Worth the wait, then.

Spike and Connor fell back to back against the encroaching hoard of monsters,

Homophone. You want 'horde' here.

Willow strode toward Oz, her strength quickly regaining.

You want either 'quickly regaining her strength' or 'her strength quickly regained' here.

Thanks, but ending the world? Harder than it looks.

I believe you; the effort is admirable.

Thanks, Karl. Fixes made.

Pssh. Ending the world is easy. Ending it this well and interestingly, however, I imagine would be real hard. SO ready to read it all in one go.

Pssh. Ending the world is easy. Ending it this well and interestingly, however, I imagine would be real hard. SO ready to read it all in one go.

Me to! Hope it all concludes in a satisfactory manner--what I'm attempting to pull in these last bits is ... well, hard. I think it's all coming together.

If you pull it too much, you could go blind, Victor. Ok, if that was one of my first thoughts of the morning, it must be time to write Munch again soon. Sorry.

Part Forty-Two: Start Again

“The world is older than any of you know,” said Giles, “and contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, Demons walked the earth; made it their home…their hell.”

Amy was not present for that conversation, but she can see it so clearly in their minds—Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow—each and every one of them recalled it as they watched the First and Jasmine stare each other down—the assembled heroes, villains and monsters waiting for one of them to make a move; Wesley, particularly, fixed upon his doppelganger.

She could follow the strand of memory back in time.

“In time, they lost their purchase on this reality,” said and the way was made for the mortal animals. For man.”

Angel and his team are lost in memories of Illyria, Amy realizes, and she follows that thought to the Deeper Well. “There’s a Hole in the world,” says Spike. “You’d think we would have noticed.”

There was always something missing. She gathers time together, infinitesimal tachyons soaking into her flesh. She is not Amy Madison. A smooth British voice is reading her a children’s story. She is not Winifred Burkle, but she can see the wisps of her spirit coalescing before her—slim, beautiful woman she thinks. Fragile. All these human beings are fragile. This movement in three dimensions. It is a cage. It is a prison.

And in an instant, she is standing among the heroes and the villains and the monsters—her skin blue, armored in carcass. They tremble at her visage, for she is powerful, and beautiful.

“I am Illyria,” she says, staring at the First. “And there shall be a reckoning.”

Part Forty-Two: Start Again

“The world is older than any of you know,” said Giles, “and contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, Demons walked the earth; made it their home…their hell.”

Oh, thank god, when I first glanced at this I thought that you'd pulled a Stephen King and pulled a "everything back to the beginning" ending. I'm relieved and excited.

This weeks Open on Sunday drabble topic is "Unexpected".

Musk

She wakes up disoriented, confused, fuzzy around the edges.

There's a stinging between her thighs. It's a good sting, rightful, a badge of power, to be worn as proudly as any she's got slaying: battle scars of her life. The smell of Angel in this bed is deep, odd, musky. For a moment, she revels in it.

He's not there. Odd. She swings out of the warm bed with its red sheets, and goes looking for him.

The last thing she expects to find in the alley is a dead girl, throat gone, Angel's scent in the blood and hair.

Part Forty-Three: Lost

Time rippled where Illyria’s fist punctured the First’s visage, and many things—quite literally—happened at once. The First screamed, and the gathered monsters began to stir from their lull, shaking off Willow’s magic. Illyria screamed, too—her hand—once Amy’s hand—scalded by the entity’s energy field. In the sky above them played out Angel’s last stand against Wolfram & Hart.

“You can’t be here, Illyria,” said the First, it’s voice now venomous. “That body can’t contain your full power.” “No,” said Illyria. “Within hours, maybe minutes, this form will be destroyed.”

“No,” said Wesley. “Well be finished before that.”

And the First, already stunned by Illyria’s blow, was staggered as Jasmine grabbed its face and kissed it, each glowing with pulsating light.

“Uhm, did I miss something” said Spike.

“Yes,” said Wesley, walking toward the two entwined entities, and as Wesley approached, Jasmine’s fingers dug deep into the First’s being, and pulled from it a gem composed of black fire, and the First transformed into a horned, bat-winged beast, and then disappeared all together.

“Your evil, Wesley,” said Illyria. “It’s yours to claim again.”

“Yes,” said Wesley, his hand rising tentatively. “Yes, it is.”

His fingers clenched the gem, and the black fire consumed him for a moment, and then receded. Wesley, solid now, turned to Angel.

“This is too far gone now, Angel,” said Wesley. “I can’t stop it.”

“It’s OK Wes,” said Angel. “I think I’ve seen where this is going.”

“Where what’s going, said Buffy, beginning to tremble. Connor, near her, only stammered, unable to raise his voice.

Angel, Spike and Gunn looked at each other tentatively and then they, as one, turned toward Illyria.

“Time to die to save the world,” said Gunn. “Again.”

“Bloody third time for me,” said Spike.

Angel looked first at Buffy, and then to Connor. “I love you,” he said to both of them. “Remember, this doesn’t end here.”

“But what about Amy,” said Justine. “Is she…?”

“We are going,” said Illyria, and the four of them faded, as though they were never there. And in the sky, the four waged war against the forces of Wolfram & Hart, until the picture disappeared.

“The monsters are gone, too,” said Oz, “Huh.”

“So’s Lilah,” said Justine. She disappeared when the monsters did. And I haven’t seen Ethan or Marcie—well, I’ve never seen Marcie—for ages.

“We’ll look for them before we leave,” said Riley. “I’m not leaving anyone here if we don’t have to.”

“So,” said Willow. “Did we win?”

All eyes then turned toward Jasmine, but she said nothing. Instead, she smiled, and disappeared.