Faith stared at the assembled group. 

What a motley crew she had.  

A half demon who could drink even her under the table, a middle aged watcher who still looked prim and proper even after days of travel, a witch who looked more like a hippie than anything, and her sister who was a whiny brat. And her, the slayer. Who had no idea what she was supposed to do with the world she was handed. 

When Jules first told her that the world had gone to hell, Faith thought that meant literally. Humans couldn’t survive there, of that Faith was sure. Jules later confirmed it, and went into great detail on how this entire scenario, the one they were really living, not the theoretical one everyone worked with, wasn’t really possible. Faith had laughed, told her that her facts were wrong, and it obviously was possible. 

Look around you, watcher, she’d said. Hell was possible. 

The sun still rose for two or three hours a day, and fresh rain fell from the skies every so often. It was almost like the new leader of hell wanted the humans to live. Faith was sure that wasn’t a good thing, either. 

“But I don’t understand,” Dawn whined, and Faith wanted to punch her out just to shut her the hell up. “If you can go outside, why can’t I?” 

“Because,” her sister explained for quite possibly the forty-forth time in as patient a voice as she’d began with, “This isn’t the world you remember, Dawnie. This is something new and evil. We all have to stick together in this.” 

“I can take care of myself,” the brat boasted. 

Doyle stood up and stared at her. Obviously he wasn’t in the mood for her, either. Faith knew she liked him for a reason. “Listen, lass,” he began in a voice that told of his strained patience. “I can take you half drunk. You’re no match for a demon twice my size and not nearly as human.” He jerked his head at Faith. “Faith is like Superman; nearly indestructible. Nearly I say, because even Superman had a weakness; we all do, so we all have to be carefully, yes? The day you can take Faith is the day you can wander outside alone. Understand?” 

Dawn eyed the dark haired older girl with contempt. “Pft. What can she do that I can’t?” 

Without a word, sure that she’d say something wrong and have the brat in tears – she shuddered at the prospect – Faith lifted the end of the couch with one hand, causing Julie to shriek in protest as she was dumped against Tara, who was dumped against the arm of the couch. For long moments, Dawn said nothing, and Faith was sure she’d never heard a more pleasant sound. 

“How can you do that?” This time, there was no whine, no edging on, and no bitching. It was pure awe, and Faith felt something shift inside of her. First Doyle compared her to some superhero, and then Dawn acted like she really was one. For a girl with nothing and no one, Faith suddenly felt like she had everything. And the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

“We’ll start training you,” Julie said with a secret smile, “First thing in the morning. For now, I suggest we all sleep. Faith, I assume you’ll take first shift, yes?” 

“Yup,” the slayer nodded, and went to the front entrance. The back and only other one was booby trapped with several kinds of explosives they’d pinched along their travels, and a gapping hole almost directly in front of the door left by the previous owners of the ramshackle building.  

“I’ll relieve you in four hours,” Doyle said, and headed to his corner with one last lingering look at Faith. 

Tara herded Dawn into their own corner, noticing the look Doyle gave Faith and wondering at the relationship – if any – between the two. She’d never heard of a slayer before the vision that set her off to find one. But she knew several things about Faith already. One was that she was a lonely frightened girl. The other was that she was the strongest being Tara had ever seen and knew how to fight.  

Third was that wherever they were headed when Tara and Dawn finally caught up with them, the three others of the group had no idea what awaited them. Tara was afraid that she did. She just had to figure out how to tell them so that they’d believe her. 

This was real, this was hell, and the being who created this hell wasn’t to be trifled with. He was powerful and angry, and willing to do anything to get what he wanted. That was clear from the fact that hell now covered most of the planet, crawling over inches of soil a day, converting once arable land into nothing more than hard rocky soil where nothing could grow.  

‘At least someone realizes that.’
‘People usually only see what they want to. It makes things simpler for them, keeping those things they don’t want to know about hidden deep in their psyche.’
‘I know…’ 

What few telecommunications still remained operable, broadcasted the statistics twenty-four hours a day, covering what they could of the mass change. Governments now admitted to knowing things they often kept from their constituents; demons, vampires, hell spawn of every kind. Entire secret armies now roamed the streets, men and women specially trained to fight this sort of thing.  

Faith had laughed at that, saying that they were only going to get themselves killed. Tara didn’t think she was wrong.  

Something called the Watcher’s Council became public, promising to rid the world of the creatures that did this. Julie had laughed at that, mocking everything she was once a part of. It was then Tara learned that Faith was this council’s tool and Julie her guide. What they were doing so far from home in England, Tara didn’t know, but wondered if it were possible to return to that island. Anything was better than here. 

“They don’t know what happened,” she had said once Dawn was asleep a day – two? – ago. “Acathla did this, when he awoke, he opened his mouth and breathed, and when he did, he sucked the world into hell,” Julie explained what she knew, little though that was. “Except,” she continued, confused, “That didn’t exactly happen, and instead of sucking everyone into hell, hell came here.” 

“How did Acathla wake?” This from Tara who was still new to everything here. 

“Angelus, a vampire, was the key to that; he was prophesied to do this, though we didn’t know that until Rupert Giles reported that Acathla had been discovered. Poor Mr. Giles, I’m afraid the worst has happened to him” 

Tara didn’t know who this Mr. Giles was, but she didn’t envy him. Especially if the poor man was still alive; if he knew what Acathla and this Angelus person were supposed to do together, then maybe Angelus hadn’t killed him. Death, Tara thought now as she settled down next to Dawn, was better than living here. 

She’d heard of small pockets of humans still living, eking out an existence as best they could with what little this new ‘god’ provided. But if it were true, and Angelus was god now, then wouldn’t he know they were coming? Wouldn’t he know that they were searching for him, trying to figure a way to stop him? 

Tara didn’t know, but was sure that that was the case. Even with limited powers, any being who figured out how to open the doorway to hell should be able to figure out that those on the opposite side of the good v. evil war would try and stop him. Which made them moving closer to California a suicide mission. 

Maybe they should think of trying to find a way to England. If this Watcher’s Council was as powerful as they thought they were, then it only made sense that their one weapon against this god should be there, fighting to widen their stronghold of good. What good would it do them to have her killed? 

Standing up from her pallet, Tara walked silently to where Julie tossed herself. They were all exhausted, and yet none of them could truly sleep. Well, except Dawn who didn’t fully grasp the direness of the situation. 

“Julie,” Tara whispered to the not sleeping watcher. “I need to speak with you.” 

“What is it, Tara?” 

“Why are we heading to California when it’s certain death? Shouldn’t the warrior for the Council be in England, fighting to maintain and widen their stronghold?” 

“The Council has ordered us to head to Sunnydale,” Julie sighed, and it was clear to the younger woman that this certainly wasn’t Julie’s idea. “They want to know the strength of Angelus, the forces he commands, the power he wields, the fate of the slayer-”  

When Julie abruptly cut herself off, Tara jumped at the last things she said. “What aren’t you telling me,” she demanded, all shyness she ever exhibited gone in the face of a threat to her sister. Dawn was the one thing Tara cared about, the one thing that made her leave her father and brother, and head out for parts unknown when this whole thing started. Dawn was also the one person for which Tara would and could overcome her timid ways, her instinctive need to pull back and act the wallflower. 

“There is another slayer, older than Faith, the...do sit down, Tara,” Julie softly instructed to a hovering Tara who probably didn’t even realize that she had stood in anger and defiance. “Buffy Summers was the slayer before Faith, and before Faith’s predecessor, Kendra. She died at the hands of a master vampire, and was resurrected. Her death was enough to trigger Kendra’s calling, and when Kendra died, Faith’s. 

“She was the slayer of the Hellmouth in Sunnydale; when all this happened it’s believed she died. But there have been rumors that Angelus didn’t kill her, that he’s keeping her alive. We don’t know why, all the Council Seers can determine is that she isn’t dead, but still somewhere with Angelus. But his power eclipses anything the Seers can perceive, so her fate is murky at best.” 

“What can you possibly do if she is alive?” 

“Rescue her and bring her back into the fight.” 

Tara thought of that for a minute and eyed Julie with curiosity. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new information, but knew Julie told the truth. And that even with that truth, it wasn’t the entire truth. Something was missing that even the Watcher before her didn’t know, and Tara wanted to find out what that was. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said slowly. “Everything I’m sensing from this, everything you’re telling me about this Buffy and Angelus leads me to believe that it’s something more. I don’t know what,” Tara admitted, “But it’s more.” 

Faith, who listened to the entire exchange, spoke up, startling the two women who hadn’t realized she was there. “It is more,” she agreed. “The witch is right. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that this Buffy isn’t going to want to be rescued.” 

“Faith,” Julie admonished with a hand to her racing heart. “Don’t sneak up like that!” 

“Sorry,” unrepentant, Faith gave the two women a small smile, “Slayer hearing. And stealth.” 

“How do you know this?” It was Tara who asked the question. 

“Dreams,” the slayer whispered with an eye still on the door. “I can see her in my dreams. She’s not leaving there, she never can. She doesn’t exactly like it there, but she knows she’s never getting out.” 

“You’re having slayer prophetic dreams!” Julie exclaimed in excitement to Faith’s frown. “Sorry,” she murmured, “But it can be very helpful.” 

“Right,” Faith frowned, and walked back to the door and her post. She didn’t like dreaming about this other slayer because the things she learned from her dreams made Faith’s skin crawl.  

Something made her keep the details to herself, some slayer bond that Faith realized without ever meeting the other slayer. This Buffy was gone; she was of no use to the outside world and wasn’t leaving that palace ever. There were no slayers, simply Faith, the Slayer, and somehow Faith knew that Buffy knew this as well. 

Dreams where Faith realized this also told her one more thing. That Buffy realized it too, and tried to warn Faith away from what remained of Sunnydale and this mansion, this capital, this center. 

When Doyle came to relieve Faith for the next watch, he couldn’t help but notice her pensive attitude. “What’s wrong, slayer?” 

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing, Doyle?” She asked, curious as to what this seer for the so-called Powers That Be thought.  

“No,” he immediately answered. “But I’ve always been a look after number one kind of guy, so this superhero stuff is all new to me.” 

“Where do you think we should be, then, if not heading to Sunnydale and spying on this Angelus guy?” 

“Anywhere but there,” he said emphatically. “He’s mean, vicious, and probably already knows we’re coming. He’s taken powers we can only guess at, and made them his own. He’s literally a god now, complete with all the omniscience that comes with that.” Doyle settled himself by the spitfire woman, wondering at the paths Fate made them cross. Would he have ever met the beautiful woman beside him if this hadn’t happened? 

“Where do you suggest, then? Tara thinks heading to England and the Watcher’s Council is a good idea.” 

“No, no, bad idea!” Doyle didn’t know how he knew, but he was absolutely positive that going to England was a very bad idea. “If Angelus has Buffy, and I know he does, then I don’t think he’d going to hold the Council too highly.” 

“Then where?”

“Vatican City,” Doyle said the first thing that came to mind, and once it was out of his mouth, realized it was the right choice. “We head to the Holy City, and hope someone there can help.” 

“And if they can’t?” Faith had several more questions, like why there, but didn't voice them. 

“Then we’ll be on the other side of the world from Angelus, and no worse off than we already are.” 

“But what about Buffy?” Faith was more concerned for her sister slayer than she wanted to admit, though she already accepted that their paths would never cross, and Buffy was as trapped in Sunnydale as Faith was in finding her way in this new world. 

“Ah, yes, the slayer before you; whatever happened to cause this, she’s as much a part of it now as Angelus. I don’t understand it, but I do know that there’s no way she’ll ever be free, even if we do somehow manage to kill a god.” 

“Has she turned?” 

“No,” Doyle answered slowly as he tried to remember every excruciatingly painful detain of the various visions he had of Buffy. “I don’t think so. But I do know that Angelus isn’t letting his slayer out of his sight.”
~~~~~~~~~
Buffy was exhausted.  

She was tired of smiling and accepting gifts from demons she’d never heard of before, she was tired of pretending that everything was okay with her, and that she was okay with this whole goddess thing. She was tired of fighting Angelus, but, conversely, she wasn’t afraid of him. 

No, she was deathly afraid of herself.  

Afraid that she was changing, that she was becoming (used to, attached to, addicted to) Angelus. 

She couldn’t let that happen. The reason, the only reason, she was here willingly (and she had to remind herself of it), was because of those in the dungeon. Horror momentarily overcame Buffy when she couldn’t pull her mother’s face to the fore, couldn’t remember the way Giles’ eyes crinkled when he frowned at her. She couldn’t remember how Willow’s eyes lighted up when she discovered something new, or how Xander’s face scrunched up when he didn’t understand something to do with her world. 

(All I can see is him; all I can picture is Angelus.) 

Hank…was her father down there? Buffy’s stomach dropped as she remembered her dad, and how she hadn’t thought of him.  

But he had to be, if Angelus had gone to this much trouble to get her family and friends here, to make sure they were all (safe) (prisoners) then he’d have brought her father here, too. Sliding a glance at the man (vampire) (god) (lover) beside her, Buffy knew he did that. Angelus wouldn’t have left anything to chance, no outside hope to light her way away from him…and none of her family where she couldn’t protect them.  

So her dad was safe below, that was good. Below, and in the hands of a sadistic monster, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was safe and alive, and Buffy could keep him that way because he was there.  

Hank wouldn’t understand her world, and Buffy could only hope that someone explained everything to him. Not her mom; Joyce was still in serious denial. Maybe Giles. He could do that whole 'Into Every Generation Speech' he was so good at. 

Buffy smiled slightly at the thought, and the demon before her dropped to his – er, its? – knees in supplication. The words were jumbled, and certainly not in English, but she could understand some of them well enough. He was pleading to be allowed to – bask? – something like that, in her presence, going on and on about her beauty and power. 

Stunned, all the slayer could do was look down at the worshiping demon helplessly. What the hell was she supposed to say? Sure? No? Angelus must have sensed or seen her confusion, for he gestured to someone to raise the still spouting demon up. 

“My goddess,” the demon went on, “Anything you want is yours; my clan and I will give you anything you desire, our home, our lives, treasures you could only previously imagine.” 

“Thank you,” Buffy faltered, trying desperately to remember the creature’s name and rank or species. Whatever actually registered in her mind; with so many names thrown around it was hard to keep track. 

“Garmin,” she said, and hoped she was right. From the look of pure adoration on its face she guessed she was right – he looked even more reverent than before. “That is most kind.” 

She wanted to refuse his offering but knew that to be impossible. Not only would Angelus hate that, but it’d offend the creature before her, and that was also a big no-no. After the confrontation with Lilah and Lindsey, Angelus had stressed the importance of not offending any of the demons here. At first Buffy thought it was because he was afraid his power would be tested, but it was soon apparent that wouldn’t ever happen. To the demons gathered here he was their god, and that was enough. 

No, he didn’t want them offended – not yet at least – because he didn’t want them rioting before the end of his inauguration day. And he didn’t want to explain any of Buffy’s actions before anyone had the chance to meet their new goddess. After today, everything was fair game. No slaying on her part, but that was because he was, apparently, more concerned for her safety than the demon’s lives.  

He’d just remade the world for her, he wasn’t, Angelus explained as patiently as he was capable, going to lose her now. Buffy hadn’t known what to say, so she said nothing, simply nodded in agreement and hoped she could survive the day. 

“Anything, my goddess,” he repeated and bowed away, “Anything.” 

Returning to the masses, Garmin proceeded to tell the rest of the group how their goddess smiled down upon him with the most beatific smile imaginable, and how she was truly a goddess. It helped to fuel rumors of Buffy’s position by Angelus side, rumors which were spread across the land and over the blood-red seas.  

Rumors that eventually made it to the Watcher’s Council and those they served. 

Angelus nodded to the minion at the beginning of the line to halt the next petitioner. “What was the smile for, my love?” 

Caught, Buffy could only look at him. She couldn’t actually tell the truth, that would succeed in triggering his anger, which was never a good thing. Instead, she once more tramped down on her thoughts and feelings, burying them under a fierce need to protect those below, and never, not ever, let Angelus know her true feelings.  

She smiled at him, conscience of the looks they were being given from the crowd before them.  

“You,” she whispered softly enough for only Angelus to hear. “I was thinking of you and our…” she paused, and allowed the feelings he brought out in her to surface. It wasn’t very hard, the second she thought of what he did to her, Buffy wanted him again. Every demon here with a superior sense of smell would know what she felt, and that wigged her out completely. But it was the only way to get herself out of this and keep everyone below alive.  

“Previous activities.” 

A spark of lustful pride ignited in Angelus’ eyes, and he raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm, a long finger caressing the ring that nestled at the base of her knuckle, and promising, “Activities we’ll return to soon enough, my feisty slayer.” 

He knew she lied to him, but didn’t care; he also knew it was her friends below she thought of. It was enough that when she did tell him her thoughts, false though they were, it was truthful. She may not have been thinking of him and their earlier coupling, but when the thought did enter her mind, it was all she could think of. 

Soon even when she thought of her friends, he would always be there to override those thoughts, always be in the forefront of her mind, eclipsing everything else. She would think of him first, last, and always; the rest of the world, the friends, the mom, the watcher would come second. Even now, she was beginning to get a taste of that, knowing she could hide nothing from him.  

Soon she wouldn’t need him there to remind her. Soon it would be an automatic response.  

Until then, however, Angelus planned on always being there. His goddess was never alone, and that was how it always would be. 

“But first,” he continued smoothly, even as he watched her eyes darken in lust, overshadowing all else. “We must finish greeting our world.” 

“Okay, yes” she agreed, and forced her gaze away from him, and out towards those remaining in line. There weren’t many left, ten at most.  

And that was another thing Buffy hated about herself. That she agreed so damned easily to be a willing participant in their sex-capades. Oh, she hadn’t a choice, he’d have killed everyone below if she hadn’t and most likely raped her. But she enjoyed everything he did to her body, every touch, every taste, every move. She craved it, wanted more and knew it was only a matter of time before she really did lose herself in him. 

In them. 

The next supplicant bowed forward, offering fruits and gold, several magickal artifacts that Angelus accepted with a predatory gleam in his eyes, and a list of demonic offerings forthcoming.  

Drusilla walked up beside them just then, humming with a beautiful smile on her face. She didn’t say anything while the line moved forward, simply hovered in the background, a constant presence that made the hair’s on Buffy’s neck raise in suspicion. She didn’t trust the vampiress, didn’t like that she was being so nice, and didn’t like that she had more freedom than the supposed goddess of this world.

(God, what was she thinking? She wasn’t the goddess here, she was a prisoner, she was trapped as surely as her friends below. She had no say in anything, and was simply Angelus’ whore for however long he wanted. She was not enjoying this, she didn’t like the gifts and the attention and the adulation. All she wanted was to go back to the middle of January and change history. But that was impossible now, and this was her world. The question was: could she truly live in it? Could she survive?) 

But at least with Dru there, Buffy felt as if she had some kind of ally, strange as that thought seemed. She knew Dru watched over her for Angelus, but also knew that whatever Buffy said, Drusilla would do without question. Except escape; but as Buffy had no intentions of ever doing that, it was a moot point. 

Angelus’ hand brushed her arm, jerking Buffy back to her circumstances with a start. He shot her a warning look, a dark warning that told her she’d be sorry for the lapse in attention. Whatever, Buffy thought. What could he do to her that he hadn’t already done? 

Nothing except kill someone below as a warning, nothing except force her to become more of what she was not, nothing except turn her into what he wanted. Nothing except show her just how much she wanted him and all he offered her.

Could she survive?

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