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Twilights End 
 by Scorpio 
Part One Part Two

Part One

Always count your Blessings. Then, subtract them from your 
Damnations. If you break even, you're doing all right. 

No. It's true. I've learned that the hard way. 

You see, it all started right after Dawn's blood opened the Gates 
between the Dimensions by summoning the Mystic Portal. Of 
course, Buffy managed to close the portal before the Gates 
completely collapsed, but it was at a terribly high cost. Her life. 

In the aftermath of her loss, we tried valiantly to pull ourselves 
together and continue to fight the good fight, but it was a difficult 
time. And it wasn't just because we no longer had a Slayer with us. 
We had lost not *just* a super-warrior, but a good and true friend 
and that's a hurt that's both deep and subtle. 

If that wasn't enough to tear us down, the breaks and cracks in 
reality that the portal caused didn't reverse themselves once the 
portal closed up, they simply stopped getting bigger. A large tenet 
building filled with families forever disappeared to be replaced 
with half of an alien building filled with alien creatures. Large 
crevasses tore open the earth in the middle of Main Street and it 
was filled with some strange glowing blue gas that stunk horribly 
and made anyone who came near it ill. A bunch of stunningly 
beautiful flowering plants sprouted up in the middle of the local 
baseball field and along with it a whole bunch of small furry 
creatures that scurry around whispering in some foreign tongue. 
The creatures are harmless but the plants shoot out deadly 
poisonous thorns whenever a person gets too close. 

So, not only were we mourning and in shock from Buffy's death, 
we were also suddenly faced with a myriad of alien creatures from 
other worlds that we had no knowledge of what-so-ever. None of 
Giles' books helped because they only had information on the 
various creatures of *this* world. So, we were on our own to try 
and figure out which ones were harmless victims of fate and which 
ones were deadly predators. Then we had to figure out how to kill 
the predators. 

That's probably why it took me so long to notice it. 

At first, it was just these really odd dreams. I could never really 
remember them once I woke up, but I would remember the 
*flavor* of them. The emotion they left behind. 

Some left me feeling good. Happy, I guess. As if I had dreamed of 
jokes and snappy come-backs and tricks that were amusing and 
witty. Of course, I'd feel all guilty about it once I was fully awake 
and realized that, in truth, there was *nothing* to feel happy about. 

Some of them left me feeling almost as if I was in the middle of an 
adrenaline high, but not in a bad way. There *is* a difference, you 
know. A *good* adrenaline high is when things go right and your 
victorious. You've beaten the odds and it's time to celebrate. It's a 
great feeling. A *bad* adrenaline high is just the opposite. It's 
when you're fighting for your life and things look grim and you 
just *know* that you're not coming back. I still wake up like that, 
as if from a horrendous nightmare, but not as much as you'd think 
considering everything that has happened. 

It was odd, but nothing to hold my attention long. I had work, I had 
Anya and we all had a bunch of grief and dangerous patrolling to 
do. I blew it off thinking that some strange dreams were to be 
expected and since I hadn't started sleepwalking, they weren't 
dangerous. I never said anything. 

Time moved on and little by little we jerry-rigged the broken 
pieces of our lives back together. Our grief and guilt lessened even 
if our wishes that Buffy was still alive didn't. I missed her terribly, 
we all did, but we had learned to live with that loss. Patrolling 
became easier as we identified more and more of the alien 
creatures. Many of them were their world's versions of humans. 
Dangerous, but mostly just wanting to survive the shock and fright 
of being thrust onto a strange planet. However, the rest were 
deadly. These ones were either toxic or they looked at humans as 
"the enemy" or "the food" for them. 

Anya and I were officially engaged by this time and had begun to 
make plans for our wedding. I think that this, more than anything 
else is what pulled everyone out of their funks. It gave all of us 
something positive to think about and a focus for a brighter and 
happier future. Even Spike got into it with his announcement that 
he, and only he, was allowed to organize my bachelor party and 
that the "birds" could all fuss over the ceremony itself. Silently 
wondering when I'd slipped a cog in my brain, I agreed to let an 
evil undead vampire host the party. 

It was at that point that I started remembering my dreams, well... 
at least a tiny portion of them. I could recall a pair of pale eyes that 
crinkled up in the corners from laughing and the sound of giggling. 
But that was it. 

That's also when my sense of humor returned. After Buffy had 
died, I just couldn't see the humor in anything any more. It wasn't 
that I didn't want to, it's just that everything seemed flat and stale 
to me. Dusty. However, that wooden feeling of being stiff and dry 
flaked away bit by bit until I was back to my old self. Cracking 
jokes and making sarcastic remarks off the top of my head left and 
right. I began to smile and laugh again. 

That's such a freeing feeling. Laughing, I mean. 

And still we patrolled. Usually as a group rather than singularly or 
in pairs. It was safer that way. Gradually, it became glaringly 
obvious that both Willow and Tara were getting more and more 
powerful with their magic, but in different ways. Willow could do 
amazing things, but so could Tara, however, most of the new 
things one could do the other couldn't. 

Spike also changed subtly. Before, he would willingly kill any 
demon that crossed his path, but he was usually pretty straight 
forward about it. But there was one breed of alien that, for some 
reason, just brought out the evil in him. This particular type of 
alien was tough, fast and tended to feed on anything it came across. 
Spike began to start carrying around his namesake weapon once 
again. At first, it freaked the rest of us out, but after a while we 
realized that he was careful to make his kills clean when any of us 
were around. 

That's not to say that *all* his kills were clean. I stopped by his 
crypt one time to drop off a new supply of blood and couldn't find 
him anywhere. Worried because it was still late afternoon and the 
sun hadn't set yet, I tried to find him. I did. He has an underground 
cavern under the main room of his crypt that leads to the tunnels. 
He had transformed the cavern into a sort of torture chamber and 
he had five of those aliens strung up in various stages of dying. 

It should have frightened me to my very core. I should have run 
from the room screaming, but I didn't. Granted, I will probably die 
of fright the instant I hear that his chip has finally fried, but at the 
time that wasn't a concern. I stayed there for a half an hour and 
watched him as he tortured one of the aliens. He lectured me on 
technique the entire time. Which, if you think about it, is the 
freakiest part of all. 

Now that I think about it, that's when the urges hit. At first, it was a 
vague feeling. I began to *really* look around at the town when 
we were patrolling or when I was out making wedding plans with 
Anya. I now know what I was looking for, but at the time I didn't. I 
just knew that when I found it, I'd know. 

And I did. 

A lot of property was damaged when the portal opened. *Many* 
people moved away. Turning a blind eye to demons and the 
Hellmouth is one thing, but I guess living in a town that sports a 
few alien buildings - complete with the aliens in it - is a bit much. 
However, not everyone left. The city hired a few construction 
companies, mine included, to tear down the structures that couldn't 
be fixed and to repair the ones that could. 

Because of this, there were lots of vacant lots springing up all over 
from ruined buildings that had been torn down and no longer had 
any owners to rebuild. I found one of those vacant lots. After a bit 
of finagling, I bought it. Cheaply, I might add. 

I knew that I wanted to build something there, but I wasn't sure 
*what*. Anya wanted a house and for a while I entertained that 
idea, but it wasn't *quite* right. At the time, I didn't know why. 

Time passed and life went on. The plans for the wedding were 
almost complete and Spike began to drop hints about the bachelor 
party he was planning. Giles was going to give the Bride away. 
Willow was to be the Maid of Honor while Tara and Dawn were to 
be Bride's Maids. Spike was to be my Best Man and my boss and 
my best friend from work were to be my Ushers. 

While all of that was occupying Anya's attention, I was busy 
compiling a whole bunch of building material and tools. I gathered 
bricks and stone at insanely low prices from all of the buildings 
being torn down all over the county. It was a little more difficult to 
get PVC and copper piping, but I did. Not to mention a whole 
bunch of other stuff too. Lighting fixtures, a fuse box sans fuses, a 
huge porcelain tub and several vases, urns and what-nots. 

At the time, I wasn't even too clear on *why* I was doing all of 
this. I'd just see something and I *had* to have it. I still wasn't sure 
what I was going to build with it all. Oddly enough, only Spike 
seemed to notice my new obsession, but then again, I was the only 
one who ever sat in on his torture sessions either. 

Then it was time for the wedding. I'll admit it; I was a bundle of 
nerves. My dreams flip-flopped between the now normal ones that 
featured those strange pale eyes and new interesting ones that 
revolved around the wedding. I think the worst "wedding" dream 
was the one where Anya got back her demon powers and then 
cursed me with an eternal boil on the tip of my nose and male 
pattern baldness combined with hairy ears for not building her a 
house on my vacant lot. 

The good news is that she didn't turn back into a Vengeance 
Demon, the bad news is that she left me at the Alter. Sort of. 

You see, Spike's party was a great success. Lots of drunken 
construction workers mingling with lots of drunken demons of the 
harmless variety. The bleached vampire even went so far as to 
invite Angel, or "The Great Irish Ponce" as Spike called him. 
Angel brought Wesley Wyndham-Price and some big black guy 
called Gunn. Spike almost got himself staked by constantly 
referring to them as "The Pouff's Minions-to-be". This started a 
huge argument in which Angel insisted that he'd *never* turn 
them, but if he *did*, he'd make them childer and *not* minions. I 
don't think that Wes or Gunn found that very reassuring. 


Part Two



Still, a good time was had by all. I woke up the next day in Spike's 
crypt and in his bed. I was smooshed between Spike himself and a set 
of soiled silk sheets. I was hung-over like a dead horse, but I 
finally managed to convince, read that as threaten, Spike not to 
breathe a single word of our late night and early morning activities. 

Feeling like the inside of my mouth was coated with glue and sawdust, 
I left to go get ready for the "practice run" that was planned for 
that day. The way I understood it, the practice was so that we all 
knew our parts and didn't screw up in front of the audience the next 
day during the "real" wedding. 

So, I headed home and hit the shower. Trust me, I needed it for a 
bunch of reasons. I drank down a couple painkillers with cold 
water and hobbled off to the church. Typically, I was the last to 
arrive. Spike, the bastard, didn't look like he had spent the night in 
a drunken haze and then had nasty dirty sex till the wee hours of 
the morning. Me on the other hand, I looked bad enough for both of 
us. 

Anyway, we all took our places and waited for the signal. The 
preacher walked us through our paces and gave hints and advice on 
how to do each little thing. We got most of the way through the 
practice run when suddenly Anya got very still and pale. Then she 
began to shake. Worried, I turned to reach out and ask what was 
wrong, but I never got the chance. 

She began to cry and she stepped back away from me. A quickly 
mumbled, "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I'm sorry." and she was gone. 
Out of the church, out of the town and out of my life. To this day, I 
don't know why. She's never called and she's never written. I tried 
to find her, but it's as if she just disappeared. 

Needless to say, I went into a deep funk. For about three weeks I 
rarely spoke or ate and I certainly didn't smile or joke around. I felt 
as if I had been sucker-punched in the gut and I couldn't seem to 
catch my breath back. 

Then, like a bolt of lightening out of a clear blue sky, I knew what 
to do with that vacant lot and all of my building supplies. Like a 
man possessed, I went about getting building permits and zoning 
permits and all of those other legal type things squared away. 

Then, I contacted an architect that I know from working on various 
job sites. I told him what I was interested in doing and showed him 
the plans that I had drawn up. He looked them over and admitted to 
being impressed. He only made a few suggestions that would 
change, not the appearance, but would merely enhance the 
structure's integrity. When he asked where I learned to draw up 
plans, I had no answer. I just *knew* how the building should look 
and what I needed to get it that way. 

Then I started building. I was able to do a lot of it myself, but the 
majority required more than one person. You can't frame a 
building by yourself, no matter *how* good you are. Some of the 
guys from work offered to help out occasionally for nothing but 
beer and pizza. Willow and Tara also helped too. They could hold 
things immobile with magic until I could nail it into place, not to 
mention that they could lift and move heavy stone around easily. 
They saved me a lot of money on rental fees for equipment that 
could handle heavy weights. 

As work progressed on my building, I began to notice some odd 
things happening. Other people seemed to be caught up in their 
own bizarre little obsessions as well. 

Giles, for instance. He still owned and operated the Magic Box, 
and Buffy's training room was inviolate, but he purchased the 
abandoned building next door to it. He turned it into his own 
personal Library and research area. We all used it regularly when 
we had to figure out a plan to fight demons. It was much more 
private than the store and it was larger and more comfortable. Not 
only that, but he decorated the entire place with owls. 

Willow and Tara managed to talk Giles into letting them have the 
leftover space in the Magic Box. Where we once planned our 
campaigns against the Hellmouth creatures now stands a 
permanent Alter to Hecate, the Goddess the two witches call upon 
for their magic. Oddly enough, even though Willow and Tara are 
the only ones to worship her, we have all gotten into the habit of 
leaving things on it for her. Incense, fruit, feathers, bells. Whatever 
comes to mind. What's more, I'm not the only one who whispers 
"Watch over Willow and Tara please." when a token or gift is left. 

Spike's torture chamber has also undergone a transformation, 
however, I'm the only one who would be in a position to notice. 
The witches and Giles *never* venture down there. I visit, while 
not a lot, often enough. 

The biggest difference is that he found a lovely wooden cabinet 
somewhere and brought it in. He stores the majority of his 
instruments inside of it. All except his metal railroad spike. It sits 
up on top on a piece of black silk. He's also placed about thirty-to- 
forty candles down there and they are always lit. When one burns 
out, he replaces it. Don't even get me started on the various metal 
bowls filled with alien body parts and fluids that are scattered 
about the room. 

I should probably find his "play area" the most horrifying place on 
the planet, but I don't. Spike's a genius at inflicting physical pain 
in the same way that Angelus was at inflicting emotional torment. 
Watching him work is somehow spiritual. He enjoys it, not 
because he hates his enemies, but because he likes pain. What can I 
say? He's a demon. 

Then there's me. And my building. 

It took me almost a steady 20 months of working on it before it 
was even close to finished. It was around that time that IT happened. 
I was almost done. I just had to put this last stone in place to 
complete the Alter, which is the focal point of the main room. It 
was heavy though, so I'd need help with it. 

In fact, I think *that* night was on a Thursday. 

I ran my hand along the smooth polished surface of what would be the 
Alter's top and just smiled. After one last lingering look, I decided 
to head on home. It was late and I was tired. I wanted to grab a bite 
to eat, a shower and then hit my pillows. 

Grabbing up my tools, I turned around and... came face to face 
with a stranger. One with pale eyes and a hauntingly familiar face. 
This was the same face that had followed me in my dreams since 
the night Buffy died. 

"Who?..." My voice was a startled squeak. Nothing like good first 
impressions, huh? 

He grinned a crooked smile and his pale eyes crinkled up at the 
corners the same way as they do in my dreams. "Hey Xander. I'm Strife; 
th' God a Mischief." The stranger then looked around my building with 
a pleased expression on his face. "Hey, ya did a great job at buildin' 
my Temple and all. Thanks." 

I think I sputtered in confusion, but I'm not sure. He had this sense 
of presence like Willow and Tara do when they are doing a major 
spell, but it was a hundred times more intense. It was disconcerting 
to say the least. Fortunately, Strife took pity on me and led me over 
to the side area and helped me to sit down on one of the chairs I 
had put there. He sat down next to me and began to tell me a tale 
that turned my world upside down and inside out. 

It seems that when Dawn's blood opened the portal it did more 
than just dissolve some of the barriers between the worlds. It also 
caused an earthquake type of reaction on Olympus, which is 
another level of reality. 

According to Strife, the Olympian Gods were not a myth as most 
people believe, but very real beings with strange powers based on 
several things, one of which is faith and worship from mortals. The 
Olympians didn't leave or abandon their followers from any sort of 
maliciousness on *their* part, but because they had no choice. 
They faced an enemy that corrupted a group of people, some of 
whom had power of their own, and then this enemy taught the 
people a way to destroy the Olympians. Faced with a choice of 
going to war, which would have killed countless humans, or 
slipping off into a dreamlike trance known as Twilight, the 
Olympians choose to fall asleep. The portal opening woke them 
up. 

Once awake, they realized that there were many people around the 
world who were unclaimed by other divine beings and that 
"resonated", whatever that means, to various of the Olympian's 
spheres of influence. What's more, their powers were no longer 
confined to the Mediterranean area of the world. So, going out into 
the world for the first time in ages, the Olympians began to "claim" 
different mortals and immortals for themselves. This spiritual 
claiming influenced or slightly changed most of the people, but in 
a few cases, the influence was strong. 

I happened to be one of those lucky few. Strife says it's because I 
have "Priest" potential. At first, I wasn't too sure that I was what he 
was looking for. I mean, do I *seem* like the sort who would 
worship Strife? Yeah, I thought not, but when he explained it to 
me, I could begin to see it. 

The way he tells it, he's Mischief. In *all* it's forms. From silly 
harmless jokes all the way up to murder. While I would need a 
*huge* reason to get deadly with another human, I am 
*constantly* killing demons and aliens. And I have been since 
before I could legally drive. And let's face it; I have a highly 
developed sense of humor. I can find amusement in *anything*. 
Well, except the death of a friend. 

So, now I follow the Mischief God and run his Temple as best I 
can. I enjoy it and he's a blast and a half to hang around with. I let 
the lease on my apartment go and live at the Temple now but I still 
work construction and I still go on patrol. 

Recently, I've been coming in after work to find stuff on the Alter. 
Gum, rubber bands, stickers, Barbie dolls and Matchbox cars. I 
wasn't sure where the stuff was all coming from, but Strife told me 
that children were stopping by and leaving him gifts. I've since 
found that kids *love* the Mischief God. Some come in and tell 
him stories about the pranks they've pulled and some come in to 
get advice on how to deal with bullies. And oddly enough, Strife 
adores the kids right back. 

On another note, my favorite Olympian has given me the inside 
scoop on my friend's personal obsessions as well. Giles was 
claimed by Athena. It seems that she's not only the Goddess of 
Wisdom, but she's a War Goddess as well and she specializes in 
strategy. 

Of course, both Willow and Tara were claimed by Hecate. I knew 
that. What I didn't know was that the claiming was different for 
each. Willow was claimed as a "Battle Mage" and Tara as a 
Priestess. 

Spike now follows one of Strife's cousins. Like Strife, he's also 
a member of the House of War. He's the God of Pain and his name 
is Demios. As frightening as that may sound, it *is* oddly 
appropriate. When Strife told me that, certain things in my 
head clicked. Spike's torture chamber is really a shrine to Demios. 

Now I only have one problem. I've pretty much gotten over my 
grief for Buffy. I still miss her, but I no longer feel like I'm torn up 
inside over her death. I've also put the whole wedding disaster 
behind me. I've been through hurt and grief over it as well as anger 
and confusion. Then, for a while I felt numb about it. Now I no 
longer even dwell on it. It's done and I've moved on. 

However, Strife's lover is obsessed with seeing me in a new 
relationship. That wouldn't be such a big deal, but how do you tell 
the God of Love that you don't think you are the "right person" for 
a bleached blonde undead worshiper of Pain? 

Even if he *is* one of your closest friends...


END