Ben reached towards the people at the top of the wall, but Glory flickered back into control. She glared at the observers. "You bunch. You've got my Key, the little girl, the Slayer's sister. Give her to me. I'm running out of time."

Willow glanced to the east, where color was starting to seep into the sky. "The Key's not here. We sent her to another dimension until after it's dawn. We can't get her back till then."

Glory stared up at her, then screamed and clutched her hair. "Why! Why are you doing this to me! I just want to go home! This stupid stinkhole of a world is killing me, I just want to go home!" She looked back up, and there were tears on her cheeks. "Please? Home, is that so hard to understand?"

"If you open the portal to go home, it will destroy our world. We don't want that to happen."

"I am a god! You are stupid puny mortal monkeys in ugly clothes! How dare you decide your world is more important than me!"

Willow blinked. "Because we're like that?" She checked her watch, then the sky again. "Anyway, even if you had the Key, you'd never get it back to Sunnydale in time. The sun would be up before you even got halfway there."

"I can move fast! I can do it! Give her to me, or I'll rip you all to pieces! And you can ask the vampire there what that feels like. Give her to me!"

Willow swallowed hard, reminded herself of Tara's condition and that giving in to Glory was generally a bad thing, and shook her head. "No."

Glory shrieked again, then strode towards the convent gates. A brave young Knight stepped in her way, sword ready. She ripped the front of his chest open in a gush of blood and kept moving.

"Attack!" yelled General Gregor. The massed Knights yelled and charged.

"God, no," Xander breathed.

They only slowed her down. Swords bounced off her. She merely ripped the arms off most of them and snapped a few necks, but one particularly nimble Knight was grabbed, raised high, and broken across her raised knee. Xander tried a shot, but she dodged it easily, though not without a glare and snarl in his direction.

The monks chanted en masse and flung an orange ball of energy at her. She actually staggered, then she changed direction and stalked into the middle of the group. The fountaining blood was a dark liquid in the slowly growing light.

"This is your fault!" Gregor yelled at Xander through his sobs of horror. "If you hadn't defied us, we'd be at full strength and would stand a chance against the Beast!"

Xander tried to contradict him, but the words stuck in his throat. Spike reached past him and grabbed a handful of Gregor's tabard. "You never stood a chance against Glory! If the Slayer couldn't take her, what makes you think your bunch of pansy horse soldiers could?" He looked at Xander. "Do I throw him to her, let her collect the complete set?"

"No," Xander whispered. "Leave him. I don't think a few more minutes will make much difference."

Finally Glory and her minions were the only ones standing before the gates. The little creatures hurried to her, helping her stand. She staggered a little, as if the rampage had exhausted her. Her figure blinked again, and Ben looked up, tears on his face.

"I can't stop her!" he yelled. "She's too strong for me, I don't know how to stop her!"

Spike reached for the rifle, but Xander was already raising it to his shoulder. "No," Xander said.

"Harris, let me."

"No. No time."

As quick and smooth and free of thought as the shot to the soldier who would have killed Tara. As Xander's finger squeezed the trigger, Ben's face started to shift. Glory was flung back by the impact, and all her minions screamed in horror. Then Glory pushed herself up and shook her head. Blood ran down her face. She reached up in disbelief, then stared at the blood on her fingers.

"Ow," she said in offended shock. As one, her acolytes turned and glared at Xander.

Dreg raised his hand and pointed. "He dies last and longest." His companions growled agreement.

Spike tsked. "You're not making friends tonight, Harris."

Xander pulled the clip out of the rifle to check how many bullets were left, then slammed it back in. "Didn't join this gig to make friends. Joined up to save the world."

"And then we party?"

"I wouldn't be making any reservations at your favorite clubs just yet."

Wow, all such amazingly good fic. LJ, I really liked your 5 things. Anya is a very interesting character. I think my favorite was the last, where Anya got out and Xander didn't. I loved the dialogue with Dawn.

Erika, more! more! That's just amazing stuff.

Plei, I really don't like Connor. Now you make me feel like I have a better reason. Nasty little creature.

Connie, mmmmmmmmm. Kill Glory! I love Xander's lines. He sounds like the Xander I love instead of wimpy Xander.

Wow, I do love some Vamp!Giles. Thanks, everyone for your comments. A little bit more: The vampire growls, more from hunger and rage than from pain, but Tim is surprised all the same. He never knew he could get satisfaction from causing something else pain, but that is what floods him for the first minute. He's no longer the little boy that couldn't protect himself. "Take that, you undead piece of shit!" he says, yelling for Frank's benefit. He counts to thirty. Frank breezes in, in his best salesman manner and slides a packet of blood from the hospital in the cage. "What's going on? Tim, what did you do to our guest?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't put a stake through his heart."
"Excuse us," Frank says, as if this is the most bizarre cocktail party ever.
When they get in the hallway, Pembleton asks again "What the hell is that? What happened in there? Ok, I believe in your Bad Cop. You win the Bad Cop Oscar, Tim. But you're halfway to Crazy, Career-Losing Cop." "He threatened me, Frank. I don't let people threaten me. Not anymore."

Ooooooh.

BadCop Tim is already making me happy. He's all conflicted. Pure Bayliss, damnit.

You know what Tim needs to deal with Angelus.

A Super-Soaker. Filled with holy water.

Yeah, but I don't think he's going to get it. Tim can only have so much closure, poor baby. And because I like him to have his scars on the inside, I don't foresee any other character deaths, but Tim's anger surprised me too, so.... (And on a more superficial note, there's no doubt in mind that after being taunted about being a puppy, Tim will be a cat guy.)

I know, I know, and I totally agree. Life is his Adena Watson case, too, after all.

But it's a nice mental image to play with. Tim with a supersoaker full of holy water, burning off little bits of Angelus as he dodges around inside the cage, feeling pleasure and guilty while he's doing it, Frank reading him perfectly...

And of course going home feeling Bad and Wrong.Which, ok, sad, but he's so good at it. I'd rather watch that actor have a bad day then ten others having a good day. Which makes me fear for my sanity long-term, and makes me think that positive attitude thing? DOA. Although, this is the darkest thing I've written to date.

Are you going to do any of Angelus' POV/inside his head? Because, talk about a complementing darkness....

I hadn't thought of it. Do you think I should?

If it feels right you, absolutely. You could also have Angelus articulate some of that darkness, rather than switching to an interior POV. Let the darkness in him leak out.