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Part TwelveBuffy had not won Regan over with reasoned arguments; Buffy had won Regan over by the use of a fist to the jaw. As the Watcher lay there on the floor, Buffy turned to Xander and Cordy. “Apologize for me. I really don’t like hitting Watchers.”
“Guess that’s why you’ve done it twice, eh, Buff?” Xander asked her, a faint grin on his face.
“You go with what works, I guess,” Buffy said as she walked down the stairs. A faint yowling could be heard as she passed through the store — apparently Nemesis could sense there was something a little fishy this time around — and then the door opened and closed, and her exchange with Spike had begun.
Xander hoped like hell Buffy knew what she was doing. It occurred to him he was placing an awful lot of faith in her — incredible, since he’d only really known her for a little over a year, twenty-seven years ago. But then — she had always been the best person he’d ever known. The best any of them had ever known. But still, this long after she’d died for the first time —
It seemed that his life was empty when she hadn’t been in it. The bookstore chain he’d sold, the fashion maven Cordy had become — would they have done that had they not been trying to prove themselves? To prove that their lives hadn’t been emptier, less meaningful, without her. To prove that she wasn’t their focal point. Would Willow even have become a Watcher without the tragedy of what had happened to Buffy and Giles?
Something to think about, definitely. And a nice distraction from worrying about his daughter perhaps being marched off to her death without her consent. And then Spike and Buffy began negotiating. Xander and his wife leaned out the window to get a closer look, not bothering to conceal their presence; by now, Spike certainly knew they were up there. He kept the crossbow at the ready. It was all Cordelia could do to stop him from firing it when Spike had his two goons march Buffy over towards him.
“Careful with that thing, honey — you’re likely to put someone’s eye out.” And she forced it to the apartment floor.
Outside, Buffy said, “There’s still The Unforgiven to be dealt with.” Defiantly.
“And us!” Xander yelled down.
“I don’t think so,” Spike answered, and from somewhere pulled a vicious knife and placed it on his daughter’s throat. It’s a bluff. It had to be a bluff. But why? And then Xander got his answer.
and then —
and then —
How the hell?
It couldn’t be him.
Just couldn’t.
Not that twice-damned, arrogant, traitorous, evil, Goddamned son of a bitch of a vampire.
Not him.
Not Angel.
But no amount of trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Angel bursting out of the bushes would work. Who else could it be?
Who the fuck else could it be?
As if reading his mind, Spike called up to him, “There’s your bloody Unforgiven, Xander Harris. There he is. To save your daughter’s life, all you need to do is forgive Angel. That’s all you need to do.”
All he needed to do! God!
* * *
Willow immediately shot out an arm to stop Emily, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “Don’t worry, Willsy,” her friend said distractedly. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s not time for me to throw my life away.”
“I wish he hadn’t done that.”
“More proof that he’s who he says he is,” Emily answered.
Willow said, “ I know he’s who he says he is. And so do you. But it doesn’t make it any easier to forgive him. All that knowledge I have is in my brain, and when it comes to Angel and what he did, my brain isn’t in control. And if I feel like this, God knows what Xander and Cordy are going through right now. One of us needs to forgive Angel. And none of us can.” Then she changed her tone. “Weapons ready. When I say go —”
Looking over at her with eyes as fierce and determined as any she’d ever seen, Emily answered, “I know what I’m here to do.” Then, after a second, she asked, “What would happen if the prophecy didn’t come true?”
“Don’t know exactly — but Prophecies have a way of making sure they come true. If Xander and Cordy had taken Buffy and taken off, something, somehow, would have forced them back here. One way or another, Buffy is going to have to die tonight. Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure of something, that’s all. Don’t worry yourself, Willsy.”
Then they resumed their silent waiting.
* * *
Spike couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy. The Slayer delivering herself to him willingly, Angel torpedoing his own chances at being forgiven — and, he thought suddenly, the Harrises and the Watcher making it so easy to keep them out of the action. “You two,” he said, “go stand by the front door. You, go check around the back for any back doors. Anyone tries to leave the building, kill them.” He made a mental note to watch from the window for crossbow bolts. Not that Harris was likely to be that great of a shot, but still, there was always that Watcher bitch to watch out for. But they wouldn’t fire for fear of hitting their precious Buffy.
Speaking of whom, she was indulging in a little eye-popping at Angel’s sudden appearance. Spike couldn’t resist. “Hey, Galen!” he called, after releasing Buffy into the arms of the two burliest vampires there, “No wait, now it’s probably Angel again, isn’t it? You know, I liked you a lot better as Galen. He was a success. He made millions of dollars, he traveled all over the world. But Angel? Angel’s just same old pathetic crybaby loser he always was.” He kept one eye on Buffy Harris, to see her reaction. Oddly, it wasn’t shock, or revulsion, but a kind of sadness. Ah, well. Spike was about to get his beloved Dru back, he wasn’t bloody likely to cavil over the details.
“Are you done, Spike?” Angel asked.
“He’s not done,” Siobhan said, walking over with a knife in her hand. “And neither am I. Ready to make use of the stone?”
The vampires took Buffy, who was calm and not struggling, and moved her over the Orb. Siobhan walked over and grabbed her by the neck, knife over the heart, and she still didn’t react. Resigned to dying — this was one odd Slayer. Ah, well. Not for Spike to look gift demons in the mouth.
Growling, Angel charged, but Spike was able to backhand him to the ground with one punch, and that one not very hard. “Too slow by half, mate.” Angel got up and watched, uneasily, but he seemed too disheartened to try anything further.
He looked over at Siobhan. “Get to it.” The redhead slashed the knife …
* * *
Emily would never be able run there fast enough. But Willow was slower, Buffy was immobile, Regan, Xander and Cordelia couldn’t get out of the building, and Angel was apparently still paralyzed with guilt.
That left her. And she knew how the night had to end: The Slayer had to die.
And — well — Emily had been the Slayer, once. And once a Slayer —
She wouldn’t get a second chance at this. She took two deep breaths and did a deep knee bend. The one thing her legs would let her do was jump powerfully from a standing position. Then she threw herself forward, legs and arms pumping.
She crashed to a halt directly in front of Siobhan and her upraised knife. By sheer mental effort she stayed upright, and reached out and kicked Buffy out of the way. The Double Slayer staggered and collapsed to the ground.
Then Emily raised both of her arms and grabbed the still-stunned Siobhan’s arm, forcing it —
DOWNWARDS, directly into her own heart.
Towards the end, Siobhan applied as much momentum as she was with the knife.
Still, what was it that had been said about the Orb of the Savior?
She who wills, controls.
Once a Slayer —
With her final breath — which came simultaneously with Siobhan’s blade piercing her skin — she called out, “Willow — controls —”
ALWAYS a Slayer.
And then, no longer really aware of anything, she died.
* * *
Cordelia Harris screamed. Xander yelled out the word, “No!” and ran downstairs, dragging his wife behind him. Regan was nowhere to be seen. Willow whispered, “Emily,” to herself, over and over again.
Siobhan was shocked, but not shocked enough to make a mistake. The stab wound bled onto the Orb of the Savior, which let off a hiss of steam and slowly began to glow. And Spike was honestly amazed that the Harding woman hadn’t realized that it didn’t really matter which Slayer died, as long as the Unforgiven remained Unforgiven. Although he did mentally kick himself for not thinking of Harding sooner. Would have made things a damn sight simpler.
Angel just stood there. He didn’t know what had happened, except that somehow, he’d failed again. While Buffy Harris’ life was safe — he’d never intended for it to be switched for that of Emily Harding.
No wonder they’d never forgiven him.
* * *
And the Double Slayer?
Buffy Harris awoke as she was being shoved to the ground — not in control of her own body! What’s going on? She thought.
< Long story, > a voice came back. < I’m Buffy Summers, just take it that I’ve been here all along. You were hard to wake up, so I’ve been in control of your body. Emily just — oh no. > Her body turned around with her just an observer, but her struggle to take control was halted by the sight of the redheaded vampire Siobhan, holding Aunt Emily’s bleeding, dead body. < What happened? > she thought.
Buffy Summers thought back, < Emily just threw me out of the way. > Bitterly, both Buffy came to the same conclusion:
< It should have been me. >
Quietly, Buffy Harris thought, < It may be a bad time, but could I have my body back? I’d really like to go kill that bitch. > A small rock was beginning to glow where Emily’s blood was hitting it. Siobhan’s face was a mix of surprise and triumph, as was Spike’s.
< I understand the sentiment, > Buffy Summers answered, < but — but — you see that man over there? The one with the dark hair? >
Buffy Harris thought back, < Yes, of course, but what does — >
< It’s him, > the reply came, < I’m here for him. He’s the Unforgiven. It’s Angel. Now, if you’ll excuse me? The Orb of the Savior has been activated and we have vampires to kill. >
Then she charged, and Buffy Harris was taken along for the ride.
* * *
As might have been expected, Willow, despite being as stunned as everyone else, acted first. She yelled out, “Xander! INVITE THEM IN!” A few seconds later, Xander yelled, “Come in!” and dragged the two shocked vampires into the first floor of the bookstore. The yowls and terror that could be heard from within showed exactly what Nemesis was doing to them. Then Xander came roaring out of the front door, stake in hand, followed a second later by Cordelia.
Spike wasn’t impressed. “Okay, folks. We’ve gotten what we came for. Feeding time.” The vampires advanced.
Then Willow ran forward, slammed one vampire out of the way, and stopped almost directly on top of Emily’s —
Emily’s body.
She turned and faced Siobhan, ready to kill her — and then she couldn’t move. She and the red-haired vampire, gazes locked, were frozen in place as the Orb of the Savior continued to glow.
Out of the corner of her eye, Willow could see Buffy deck one vampire and stake another, and Xander standing close to Angel.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing alive, deadboy. Just stay out of my way.” He dodged a vampire’s fist.
“This isn’t the time for fighting, Xander,” Angel answered dispiritedly, sending an enemy sprawling.
“All I can say is, it’s no wonder they call you the Unforgiven.” Angel shook his head sadly.
Then a green light began to fill her vision, and for half a second she was completely blind. Then she was hurled backwards and smashed into someone. Her eyesight cleared; it was a vampire. Buffy kicked her in the face and threw her over to rest next to Cordelia. Cordy had a few vials of holy water and was throwing them around judiciously. Willow wished she had the same.
Siobhan had been affected similarly, but unlike Willow wasn’t under immediate attack. A victorious smile on her face, she walked over to the Orb of the Savior — shining brightly enough to light up the immediate area as though it were daylight — and stood there.
“Remember our bargain, Siobhan,” Spike said.
“I do, Spike.” And then she began to concentrate on the luminescent stone in front of her.
All was chaos around her; Xander, Buffy, and Angel formed a ring around her and Cordelia. Regan was nowhere to be seen. What to do?
Angel spared a glance back at her. “Willow! Remember! You have the power, too!” Willow gasped and then instinctively began to concentrate herself.
For thirty seconds or so, nothing happened. Then the fighting broke off as a human figure began to form. Willow fervently prayed and concentrated … and then, in the center of the action, a human figure appeared.
That of Buffy Summers.
Her head was angled downwards, her expression clearly one of surprise, but for a moment she said nothing. And in that moment —
Willow was just about to jump for joy — and the look on Spike’s face clearly showed his anguish and disgust. Then the ex-Watcher’s hopes crumbled as Buffy smiled. “B-Buffy?” Willow asked, fearing the truth.
A wide, feral grin broke out over her face. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “It’s Buffy Summers! No, it’s a vampire! Stop. You’re both right.” The grin grew even wider. “Not Buffy. Elsza.”
The disappointment on Spike’s face vanished, and the English vampire began laughing as though he’d just been told the funniest joke on the planet. “Elsza, is it?” he said. “Well there, Elsza, me and Siobhan over there are having this little problem with your old friends. Care to give us a hand?”
“Thought you’d never ask, Spike.” Willow’s mind whirled wildly. They still had a chance. If they could just stop Siobhan, they had a chance —
But Siobhan had taken the quiet time to recreate the four vampires that had already been killed here this evening — and who the hell knew WHO else she might recreate? The Master? Kakistos? Adolf Hitler? Willow set her mind on one thing: NO VAMPIRES. She concentrated like the world depended on it, because very likely it did.
The fighting began again. Angel and Buffy weren’t enough by themselves to hold off a dozen rookies, plus Spike and Elsza. And it looked like they might lose. Cordelia took a blow to the back of the head, and only a desperate kick by Buffy stopped the vampire from feeding on her. And Xander, good as he was, in as good shape as he was, was a human in his forties. They might lose. They could lose. They were going to lose.
And then one noise overrode everything. For a brief moment, one noise, one terrifying, horrifying noise, overrode everything. The one sound that might prove their salvation — or their destruction.
The sound of Regan Leary crying.