Part 2
"They're all linked to me," Glory confided. She grinned enthusiastically as the next proto-person transformed into a Slayer. "I'm gonna use them to search this darling little swamp you people call a town. They'll find my Key."
Giles was silent, partly from horror, partly because he suspected Glory would yank out his larynx if he spoke again without leave.
She jabbed him in the stomach. "So? Whaddaya think, Watcher-man? Marvel at my magnificence!"
"Oh, yes, it's truly magnificent," Giles said, not bothering to hide his disgust. He didn't think he could, and she'd see through any attempt at pretense anyway. "Why do you need Buffy for each one? Can't you create new Slayers, then kill them a few times, to create more?" Jinx injected Buffy in the side of the throat again. She took a little longer to breathe, this time. Giles continued, "Surely Buffy can't sustain this for long."
"Dear Jinxie's drug has much more power than your own silly little adrenaline. And my Slayers are linked to Buffy, sweet boy," Glory cooed. "They're not complete Slayers, otherwise even my wondrous perfection would be insufficient to keep them under control." She traced the side of his face with a long fingernail. "I like this scar. It adds character."
Giles flinched backwards. "I don't have a scar there," he said, not liking where the conversation was going.
"Not yet," she said. "Come back into the apartment with me. We'll have tea."
With little choice, Giles followed. The tiny door shut behind him. He heard a hissing noise. "Sterilising the environment," Glory explained. "I am, of course, above such minor things as germs, but my wonderful plan could be compromised by typhoid or syphilis from you."
"Thank you so much," Giles muttered. Glory pointed him at a chair. He sat down and sank into it uncomfortably. She sat opposite, smiling as if they were on their first date. He tried to smile back.
He found it a lot easier when he saw Willow's head pop up over the edge of the window. She gave him a relieved grin, then put her finger to her lips for quiet. The last gesture was somewhat unnecessary, he thought with fond exasperation. He turned his attention back to Glory.
"How do you like your tea?" she asked brightly.
"Milk, one sugar, please," he said.
She thrust a cup at him. "Black with lemon?"
"That will do fine, thank you," he said with resignation.
Willow burst into the room.
So did Willow.
Xander was next.
Then Willow.
Tara, and Willow.
Willow was last, with Anya and Spike.
"Hurry!" cried one of the Willows. They all muttered a word of power. Glory was thrown back violently against the wall.
"Through here!" Giles yelled. He raced for the door, the others close behind.
Tara crashed into him when the door didn't open. "I know what she's doing. Willow and I did a Searching. I think I can stop it," she said breathlessly.
"Not if we can't open the goddamn door!" Xander said. "Spike!" He grabbed the vampire and thrust him towards the door.
"Yeah, yeah, give me a second," Spike growled. But they didn't have a second. Glory had already eliminated two of the Willows. There were only three left, including — Giles hoped — the real one. Spike took a step back and kicked the door at shoulder height. It burst open, and they charged in.
Only to be met by a glass wall. "I'm not stupid," sneered Jinx from behind the wall. "When the Slayers are ready, you'll be dead."
Tara murmured something and threw a handful of powder at the wall. Nothing happened. "Oh, no."
Giles grabbed her hand, then took Anya's on his other side. He nodded at her to take Xander's hand. "Draw from us," Giles said urgently. Tara reached out tentatively for Spike's hand, but he clutched hers roughly, without ceremony.
Tara closed her eyes. Giles felt a //pull// go through him. Tara said the incantation again. The powder on the floor ignited.
Willow thumped into Giles. "Watch out!" she yelled. Glory picked up Tara and threw her violently to the ground.
The proto-Buffys burst into flame. Glory fell to her knees,
arms raised, and shrieked. Buffy's eyes opened. Jinx lifted a fire extinguisher
above her head.
"Buffy!" Giles called.
Buffy's arm shot out. Her hand closed around Jinx's wrist. "You don't want to do that," she said calmly.
Jinx flinched. "I don't want to do that," he agreed. He dropped the fire extinguisher and cowered on the floor, muttering, "Beautiful Slayer, please get back on the table, my petite brilliance cannot create your doubles without you, please, beautiful Slayer, please assist the wonder that is Glorificus. . ."
Buffy put a finger to his lips. "Shut up." She retrieved the finger and looked at it in disgust. She wiped it on her pants, yanked the various tubes out of herself, and rolled off the table.
"I can find you, wherever you go, girl," Glory snarled. "You'll never be safe from me."
"Unless I'm behind a glass wall, apparently," Buffy replied. "Whaddaya know." She examined the walls of the large room. She walked towards a fire axe and picked it up. "Though I guess I'd have to get out of here eventually. And if I'm still around, you could find me. I can't allow that. You won't know who the next *real* Slayer will be, so at least they'll have a little time to prepare. You won't be able to use *me* like this again."
Buffy smiled, and raised the axe. Xander paled. "Oh, no," he whispered. "Giles! God, stop her! Oh, hell, no, Buff. . ."
"Buffy, no!" Willow called, voice frantic. She thumped the glass.
Tara's eyes were wide. "There has to be another way! Giles, tell her, there has to be another way!"
Anya shouted, "Buffy! Don't be stupid!"
Giles was silent, frozen to the spot. His face was numb. He couldn't move.
Buffy brought the axe around smoothly into her own throat. Her head fell to the floor a second before her body crumpled.
And Giles discovered that he could move, after all. Uselessly, he banged on the glass. "Buffy. . ." he said brokenly. "Oh, God, Buffy. . ."
Glory let them go, with little effort. They walked down to the car. Giles made Xander drive, because all he could see was Buffy's face just before the axe had struck.
***
Three days later. . .
"I need a shower," Anya said. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning.
"I'll get you a towel." Xander padded to the linen closet and yanked at the door. It didn't move. "The door's stuck again," he muttered. "I'll get the oil."
Anya grabbed the handle, more out of habit than because she expected to do any good. She twisted it back and forth, getting the feel, then pulled.
The entire door came off.
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