Serial:

Although, now that I think of it, an Oz story featuring Scott Evil could be funny.

an Oz story featuring Scott Evil could be funny.

kind of want this.

I was gonna say that, Deb. "Homicide" is all about the shades of grey and stuff. Kay/ Whistler would be some funny shit.

Kay/ Whistler would be some funny shit.

"Her hair is - electric."

Here's my drabble. Theme this week is games. Lighter than my usual drabbles....

WitchScrabble

"Stupid letters."

Buffy looked at Willow over the Scrabble board. "Oh, come on, Wil. You kick my ass every time we play. Your letters can't be all that bad."

"They can. They are." Willow rearranged a few tiles, looking disgusted. "Damn. There's something here - just give me a minute, OK?"

"Sure." Buffy grinned. "As long as you want."

Willow squinted at her rack. Actually, there was something familiar about those letters. Inspired, she made one final adjustment.

"Flamina!" she announced, and burst out laughing as the spoken spell conjured a burst of flame. "And on a triple word score!"

You know, having written the first of "Five Things That Should Have Happened in Sunnydale", and having had it be ghost-themed, I think I might actually do a second one. I have this charming mental image of Veruca - or Oz - eating Glory, as Ben.

That would have been an interesting spin.

Decided to do it.

The Second Thing That Should Have Happened in Sunnydale

He never knew precisely when it was going to happen, not until it was too late.

From the time he was born, Ben had been dealing with that simple truth: the intruder who owned one half his mortal life was not, herself, a mortal. Nor was she considerate. When she was hungry, or needy, or sometimes just because it was Tuesday or raining, she would take his body and his soul, the things that made him Ben, and with a single gesture of infinite contempt, shred him like forbidden documents. This was the reality of sharing his earthly shell with the hellgod Glorificus. She had all the power in their conjoined state; he had none.

He walked home from the hospital in his blue scrubs in the warm spring evening, thinking, wishing, remembering.

There were times he wished he had the courage to die. That would destroy her. Ben was sure of that, and had been sure, since the day he'd threatened to throw himself from the roof, and watched the panic come up in the eyes of her minions, felt their greedy hands pulling him back, as they wheedled and cajoled him back into cowardice. His minions, too, of course. He didn't want them, the scabrous little trolls; more than once, he'd woken in a sweat of pleasure, pleasure that came from dreaming about twisting their hideous little heads until he felt their necks snap.

He could do it, if he had the courage. It would be a simple matter, with a medical degree and access to every drug, dangerous, psychotropic, opiate or otherwise, in Sunnydale General's pharmacy. No need for histrionic gestures, just an old-fashioned stirrup cup, the modern equivalent of hemlock.

He cut across the park, dappled by shadow and starlight.

Glorificus was up to something. She was planning something, and whatever it was, people would suffer and die. He thought how much he hated her, how much he needed her, how much he wished to be rid of her. He thought how weak and pathetic he himself was, to lack the courage to do the noble thing...

Breathing at his heels, hot and unpleasant, took him by surprise. Ben turned, thinking it must be another of Glory's filthy little friends.

The power of the fur-covered body that brought him down was beyond his experience. Rank breath, yellow claws slashing deep into his chest and belly and groin. Ben looked into yellow eyes that were nevertheless human.

A werewolf. He was going to die here, torn apart by a man who shared his body with demon.

The last thing Ben knew before Oz ripped his throat out was a flash of warm, delicious irony. And the last thing he heard was an enraged screaming, coming from deep within the walls of his belly, as his own shared demon died with him.

• * *

Goodly chunk of V!Giles. Once I sit my butt down and start, it flows, as I know it will. It should flow smooth from here (she says, knowing full well the muses giggle delightedly when writers say those sorts of things)

Her minions assisted Glory to her feet, and she spent a few moments getting her equilibrium back. Then she stomped towards the convent gates. Gregor ran down the steps, drawing his sword.

Spike nudged Willow. "Remember that little spell you and Ripper were working up to get your girl's mind back? Something tells me it's now or never."

"Gods, yes." She ran down too.

He turned to Xander. "Come on, Harris, not much more we can do from up here."

Xander shook his head. "You go down, do what you can. Best firing angle's up here, I can cover the whole courtyard." His glance flickered towards the soldier's body lying near the chapel.

"Mate, the bullets won't touch her, you know that."

He nodded. "Still, it's all I've got. Shallow and macho, I know, but at the end of the day, I'm not much without a weapon."

There was something weirdly calm and peaceful in the boy's voice, something that made Spike nervous. He'd seen it before, though: when all the choices have been stripped from you one by one, you might as well be at peace with what's left to you.

The ancient wood of the convent gates shrieked, then the door flew apart. Glory kicked aside a remaining beam and walked in, trailed by her creatures.

Xander picked up the last clip from the parapet and tucked it into his pocket. "Best hurry, Spike. I know you don't want to miss the carnage."

Spike took a step back, frowning, then leaned forward just enough to run the backs of his fingers along Xander's cheek. He turned and dropped from the parapet to the ground.

Xander smiled slightly. "Yeah, like we've got time for that." He looked the rifle over one more time, blowing carbon out of the breech and checking the seat of the clip.

Gregor's last two soldiers ran up from where they were guarding the chapel doors to join their commander as he stood waiting for Glory. She stopped in front of him and smiled. "By the way, thank you, Greggy. I'd never have gotten here if it weren't for you. Saw you in a vision while you were on your way here to do your fanatic routine."

"Aroint thee, Beast," Gregor snarled, his sword leveled. "Thou shalt not pass."

"I will if I want to. Look, bring me the Key, and I'll think about making this easy on you."

"Thou shalt not lay hands upon thy Key, Beast. Thou shalt be stymied and destroyed, from now until eternity."

She pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. "Gosh, I have such a headache. Gregor, if you say 'Thou shalt' one more time, I'm going to rip out your heart and wring it dry right in front of you. Stop babbling the holy crap and get me my Key."

"Thy Key is not here. The Slayer's people sent it away. Thou shalt not--"

Glory knocked aside his sword and punched her hand through his armor and into his chest. She fished around inside for a moment as Gregor thrashed, then yanked out her hand, full of a dripping red, quivering, hunk of meat.

"I told you." She squeezed her fist, and blood oozed out between her fingers. "Nobody ever believes me when I say I'm going to yank out bits of them. You believe me, don't you, vampire."

Spike, who had been creeping up behind her, froze when she turned and looked at him. "Uh, yeah, I do."

Gregor convulsed and fell. His last two men gaped, then, with a yell, charged Glory. She sighed and turned back to them, caught the sword arm of the quickest one, and tossed the soldier into his comrade. "Dreg, would you and the others finish them, please? I've got a Key to find."

"Yes, most holy!" The acolytes swarmed the fallen Knights, who only screamed for a few seconds, although the wet noises continued for a bit longer.

Glory looked over her shoulder at Spike. "Where's my Key?"

"Not here. We sent her to another dimension, where you couldn't get your hands on her."

"They must care about you some, they came in and rescued you. If I rip you in half, would they bring her back?"

He laughed. "More likely you'd get a round of applause from some parts of the studio audience. I'm afraid I'm not universally loved."

"I wonder why." Glory looked up at Xander on the parapet and rubbed her forehead, then shrugged and headed for the chapel. "Here, witchy, witchy, witchy. You can get me my Key back. I know you're in there, I can smell your girlfriend. Hiding's not going to hel--OW!"

She put her hand to her nose and glared in outrage at the chapel doorway, which she'd just bounced off of. She poked a finger at the air and met a barrier.

"What the heck is this! I'm not a vampire! This isn't anybody's house that I need an invitation to! Witch, if this is some barrier of yours, it's not going to stand up against me for long!"

Sister Agnes appeared in the doorway. "You're wrong, Glory," she said serenely, "this is someone's home. This is the house of God and of His holy representative, Saint Eugene. You may not enter."

"But I've been in there," Spike protested. "That crucifix gave me the willies, but it didn't stop me from going in."

"You're evil, Spike, but you are not a god. An enemy, not a competing power," Sister Agnes said. She crossed herself. "I wonder if it's a sin to acknowledge other gods as powers in their own right."

Spike shrugged. "First Commandment says 'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.' You wouldn't put that kind of order in there if there weren't other gods about to consider."

"Enough with the holy talk that's not about me!" Glory shrieked. She pounded her fist against the adamant air. "No stupid human god is keeping me out! Let me in!"

Sister Agnes flinched, but did not b

Sister Agnes flinched, but did not back up. "Human god and demon saint. The powers here are not the usual ones, Glory."

Glory stepped back and glared. "OK, if I can't get in, I bet Ben could, and once he's inside--" She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Spike had shifted into game face and was smiling an anticipatory predator's smile. On the parapet, Xander had the rifle to his shoulder. She glanced at her minions, then back to the two who were just waiting for her to change.

Spike chuckled. "Go ahead, bitch. I was protecting Dawn before, keeping your rats' attention on me rather than her. Sic 'em on me, I'll show you what a vampire who's having fun can do. And the whelp can pick off some of them if he gets bored with the show."

She considered a moment longer, then, with a snarl of frustration, she kicked the chapel wall. The adobe crumbled.

"All right, then," she said with a sudden grin. "If they want to stay in there, they can stay in there." She dug her hands in on either side of the doorway, found the wooden posts that formed the frame, and pulled.

Spike jumped forward and yanked her back, throwing her to the ground. "Red! Get out here! Do it now!" He fell onto Glory and began punching for all he was worth. Her minions charged in to defend their god. Xander opened fire, wounding where he could, taking head shots when there was no other choice.

Willow pushed Sister Agnes to one side and hauled Tara out of the chapel. Tara hung back at sight of Glory, but Willow yanked her forward. "Honey, I'm sorry, but this is going to make you better, I promise. Spike, give me room!"

Spike pulled back. Glory started to lunge up, but Willow's hand on her forehead shoved her back down.

"Stay put, bitch!" Willow snarled in a voice that echoed more than it should. She tugged Tara down and slid her fingers into her lover's hair. "Just a moment, baby, just a moment." Her eyes went black as she began to chant.

Blue lightning flared between the three of them. Spike fell back, shielding his eyes. All three screamed, then were thrown apart by a blast of light. Willow was flung into Spike, and Tara landed against the chapel wall.

Dreg was the last of Glory's minions alive, and he had stuffed his robes into the wound in his belly to slow the blood loss. He crawled to his god, unable to walk. "Glorificus! Speak to me, great and unstoppable one!"

Willow pulled herself out of Spike's hold. "Did it work? Tara! Where are you!" Spike pushed her to her feet, and she staggered to Tara. "Baby, are you OK?"

Tara levered herself off the ground, whimpering. Then Willow reached her, and she looked up. "Willow?"

Willow pushed her hair back with shaking hands. "Tara? You know me?"

"I always know you. I heard you, but you couldn't hear me. I couldn't get to you--"

"So I came and found you instead."

Dreg reached Glory's outstretched hand and took it in both of his. "Most luscious and creamy cheesecakeness, most rich and utterly-free-of-nuts double-fudge brownieness, Glorificus, speak to me."

"Missing," Glory whispered from split lips. "Part of me is missing."

"You're all here, most mighty. A little battered from what those despicable worms have done to you, but you're all here."

"Inside. There's a hole in my mind, and it's dark in there. There's a bit of me missing inside my brain." Slowly she rolled onto her side and looked around. She snarled when she saw Tara and Willow hugging by the wall. "I can take it back, witch. I don't mind seconds. Take yours, too."

Willow raised a hand and tried to point, but she was shaking too badly. "Oh, goddess, I can't . . ."

Glory started crawling towards them. Tara scrambled to her feet and helped Willow up. "Inside the chapel, she can't get us there. Come on, honey, come on."

"Dreg, stop them!" Glory commanded.

With a matchless effort, Dreg struggled to stand, determined to serve his god to the last breath and pulse. He managed one step before something broke inside and he fell. "Glorificus . . ." he breathed, turning his head for one last sight of her.

"Dreg?" she whispered. "But--you can't die. Not until I tell you to."

Spike helped Tara haul Willow into the safety of the chapel, then turned with a grin. "And that's the last item on tonight's to-do list. Now we just hurt you."

Glory barely blocked his fists, but he could still only inflict minimal damage. "Change, damn you," he snarled. "Change so I can kill you."

Xander watched, appalled and afraid, wondering how on earth they could finish this. Everybody was dead except for Glory, the Scoobies, and the nuns, and Glory kept right on surviving, like the grandfather of rats, who lurks in the corners of the basement and watches you in the middle of the night. Not that Xander ever admitted to seeing glowing eyes in the dark there in the Basement of Doom. Maybe Glory was the God of Rats, because she just wouldn't die.

In the chapel, Tara helped Willow collapse into one of the pews. Joyce hobbled up, gasping relief, but Tara only spared her a smile before turning to Sister Agnes. "Sister, what miraculous powers is St. Eugene's cup supposed to possess?"

Sister Agnes could only blink for a few seconds. "You're Tara."

Tara took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm Tara, we weren't formally introduced, thank you for all your help. St. Eugene's cup, what does it do? I touched it before, and I saw Glory in it, on her way here."

Sister Agnes shook herself back into "deal with it" mode. "The actual cup that St. Eugene created shows a person the way of his or her death. You didn't see Glory--killing anyone, you just saw her coming?"

"Yes. Is this cup supposed to be able to see things far away?"

"I--all that's ever been said is that you can see revelations, and sometimes people who are most on your mind. One of the early records speaks of the cup being used to reassure people who were worried about the families they'd left behind when they traveled here to the frontier, but I've never seen any sign of this being so."

"Maybe you never had a witch touching it before." She maneuvered around Joyce and went to the statue of St. Eugene.

Willow straightened as best she could. "Tara, what are you doing?"

Tara didn't answer but put her hands around the cup, resting them on the carved hands of the demon saint. Immediately the water in the cup began to glow. "Please, work," she whispered. "Aradia, protectress, Hecate, seer, show me what I seek. Isis, who transcends, everywhere and nowhere, within and without, show me." The water swirled, showed fragments, Spike beating on Glory, Glory slowly getting her strength back.

Sister Agnes took an uncertain step forward. "I don't think she should be doing that here."

Tara looked up and stared into the statue's stone eyes. "St. Eugene, who served humans and demons alike, who brought solace and protection regardless of species, let me through. Let me see."

Golden light burst forth from the cup, and Tara's hair blew away from her face. "Thank you," she breathed.

In the cup she saw Buffy and Dawn, curled together asleep. Giles sat a few feet away, his sword across his lap. His lips moved, as if he were singing to himself.

"Buffy," Tara called softly. "Buffy, wake up. We need you."

Xander yelled outside, sounding scared. Tara heard Joyce gasp a word Tara didn't think anybody's mother would ever use in public. She focused harder on the vision in the cup, even as her head began throbbing and her vision blurred.

"Buffy, we're losing. Please, wake up. We need you."

She gasped and sagged into Sister Agnes' arms. "Easy, nina, easy."

"Sister, I'm sorry, I know they're not your gods, but I meant no evil, I swear. . . "

The nun helped her to sit next to Willow. "If it were evil you were trying to work, I doubt the saint would have let it work."

Willow brushed Tara's hair back from her sweaty forehead. "Baby, what were you doing? I touched that cup, but it never did anything for me."

"I--I was calling for help. I hope it got through.

In the land of perpetual Wednesday, under a pink and grey sky, Buffy's eyes popped open. "Oh, my god, I just had the most horrible dream."

Yeah, things should go quick from here.