Part Forty-One: To End All Wars
Oz watched the scene with a wolf’s eyes. A monstrous ogre descended on Riley and Samantha, who were quickly running out of ammunition. Oz leapt at the beast, his fangs tearing into its throat. The blood fed his frenzy. He looked for a moment at his human allies, and then tore into the fray.
“That was … that was Oz, wasn’t it,” said Samantha. Riley only furrowed his brow. “Let’s push on,” he said. “We need to get to Buffy and Angel, see if we can pull our troops together.”
Oz could see them disappear into the melee, and he himself pushed toward the center of the conflict. Angel was savage now, his fangs bared, his face distorted and covered in blood. Oz was no longer sure who was on whose side. He pushed on. He could smell all of them, all his friends and enemies, all miraculously alive. That wouldn’t last.
Oz was running now, and all were so rapt in combat that none thought to stop him. The First-still wearing Wesley’s face—was at the center of the storm. Oz looked around, and could see traces of Los Angeles appearing. They were translucent, like a city of ghosts.
Dawn was unconscious, and Doc was tying Connor to a slab. Spike lay defeated at his feet. Oz growled.
“Ah, the werewolf,” said the First. “I see you escaped our trap, too. No matter. I suppose you’ll die fighting, too.”
Oz transformed into his human self, and the fighting around him stopped at the sight of him, standing calm and naked in the middle of a war.
“Nah,” said Oz, coolly. “You see, I think I’ve figured out a few things. I don’t think I’m going to fight you at all.” “What?” said the First. “I don’t understand.”
“You never did,” said a voice, emerging from a glowing portal beside them. Jasmine stepped forward, flanked by Justine, a very groggy Willow and the ghost of the real Wesley. “There are parts of this that neither of us understood.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been had,” said Wesley, watching the mirror of his face with great intent. “You speak through a part of me, true, but in that, a part of me also speaks through you.”
“What are you talking about, little ghost?” said the First, its voice growing increasingly low and inhuman.
“I did make arrangements before I died,” said Wesley, “I did have a sense of something coming.”
“So he reached out to me,” said Jasmine. “We set you up to bring our game pieces here.”
Willow strode toward Oz, quickly regaining her strength. Justine felt a twinge as the two clasped hands, Willow’s hair shifting color from red to white.
“We were always opposite numbers,” said Jasmine, to the First. “It’s why we strode the Earth at the same time not long ago. But we both represent forces that belittle mankind. They need to not be swayed by mere good or evil, but to move beyond us.”
“Keep your mind still, Oz,” said Willow. “The First feeds on violence. We’re chilling everyone out.”
The pair began to glow, and as the glow spread from them, the fighting fell to a standstill, monsters and heroes laying down their arms. Doc, screaming, leapt forward, swinging his sword, but Justine plowed her fist into his face, sending him flying.
Oz looked at her.
“OK, violent. But I did it coolly.”
Oz simply smiled, and laughed, and he felt the peace he held within himself spread, saw the First’s influence release his allies. Faith and Xander fell sweating onto the ground. Giles' face uncontorted as the demon left him. The monsters began to back away. The mark of the vampire fell from Angel’s face, and he stepped forward, toward Jasmine.
“This isn’t over, is it?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and her smile was tinged with heartbreak. It very much isn’t.”
And all eyes rose to the sky, which was filled with the visage of Amy Madison, pulling strands of time together in her hands.