Victor, I fell behind in reading this thread, and had to skip. Are you going to post everything in one place once you are done?

Karl, corrections made. Thanks.

Are you going to post everything in one place once you are done?

That's the plan, assuming I ever finish it. Maybe I'll just end it there. (:

Part Thirty-five: …To be the bad man

Ethan was remarkably fast. No sooner had he shot Willow, than he swung the pistol upside Giles’ head, knocking the Watcher to the floor. Wesley was drawing his pistol, but Ethan—still smirking—uttered a word Amy couldn’t understand and, in an instant, Wesley vanished, replaced by another diamond embedded in the wall.

“But… but … I thought you were on our side,” stuttered Amy, dazed and too weakened from her and Willow’s spells to act quickly. She tried to draw ambient magical energy to her, but it was doing no good.

“Oh, puh-LEASE,” said Ethan, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you get it? I’m the bad guy. I’m always the bad guy. And so are you. Please don’t tell me you’ve been falling for that redemption crap the werewolf has been … No. No, I can see it. Gods below, what is it with the Sunnydale crowd? ‘Oh, I’m a vampire, but I have a soul!’ ‘I’m a werewolf, but I really like tofu!’ ‘I’m the bad slayer, no! Wait! I’m …”

“Don’t you care that the world is going to end? Soon?”

“Of course I care,” said Ethan, still manic. “When the dimensions thin, which should be any minute now, the gods of chaos, whom I worship, will be free to wander the Earth to their hearts’ content. And I’ll be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?”

“Oh, yes. I’m hoping for something in a gold pocket watch. With my name engraved on it? Something to keep track of things as I wander the rubble of the world.”

“Don’t you get it? There won’t be any world left!”

“Oh, sure there will. The gods and demons will take their time trashing the place—fighting each other, gathering slaves. It will all be bloody marvelous.”

“You’re one sick puppy, you know that?”

Ethan’s smile grew even broader, his eyes more narrow.

“Thank you. About time someone around here figured that out. Of course, I can see you’re trying to figure out how to stop me. You can’t. Even if you get your strength back, you’re going to need it to hold the universe together while I walk out of here.”

“The … universe?”

“Well, a good chunk of it, anyway. But don’t worry. Willow could do it. Oh, but you’re not Willow, are you?”

This week's challenge for Open on Sunday is "Hair". This is rather creepy: the setting declares itself, I think.

Quickening

The spell, translated precisely, meant "Quickening."

There was the blood of a deer. There was preparation, and thought; there had been no humility, no sense that this was right, or wrong, or anything other than needful.

The spell was meant to quicken: in this instance, to quicken the flow of blood, the rebooting of a heartbeat, quickening air into lungs.

The spell, interrupted, didn't quicken - rather, it caused a surge. Flesh, lungs, heart, vision, and Buffy screamed, clawing her way from her coffin. The last thing to regain its own light was her bright hair, nearly gone to dust.

Part Thirty-six: Burning

They were losing. Justine was certain of it. She didn’t know exactly why the skies were turning red, but she knew it was a bad omen.

“Wesley blew it, didn’t he?” asked Faith, under her breath. Justine nodded blankly. Neither woman took their eyes off Doc, who stood brandishing a sword at them. Connor was behind them, standing between Xander and Dawn. Marcie seemed to have disappeared. More so.

“Well, then,” said Doc. “Seems we have a bit of a problem. The pocket dimension is gone.”

“Does that mean …” stuttered Faith.

“Sure does,” said Doc. “Means the dimensional gateways to Earth are beginning to open. Pretty soon it’ll be tourist season for pan-dimensional visitors.”

“We have to get to Wesley,” said Justine.

“Go,” said Faith. “I can take him.”

“Oh, by all means,” said Doc, and it bothered Justine just how level and friendly his voice remained. “You see to your friend. The lady and I will finish up here, and I’ll catch up.”

Doc’s smile was the most frightening thing she’d ever seen. Justine glanced once more at Faith, to be certain, and as soon as she did, Faith leapt forward, she and Doc embraced in combat. Justine ran.

She didn’t know where she was going, so she just ran on instinct. Minutes passed, and she seemed drawn to an electric hum in the air, a subliminal pulsing of energy. She followed it, and it led her to a gargantuan temple, as ruined and monolithic as everything else here–A house for gods that no longer existed.

Justine entered cautiously. The Watcher, Giles, was unconscious on the floor. The witch, Willow, was down, too—injured and bleeding. And Amy stood in the middle of a mystical vortex, a whirlwind of energy engulfing her. Her skin seemed on fire, and she was screaming.

“Amy,” said Justine, tentatively reaching her hand toward the engulfed witch. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“She’s … holding the flood gates closed,” said a weak voice. It was Willow. “Can’t … help her. Too … weak.”

“Who did this?” said Justine, panic running through her veins like ice water. “Where’s Wesley? Where’s…”

“Ethan,” said Willow, obviously near blacking out. She needed medical attention immediately. “Betrayed …”

Amy seemed to stare out of the flame at Justine. The energies were tearing at her—Justine could see the agony etched on her face. She didn’t know what …

“Will,” muttered the Watcher, starting to come too. Justine looked to the young witch lying bleeding, and realized she’d already removed her jacket to try and staunch the wound.

“No,” said the Watcher, pointing toward Amy. “Lend her … your will.”

There were things she knew to her bone. She knew she was a slayer—albeit one that was called among many. And she knew slayers served Watchers, although Buffy had broken that rule, too. And she knew that what Watchers did was sacrifice their slayers for the greater good. This was why she’d been called: to be sent to her death.

Justine didn’t reply. She just stepped to the edge of the fire, and without a word, she thrust her arm into the flame, grabbing Amy’s hand. The energy was consuming both of them now. She felt the heat down to her bones, to her cell structure. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t on fire. She clenched Amy’s hand tight, and grit her teeth. She didn’t scream, and her tears evaporated as she burned in silence.

Huh. If I'm guessing right, this should come in at an even forty parts.

I may well have just jinxed myself.

Don't overthink it, Victor. Parts is parts; we'll like it no matter how many there are. It looks good from here.

What Karl said. I've only caught the last 2 or 3 parts and it's sucked me right in. Good stuff.

Don't overthink it, Victor. Parts is parts; we'll like it no matter how many there are.

Thanks, and I'm not. It'll be what it's going to be. Rocking rapidly to the conclusion, though.

I've only caught the last 2 or 3 parts and it's sucked me right in. Good stuff.

Again, thanks. I'm at the stage where I'm wondering if this is going to end the way I thought it was.

My last big one was forty parts, or ok, thirty nine. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And I think yours is better, Victor. Let's see how long I can go to not write about Kay for "hair".