Chapter Text
Cerberus rang out, and the world - shattered.
No, Buffy thought fuzzily. Not the world. The spell. We were under a spell. And-
"Oh my god," Xander breathed, loud in the dripping silence, numbly thumbing the safety on the powerful tri-barreled gun. "Oh, no way, I didn't…."
For a heartbeat, Buffy could only stare like the rest of them, at the limp, obscene mass of mutated flesh and mako that had been a chaos mage. He was - and those other monsters must have been - and we-
Get a grip! One of your people just made his first mercy kill. Move!
"Xander. Xander!" Her black-gloved hand forced shocked ruby to meet her gaze. Those eyes… gods, if he has those eyes, does that mean I-
Xander first. Panic later!
"You did the right thing," Buffy said firmly, not letting her not-quite-Xander-shaped friend look away. Keep his attention on you, not the body. Believe in him. Make him see it. "You did what you had to do. He didn't want to live as her puppet. Nobody would."
"But- Buff-"
"Mom, Wills, get him out of here," Buffy went on, nodding toward Willow's wild shock of red hair over stunned blue eyes. Mako blue… oh man….
Deal. Just… deal.
No need to tell Oz where to go; he'd follow his partner and his white-coated boss, sure as those sunglasses had stayed on his face. Which dealt with half her problems…. "Angel, go with them. Mako's liquid magic, and I do not want to find out what it does to your demon the hard way." Xander's are going to be bad enough, even if Cid does say the Furball's a pushover for a good scratch… oh, I can't believe I'm thinking this. "Jonathan-"
"We're fucking screwed, aren't we?" The teenager realized what he'd said, and reddened, fingers rubbing over the haft of his spear. "Aw, shit."
"None of us should be in here who don't have to be," Jenny Calendar stated, glancing around the costume shop, gloved hands flexing as if the martial artist wanted something else to hit. "I don't know what Sephiroth did here… or whoever was Sephiroth…."
"Is," Buffy said flatly. "Trust me on that."
"Are y' okay, lassie?"
Giving in to the urge to touch something that wouldn't take her hand off for trying, Buffy cuddled the black-and-white animatronic cat. "So far so good, Cait. Just keep an eye on me, okay?"
"O' course!" The little cat saluted in her arms, crown glinting in the overhead lights.
Buffy smiled. Thanks, Giles. At least somebody besides me knows we've got to keep our heads together… oh, for the love of- "Cordelia, out."
The black-haired girl started, hands poised to dive into a pile of Ethan's costume discards. "But he might have-"
"If he had more materia, Sephiroth probably got it," Jenny pointed out.
"And anything he might have missed isn't worth the risk of you slipping and falling into this mess." Buffy waved a hand at the spatters of blood and mako and who knew what else across the shop. I really, really want to hurl. I've earned it, I deserve it, and I will.
Later.
I know later, of course later, I- Oh, no.
Easy. They need you. Hang in there.
I- right. Okay….
Cordelia stomped her foot. "Like I'd ever- whoa!"
Xander's gauntleted hand shot out, catching the ninja with effortless grace. "Let's - just get out of here."
Alone now except for Cait, Buffy gave the wrecked shop another look. "Okay. Is there anything, anything, Ethan might have left that we can use to get this spell off of us? 'Cause I didn't want to say this around everybody else-" and darn it, Xander probably would hear her, if he could think past the shock enough to listen, "-but this is seriously wigging me out."
I guess you could call memory lapses a good thing. When you don't know enough to panic….
Could you, you know, just not-?
If Buffy didn't know better, she'd swear someone had just ruffled her hair. Easy. I've got your back.
"An' how d' ya think I feel, lassie? I'm wearing one of Willow's infernal devices, an' using it to control something that truly should not exist-"
Buffy felt the little cat's movements turn jerky as the accent went from Cait's lilt to something more like Giles' clipped British, and bit back a pilot's colorful curse. Didn't help that she remembered exactly when she - no, when who she'd been - had first heard it, after a Summons had torn through the Sierra and her foul-mouthed friend was scraping engine parts off the hull. "Giles, stop. Stop fighting Reeve." Gods, I'm a hypocrite.
No, you're not. Reeve's one of the good guys. A wry, silent chuckle. A little confused, maybe, but it's not like any of us can cast stones. And he landed on his feet when it mattered. Then again, maybe that's why he's a cat….
"Buffy, you can't possibly mean-"
"I need Cait's eyes, Giles. Which means I need you able to run him." She let a breath pass. "Trust me?"
Tense silence.
Trust me, Giles. Please. I won't let you fall.
Huh. Like anybody should trust me, with Sephiroth loose….
Then again, he hasn't tried to grab me. Yet. Wonder why?
Good question, came that quiet, wary murmur. Hope we don't find out the hard way.
Cait sighed, and curled in her arms. "Well, now. I'm thinking a spell like this one seems to be, turnin' outside t' in, as 'twere, was probably tied up with that bust o' Janus what went poof when Xander put Ethan out of our misery."
Yeah. One freaky green-cracked two-faced statue, up in dust.
Wait a minute. Green cracks…. "Sephiroth laced that thing with mako."
"Aye, but why?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Jenova cells, remember? He can poke into any head that's got enough of them in it. Including his own, I'm guessing. You think he'd let himself go back to just being a costume?"
"Eep."
Don't start, Giles. I am this close to eeping right under the covers after you. Mommy….
Ifrit's hells. Mom's mixed up in this too.
I am so dead.
…Stop laughing.
Sorry. It's just - she is alive. Despite the - ah - situation, oh gods….
Point. Okay. Deep breaths. Keep going. "Yeah, well, the prospect of a nutty not-so-little Sephiroth-wannabe doesn't exactly do wonders for my nerves, either-"
"It's not that, lass." A transmitted sigh. "Are there any pieces of the statue left, then? Any at all?"
Stepping carefully through the mess- ew, ew, ew! -Buffy let Cait's optics scan the empty pedestal themselves. "Outside the microscopic level? Don't think so." She looked down at the tense robot. "I'm going to take a flying leap and say this is not of the good?"
"Nay, lass. It's not." The crowned head shook. "See if y' can find anything like a spellbook. Outside of that… I'd best be looking in my own books, that I will."
"Hang on." She shifted Cait to her armored shoulder and let him cling. Dusted off gloved hands, trying not to breathe through her nose. Not that it made much difference. Enhanced senses meant she could all but taste copper and tainted internal fluids and the wet-leaf-crackle that was mako….
Let's tear this place apart.
Not panicking, Xander told himself firmly, gauntleted fingers clenching and unclenching. At least it was a gauntlet, not a metal arm; the game had never really been clear one way or the other…. Not panicking, just not-
Be calm. Cool. Controlled. Between him and his mind's fanged fury like a drawn blade. The demons cannot rule you. You're not in battle. You're not wounded. They'll push, and they'll threaten - but they can do nothing. Not without your acquiescence.
Get out of my head!
A silent sigh. Xander. You know me. You know I would not remain of my own will.
No no no, I don't know you, I don't-
You're panicking. A smoky will wrapped around his, velvet and steel. I will not let Chaos roam without cause, Xander. Be calm.
You're… you're really….
Silence. Waiting. A patience of glass and steel and buried secrets.
…Vincent Valentine.
Yes.
Xander swallowed dryly. No offense, but if you don't mind, I'm going to faint now.
No, you won't. Absolute surety. Not while someone needs you.
"My fault," Jonathan was muttering, white-faced, fingers worrying the haft of the Venus Gospel like rosary beads. "All my fault…."
The girls don't know what to say, Oz has a double dose of strong silent type right now, and Angel's clueless, Xander realized. "What, trying to hog all the blame for tonight? You don't get off that easy. We all got ourselves into this." He took a deliberate breath. "And we're all going to get out." Please, let me not be lying.
If you don't keep a clear head now, none of you will survive this, Vincent observed matter-of-factly. Not with Sephiroth on the loose.
Oh, thank you, I really needed that extra adrenaline….
"Got into what?" Angel took a frustrated step toward him; stopped, evidently thinking better of it. "What did you go as? I haven't been shot at this much since the Crimean War."
Shot at? Vincent almost snorted. Shot past, yes; if I'd shot at him, he'd be dead. Idiot.
He's a vampire dating a Slayer, Xander pointed out. Don't think high IQ is on the list, here.
You'd be surprised. Intelligence and judgement are two very different things….
And that led to a muchness of thinking of Hojo - mad scientist who made most Bond villains look sane, stable, and law-abiding as Dudley Do-right - and a distinct desire to find a dark corner to hide in.
…Sorry.
Joyce Summers was giving the vampire a calculating once-over. Shifted a glance Xander's way. "So he is a vampire."
"But the cute, cuddly care-bear type with fangs," Cordelia stuck in.
Joyce's lips didn't so much as twitch. "What works?"
"Fire, sunlight, decapitation," Willow started rattling off, absently tapping her Magrod against her palm.
"Hey! On your side, remember?" Angel glanced into cold, mako-blue eyes, and looked almost ready to cross himself. "What happened to you guys?"
"In his infinite wisdom, Principal Snyder decreed that each group of teachers and students assigned to the volunteer safety program would have a group theme," Jenny said with dry irony.
"Supposedly making it easier to pick out who's responsible for corralling which groups of sugar-hyped little runts," Xander added. "The football players went as a pirate crew. Wonder how much they've sacked by now?" Probably a lot less without their captain. Damn, but punching out Larry had felt good.
"I don't know; from what I could hear after you shot Ethan-"
Does he have to bring that up?
We did what we had to. Vincent seemed to tense a little in his mind. But yes… there's a cruel streak there. We should watch him.
"-Everyone else seemed to go back to normal. You volunteered?" Angel finished, skeptical.
"We didn't move fast enough," Willow muttered. The rod stopped tapping, her scowl suddenly lightening.
"Blowing up Snyder's office? Not a good idea," Xander said firmly.
Joyce almost grinned. "I know how I know what she was thinking, but how did you?"
Vincent chuckled softly. Yes; she does know, doesn't she? And is already planning how to use it.
Scary thought, given who that white suit belonged to. "Hey, I may not be a Final Fantasy fanatic, but I know the story."
"Final what?" Angel asked, brows wrinkled in some of the first honest confusion Xander had ever seen on the vampire.
"It's a videogame," Cordelia sighed.
"Just a videogame?" Jonathan exclaimed, wounded. "It's one of the greatest works of gaming craft ever! With the best villain of all time!"
"Who, if Buffy's right, is now loose in Sunnydale," Joyce said flatly. "How likely is it that my daughter is not right?"
Xander found himself trading uncomfortable glances with Jenny and Jonathan; Cordelia didn't meet his gaze at all. "Not likely," Jenny admitted. "They're… connected. It's-"
"Creepy," Jonathan stated. "Cait - I mean, Mr. Giles - should be able to tell us if she starts acting funny. Hope she won't. One of the last things I - I mean, Cid - remembers is flying out to Edge when it was just getting started up. And by the last time we threw down with Sephiroth, we pretty much had that whole mind control thing licked, right?"
"Mind control?" Angel sputtered.
No patience, that one.
No kidding, Xander thought. Don't know what Buffy sees in him.
Cool amusement. Yes, you do.
Okay, okay; so Angel was dark and cryptic and good-looking, with all kinds of romantic tragic past behind him… which was why Xander had been interested in going as Vincent Valentine in the first place.
And he was as much outcast as she, Vincent observed. I've seen it in the Turks. Anyone who lives and breathes magic and death… it can be difficult to connect with ordinary people.
Right. Lucrecia hadn't exactly been ordinary… oh gods, that hurt.
I am sorry.
Not your fault, Xander thought hazily, forcing his mind back to the present. Angel had focused on Jonathan as the weak link in the group, advancing with narrowed eyes. And while under most circumstances the pilot would have picked his teeth with even a master vamp, right now Jonathan was the weak link; stunned face obviously caught between the teen's native shyness and Cid's desire to poke the Venus Gospel right where it'd do a vampire no good.
"Ultra-short version," Xander broke in, deliberately clicking his gauntlet claws together. "Five years pre-game, the greatest Shinra general ever, Sephiroth, found out he was the product of an experiment with alien DNA, went psycho, and burned a mountain village to the ground. Four people managed to survive that; two of them took down Sephiroth. They thought he was dead. They didn't come out much better; Shinra caught them, covered up the massacre, and kept them as test subjects."
Jonathan frowned. "You're leaving a lot out-"
"Yeah, I know. You can make him sit down and read the game guides later. Anyway." Xander waved toward Jenny, in her dark brown leather top over sleeveless white, short skirt over knee-length shorts, combat boots, and pink arm ribbon. "Fast forward five years. Tifa Lockhart - martial artist, and one of the two who didn't get caught - is part of a group of guerilla saboteurs working against Shinra, when she runs into somebody from Nibelheim in a Midgar train station."
"Your character?" Angel cast him a dark look.
Willow snickered. Oz looked inscrutable. Jenny and Jonathan traded a glance, then clamped hands over Cordelia's mouth before she could say anything.
Ignoring them, Xander glanced at Joyce. Who was wearing an all-too-familiar half-smile. She's enjoying this way too much.
It does make one wonder if those files Reeve found might be true after all, Vincent agreed.
Files? What- Xander tried not to blink as the memory filtered through. Oh, that is too creepy.
But fitting. Shinra creating his own bane…A flash of teeth in darkness. I approve.
"Um… no," Xander said at last. "Long story short, Sephiroth's not dead, the whole planet's in danger, and a rag-tag bunch of heroes pulls together to put him down once and for all. Besides Tifa, we've got the great ninja Yuffie Kusaragi," he glanced at Cordelia, in her thigh-high laced yellow boots, sleeveless gray hoodie, and shorts, black hair caught back by a black headband, with the four blades of the giant shuriken Conformer gleaming behind her back. "Cait Sith, who turns out to be a kind of robotic double agent run by Shinra executive and engineer Reeve Tuesti - he's a good guy in the end, the G-man should be fine," Xander added quickly, catching the first quiet whisper of Angel's swear. "Ex-Turk Vincent Valentine," he dipped his head, a few strands of dark hair slipping past his purple bandanna to blow over his red cloak, "and pilot and would-be astronaut Cid Highwind."
Goggles pushed back into his hair, Jonathan waved weakly, evidently only fighting the urge to shove his hands in the pockets of his aviator’s pants by the fact that one had a heck of a big spear in it. "Which is why this is my fault."
“Yours.” Angel looked as if he’d like to turn on the intimidation again. Glanced at Jenny’s frown, Xander’s careful non-expression, and Willow’s disturbing grin, and thought better of it. “How?”
“Always wanted to get into space,” Jonathan mumbled. “And when Ms. Summers said she’d spring for cosplay, after how Snyder screwed us out of a Friday night….”
“Why should you get all the fun?” Joyce shrugged.
“You can’t possibly think this is fun,” Jenny stated.
“Hmm… I haven’t decided yet.”
Hello, Rufus Shinra, Xander thought wryly. And why am I not cluing Angel in on our suit-clad buddies?
Because they are Turks, Vincent murmured, matter-of-fact. Rufus isn’t, quite, but Reno and Rude will see to that eventually.
And as Reno may one day tell Angel, if he’s in a position to survive long enough to remember it…. You do not fuck with a Turk.
O…kay. Xander swallowed dryly. Evidently when he’d counted the demons in his head, he might have been short one. Er, that is, I mean-
Dry amusement touched him; silk, left in snowy wind. It would take more than truth to offend me.
“Anyway,” Xander plowed on doggedly, before Angel could give Buffy’s mother a closer look, “if any of this was your fault, Jonathan – and believe me, it’s not, this is a Hellmouth, Evil Magicians Are Us probably holds conventions here – it’d be just as much my fault.”
“And mine,” Willow sighed. “I mean, once we settled on the theme, well – I should’ve known Buffy would never go as a straight arrow like Elena.”
Xander tried to fit together straight arrow and Turk in his head. It didn’t work.
“And even with just your quick sketch of the characters to work from, Jonathan, I could have told you Aeris was out of the question,” Jenny agreed. “I am surprised she didn’t pick Tifa.”
“The lusting after angsty guys with a dark past theme probably hit too close to home,” Willow offered. And reddened. “Um… did I say lusting?”
Oz snorted.
“If that’s the worst Reno has to say, count yourself lucky,” Jonathan said wryly. “I still don’t get how this could be your fault, Xander. All you did was find this place.”
“And find the one thing the Buffster would never, ever pass up,” Xander said ruefully. He’d seen enough of Giles’ training sessions to know that. The Slayer had to be good at hand-to-hand, vampires didn’t wait politely for you to grab something clobber-worthy when they came calling. But whenever Buffy had the option, she liked being armed.
Which was exactly how he’d persuaded one moping Slayer to go along with this mad scheme in the first place.
“Aw, c’mon, Buff. Don’t you want to be a blonde who can kick butt?”
Drumming frustrated nails on an innocent library table, Buffy didn’t quite roll her eyes. “I get more than enough of that on normal evenings, thanks.”
Xander waved his hands, trying to convey the innate coolness of what he was proposing. “I mean being able to act like someone who kicks butt, in public. Plus you’d get to carry around a really big sword.”
Now she did roll her eyes. “Oh, gee, walking around town with a piece of spray-painted Styrofoam over my shoulder. Whoop-de-doo.”
Time to play his ace. “What if I told you I saw where you could rent a real one?”
Green eyes fixed on him, trying not to look interested. “Oh, very funny.”
“No, I’m serious,” Xander said frankly. “Don’t know what kind of metal it was – not your usual Highlander spin-off, anyway – but it sure wasn’t plastic. And it was heavy. You’re probably the only person I know who could do it justice. And it’s really impressively sharp and pointy and intimidating.”
Painted nails stilled, and he knew he’d won.
All things considered, Xander thought now, as the crashing inside finally stopped, I’m really glad she didn’t go as Tifa.
Black leather. Spiky blonde hair. And behind the shoulder that didn’t have Cait perched on it, a mass of metal that was all kinds of sharp and pointy and intimidating.
First Tsurugi, Vincent supplied. Not quite as I recall it, but it’s definitely – Xander?
Buffy. Leather. Good, Xander managed, trying not to drool.
Oh, Hel. Vincent moved forward somehow, taking hold of muscle and bone. Cloud’s skittish enough around Tifa. Startle him, and he’ll put you through the nearest wall.
Worth it. Demons? What demons? He was floaty and warm and - dark or not - all too able to see that pure, pale throat above SOLDIER charcoals, marred only by an even paler white bite scar from the Master’s fangs. Sweet.
Vincent sighed. Gods. Teenagers.
Cloth-bound tome under her arm, Buffy held her head high, trying not to think about how little she’d have to lift it now to meet Angel’s gaze. I could still run out the back-
You’re stronger than that.
You don’t know that. You don’t know me. Buffy tried not to swallow too visibly. I’m the Slayer, I’m the only one who can stop the bad guys, and I’m stuck doing this until I die. And Giles thinks I don’t know that most Slayers are already dead by the time they hit my age, and I’ve tried to run from it, I really have, I don’t want to die and I just get so scared-
Breathe, kid.
Not Cloud. Not quite.
Hang in there. You’re doing fine. Gloved fingers shuffled through her memories, following Slayer to images of leaping fences, dodging tentacles, and bending steel. This was what you could do? Not bad. Thoughtful surprise weighed memories’ strength and reflexes in even finer detail. About… SOLDIER Third Class, I think. Maybe a little more.
Yeah, so? Buffy shot back. We’re not all SOLDIER Firsts-
Silence. Distinctly amused silence.
I’m….
I’d have noticed if we were any slower, Cloud agreed, giving her the feel of a shy smile. You might need to work on keeping up your upper body strength a little more than I’m used to; First Tsurugi’s as much balance as muscle, but you do need the muscle if you want to keep using her right.
No, you don’t get it. I’m-
I do get it, Cloud broke in gently. But I’m not the one who has to think about whether this is worth it, am I?
It wasn't, Buffy knew. Not with what it was doing to her friends. What it was doing to whoever'd been unlucky enough to become their mortal enemy. She wouldn't wish an insane Sephiroth on anyone. Not even Spike.
Come to think of it, where was Spike? It wasn't like the bleached-blond Billy Idol of the vampire world, the slayer of Slayers, to miss an opportunity for mass chaos. Even if vampires were supposed to stay in on Halloween, she knew they hadn't; her party had absently dusted a heck of a lot of vamps on their way to Ethan's….
Which could just mean he was raising hell somewhere else; Sunnydale didn't exactly have a shortage of chaos at the moment. Heck, for all she knew, one of her friends could have dusted the master vamp just in passing, during those first, frantic minutes when all their "guests" had known was who they were - and where they weren't.
Still. Not knowing where Spike was bothered her.
"Buffy." Angel smiled uncertainly at her, trying not to glance too obviously at her mother. "I guess it's been a really bad night…."
"Been?" Buffy repeated in disbelief, as she stalked a good distance away from the storefront. Turned, automatically checked that her people had followed her away from the glass, and reached over her shoulder to touch First Tsurugi's hilt.
Fire3 should do it… oh.
It was like drinking sunlight. Warm and shimmering gold and the feeling of all the time in the world to do it right….
Turquoise flames dancing around her hand, she let the spell fly.
Pretty good for a first casting, Cloud observed, as the costume shop went up in hungry flames. Fun, huh?
The pure shyness in that thought set off all her hug-Willow instincts. Buffy found herself grinning back at her mental guest; a silent, hey, it's okay, I like you even when you want to sink through the floor. Who'd have thought Jesse's videogame hero was shy?
I'm not a hero-
It was fun, Buffy told him firmly. It was awesome. But Angel was giving her the weirdest look, and even Xander had a raised eyebrow - though his was definitely a why eyebrow, not an oh my god what the hell? "Biohazard," she shrugged.
Xander nodded, question answered. "Oh, yuck!" Cordelia shuddered.
"That's right; cops here wouldn't have a clue what to do about mako contamination," her mother said thoughtfully. "There will still be some in the ashes-"
"But it'll be low," Cait observed. "'Tis likely the best we can do for now, it is. At least this way, we'll not be having other vampires wandering into Jenova's influence. I'd hate to see that, indeed."
Eeyugh. Jenova vampires. Not high on Buffy's list of things she wanted to see. She doubted they'd be anywhere near as benign as Vincent and his demons; Turk or not, the man had still had his own soul, which Spike definitely didn't.
And… why did she have the odd feeling she had been near Spike, when she hadn't seen him all night?
Oh no.
"Giles, hide!" she ordered Cait, scanning her group for free hands before tossing the spellbook toward a shock of red and mako eyes. She didn’t think it was contaminated – well, any more than the rest of them were just from walking through the store – but better safe than sorry. "Get out of the library. Get out of sight!"
"Buffy?" Willow collapsed her Magrod and caught the tome, ready to move. "What's going-"
"Xander, come on!" Already halfway down the street, Buffy tossed off the Turk hand-sign for follow with reinforcements. "Willow, Oz - hotwire something if you have to. I've got a really bad feeling!"
Arms wrapped around herself like skin over blood, Drusilla rocked, rocked, rocked in a niche in the tunnels near Sunnydale High's library. Drawn to her precious Spikey, held at bay by the screaming stars around him… she'd gag them if she could. "The shadows grew sharp edges when I wasn't watching. Miss Edith should have told me. Too much lemon in her tea? Not enough blood?"
Footsteps. Mortal ones. A bobbing flashlight, and a quick intake of breath. "Oh, dear-"
He was fast for food, but she was faster, hearing the star-scream gather to a shout. "Sh-h-h." One long black talon of a fingernail touched his lips, and Drusilla shook her head. "Disaster's sword is looking for the clever little kitty, he is. And he mustn't find."
"No," the kitty in the blue robe said softly, staring at her teeth. "No, that would be a very bad idea… who are you?"
"I told my Spikey not to go out." Her heart was breaking as she led the blue kitty further into the gloom. But that was all right, wasn't it? Kitties were soft and kind and never, ever told secrets. At least, not without scratching them into your skin first. "Someone's made it new, I told him. Outsides switching to in. And the sword burned so bright, so many colors… are stars always so bright when they fall?"
"Often, yes," Kitty nodded, stumbling a little as magic fluxed and spat somewhere above and behind them; stumbling again on one of her grandchildren's leftovers. Silly young vampires, leaving flesh and bone to stink. Sloppy.
"Silly little man-cat, can't see in the dark," Drusilla crooned. "Miss Edith could fix that. Or the crossed stars could. Reach out and touch and take with claws of green…."
"I'll have to trust myself to your mercy, then," he said dryly.
Oh, kitties were so funny! Drusilla had to laugh, ever so silent, as they crept away; laugh and laugh until the tears ran down her face like warm blood….
"Crossed stars," he said carefully. "The Disaster. Jenova?"
"Still sleeping, still sleeping… but she sings in her sleep, and my poor Spike tangles in the notes like barbed wire. He's too strong; nasty, nasty green eyes, cat and dragon and lime juice in your cut fingers…." Drusilla whirled on the blue kitty. "Kitty smells of magic. Like nasty green eyes."
"Not by choice, I assure you."
There was a stake in his long, loose sleeve; she could smell the polished wood. Along with… oh, interesting. "But Kitty did choose, or he wouldn't carry the voice to his other-self in fur. Or claws of steel, to bite with copper and fire." Drusilla batted her eyelashes at him, wondering if he'd succumb to her enchantment before or after the magic in him urged him to shoot. It'd be fun to find out. Bullets couldn't hurt her for long - and minds were the best of toys. And she'd never felt one like this, singing over itself, whirling and confused and pretty as silk ribbons spilling out to braid.
Oh. There were the ribbon-ends, held together with magic and a bit of static for luck. Trying to pry themselves apart - and this kitty smelled ever so slightly of spells older than tonight's. He might win.
No. Not until I get my Spike back. "Miss Edith told me about the sword. The one my Spike didn't bring home."
His attention fixed on her, moth to flame. "What sword?"
Drusilla tched, one finger waving in silent disapproval as she gathered mind-ribbons, careful as winding cobweb. "Kitty knows the sword. Six and one and a heart of blue fire. Sleeping like Disaster sleeps; sleeping so long, the demons forgot what it was. Silly demons. Would you like to see?"
Fur and claws and tendrils, dragging in a bundle of faded leather to thump on top of a store counter. Human hands peeled back the wrappings, unveiling steel that glimmered oddly in the low light.
"Ah, wonderful! I'd been worrying that it would be horribly troublesome to get something like this mocked up… yes, and it even looks about right. This should do very nicely. Heirloom, did you say? Are there any curses or enchantments on - ah, never mind. If there are, it'll only add to the chaos…."
"Ethan," the kitty breathed. "You bloody fool."
"Is it enough?" Drusilla cocked her head at him, eyes gleaming demon-yellow. "Loose threads, loose ribbons… untie my Spikey?"
"I'm not certain how to, yet-"
Easy, so easy, even weak as she was, to pick him off the tunnel floor by the throat - but she mustn't play with the kitty too hard. Not yet. "Untie my Spikey," she growled. "Inside-out and Kitty are bound with ink and death. Debts slither home to lurk in the dark." A plaintive whine crept into her voice. "My Spike is swallowed by the sea-dragon, drowning, drowning - and Kitty gets to swim. Not fair. Not nice. I should make Kitty drown, before he grows gills-"
She almost missed the earth singing.
Champion, star-born but still mine, champion, Slayer-
She dove for the shadows, just as concrete burst in blue fire.
Coughing, Rupert Giles stepped through the rubble into the light leaking down from the shattered street. "Buffy?"
"Yeah," his Slayer's voice floated down. "You okay?"
"Roughly, yes." How did she find me?
Cait's got a locator for my computer, Reeve Tuesti pointed out. This isn't the first dungeon AVALANCHE has dragged me out of.
"Heck of a door-opener, huh, G-man?" The voice was familiar, but the red eyes gleaming down were decidedly not. Giles flinched.
Don't blame yourself too much, Reeve sighed, as Xander winced, but reached down a gloved hand to pull Giles up anyway. Vincent scares everybody.
Not Cloud, it would seem, Giles pointed out. Trying not to tense further, as unnatural strength hauled him up and out of the darkness into street-lit night. He was a Watcher; he trusted his life to Buffy's supernatural strength every time he trained her. This was no different.
Everybody sane, Reeve shot back dryly. Except Marlene. I'm not sure Valentine's decided how to feel about that, yet; I suspect he gets a kick out of seeing people try not to faint. His tone turned melancholy. Most of the time, at least.
"Giles." Eerie blue eyes peered into his, and gods, the Slayer shouldn't be able to meet his gaze without craning her head back. "Are you okay?"
Giles opened his mouth to give her a stern reassurance; he was a Watcher, it was his job to be in control-
Gods. I thought of gods. And I meant it.
"I've just spent the past ten minutes in the company of a lunatic vampiress, and I believe that was the most sane part of my night," Giles said instead. "No. I am most certainly not okay." He let a breath sigh out. "Are you?"
"I'd be a lot better if I had an idea what Sephiroth might want in your library. Besides you." Buffy kept glancing into the darkness toward Sunnydale High as they got moving, one hand almost reaching for her sword. "Did you have a chance to find anything?"
Giles shook his head, accepting Cait's gleeful scramble into his arms; if they were attacked, better Cait hindered him than Buffy. "I had enough time to start a search running through Ms. Calendar's techno-pagan web; I believe I managed to cover my tracks before I fled. Which is… very odd…."
You were trying pretty hard not to think about what I was doing, Reeve pointed out all too cheerfully. Thought I'd better take advantage of it while I could. Pretty simple systems you've got around here, but we can work on that-
And what, pray tell, gives you even the sliver of an idea that you might have the chance? Giles thought darkly.
Because if Buffy asks you to let me help again, you will, Reeve replied soberly. You trust her. The way I didn't trust anybody, until….
Until AVALANCHE knew you were a spy, and learned to trust you anyway, Giles recalled. And that trust drew you out of yourself, until Cait Sith was more real to you than Reeve….
A soft paw batted at his hair. "Wisht, now, lad; ye're thinking too hard. It's making even my head ache."
It has an AI. Giles tried not to think too hard about Moloch the Corrupter, and the blank-eyed robotic head Buffy had dropped onto a library table like some electronic Pictish sacrificial victim.
One that knows me too well, Reeve admitted.
Dear lord, what have I gotten myself into?
A silent sigh. Am I really that bad company?
Was Reeve indeed, considering the alternatives. Heavens only knew, if he'd ended up cajoled into the role of another, more heroic character… he was a Watcher, thank you very much. Heroics were for those damn fool enough not to have thought of more practical options.
Then again, he'd come very close to escaping this situation entirely. If it hadn't been for Jenny spotting that accursed Cait Sith plushie in with the rest of the cosplay gear… he didn't know how she'd known what size blue coat to get him, and he wasn't certain he wanted to find out.
He truly didn't want to know how the spell had been complex enough to form not only bullet-resistant cloth and secret pockets that had not been in the original costume, but ammunition, materia, and Reeve's holdout handgun as well. And if he'd had any idea what would happen due to Willow crafting him a mock-up wrist computer - he hadn't wanted to hurt the poor girl's feelings by refusing, and while Snyder had grudgingly left him to his library cataloguing he was supposed to be going out to the parking lot to welcome back student groups. Which meant staying in costume, accursed device or not, for what was Cait Sith's handler to do without his hacking tools?
Well, he hadn't known, any more than any of his children had.
Ethan. It was Ethan all along. I knew he'd never give up dark magic, I knew he was dangerous… but I was so ashamed, back then. I couldn't tell my father what we'd done. I let him slink off into the night, and hid to lick my own wounds.
Fitting, that he should be floundering like the rest of them.
You're… unexpected, Giles thought at last. And I generally prefer my life to be a bit more predictable.
So did I, came the wistful whisper.
"Do y' need another thwap?" Cait waved a threatening paw, eyes smiling.
"Save it for Sephiroth," Giles said dryly. "Buffy, how did you know?"
"He felt like Spike." Buffy managed a smile for a few stray children wandering back toward the school and their waiting parents. The youngsters looked at them, at each other, and were very, very quiet until they were about twenty feet past the trio.
Then they bolted.
"Sunglasses," Buffy sighed. "We need sunglasses."
"Spike-feel? Creepy," Xander muttered, scanning the skyline. "Slayer-sense?"
"I'm… not sure." Buffy took a deep breath. "But if he knew enough about Ethan, and there was any chance he knew about you - Giles-you, not Reeve - Sephiroth doesn't leave live enemies behind him."
"Yes; I shudder to think what may be left of my library, given that last blast I heard," Giles sighed. "And indeed it was Spike, if I've interpreted certain insane rantings correctly."
"Oh…" Buffy's voice trailed off, as if no curse was strong enough.
"Whoever that vampiress was, she seems to be some sort of seer; being not tightly wrapped is an occupational hazard. I'm fine, truly; just a bit bruised about the throat-"
"Spike knows who we are," Xander said flatly.
"…Oh. Yes. Quite." And what could he say to that?
You could try swearing, Reeve observed. The Turks seem to think it's therapeutic.
The Turks think throwing an annoyance out a sixtieth-floor window is therapeutic!
Have to admit, they've got a point, Reeve shrugged.
Xander looked straight at him, crimson gaze shockingly young. "So what do we do?"
Giles braced himself to meet those eyes, seeing a similar silent plea in Buffy's too-bright gaze. He was the adult, he was the Watcher; he was supposed to know what to do about Things in the night.
And… he'd never been up against anything like the Demon General.
It was enough to make the bravest man quail. And if he were half that brave, he'd never have let Ethan roam free to do… this.
I don't think I ever appreciated the phrase 'too terrified for rational thought' before. But they need me.
He knew it, and it ate at him like acid; his own fear of an unknown evil combining with Reeve's all too keen knowledge of just what Sephiroth had been capable of even before Jenova had added her power to his, drowning out thought in a white noise of panic-
And Buffy drew herself up, and gave him a firm nod. "First off, we get off the street." She jerked a thumb toward the next intersection, where Giles could now hear a rumble of oncoming van wheels. "I think that's our ride."
Face down on the roof of one of Sunnydale's flock of churches, pile of dusty tomes by his side, a hulking former teenage football player quaked and shivered. "Please don't kill me, please don't, I died once already and it sucked-"
Perched on the best line of sight near Sunnydale High, silver hair was only a dark shadow in the wind. "If you draw the Slayer's attention," Sephiroth said evenly, "I will be… annoyed."
Paler than death, the vampire minion went still.
Idiot wanker. If he had a thimble-full of the guts the Slayer's bunch own, he'd have run from you by now.
Not that he'd get very far, Sephiroth thought dryly. But that was hardly the point. Silence, demon.
Hell if I will! Spike snarled. Steal my body, threaten my Dru, try to kill my Slayer - she's my prey, and no two-bit drag queen with a leather fetish is going to kill her first!
You will be silent.
Crushed in his mental grip, the demon spat incoherent curses.
Close enough, Sephiroth shrugged. He supposed it could do no harm to allow the demon to know he had no intention of killing this Buffy. Not yet.
Spike still struggled, but Sephiroth could feel the vampire demon listening.
Allowing himself a small smirk, Sephiroth watched the white van take off at a Turk's carefully casual speed. Rude, perhaps? Likely, I don't see red hair… but it could as well be Tseng. Or any of a number of others.
Who it was could come later. What was important was that it was a Turk driving, arrogant but street-legal, the better not to draw official attention to the two dark shadows clinging to the van's roof. Shadows lit with paired flickers of crimson and blue, probing the night for enemies.
Mako eyes.
Not a position even most Turks would favor; it took skill, strength, and inhuman reflexes to perch there, and overwhelming need to risk it. Such as - purely for argument's sake - the presence of an enemy known to attack from the air with enough speed and strength to shred those flimsy metal walls like wet newsprint.
It was… oddly pleasing, to know they remembered him.
Even if the very existence of that memory made it clear that making Ethan Rayne's spell permanent had had unexpected side effects.
Not that anyone could have known what to expect, working in an unfamiliar world with alien magic. He'd only had a reasoned guess of how a direct infusion of materia melted into mako might boost the capabilities of spell and mage alike - and the sure knowledge of what would happen, were Rayne's spell allowed to end naturally. The chaos mage had intended only one night of mayhem; some blood, some deaths, and only lingering, ghastly memories for the survivors, buried save in their darkest nightmares.
I will never be a memory.
Instead, it was Rayne who had become the nightmare, twisting and melting until not even the faintest resemblance to humanity remained. A fitting end, for one of the creatures who had so offended his mother.
No, he had no complaints with his improvised addition to Rayne's spell. He was here, alive - and the demon within him would submit. Eventually.
Go to hell!
I should introduce you to Ifrit, Sephiroth purred. Then you'd learn what hell is.
The Slayer, Spike spat, will have your guts for a jump rope.
Will she indeed?
No; the spell had worked well enough. It was simply irritating, that some of his mother's other annoyances seemed to have come along for the ride. One in particular.
Cloud Strife.
Oh, they might call the host Buffy, certainly. But he knew what he saw. The grace. The stubbornness. The casual ease with which the young woman had called up a Blade Beam to shatter asphalt like dropped glass.
A woman. Interesting. Female SOLDIERs had been few and far between, Shinra's military reputation being what it was and Hojo being a misogynist bastard on top of that. Even adding this one, he doubted he'd met more than a dozen.
And technically, he shouldn't add this one. Cloud Strife had never been a SOLDIER - as he'd taken pains to grind into the man's mako-muddled mind, trying to break him. It'd worked. For a time.
Until AVALANCHE helped him realize it didn't matter, bitter memory reminded the Demon General. He fought well enough for them, well enough to face me-
And kill him. Even as a mere human, that first time in Nibelheim.
Still; that had been simple human skill and stubbornness, helped by the trooper's unexpected affinity for mako. An affinity Hojo had somehow exploited to make Cloud more.
How, I wonder? Mako and genetic manipulation only go so far. Cloud fights like a SOLDIER. Plans like one. Thinks like one. But I know he never had the training-
"Too bad they don't let troopers carry swords. Cloud's good with a rifle, but it'll never be his best thing…."
Sephiroth blinked, reaching for fragments of images. Spiky black hair. Violet glowing over gray. A rueful, knowing grin.
Zack.
But Zack had never known the puppet who had stolen his past to shore up a shattered mind. Sephiroth was sure of it.
Which was… odd, now that he thought about it. Troopers and SOLDIERs had plenty of opportunities to come into contact with each other. Shinra's headquarters housed all of them, and large as it was, the complex was a finite space. Regular and augmented men often ate together, trained together; certainly gossiped together, if the speed of flying rumors Zack would bring him with a smirk was anything to go by.
And Zack was curious as the wiliest chocobo in the stables. He'd never have ignored tales of a trooper with hair almost as wild as his own.
Ridiculous. If Zack had ever met Strife, I'd remember it.
But then - where had that image come from?
I want answers.
Slit emerald half-closed so as not to betray his position, Sephiroth watched mako blue scan Cloud's surroundings for danger, and felt an odd sense of satisfaction settle over him.
Enemy or not, the same mako ran in their veins. The same cells - Jenova's cells - were part of them, blood and bone. Cloud was his.
And Mother would be so pleased if he brought her prodigal child home.
But it'd take far more effort and time than simply killing Cloud. Could he afford it?
Better to ask, can I afford not to?
Leaving aside all excuses of surprise and impossible stubbornness, Cloud had managed to kill him once, alone. Together with AVALANCHE, he'd managed it again, despite all Jenova's added power. Power Sephiroth was lacking most of, at the moment.
And it seemed most of AVALANCHE was here. In some form, at least.
What form, though… that, he did not yet know.
Tactical information, Sephiroth decided. I need more of it.
Which meant he needed time. But how to seize it?
And what was the demon's odd obsession with a weekend?
Oh no you don't, get out of my head you bloody-
Ah. Interesting.
And very potentially useful.
"Step away from those."
The vampire looked up, eyes wide. "Y-you're letting me go?"
"You might say that…."
Hello, flying fatality, Willow thought, automatically bracing herself as Oz spun the wheel to avoid hitting the flailing vampire. Not that he would mind hitting the vampire, she knew; a bumpy face and yellow eyes, no matter how terrified, were pretty good clues that this guy was not on the list of people to be left still walking.
But it’d screw up the paint job something awful, Reno snickered.
Don't do that!
What? You know how much a good paint job costs? And that's not even counting the body damage - steel ain't wood, yo. Unless you got a private stash nobody but the gods knows about, we ain't exactly rolling in gil. We can't afford that kind of expenses.
People's lives weren't expenses!
And is he breathing? No? Then I'm guessing we can check him off the life list.
Er, well, sort of, but-
Look sharp!
Which was all the warning she had before Xander's bare hand reached down by her open window, gesturing for special weapon, situation-specific.
She slapped a stake in it.
Right, Reno agreed. Can't exactly screw a silencer on that monster Cerberus.
Willow craned her head out in time to see a dark streak intersect the fleeing vampire. Dust exploded.
Cool, Reno breathed.
"Keep driving," Xander bit out. "It's a distraction-"
"It's a hello," Buffy's voice floated down, grim and wry. "He wants us stopped for a minute. Let's see why."
"Fool," Xander breathed a few seconds later, chill as a Nibelheim glacier. "I can hit him from here."
"Not if all he does is parry. And he knows that." Buffy's voice had the kind of slow burn that made Reno sit up and grin at the prospect of imminent mayhem.
Could you not do that?
Ease up on the hyperventilating, Wills. Adrenaline is your friend. Reno’s grin in her head was all teeth. Willow. Willow-girl. Willows have these pretty little fuzzy flowers, right? Catkins. That fits you right. All soft and silvery and tough as mythril.
I never thought I’d even think this, but – you’re crazy! Completely and absolutely and, and-
Don’t ever make that mistake, Catkin. Reno’s tone was dead serious. We’re Turks. We ain’t nuts. We ain’t psycho. We do a dirty job, and we do it damn well.
I don’t want to be like that!
Reno muttered something physically improbable and likely illegal anywhere outside of certain unadvertised locations in Vegas. Look, we can argue about this later, ‘kay? Right now you gotta worry ‘bout staying alive. And no offense, but when it comes to a smackdown, a Turk’s got a heck of a better survival rate than a high school student. Impatience shoved at her shock. C’mon, take a look!
Wary of incoming spells, Willow craned her head out the window. Probably on the wrong side of the van to see anything anyway-
High above, silver hair shimmered in the wind.
Eeeek….
Glowing emerald eyes, cat-slit pupils invisible at this distance. Black leather, straps crossing a pale, muscular chest. A long sweep of black coat, silver-gray armor warding his shoulders, elegant as the deadly long blade by his side. Grace and speed and lean muscle in humanoid form; a purebred wolfhound, staring down at a half-sized yellow mongrel with more spunk than sense.
Actinic-white streetlight glinted off silver bracers as black-gloved hands shaped precise signs. SOLDIER handsign, not Turk – but it was a damn fool Turk who didn’t have some idea how to read military sign.
Only she couldn’t have read that right. Had to be too dark, or she’d missed a subtle twist of fingers a SOLDIER’s greater augmentation could pick out like a hawk, or something.
“Ceasefire. 48 hours.”
No way.
Only, from the sudden stillness Willow sensed above her in the roof – a stillness that meant Buffy was about half a heartbeat from wreaking mass chaos-
Maybe she’d read it right after all.
“You don’t believe him,” Xander stated, low and cold.
“I wish I didn’t,” Buffy breathed.
Listening as hard as she could, Willow still couldn’t hear Buffy move – but from Xander’s choked curse, the Slayer did. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Xander growled.
“Buying us time.”
The silver-haired menace stayed still a long moment. "Terms accepted."
Black leather blurred, and he was gone.
"Buffy?" Joyce's expression as she tried to get near Willow's window was equally worried and indignant. "Did you just negotiate with Sephiroth?"
"I'm not sure," Buffy said wearily. "But I don't think he's coming after us again tonight."
Oz made a huh noise, and eased his foot off the brakes. "Let's move."
Ceasefire.
Absently shifting her weight as Oz rounded a corner, Buffy could still see the elegant arrogance in gloved hands, grating on her nerves yet so oddly right.
Ceasefire. 48 hours.
Not the psychopath who had razed Nibelheim. Not the alien monster AVALANCHE had chased across the known world. The General; cold and cruel and merciless to his enemies, but honorable as the Wutain warriors he'd slaughtered.
So she'd followed her instincts - instincts that weren't hers - and signed back, "Three day pass."
Sephiroth hadn't so much as twitched. And that very non-reaction seemed oddly heartening. As if she could afford to push her luck just a little bit more….
"We'll show up sober, promise."
"…Terms accepted," had flashed back, before the breath-stealing presence that was Sephiroth let himself be swallowed up in night.
Can't believe that worked.
And yet… she'd felt that it would. Hoped it would, at any rate.
Which is crazy, Buffy thought. That's the kind of thing you pull on somebody you know. Down-to-the-bones know. And Cloud was just a trooper; he sure didn't know the General.
But Zack did, Cloud reminded her. And I remember a lot about Zack. She got the impression of a shiver. I remember things I shouldn't be able to remember. Things there's no way I could have known. I think that's part of why I was so… confused, for so long.
And you didn't know how you knew, until Reeve- Buffy swallowed dryly. Oh. Oh, man….
We've got to tell your friends.
Oh, you think?!?
But not now, Cloud went on firmly. We need to get somewhere safe.
1630 Revello Drive came into view, and Buffy felt Cloud share her stunned blink. Okay, the swordsman allowed, mostly safe.
Oz turned into the driveway without hesitating, even though Buffy could hear the group flinch at the translucent dome of blue-and-gray-streaked violet covering the building.
"Oh, great," Cordelia muttered as they parked. "It's the wrong color, but - Buffy? Why is there a Barrier Wall over your house?"
"Oh, dear," Giles groaned.
"Rupert?" Jenny asked.
"…I think it's mine."
"We never saw you cast," Jonathan pointed out. "I know Reeve got a lot better with materia than Cait was when he started, but there's no way you're that good."
"You misunderstand me. There was no materia involved."
"Say what?" Jonathan sputtered.
"Don't try to tell me Reeve's a closet Cetra," Cordelia quipped.
"He's not." Giles got out of the van, Cait bouncing on his shoulder. "But I am a Watcher. A certain amount of spellcasting comes with the territory. I've been placing wards and barriers of various sorts on this house since the day Buffy moved in. It's one reason you've been attacked at home relatively rarely." He moved up next to the barrier, not quite touching it. "If I had to speculate, I would conjecture that when Sephiroth inflicted mako on Ethan's spell, that same magical energy was focused through us - and from us, into any magic we were already maintaining."
Getting out with the rest of them, Joyce glared at the shimmering shell of gray-violet energy. "You locked me out of my own house?"
"Er… not intentionally…."
"For the Planet's sake, give him a break," Jonathan grumbled. "You saw what Cl- Buffy's Fire did. Nobody's magic is working dead on."
"It's inconvenient." Joyce eyed the Watcher with a gimlet glare. "You're going to explain this. And then you're going to explain about vampires, and just what it is you're dong with my daughter-"
Buffy saw red. That's it. That is it. She jumped off the top of the van, took two long strides forward. "What, you mean like helping me, instead of tossing me into an asylum until I tell the nasty guys in white coats what you want to hear?"
Dead silence.
Oh no. Tell me I didn't say that-
Don't back down now, Cloud said firmly. We're not just dealing with your mother. We're up against Rufus. He lives to hit people's weak spots. As long as this is a secret, he can twist it. Tell the truth, now, and he can't use it to stab your people in the back. His tone softened. I know it hurts.
Understatement guy. Buffy met her mother's gaze, slashing a hand across to cut off protest. Glanced at Giles. "It was after Merrick… died. I didn't know they'd assign me a new Watcher. For all I knew, it was just me and Pike against a world full of vampires, forever. And then Pike left, and… I… I tried to tell my parents. Didn't go too well." She looked away, trying not to redden. "Not that being covered in Torque demon goo helped. First time I'd ever had to decapitate one of those guys, and eww."
"You burned down the gym!" Joyce said defensively. "You ran off to Vegas with a drifter. You were talking about vampires!" She shook her head angrily, blonde hair far too straight to be her own. "What were we supposed to think?"
"I don't know, maybe that I was telling the truth?"
"Buffy-"
"One graveyard, Mom," Buffy said, all but pleading. "You could've gone to just one graveyard with me, and seen a vampire rise. How was that too much to ask?"
"It was crazy-"
Jenny cleared her throat, and gestured at their motley group. "Crazier than this?"
Joyce started to say something. Thought better of it.
"I wasn't crazy then," Buffy stated, tugging off her left glove. "I'm not crazy now, and there's no way you're going to blame Giles because the universe's roulette wheel came up with, my life sucks-"
Reaching out, she touched glimmering energy.
Green.
Buffy stumbled, suddenly feeling smaller. And lighter. The familiar heft of her wooden stake was back in her flower-print shirt sleeve, but First Tsurugi was gone-
"Buffy?"
"Cloud!" She couldn't help it; she jumped up and hugged the swordsman, feeling strong arms hug back like a shy older brother. "What- where are we?" It was bright, so bright; even the riot of flowers around their feet were washed pale by the light, more a mist of wonderful scents and silky-cool leaves against skin than seen.
"In the Lifestream. I think. This… looks like Aeris' garden. I've been here, once or twice."
Aeris is dead, almost spilled out of her lips, along with, and we're definitely not. But Cloud knew that already.
I'm a Slayer. I get visions. Why shouldn't he get them too?
:Yes.
:Champion. Protector. Mine.:
It was a wash of pleased surprise, waking up to a friend's brewed coffee, welcome-
"You're not Aeris," Cloud said softly.
:No…?
:Aeris. Earth. Gaea. Earth. I.:
Fragmented, like Jenova's pounding call. Only where the space alien was jagged shards, frozen bits of corpses stitched together to make a patchwork of meaning, this… fluttered. Warm, like a butterfly flitting, and resting, and flashing bright through blue sky.
:Bodyguard. Slayer. Champion. Mine.:
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Buffy waved her hands frantically. "Case you hadn't noticed, we're two different people, here-"
"Might be hard for the planet to figure that out," Cloud murmured. "Humans are just one more species, and as for individual humans-" he shrugged, leather still black against all the brightness.
"We're talking to the planet?" Buffy tried to pick up her jaw. "I thought Gaea only talked to the Cetra…."
:Ancients. Children. Mine. Protected… forgot. Almost all.
:Calamity came. Death, death, death-
:Survival. Defiance. Flicker of Calamity's black fire, stolen for the Slayer. Fight-
:Sealing. Fled.
:Children. Children's children. Slayer-champions warding, dying. Calamity slept. Tsurugi lost.
:Tsurugi… waking. Called me.
:My child. Different, strange; not just stolen-Slayer-fire, but Calamity's blood….
:Still my child. My Champion.
:Welcome home.:
It was warmth, it was sunlight, it was all the love and acceptance she'd ever wanted-
And Buffy set her jaw, and fought back tears. "You have to let Cloud go."
:?:
"Give him back to Aeris. To the people who love him."
A gloved hand caught her shoulder. "Buffy-"
"Give my friends back who they are!" Buffy demanded. "I'm the Slayer, I know that - I'll fight Sephiroth. Jenova too, if I have to. Even if it-" she faltered; swallowed, and fought on. "I'm going to die. I know that. One day, something's going to be stronger than I am, or faster, or just plain meaner. I'm a Slayer. That's how it works. I'm not taking my friends down with me!"
"What makes you think they'll let you leave them behind?"
Buffy stiffened at the sudden chill in Cloud's tone. "You don't understand!"
"What? That you're scared? That you hurt so much inside, you just want to die - but you can't, because if you do, he wins, and you'd rather walk into hell than let that happen? That you know you're not worth dying for, not like they are, and you'd do anything, anything, rather than let them die for you?" Gloved hands gripped her shoulders hard, stronger than even a Slayer; blue eyes stared into hers, mako-bright. "Tell me. What part don't I understand?"
She was never sure, afterward, which of them broke first. There was just the fragrance of flowers rising where their knees hit the ground, and tears mingling on her cheeks as spiky blond hair brushed soft against her ear.
And tentative hands that weren't either of theirs, one resting on each fair head. :…Sad?:
"It's a human thing," Buffy got out, voice thick. "Inescapable destinies kind of bite."
:My Champion?: An odd hesitation. :…Please?:
Arms still around her, Cloud looked up. "You're afraid. Jenova - she almost killed you before, didn't she?"
:Yes. Deep hurt. Didn't… understand. Stranger. New. Someone to talk to. Wanted to share.
:Taking. Pain. Death. My children.
:Champion?:
Green flickered away, and Buffy realized her eyes were closed. And she definitely wasn't standing.
Lump here, fluffy there… smells like the popcorn from the last time Mom and I were Thelma-and-Louise-ing it… couch. I'm on the couch.
Ow.
Wincing, Buffy opened her eyes a crack, hearing the guarded conversation around her stumble to a halt. Brushed off tears with her bare hand, and picked up her glove from where somebody had laid it at her side. "Ugh. How long was I out?"
"A few minutes." Angel straightened from his seat by the couch, relieved. Shot a wary look at her companions. "They said this happens to… Cloud… sometimes, and you'd come out of it when you were ready."
"Well, that or we try to find somebody on this godsforsaken planet who might have half a clue how to handle mako poisoning," Jonathan said wryly. "How much of a wallop did that barrier pack? And what the hell did you think you were doing, anyway?"
"I live here. That barrier's supposed to let me through. Thought I'd be able to talk it down," Buffy shrugged. "Didn't realize somebody'd kind of… hijacked it. Heck of a housewarming present."
"Hijacked it?" Joyce repeated. "Present?"
Buffy dredged up a reassuring smile. "Just - give me a minute, okay, Mom? It's a lot to put in order."
Joyce shook her head, but let it drop. "I thought SOLDIERs were supposed to be good at magic."
"Cloud's too good at magic," Jenny agreed wryly. "It can be a problem."
Angel's jaw worked, trying to process that. "Ah… I don't suppose you could clear that up a little?"
"Think sponge and water," Buffy advised. "Or maybe… I don't know, lightning and copper wire. Most people are insulated. Magic's hard for them to get in, hard to get out, but a big charge might just go right over them without doing much. Outside of the whole bone-snapping, eyes-bleeding, frying thing… okay, not so good with the analogy here," she admitted as the vampire raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Thing is, their minds usually stay put. Inside their own heads. Cloud can - well - link in to somewhere else, sometimes. Especially if something's put in enough oomph to reach out and touch someone."
Stunned silence. Yep, Buffy thought. Everybody's thinking it, but nobody wants to say it.
She wasn't Aeris, Cloud stated.
Yeah, but she's as close as this world comes, looks like. And there's no way that's going to go over well.
Except maybe with Angel, who seemed doomed to utter cluelessness. She almost wanted to reach out and hug him.
Come to think of it - why wasn't she?
He smells like death, Cloud said softly.
Whoa, big surprise there, hello, vampire-
Even Vincent doesn't smell like death.
Buffy tried not to shudder in the wake of that instinctive revulsion. He's my boyfriend!
I know, Cloud whispered. I'm sorry. It's just… so many battlefields, so many people I knew….
Her boyfriend's scent was giving half her brain the wiggins. Terrific.
In a quiet corner, Oz came to some conclusion, and stood. "Coffee."