard something, slayer senses."
She found Buffy behind the house dry heaving everything she had into a bush. The blonde held her hair back with one hand and braced herself against her knees with the other. Faith let her own hands smooth hair back as the oldest slayer lost what lunch they'd managed to eat.
"We did this." Buffy said when she stood back up and wiped a hand across her mouth. "How many children are going to become soldiers on Hellmouths around the world because we decided they deserved to be heroes?"
"Fuck B- we did what we had to do to save ourselves and most of the world. The First wouldn't have been happy with just Sunnydale. The uber vamps would have spread and taken over any city they found. We did what we had to do. You made the right call B." Faith said.
"Did I? Spike's either dead or trapped in a necklace. We lost Anya. We lost 7 potentials. Xander lost a fucking eye Faith. What if there had been another way?"
"Then more people might have died. We'll find the potentials. Red's already working on more spells to track the new slayers and delay when they're called. We have the watchers money. You heard Giles and Xander on the way here. They'll survive because it's not just them. It's not just us. We're not alone B."
"Yeah, we're surrounded by children who still believe they can be heroes."
"They won't be us B. I promise."
"When did you grow up?"
"Prison therapy. It was a whole thing."
They found a thirteen year old girl who still believed that hero was a promise, that hero meant good. They found her with her family and told her that hell was knockin' on her door and she was one of the only people who could keep it from coming in.
IMMORTALITY
"We're still training child soldiers."
In the silent training room Buffy's voice came loud and clear to Faith's ears. The harsh words were contrasted with a soft tone and the heavy breathing of their sparring. The room was completely empty except for them and Spike. The current class of slayers were off studying history with Giles. The new Watchers were with Dawn. Red was off in Brazil doing research and Xander was scouting a possible demon nest. Kennedy was planning a new group patrol.
All the weapons sat gleaming on their racks. Spike lounged in his black duster in the viewing gallery. Robin had taken off for New York. It looked like they'd have enough trained slayers to open another private school for gifted girls soon.
How no one else caught Andrew's X-men joke confused the fuck out of Faith. She wasn't the only one who'd been forced to sit through a decade of team movie nights.
Faith thought of Cindy, their newest slayer, they'd found her hiding in a closet while her stepdad tried to break down the door.
"Some of them were already fighting wars. We're just giving them a better chance." she said.
"We're sending them to die just like we were sent." Buffy spit back at her. At thirty three Buffy still looked like a college coed. Faith did too. Willow had faint lines forming on her face, Xander had more. Giles looked old now.
"Yeah we are B. Because someone has to do it. Because now we have slayers who've been active ten years and we've only lost a few. Because a long time ago it was decided this is how it has to be and we haven't figured out anything new yet. Because the world still tries to throw itself into extinction every other damn year.
Slayers across the world. Train them for two years, give them a watcher, let them go. They had slayers stationed in almost every country around the globe. Willow had been able to tweak the slayer spell, now no one was called until after sixteen. No Slayer went off into the world until they were at least eighteen. They all had the option of retiring or choosing not to fight at all.
None of them did.
None of them could know what they were called to fight and say no. None of them could lay awake at night with the dreams and the knowledge of what was out there, what went bump in the night and refuse to fight. At least most countries waiting until you were eighteen to offer you a war.
Over a decade later Buffy never once brought up stopping the fight herself. If anything, from what the Scoobies told her, the last decade looked like the year the hell bitch Glory skulked around. Constant training. If the blonde wasn't in the gym she was patrolling, if she wasn't patrolling she was teaching, if she wasn't teaching she fucked Spike loud enough that after the first year the rest of them kicked the pair off base. Slayer metabolism made it almost impossible to get drunk but over the last year Faith watched Buffy try more than once. Fuck, she joined B a couple of times. Turns out there was a Horathic demon that made a moonshine that did the trick.
Buffy had kissed her one of those nights and a decade of solving their shit later and Faith still couldn't ask the blonde if she meant it. She thought she meant it. Sometimes she'd see B staring at her and she wondered if the golden girl knew the thoughts she had when she shoved her hands in her underwear and twisted her fingers until she came apart again and again.
"So let's stand in front of them." Faith said. "We can't get older and unless something gets a drop and puts us down hard we're not dying anytime soon according to Red. Let's get out of here and go back to being the thing nightmares are afraid of."
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.
"Let's hit the road. Soon people are going to start asking why we look so much younger than the others. We'd have to move anyway. So let's just go. You, me, peroxide barbie on the bench. Lets fight the hordes of hell."
"Slayer means death." Buffy quoted.
"Slayer means survive." Faith countered.
It took a couple weeks but soon a pick up truck and a camper sat in front of the school. Spike stood in the pale light of the open cab door as a golden girl and a dark shadow hugged the people they called family. Strangely (not so strange) he'd received his own round of hugs himself. There was GPS queued up on his phone and some troubling reports of an Aswari demon in upstate New York.
If they couldn't stop children from becoming heroes they could at least do their best to stand in front of them.