End of Days

Day 8

Alex scanned the grounds of the estate idly, wondering if Willow would dare to come back empty-handed. Daffyd was inside, lurking around in the Hall as ordered. The Master was growing increasingly impatient as dawn approached and Willow remained outside of the den.

The horizon was already paling. Alex flexed tense muscles and leaned against the outside wall of the house. He was ordered to stand guard until the sun rose. It would be suspicious...

A dim form appeared in the mist. Oddly shaped, it moved toward Alex quickly. The fledgling blinked and let his Game Face surface to improve his vision. In an instant the indistinct blur resolved itself into Willow.

And Willow was carrying a limp burden without difficulty. Alex felt his mouth drop open as he recognized the pale body in his best friend’s arms.

Willow had killed the Slayer.

Daffyd would be very, very upset.

Giles braced himself against the rough brick wall with one arm, fighting to hold onto sanity. As if from a distance, he heard Oz explaining Buffy’s disappearance to Deputy Geary. It was painfully clear that the Deputy would be unable to help. The entire town...or near enough...was gone. The man had bigger things to worry about than one missing teenager.

There was no body, Giles told himself silently. As long as there was no body, Buffy might still be alive. Wounded, perhaps, but alive.

Squeezing his eyes tight to block out the sight of the bloody masonry, the Watcher offered up a prayer for his Slayer, and for the other lost children. They had survived so much...surely they could meet this challenge...

Willow shuddered as the old woman’s flesh parted under her fangs, filling her mouth with rich, warm blood. There was no danger in her uncontrollable reaction. The keepers would see a shudder of ecstasy, not one of revulsion. If there was any other way, Willow wouldn’t kill...but her demon loved it so much...

An excuse, Willow knew. She was letting the creature get away with too much. She needed control. She could rationalize everything else, but after what had happened to Buffy... The Wiccan shifted back into her human guise as she withdrew her fangs from the body.

“Well, well, Cousin”, Daffyd rumbled near her side. “Alex gave me the good news. Good to see that our plan came off without a hitch.” Stiffening slightly, the redhead turned to the elder vampire with a calculating expression.

“Daffyd... Here for breakfast?” Dropping the drained corpse and slipping past her kinsman with feline grace, Willow stalked out of the feeding pens and toward the tunnels. Not surprisingly, Daffyd fell into step behind her.

“I’m rather stunned to see you so ravenous, little Willow”, the Welshman confided. “After draining a Slayer, you should be quite full.” Willow stopped and turned to stare at him measuringly.

“I amended the plan a little”, she admitted, smiling sweetly. Daffyd raised a brow. “I’m not stupid enough to fight in close quarters with Buffy. She’s tricky. Always has something up her sleeve.” Willow’s smile grew feral as she allowed the demon to float to the surface a bit more. “I shot her first. So I wasted some choice blood...” Willow shrugged dismissively. “Big deal. There are more Slayers where that one came from. Now if you’ll excuse me...?”

The redhead whirled and stalked away, leaving Daffyd standing in the darkened tunnels and laughing internally at the shock on his face.

Gaius stood in Willow’s chamber, calmly regarding the still body in the bed. Only two candles burned in the dark room, and even for his dark-adapted vision, the light was dim. The former Slayer was small and deceptively fragile. She looked young, curled on her side with her eyes closed. Like all of the others that Gaius had seen over the years, she was little more than a child.

The door swung open soundlessly to admit Willow. Gaius glanced briefly at his newest child and returned his immortal gaze to the Slayer.

Willow fidgeted nervously as she approached her Master’s side. For what seemed an eternity, the two stood in silence.

“An interesting choice”, Gaius said finally. Willow jumped at the sound of his voice. “Interesting, but understandable.”

“It was?”, she asked feebly. “Why do you say that?”

“Tell me, Willow”, Gaius continued thoughtfully. “When you were human, did you love this Slayer?”

Willow frowned slightly and nodded, adding, “she was like my sister and my best friend all rolled into one. We could share almost everything.”

Gaius smiled paternally. “And now?”

“The Slayer is my enemy”, Willow said slowly. “I...I hated that part of her. But she was still my best friend.” Troubled, Willow left Gaius to walk around the bed. Sitting down gingerly by the Slayer’s side, the redhead reached out to brush her fingers lightly across the corpse’s pale cheek. “I felt...incomplete.”

“You’ve made me very proud, child”, Gaius said softly. As he spoke the body on the bed stirred, turning into Willow’s hand mindlessly. “Your daughter will be waking soon. This is a moment for privacy.” Without another word the Master left the room, leaving his favorite Childe and her fledgling-to-be to the dark.

Giles sat quietly on the couch, staring off into the distance. One of Mrs. Gates’ cats had taken up residence in his lap, content to stay as long as he continued to stroke it. Night had fallen several hours before, but neither the Watcher nor his taciturn companion, Oz, seemed inclined to move to turn on a light.

The dark was comforting, in a way. For Giles, it prevented him from seeing how empty the house had become. He could imagine that he was home, sitting awake in the wee hours pondering prophecies. For the werewolf, it provided a calm that he needed to think.

The phone rang.

Both Giles and Oz started at the sudden disturbance. Their eyes locked on the culprit, but they remained sitting as it rang again, and for a third time. Oz stood, finally, when it became apparent that Giles had no intention of moving. Picking up the phone, the werewolf placed the receiver to his ear and murmured a hesitant, “Hello...?”

There was a pause on the other end, and then a stiff English-accented voice asked, “Is this the residence of Mrs. Catherine Gates?”

“Yes...” Oz looked back at the Watcher, who had resumed staring off into space blankly..

“Is there a Mr. Giles present?”

“Yes.”

There was silence on the line for several moments. Sounding a bit frustrated, the voice asked, “May I speak to him?”

Oz’s brow creased in thought as he asked, “Who is this?”

“Quentin Travers”, the man snapped quickly. “It is urgent that I speak to Mr. Giles. Immediately.” Oz pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out toward Giles.

“Quentin Travers. Says it’s urgent.” Giles stared at the phone uncomprehendingly for a long moment, then gingerly took it and tiredly asked, “Yes?” Oz shrugged and went into the kitchen, intending to give Giles some privacy.

“Ah, Mr. Giles”, Travers nearly purred, now on familiar ground. “As always, it’s a pleasure. Your Father asked that I send along his regards.” Giles said nothing, waiting for Travers to get to the point. “Yes...well. Let me offer my condolences on the death of your Slayer. Truly tragic...we thought she might break the record.”

Giles’ knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the handset. “Another...?”

“Yes”, Travers confirmed silkily. “Another Slayer has been called. And since Faith remains alive and...well... I hope you don’t mind that I called the hospital to confirm the girl’s condition. In any case, the new Slayer will be arriving in...Kerrigan?...by tomorrow night. Along with her Watcher. As your services are no longer needed...”

“You bastard”, Giles gasped, climbing shakily to his feet and dislodging the cat. “A child is dead...”

“A Slayer”, Travers corrected rigidly. “It was always her destiny to die so that others might live, Rupert. Your caring for the girl is, and has always been, a weakness. A weakness that you lost your status for, if I recall correctly.” Travers paused briefly and continued, in a harder tone, “As I was saying: Your services are no longer needed. Take the civilians that you have endangered and return to Sunnydale. Your interference in these matters will not be tolerated. Good Day, Mr. Giles.” A click resounded in Giles’ ear as the senior Watcher hung up the phone.

“Dear God”, Giles whispered, his anger fading as Travers’ words sank in. “Dear God, no. She can’t be...”

“You were wrong, Alexander”, Daffyd commented mildly. Alex shifted uncomfortably behind him, flanked by Daffyd’s two other Childer. “I forgive you that.”

The elder vampire turned to regard his family dispassionately. “We have lost nothing, my Children. The Master’s faith in me is unchanged. And his faith in you, Alex... We can use that later. Rico, Marc...tell me what young Lucas and the Twins are up to.”

Marc stepped forward, a handsome dark-haired youth with a sword belted around his waist. Bowing slightly to his sire, he summarized, “The Twins feel threatened by Willow. Brigid seeks her disposal as soon as possible. Brodick is...unsure. There are some signs of dissent in the ranks of their Childer; the first signs of a Civil War of sorts. If it is possible to drive a wedge between the two, the in-fighting may instigate their destruction by the Master. Lucas, on the other hand, is behaving with remarkable constraint. He appears to be aware of the state of the Twins’ relationship, and is biding his time.” Rico inclined his head, giving silent witness to his elder brother’s report.

Daffyd smiled with pleasant malice. “Interesting. And with the Slayer dead...”

Rico coughed under his non-breath. Marc nodded in agreement and amended, “With the Slayer turned. She will rise by night-fall.”

“Turned?” Daffyd shifted his gaze to Rico and asked, “The Master?”

“Pleased, apparently”, Marc supplied quickly. “He exhibited pride.”

“Turned”, Daffyd mused. “A Slayer turned. I’ve never heard of it done before.” Sliding his gaze to Alex, who appeared to be in some form of shock, he prodded, “Any thoughts, Alex?”

The boy’s jaw tightened and he shook his head slowly in disbelief. “We’re in trouble”, he muttered. “Real, deep trouble.”

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open as the sun set. She felt strange. Am I...dead? Sitting up, she felt her eyes drawn to a still figure perched on the edge of the large bed. “Willow.”

The redhead nodded and offered a tremulous smile. “How do you feel?”

Tilting her head to the side in consideration, the former Slayer frowned in confusion. The disorientation faded quickly as she came awake, and memory began to return. Sucking in an un-needed breath in revelation, Buffy lifted a hand and ran trembling fingers over her smooth forehead. “I’m...?”

“Soul”, Willow offered quickly. “The ‘grr’ will come when you feed. You can control it with a little practice. It’s a little strange, like a growling in your head. But you--“

“Willow?” Buffy’s wide, dark eyes filled with tears and spilled over. “What did you do to me?”

The Wiccan looked away briefly, letting her gaze flit around the room and land on her clasped hands. “I didn’t have a choice, Buffy. It was the only way to keep you alive.” Though she almost expected it, Willow flinched at Buffy’s burst of hysterical laughter.

“You killed me”, the blonde accused brokenly, bloody tears slipping down her face and staining the simple shift she wore. “Even Angelus never...never...” Buffy trailed off with a moan and bit into one balled-up fist to keep from crying out. Torn between guilt and righteous anger, Willow watched her friend’s body heave with wracking sobs until she could no longer stand it.

“Buffy, stop it”, she ordered quietly. The other girl drew her knees to her chest and failed to respond. The demon in Willow roared a command to punish the Childe and the redhead reacted without thought. Willow’s arm snaked out and she imbedded her claws in the fragile skin of the fledgling’s arm. With a flick of her wrist, the younger vampire was sailing across the room to hit the wall with a sickening thud. Still maddened by the demon’s frustrated rage, Willow leapt on her offspring and pinned her by the throat against the stone, snarling. “I. Said. STOP.”

Buffy hung limp in Willow’s grasp, the Slayer in her desperate to fight back, the demon cowering in obedient fear. Torn by her Sire’s claws and the conflict within, the blonde whimpered helplessly and shuddered, her head falling back to expose her throat.

The demon purred blissfully.

Willow froze in horror as her sense of self returned at the demon’s satisfaction. Disbelieving, she stared at the bloody girl at the end of her arm. “Oh, no. I didn’t. I couldn’t!” Panicked, the Wiccan released the Slayer, who slid bonelessly to the ground, trembling at her sire’s feet. “Buffy, no!”

Another spasm ran through the cowering fledgling, but the girl remained silent. Horrified, Willow fell to her knees beside her friend and hesitantly ran a now-gentle hand over the blonde’s hair. “Buffy?”

Giles checked the sights on the compact black crossbow and nodded in satisfaction. Carefully, he lay it on the table amidst a dozen other assorted weapons and calmly asked, “Was this all?”

“Yeah”, Oz confirmed, setting down a large quiver of bolts for the crossbows and a slim rapier. “That’s the last of it.” Both men stood in silence regarding the collection. Giles polished his glasses, a Ripper-ish gleam in his eye as he plotted. “So what’s the plan?” Oz asked finally.

“We kill it. Whatever it is. No matter what it takes. No more children will fall to this creature.” Oz raised a brow internally at the ‘Captain Ahab’ tone that Giles had acquired. Outwardly, he shrugged shallowly and agreed. “Okay.”

“We patrol tonight”, Giles explained. “We search for clues. Not in the graveyard, but in the abandoned houses. In order to insure that we do not succumb to the temptation to wander away from each other...”, Giles brandished a pair of handcuffs, “...these should suffice, I imagine.”

“Very practical”, Oz deadpanned gravely. Giles shot him a sharp look, but apparently decided that the boy was serious. The Englishman frowned as he attempted to continue, when a loud knock at the front door drew the attention of the two demon-hunters.

“Who could that possibly be?” Giles wondered aloud, palming a rather wicked-looking knife as he rounded the table and approached the entryway.

“Avon lady?” Oz suggested. “Possibly body-snatchers.”

“I don’t believe that they knock”, Giles returned drolly. Knife behind his back, Giles flipped the locks open and the porch light on before opening the door and stepping back. “Deputy Geary?”

“Sorry to call on you so late, Mr. Giles”, the Deputy apologized tensely, tipping his head politely at the other men. “Mr. Osborne. Ran into a bit of an emergency. Seems there’s not many folks left in town. This is Randy.” A teenaged boy hovered behind the Deputy, fidgeting nervously. One of the boy’s hands was white-knuckled around the collar of a rather large dog of non-specific origin. “You’ve met Skippy.”

“Er...hello”, Giles offered awkwardly. He felt a bit exposed, speaking to a police officer with a room full of weapons in the house. Oz remained a silent observer at his back. “What could I...ah...do for you?”

“Well, sir, if it isn’t too much trouble, you could invite us in out of the dark”, Geary suggested with pained manners. “It’s not safe outside this late.”

Wordlessly, Giles stepped further back into the house, his experience with vampires having taught him never to voice an invitation. Geary entered with no problems, followed by boy and dog. As soon as the door closed the night out, Geary began without preamble. “I need you to take Randy away when you leave town in the morning. His family’s all gone, and near as I can tell so is everybody else. The five of us are the only one’s left.” Randy paled at this information, releasing the dog.

“We’re not leaving”, Giles stated flatly. “Not without the other children. When we find Buffy, Willow and Xander...” Skippy sniffed the Watcher’s pants leg and wandered off toward the living room, pointedly ignoring Oz.

“You won’t”, the Deputy insisted wearily. “Trust me, Mr. Giles, you should get going while you still can.” As he spoke, Geary absent-mindedly followed Skippy to keep an eye on the dog. “You’re in over your...head?”

Giles winced as Geary walked into the living room, now a chamber of war. Mutely, the cop took in the various instruments of destruction and turned to Giles with an assessing look. “Or maybe not.”

“I can explain”, Giles insisted immediately. Geary raised a brow and nudged Skippy away from a sword with his boot.

“Looks like you know something, Mr. Giles”, Geary said pleasantly. “Why did you say you came to this town?”

“Wow...” Randy breathed, trailing into the room behind an unconcerned Oz. “Are those real?”

Giles only groaned.