Kirayoshi - Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

Disclaimers;

Joss Whedon created them, 20th Century Fox owns them, we just empathize with them when they are made to suffer.

Author's Note;

The following is an alternate Fifth season finale, an extrapolation of recent events, but with the supposition that a) this is the last story of the series, and b) Willow is Buffy's destined soulmate. Spoilers abound, up to "The Body", as does angst(Hey, after that ep, what do you expect?). Bear with me, this is going to be a harrowing ride.

Oh, and the title? Latin, means, "Thus passes the glory of the world".

Rating; R for disturbing images, thoughts of death, and violence. Just remember that this is the last ep of the show. Who says I have to bring Buffy back alive? ::diabolical laughter::

Summary;

How far will the Slayer go when she loses too much?

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Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

By Kirayoshi

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Chapter One

Ragnarok and Roll

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

--Janis Joplin, "Me and Bobby McGee"

She stood outside of the cemetary, while her sister laid a single rose on top of the grave. She never set foot in the cemetary after the funeral. She couldn't bring herself to.

It was two months ago when her world was finally and forever ripped away from her. Two months ago when her last tether to her real life was severed. Two months ago when everything stopped making sense.

Two months ago when she came home to find the flowers. And to find her.

Her mother, Joyce Summers, lying on the couch. Her eyes wide open and lifeless. Dead.

It wasn't any kind of vampire, demon or other big bad that killed her. There wasn't a spell, a vengence ploy or any evil involved. Her tumor, the one the doctors said had been successfully removed, had flared suddenly. Too suddenly. All at once, the loving, vibrant woman who had cared for her, sometimes misunderstood her, but always loved her, was nothing more than a lifeless bag of meat and bones.

She suddenly found herself alone, with her little sister to take care of. Her home felt empty, lifeless. Dawn barely spoke to her, as though she blamed her for their mother's death. She was the Slayer, she had saved the world more times than she had eaten in restaraunts, and she still couldn't save her mother.

The day after the funeral, a lawyer read Joyce's last will, which named Buffy as Dawn's legal guardian, requesting that Giles should take custody if anything happened to Buffy and splitting her assets and worldy goods equally between Buffy and Dawn. Remembering her earlier tumor scare, Joyce had arranged trust funds for both of her daughters, naming Giles as trustee to Dawn's fund. And Buffy's fund would at least cover another year of college.

College. Like Buffy was even considering that an option anymore. In the two months since her mother's death, she had effectively dropped out of all of her classes. She didn't even bother to sign up for any classes in spring quarter. When Giles heard about this from someone in the faculty, he grew angry at the Slayer. Buffy shot off the defense that she probably wouldn't live long, being the Slayer and all, which only served to make Giles madder. She didn't listen as he ranted at her, she just didn't care anymore.

Somewhere along the line, she found herself thinking about that situation a few months ago involving the ferula-gemina. Something called a Toth demon used that magic device to split Xander into two seperate entities. Apparantly its original target was Buffy, to split her into her human half, and her Slayer half. She started to think that she could do something like that, seperate the weaker part of herself, the part that failed to save her mother, and rid herself of it. She started to think of herself, not as Buffy, but as the Slayer. 'Buffy' wasn't able to save anyone when it really mattered. Not Jesse, not Jenny, not Kendra. And certainly not her mother. 'Buffy' was weak, small, stupid, a coward who would be better off dead. She simply stopped being Buffy, and became the Slayer full time.

She distanced herself from her friends more. Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara, all of them tried to reach her, none of them succeeded. Even Dawn, who could always be counted on to annoy the hell out of Buffy, failed to get a rise out of her. Every day, she made herself a little bit less accessable.

Willow was hit by her coldness hardest of all. She had been Buffy's best friend, she loved her as deeply as she loved Tara, if in a different way. She grieved with her when they buried her mother. She had always liked Joyce Summers. She and Giles were the only two adults in Sunnydale she could talk to about things; about her wicca practice, about her love for Tara. Her parents would never understand, but Joyce, for all of her protests regarding Buffy's 'night life' and her own efforts to 'march in the Slayers Pride parade', she could understand. She got her. And Willow loved her for that. And she wasn't her real daughter, so she could only imagine how devistating this was for Buffy and Dawn.

But Buffy had refused any and all attempts at sympathy. "I'll tough it out," she always said, "I'm the Slayer."

Yes, she was the Slayer. But she once was Buffy. And now Buffy was being lost under the grip of the Slayer. Willow was losing her best friend.

And she didn't know how to make things right.

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"Large and heavy package for Rupert Giles," Anya announced in a too-chipper voice. Giles emerged from the back room of the Magic Box, where Willow and Tara were sitting at a nearby table sifting through arcane texts while Buffy was currently engaged in beating the living daylights out of the bodybag.

Xander brought the large package in on a dollie, and Giles looked it over. "Hmm," the Watcher mused, "no return address, British post-mark." He ripped off the brown paper, and pried open the packing crate with a screwdriver.

The first thing he saw was a letter, written in the crisp, concice handwriting of Quentin Travers. He read the note carefully;

Dear Giles;

The contents of this package must be guarded at all cost. The sword Ragnarok within must be used only to defeat Glory. It took a great deal of doing on my part, as I had to call every favor I had with the Council, but I was able to convince them of the neccessity of these measures.

This crate, as I have indicated, contains the sword Ragnarok, and a copy of the pertinent texts. It is a desperate gambit, as you shall read. I pray that the Slayer is up to the challenge. And that she has made peace with her God.

Good Hunting,

Quentin Travers,

Watchers Council

Giles looked again at the letter, thunderstruck. Ragnarok, the Godkiller? He knew all the legends, most Watchers did. Have things gotten so out of hand with Glory that such drastic measures were truly needed? He stared at the letter for a few more seconds, then started to dig through the styrofoam pellets, finding the sword handle. An ornate knotwork pattern, like Celtic but different somehow, graced the handle, as the pommel shined with a light that seemed to come from deep within itself. From what little he knew about the sword, he dared not handle it any further.

Willow glanced at the sword, while Giles dug out a small, tattered book bound in red cloth. As he read the book hurriedly, his face blanched even further; so the reports about Ragnarok were indeed true, its terrible legends accurate.

Buffy emerged from the backroom, towelling herself off, and saw the sword. "Hey, what's happening?" she asked, as she casually gripped the handle of the sword. "New toys from the Council?" She lifted the sword out of the box, and began to feint and parry into the air. Giles stood thunderstruck at her suddenly improved fighting form; it was as though the sword had made her more profiecient in the use of arms. Buffy herself marveled at how easily the handle fit her hand, as though molded only for her. She thrust a few more times in the air, getting a sense of the blade's balance.

"Buffy," Giles whispered hoarsely, "put that sword down now, please."

Buffy stopped her exercises, and put the blade on the table. "Right, Giles, no touchie."

"So," Xander asked, "What's the deal with Green Destiny here?"

"Wha--" Giles stammered slightly, before realizing that Xander was referring to the sword. "Ah, yes, the sword is called Ragnarok. I had believed until this moment that Ragnarok was a myth. I certainly prayed that it was."

"Ragnarok," Willow repeated the word slowly. "Isn't that a Norse word for 'Armageddon' or something like that?"

Giles nodded, his attention still riveted to the blade. "Specifically, Willow, it means 'Twilight of the Gods'."

A brief and profound silence was broken by Xander, who said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You saying Twilight, as in End? As in, this thing can kill gods?"

"The sword is also called the Godkiller, Xander," Giles replied somberly.

Xander started to chuckle, then laugh out loud. "Somebody give me a Hallelujah!"

"Xander--"

"I mean, here we are with a psycho Goddess on our case," Xander continued, "and the Council guys send us the very thing to take her out of the picture."

"Xander--"

"I say we take her out tomorrow night. Tell her we have that key thingie she's looking for, and ambush her when she gets here."

"Xander!" The young man's ramble stopped suddenly as Giles shouted, something he rarely did before. "I have a vault in the backroom for dangerous mystical artifacts. I'm placing Ragnarok in the vault immediately, and tomorrow I'm sending it back to the Council."

"Good idea, G-Man," Xander nodded enthusiastically, "we wouldn't want her flunkies to get their mitts on the blade before you SEND IT BACK TO THE COUNCIL?"

"That's precicely what I said, Xander," Giles intoned. "We cannot ever use this sword."

Xander gaped at the former Watcher, his mouth wide open. "Giles, I do believe you've your brain's developed a slow leak. Now, follow my logic here. This blade is called the Godkiller. Translation, it kills gods. Now we have a god who desperately needs killing--"

"Ahem," Anya coughed rudely.

"Okay, honey," Xander amended his statement, "Goddess, but leave us not get bogged down in gender issues."

"If I may continue," Giles' voice grew more irritated, and Xander meekly silenced himself. "The sword can only be used by one person, the Slayer. And its use would kill her."

Xander blinked at Giles as his words sunk in. "Cancel that Halleluja and make it a Hoo Boy."

Giles smirked ruefully as Xander conceded him the point. "The sword may only be used to kill Glory if it is annointed with the blood of its wielder. That annointment creates a bond between the Slayer and the sword. The sword becomes master, its wielder a servant to the sword. And should the Slayer, god forbid, succeed in killing Glory, her death would release her goldy energies, creating a feedback that would kill the Slayer." He stared intently at Buffy, saying, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Buffy? The bond was begun already the moment you picked up the sword. If you were to actually use it, the bond would be complete, and you would die."

The room fell silent as Giles concluded his lecture. All eyes fell upon the cursed blade. All thoughts mirrored Giles'; they had in their grasp the tool to eliminate the mad goddess Glory, to save mankind from her wrath, but to use the tool would mean the end of Buffy's life.

Buffy broke the silence, calmly saying, "So now we at least have a plan 'B'."

Giles glared sharply at Buffy as she spoke. "The sword goes back to the council tomorrow," he insisted.

"You can't do that, Giles," Buffy answered coldly. "That sword is the only sure chance we have to take down Glory. If no one has any better ideas, we need the sword."

Giles stared at Buffy silently. The others sat still, the silence a palpable and wearying force over them all. "Buffy," Giles finally said, "may I see you in the back room?" Buffy silently followed her Watcher to the backroom. None of the others dared follow, or even dare speak to each other.

========

Giles looked at Buffy, a profound sadness in his eyes. Buffy sat silently on the lifting bench, her hands in her lap, awaiting what he had to say. "Buffy," he said, as gently as he ever spoke to his charge, "I was not on good terms with my father when he died. I'm sure you know of my wild past, my 'Ripper' years. But the news of my father's death did something to me. I understand what you're going through. We all do, we all have lost someone close to us."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy answered. "Willow and Xander lost Jesse, you lost Jenny. And you know what? If I'd been doing my job then, they'd be alive. But no, I had to be normal, I had to have a life." Buffy stood up and paced the room, giving Giles the impression of a wild animal, straining at the leash. "And now, when my mom needed me, I wasn't there either!"

"Buffy, you cannot blame yourself for what happened to your mother," Giles started.

"Why not?" Buffy cried out. "Dawn is! I'm the Goddamned Slayer, and I couldn't even save my mom! Where was my blasted Slayer-Sense when it really mattered?"

Giles let her rave for a minute longer, recognizing that this was something that has been weighing down on her soul for too long. "We were learning about past Slayers these last few months, Giles. I think I know now why they never lasted as long as I did. Because they weren't supposed to. After eighteen, they start to get sloppy, they think they can do anything! But when it comes to crunch time, they can't do squat! At least with this sword of Hardrock I can stop Glory before she finds out that Dawn is the key!"

"At the expense of your own life," Giles argued.

"Oh yeah, like that's worth something!"

Giles got up and placed his hands on Buffy's shoulders, stopping her pacing. "Is that what this is? You want to die that badly? This isn't self sacrifice on your part, this is suicide!"

"Why not?" Buffy shouted. "I've endangered you guys long enough! Why not end the whole thing? Glory's gone, Willow, Xander, all of you guys can have a normal life, away from Hellsville!"

Giles looked at the broken soul that stood before him. Her mother's death had done what all of her greatest enemies could never do, it had truly and completely destroyed her. Crushed her soul and robbed her of her will to continue. He knew that she was holding it all inside her to keep the others from worrying about her, but now it was all out in the open.

"Buffy," he stated calmly, "you must understand, I am concerned for your well being, for your future--"

"I'M THE GODDAMNED SLAYER!" she screamed. "I DON'T HAVE A FUTURE!"

"Yes you do, Buffy," Giles snapped back harshly. "And I'm not going to stand by and allow you to throw it away!" He stopped himself before his anger spilled over any further. He collected himself and continued. "When this ordeal with Glory is over -- and we will find a solution that doesn't involve you sacrificing your life -- I want you to consider hanging up your stakes. Perhaps you're right, Buffy. Perhaps you shouldn't be the Slayer any longer. You have greater responsibilities now, to Dawn, for her well-being. You need to start your own life, outside of slaying, outside of Sunnydale if you can arrange it. It's time for you to stop being the Slayer, and start living a normal life again."

Buffy was genuinely surprised at the suggestion. She stared hard at the floor in front of her, ashamed of how angry she had been at Giles before. "But what about my responsibility? You know, the one girl in all the world, yadda yadda yadda."

Giles chuckled dryly at her words. "Buffy Summers, no one has upheld that responsibility better than you have. And you have already lost too much because of it. You've done your bit for king and country, several times over. It's time for you to think about your own future. It's time to stop being the Slayer, and start being Buffy Summers again." Giles bent to look at Buffy's face, and could swear that he saw a tear coursing down her cheek. He thought that he might have reached her.

That hope was dashed when she suddenly got up, clenched her fists, and shouted, "Who wants to be that loser anyway?" She grabbed her things and charged out of the backroom, out of the Magic Box, and far out of sight.

Xander and the others stared at the swinging door, and back at Giles. "She's had a rough time recently," was the Englishman's only explaination.

"I'll take the Glaringly Obvious for 100, Alex," Xander shot back angrily, adding to the tension.

"Should we go after her?" Tara asked. "Maybe she needs us."

"No," Willow said wearily. "What she needs is for the last six months to never have happened. She needs to wake up and find out this is all a dream, there isn't a phycho goddess after her sister, her mom isn't dead and her boyfriend wasn't a jerk who got his jollies shagging vampires!" Getting up from her chair, she collected her coat, and said, "I'm going out for a while. A long while. Don't wait up, Tara, I wouldn't be fit company anyway." She left the Magic Box in a hurry, and over the next five minutes, the other young people quietly filed out the front door.

Giles sat alone for a very long time, wondering where it all went so horribly wrong, and why everything was falling apart so fast. "Joyce Summers," he murmured to the air around him, "your absence is felt more keenly than you could imagine."

Buffy, for her part, managed to make it down several blocks before she could walk no more. Not caring who saw her, she dropped to her knees and wailed loud and long. She cried not only for her mother, but for all those she couldn't save. Jesse. Kendra. Jenny. Faith.

And herself.

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Dawn was in her bedroom, plowing through her homework, desperately trying to come to grips with her algebra assignment. She found herself solving the same damn story problem three different times, with three different answers, before she threw her books off her desk in disgust.

What had happened to her? Why did she have to lose her mother? Why did her life have to be a hollow lie, a fiction made up by some monk to protect her from some goddess?

I'm Dawn Summers, she reminded herself for the million-and-seventeenth time, not the Key. I'm Dawn Summers! It didn't keep her mind away from the horrors she's seen in the last year.

Sure she knew her sister was the Vampire Slayer; two years ago, she was sitting on the stairs listening in when Buffy finally told her mother, and Mom went Pompeii over her. She knew that Buffy had fought the nastiest of nasties, from vampires to demons to those freaky Gentlemen creeps(her personal least favorites). She knew that if given the chance, Buffy could probably flatten that Zhang Ziyi chick from "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon". And she knew that her friends could probably paste the X-Men in a clinch. But it didn't make her feel any safer. Especially since she became the target.

And especially since something as mundane as a brain tumor managed to kill her mom.

Before she could continue that line of thought, the doorbell chimed. Dawn got out of her chair to answer the door. She immediately recognized the woman on the other side. Honey-blond hair, early-forties, watery blue eyes, even her wardrobe was the same. The woman smiled at Dawn, saying, "So how's my little girl?"

Dawn gasped slightly. "M-Mom?"

"Yes, honey, it's me," her mother answered. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Dawn snapped out of her shock and gathered her wits quickly. "The hell I am!" she shouted to the older woman, as she backed away in search of a crucifix. "I know the rules; I don't invite you, you can't come in."

The woman looked saddened at Dawn's fear. "You think I'm a -- a vampire?" She started to laugh warmly. "Oh honey, I'll prove I'm real. See?" She stepped across the threshold into Giles' house, and smiled at Dawn. "You're right, dear. If I were a vampire, I couldn't walk in without an invitation."

Dawn gaped in wonderment. This woman wasn't a vampire, wasn't a demon. She was Joyce Summers. Her mother. Dawn rushed into her waiting arms, and cried tears of joy. "Oh Mom," she sobbed, "I missed you so much!"

"There, there," the older woman soothed, stroking Dawn's hair. "I missed you too, my little burro."

Dawn just caught that last part, and it made her stop and think. "You never called me that before, Mom."

"But you are, my dear," a different voice answered. Dawn looked up, and into the face of her mother.

But now she wasn't her mother. She was the enemy of mankind. She was Glory.

"My little burro," she started to laugh. "My donkey. Get it? Dawn-Key!" She laughed hysterically at her own humor while Dawn was too scared to scream. "Oh I just kill me sometimes," Glory gleefully announced as she transported herself and her captive away.

Chapter two;

Carry That Weight

"Once there was a way

To get back home,

Once there was a way

To get back home.

Sleep little darling, do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby.

Boy, you're gonna carry that weight,

Carry that weight a long time."

--John Lennon and Paul McCartney

"Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight"

She made it back home after a cursory patrol. She felt the need to look in on Dawn. Then she would continue her patrol.

"Dawn?" she called out in the hallway. No one answered. "Dawn? Where are you?" Still no reply.

She then noticed a pale pink envelope on the floor in front of her, bearing the name 'Buffy' in an immaculate script. She opened the envelope and pulled out a linen paper card, that also bore the same script. The message within, however, made her blood run cold;

Dear Buffy,

I have your sister.

The monks lost.

Just so you know,

the world ends tonight.

It's been fun,

Toodles,

Glory

Buffy immediately rushed to her room, stopped to grab some more stakes and holy water, and ran out the front door. She had to find Glory and stop her once and for all. And there was only one way to do it.

On her way to the Magic Shop, she was stopped by a familiar voice; "Hey, friend, where's the fire?"

She didn't even stop to acknowledge the voice. He tried again; "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to shrug me off!"

"Die in pain, Spike," Buffy shouted.

"Already did that," Spike grinned. "I do it every night you refuse my affections."

"Buy a clue, Hannibal Lechter," Buffy growled. "You're a vampire, I'm a vampire slayer. What sort of relationship should we have?"

"Why, Buffy," the punk vampire feigned innocence. "You wound me. And after all the trouble I went through for your sake."

Buffy slowed her pace but did not stop. "Not that this indicates any kind of curiosity on my part, but what the hell are you talking about?"

"Your brat, Slayer," Spike smiled ferally. "The sister who isn't really. I put her out of your misery."

Buffy stopped sharply and spun around, glaring at Spike. "I didn't even have to do anything directly to her," he continued. "Just told our mutual friend Glory what she was looking for, key-wise--"

"You -- Son -- Of -- A -- BITCH!" With each word, Buffy took a step toward Spike, ending her statement by connecting a blow to his jaw that would have killed a mortal. "You realize what you've done?" she shouted at the fallen vampire. "She's going to use Dawn to reenter her native demon realm, destroying the Earth in the process! You sold out the planet!"

"Let it die, Slayer," Spike laughed. "We will be the Lord and Lady of the new Hell. The two of us together, the way the fates decreed!" He leaned in closer, and growled lustfully, "Glory has promised to give me the state of California as my personal hunting ground. I want to share my triumph with you. Together for all eternity."

Buffy looked long and hard at Spike, before rendering her opinion; "You, Spike, are completely and totally NUTS! I'm talking one toy surprise shy of a box of Cracker Jacks! Let me take this opportunity to spell it out, Spike! I don't want you in my life! I hate you! I want you dead! How much more clear do I have to make myself?"

Spike glared darkly at the Slayer. "I'd remind you, Buffy," he snarled, "that chip in my head isn't a governing issue. You will be mine, Buffy Summers, either as a human, or as one of my kind. I will never let anyone come near you again. You are mine!"

Buffy glared at the vampire as he ranted, and realized the truth. Another failing of hers. She made the mistake of letting Spike live when she could have taken him out in a heartbeat while he was under the power of his microchip. Now he was back to his evil self, and her sister had paid for her hesitation.

She stood in front of the monster, her rage threatening to consume her. Spike looked at her fondly, his words as mellow as he could make them; "Yes, Buffy. You and I aren't so different, are we? We are of the night. We belong to the darkness. Come with me, be mine forever -- and remember that when I say 'forever', it ain't an exaggeration."

Buffy calmed herself, seeing her chance. She walked toward the vampire, her expression softening, her posture suggesting a raw sexuality. "Why Spike," she cooed, "I didn't know you could be such a poet." Spike grinned lustily, knowing that the moment he had dreamt of for so long would soon come to pass. Buffy would be his.

The Slayer took Spike in her arms, and felt his cold hands run gracelessly along her body. She carressed the back of his neck with her left hand, distracting him with her touch.

He didn't feel the stake that she thrust with all her strength into his back, not until it pierced his black heart.

As the last ashen remains of William the Bloody, aka Spike, drifted past her, Buffy spat on the ashes. "So, Spike," she asked, "was it good for you too?"

She felt nothing. Her limbs were numb and simply moved when she willed them too. Her heart was callused, hardened against any further breaking. Her coping mechanism. She recognized it for what it was. She simply was no longer able to feel. She did not think of Willow, Xander, Tara and Anya as friends, only people who, for some insane reason, chose to hang with her. She could no longer work up the energy to hate Spike or Glory, or miss Angel or Riley, or even mourn her mother. There was nothing left for her. No, a voice in the back of her head demanded. One thing. She found herself thinking of what Spike had said to her a few months ago;

"The thing about the dance is, you never get to stop. Every day you wake up, it's the same bloody question that haunts you: is today the day I die? Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you. And part of you wants it... not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it. Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish.

"The only reason you've lasted as long as you have is you've got ties to the world... your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here but you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second- the second- that happens...You know I'll be there. I'll slip in...have myself a real good day. Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you'll like it as much as she did."

A strange calm overtook her at that point. Her ties were dissolving and she didn't feel a thing. Riley betrayed her. Her mother was dead. Dawn hated her, blaming her for their mother's death. Her friends were embarking on new lives, lives that soon wouldn't have any room for her.

And tonight, she knew with absolute clarity, was the last night of her life.

That thought should have filled her with dread, with unspeakable fear. It just left her feeling finished. Complete in some unfathomable way. Tonight was what her life as the Slayer was coming down to.

"Time for my last dance, Spike," she spoke to the ghost of her mentor/nemesis one last time, and ran back home.

She opened her footlocker, and pulled out three sealed envelopes; one addressed simply to Dawn, one addressed Giles, and one addressed Willow. She had gotten into the habit of writing letters to her closest friends and family, to be opened and read In The Event Of. She took these three envelopes and stashed them in her bag. She then left the house, taking one last look behind her, before she left for the Magic Box

She unlocked the front door, made her way to the back room and located the vault. Giles had stashed Ragnarok in the vault to keep it save overnight before shipping it back to the Council. He wanted to find a solution that wouldn't endanger Buffy. Yeah, right, she grumbled to herself. Like she's any prize. She started turning the dial of the combination lock, and after a few failed experiments was able to determine the combination easily. "Real original, Giles," she muttered quietly. "Jenny Calendar's birthday."

She pushed down on the handle and heard the latch click. The door swung open with a slight squeak. Buffy reached in and grabbed the handle of the ancient sword. She hefted it briefly above her head, and tried a few practice feints and parries, to gauge the weight and attitude of the sword. It felt good in her hand. Like it was made for her, an extension of her arm.

She located the book that came with the sword, and read the pertinent texts; to use the sword to slay Glory, Buffy had to cut her own body deeply, and coat the blade's edge with her own blood. That bond would allow her power to pass through the sword and into Glory's body at the moment the thrust is made. But the psychic backlash that resulted would kill Buffy the second after she killed Glory. Almost instantaneouosly, if the text was correct.

At least it would be over quickly.

========

"I'm gonna swing by the Magic Box before heading back, Tara," the voice on the answering machine announced. "Just wanted to make sure everything was secure, the hatches are battened down, whatever that means. I'll try not to wake you up when I get in, honey, I just needed to work off some off the collected despair. See you tomorrow. Love ya." The answering machine clkckd off and again Tara McClay was alone.

Over a year ago, an incredible young woman named Willow Rosenberg showed up on her doorstep, a candle in her hand, offering Tara her heart. That moment was the validation of Tara's previously unhappy life. She had left an uncaring family behind her and had found in Willow, and later in her friends, the real family she had craved for so long.

But now that family was falling apart.

Buffy Summers, in many ways the very heart and soul of this family, had lost the core of her own life. Her mother was dead. The man she pledged to love was false to her. And now, with this cursed sword in their midst, she felt that she had an easy out. Sacrifice herself to save others, that's what a Slayer does, right?

Only is it sacrifice if there is already a death wish?

She could feel how this was destroying her Willow. Her beloved. And Tara certainly understood why that should be. After all, Buffy was the one who first brought Willow out of her shell, who in many ways was responsible for the sweet, vibrant young woman whom she loved with all her heart and soul.

But did Willow love her? She didn't doubt that, not at all, but still...

Over a year ago, Willow had chosen Tara over Oz.

If the choice were now, and between Tara and Buffy, she had no guarantee that Willow would choose her again.

A faint tingling across her scalp distracted Tara from the downward spiral her thoughts were taking. The tingling slowly grew in intensity, until it threatened to overpower her. She realized quickly the terrible truth; the alarm spell that she and Willow had cast over Giles' vault had been activated. Someone was breaking into the vault. And she knew without question who it was.

She immediately dialed a number on the telephone, and prayed that he was home.

Three rings later, a slightly groggy voice answered, "Giles speaking."

"Mr. Giles," Tara said, trembling, her nervous stutter returning with a vengeance, "B-B-Buffy's stealing Ragn-na-r-rok!"

"Good lord!" Giles gasped loudly. "Are you sure?"

"The alarm spell's been b-broken," Tara replied. "Who else c-could it be?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Giles answered. "Is Willow with you?"

"She said she was going to check out the Magic Box," Tara said. "She's probably already there."

"Good," Giles said rapidly. "I'll pick you up in a second, you call Xander and have him and Anya meet us at the shop. See you soon." The phone connection cut off, and Tara tossed on some jeans and a shirt. As she waited for Giles, she lowered her head and held out her hands.

"Bright lady," she prayed to her Goddess, "please watch after Buffy Summers. For her own sake, for the sake of the world, and for the sake of the woman who holds my heart."

========

"A little late to take your sword for a walk?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway. Buffy turned on her heel to face who was speaking behind her, the sword drawn and at the ready.

"Geez, Willow!" Buffy shouted at the interloper. "Don't ever do that!" Lowering her blade, Buffy glared at Willow, who bore her infamous 'Resolve Face'. She was going to try and stop Buffy, that much was certain. "What're you doing here, Willow? Thought you'd be with Tara."

"She's back at the dorm," Willow answered. "And you didn't think I'd leave the Magic Box unguarded? I had the vault spelled, kinda like a silent alarm, so I'd know if anyone tried to tamper it." She crossed her arms, and said, "You're going after Glory, aren't you?"

"We're out of options, Wills," Buffy stated plainly. "Glory has Dawn. She knows Dawn is the Key." Willow gasped at Buffy's statement. "Yeah, Spike told Glory about Dawn to get to me. Don't worry about him, he's dustbuster chow now." She belted the scabbard around her waist as she continued; "I know where she is, the only place where she could use the Key around here. The old high school, just over the Hellmouth. She's going to sacrifice Dawn, using her energies to open the door to her realm, opening the Hellmouth in the process."

"I'll call Giles," Willow started, but Buffy grabbed her wrist, hard enough to cause pain. "NO!" she shouted. "No one else can be involved. This is my last battle, Wills. I'm ending it one way or the other." She reached in her purse, and withdrew the three envelopes. "Don't open these until tomorrow, that is assuming there is a tomorrow. If you're not dead in the morning, or transported to some hellish realm, then I'll have beaten Glory. Then you, Giles and Dawn can read these. My farewell messages."

"You're not leaving me behind, Buffy," Willow insisted. "I've been there from nearly the beginning. I won't be shut out now. If being my best friend ever meant anything to you, you won't leave me behind."

Buffy stepped forward, as Willow took her in her arms and held her desperately. "It means the world to me, Willow. More than you can imagine." The faintest embers of her feelings started to flare as she cupped Willow's face in her hand and lifted her eyes to meet her own. "It says so in my letter, but I can't say goodbye to you without letting you know the truth. Before Riley, before Scott, before Angel, there was always you. You were my first true friend, my confidante, my most trusted ally in this battle. I never said this because of my past experiences in love, but I have always loved you. More than anyone I have ever known in my life. You were, are, and always will be the most important person in my world. And I can't give you a greater gift than this." She disengaged the hug and resumed her cold mask. "I'm letting you go. From now on, the Scooby Gang is disbanded. You can start your own lives now, away from Sunnyhell. One way or another, I'll be dead in the morning. I've accepted that."

"WELL, I HAVEN'T!" The force of Willow's shout shocked the Slayer. "Haven't we lost too much already? Your mom was closer to us than our own parents. Yeah, we still hurt, but at least we're sharing our pain. Helping each other through it. You, no, not the almighty Slayer! You gotta face it alone! Forgive my language, Buffy, but that's BULLSHIT!"

The vehemence of Willow's outburst caught them both off guard. Willow stopped suddenly and tried to slow herself, speaking as calmly as she could; "Look Buffy, I won't tell you I know what you're going through, but you don't have to go through it alone. And if you don't mind me saying so, your trying to shoulder the burden yourself is pretty damn selfish of you." She could feel hot tears stinging her eyes, but she continued. "Buffy, you're too important for us to just walk away, so don't you dare expect us to go. We're family, Buffy; you, me, Tara, Giles, Xander, Anya, Dawn, we're practically the only family we've got. Don't expect us to abandon you just because you tell us to, because we won't!

"Too bad I don't have time for the grief counciling, Willow," Buffy shouted back at her friend. "But it's too late for that. We're talking ten seconds left in the fourth quarter and we're down by six! There's only one play left in the playbook and I'm using it. No discussions, it's done. If there were another way I'd do it."

"Would you," Willow accused her, "would you really?" She no longer tried to fight the tide of tears that now spilled freely from her face. Buffy rushed to her side and took her in her arms again. She soothed her soft red hair, kissed her forehead, knowing that this would be her last chance to hold her beloved Willow again.

"I'm sorry, Willow," she whispered into the redhead's ear.

"So you're gonna take me with you, at least?" Willow asked hopefully. "We can come up with a last minute plan on the way?"

"No, Wills," Buffy replied, her face turned again to stone. "I'm sorry for this." Her right hand had been tracing the sides of Willow's neck. She now located a specific nerve cluster beneath the skin of her neck, and pressed the nerves between her forefinger and thumb.

Willow dropped like a sack of potatoes, unconscious. Buffy gathered her body and rested it on the weightlifters bench. "Goodbye, Willow," she whispered one last time, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "It's better this way. Don't waste any more time loving me. It's not like I ever earned it."

She stole one last glance at the sleeping Willow, and found that she had to summon her resolve to finish what she set out to do. Wearing the Godkiller sword at her side, Buffy Summers left for her date with death.

========

Dawn awakened to pain. Her head pounded like twenty kettledrums. Her wrists were scraping against something, and when she tried to move them, the pain was worse. She stirred her head to look at her arms, she saw that her wrists were bound tight to the headboard above her. Continued examination showed that her ankles were bound as well.

She glanced furtively at her surroundings. The dingy room was half-collapsed, with wreckage of fallen walls breaking beams of floodlights outside in a strange dappled pattern. It struck her then; the old high school, the one that Buffy and her friends had to torch to destroy the Mayor at graduation. She suddenly rembered what had happened, who had brought her here. "Glory," she gasped, coughing as dust entered her lungs.

"You called?" an unpleasantly chipper voice announced. The mad goddess appeared before her, wearing a red silk strapless dress with matching silk scarf. "Just had to finish dressing. It's so hard to accessorize for the end of the world." She did a neat pirouette, and curtseyed before the bound girl. "What do you think?"

"L-lovely," Dawn stammered, desperately trying to hold down the wave of fear behind a dam of anger. "S-so you gonna kill me or what?"

"Oh, sorry, I can't right now," Glory shook her head. "Love to, but can't. You know how it is, I gotta wait for the full moon to shine at just the right spot, then use the proper incantation, so we gotta wait an hour."

"Too bad," Dawn spat out. "Buffy'll be on your case before then. You're godlike ass is grass, sister."

"Yeah, right," Glory laughed mirthlessly. "So far, I've beaten her every time we've gone at it. The only time she managed to stop me was when those witchbitch pals of her pulled that transport spell. I ended up miles out of town, thousands of feet in the air. The impact drove me into the ground like a tent peg. Let me tell you, it hurts like heck!" She turned back to Dawn and grinned, saying, "I hope your big sister does come, my little Key. I want to knock her around some before I kill her." She chuckled throatily to herself, as Dawn trembled.

She feared the inevitable. She had lost her mother two months ago. And now, she was going to lose her sister. Assuming that she didn't die herself.

All that she was certain of was that one way or another, tonight was when it all would end. And she was at ground zero.

Chapter three

Terrible Swift Sword

"Light a candle, light a votive. Step down, step down.

Watch your heel crush, crushed, uh-oh, this means

No fear cavalier. Renegade steer clear!

A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies.

Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives

and I decline.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine."

--REM

"It's The End Of The World As We Know It(And I Feel Fine)"

The Slayer stood alone on a street near the old schoolgrounds. She was preparing her soul for her final battle. She knew what was expected of her. She knew for some time that this day would come. When she would be expected to lay her life down in battle with a terrible threat.

"The time of gods is at an end," she muttered in an almost sing-song voice, reciting the invocation she had read from the book that the Council had provided with the sword. "Give me now the strength and resolve to take down the goddess Glory. In the name of all mankind, I fight and die tonight." She bared her left arm, and ran the edge of the sword Ragnarok against her tender flesh. She cut deeply, wincing slightly at the pain. Blood welled from the wound, and coated the edge of the blade. As the Slayer gazed at her wounded arm, the cut grew less and less severe. She smiled; as the Slayer she enjoyed a heightened healing factor but it never worked this fast. She suspected that Ragnarok was responsible for her quick recovery; within ten seconds, the wound was nothing more than a reddish mark on her skin.

She could feel the bond forming between herself and the sword. As her own thoughts and emotions became subservient to the will of the blade, a tiny voice in her mind struggled to be heard. She ignored that voice. Ragnarok had offered her a chance to finally shed her weaker self, her human self, and she accepted. Buffy had failed time and again to saved those she loved. Let her fall away, the Slayer declared.

The Slayer.

As her humanity slowly ebbed away, Buffy realized the terrible truth. This was the terrible secret of the blade Ragnarok. The ultimate weapon of the Slayer. The doomsday weapon, which would give her the ultimate powers of all Slayers, down to the Primal Slayer, but carried a mystical failsafe; if she failed to slay her foe within the hour, that power would burn out its host. One way or another, she would die within the hour.

She looked forward to her final rest. She embraced darkness. As the power of the Primal Slayer continued to flow through her being, little by little, that which was Buffy Summers was being eroded away. And she made no motions to stop her fading away.

Her memories of Sunnydale, and Los Angeles before that. Gone.

Her hopes, her ambitions, her desires. Gone.

Her lost loves. Riley. Scott. Angel. Pike. Gone.

Her circle of friends. Tara. Anya. Faith. Oz. Kendra. Jenny. Cordy. Xander. Giles. Gone.

Her family. Mom. Dad. Dawn. Gone.

Her one true soulmate. Willow. Gone.

Be happy, Wills. I love you...

With that final thought, Buffy Summers simply ceased to exist.

There was only the Slayer.

The Slayer's power surged through her veins. The Slayer's strength fortified her bones. The Slayer's memories filled her mind. The Slayer's song sang through her muscles. The Slayer's warcry ripped from her lungs and echoed across the farthest rooftops of Sunnydale.

Buffy Summers, for the first and last time in her life, had truly become the Slayer.

"Hold, Slayer," a commanding voice boomed out behind her. She turned on her heel and faced the speaker. A tall figure covered head to foot in chainmail armor, his shield and sword at the ready. Six others likewise clad stood behind him, all fit fighting men, all ready for battle.

The Slayer recognized these men; the Order of Byzantium. An ancient order of knights devoted to the destruction of the goddess Glory. All equally devoted to the destruction of the Key, and of the one who protected the Key. Which made her their enemy. "Look, Sir Swish-a-Lot, I don't have time to deal with you guys. Go find a Holy Grail or something."

"Stand fast, Slayer," the lead knight glowered at the Slayer. "You will not stop us in our mission. We will destroy Glory, and if you stand in our way, you fall with her."

The Slayer smirked at the knight's bravado. "Oh yeah? Right now, Glory-hog has my sister, and I have to stop her from using the Key to destroy the world, so you're the ones in my way. Besides, mine's bigger than yours, Chainmail Boy!" She hoisted the blade she carried in front of her, adopting a battle stance. "Face it, boys," she grinned, "don't you feel just a little inadequate right about now?"

The knights stared at the blade, and within seconds fell to their knees. The lead knight's eyes still locked on the sword, as he whispered, "Ragnarok. The Godkiller!"

"Ah, you read the brochure," the Slayer nodded. "So you know what this letter opener's capable of."

"Lady," the knight looked in fear, "I beseech you not to use the blade; it would mean your death."

"Yeah, and not using it tonight would mean my death, your deaths, and the deaths of everyone else on the planet," she shouted in a voice of pure authority that shook the knights to their cores. "I'm going to take care of your little Glory problem, and I'm not expecting to survive the incident. So I'd appreciate it if you guys would cut me some freakin' slack!"

As the Slayer spoke, something changed within the knight; he started to look upon the woman with the sword in her hand with less contempt and more awe. Standing before him was a woman who was more than willing to sacrifice herself for her sister, for her world. The lead knight bent his knee in supplication to the Slayer, and motioned his fellow knights to do the same. "Slayer," he declared, "you have our respect and loyalty. Command us and we shall obey."

The Slayer raised a single eyebrow toward the knight, and allowed her expression to soften. "What is your name, sir?"

"Sir Ricardo," the young man answered.

"Then, Sir Ricardo," the Slayer answered, "I can use you and your men. I must concentrate on Glory, but no doubt she has a platoon of her minions guarding her six. I need you guys to engage her goons. I just need you to give me an opening to get to Glory."

"We will not fail you, my lady," Ricardo declared. The Slayer smiled. She knew that despite their initial emnity, she could trust this young man.

"Okay, men, saddle up. I know where Glory is, so I'll lead the way. Once we're there, I'm counting on you to give me a window to take down Glory. Forward, men."

Buffy and the Order of Byzantium headed out for their final battle with Glory. The knights had accepted a long time ago that they might not survive this encounter, but the Slayer knew that she wouldn't. While the other knights felt a faint twinge of apprehension at the prospect of dying, the Slayer felt calm.

After all, what fear does one have of dying when one has no more desire to live?

========

"Buffy?" Giles shouted as he hurriedly unlocked the front door of the Magic Box. Tara ran ahead of her, and when he heard no answer to his call, Giles feared the worst.

His fears were verified when he rushed into the back room. Willow was unconscious on the weights bench, the vault door was open and Ragnarok was missing. Giles felt a terrible dread clutch his heart as Tara ran to Willow's side and slapped her face lightly, in an effort to revive her.

"Huh," Willow murmured groggily as she stirred and tried to sit up. "Man, anyone get the license of that Star Destroyer?"

"Willow," Tara whispered urgently, "what happened? Where's Buffy?"

"Buff-" The name of her best friend caused Willow to shake off the effects of Buffy's nerve pinch. "Omigoddess! BuffyhasRagnarokshe'sgonnatakedownGlorybeforeDawn--"

"Slowly, Willow," Giles urged the young wiccan. "Breath, calm, relax. Now, what happened?"

Willow breathed hard, and continued, calming at Tara's touch, slowing her nervous babble. "Buffy has Ragnarok, she's gonna take down Glory. I tried to stop her but she gave me the Vulcan neck pinch."

"And I thought she had tuned out my lecture on pressure points," Giles cursed under his breath. He was about to ask Willow why Buffy would embark on this suicide mission. Willow provided the answer before he even asked; "Spike sold Dawn out to Glory. Glory has Dawn, she knows Dawn's the Key. I guess tonight's the showdown."

"Damn and blast!" Giles burst out angrily, slamming his fist on the bench beside Willow.

"Don't worry, Willow," Tara tried to assure her lover. "As soon as the alarm sounded I called Xander. He and Anya will be here soon. He'll drive us."

"But where?" Tara asked.

"The only place where Glory can use the Key," Giles declared. "The nexus of the dark forces that have bedevilled this Godforsaken town."

"The Hellmouth," Willow gasped.

"Yes," snapped Giles, "the Hellmouth. And we have to be there. Somehow, we have to save Buffy."

From Glory, and from herself, he added silently.

========

"Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" sang the mad goddess as she opened her ancient codex. "Tonight's the night, pals and gals!" She happily addressed her minions as she prepared to sacrifice the bound and gagged Dawn. "Within the hour, the moon will rise overhead, and shine its light over our Key. Then I sacrifice her, after which, it's my coming out party!" She cackled like a lunatic at her own amusement. "Yes, pals and gals, it's time for us to hop off this dirt ball, and burn it down behind us."

Dawn trembled as she heard these words. She glanced back at Glory as the goddess accepted an ancient book from one of her hench-demons. Glory placed the book on a makeshift podium and started thumbing through the yellowing parchment pages. "Geez Louise," Dawn muttered. "Ancient books, dumb fashions, waiting for the full moon. Are all you would-be world destroyers such drama queens?"

Glory chuckled softly as she cast an insane eye toward her captive. "Hey, if you're gonna destroy a world, at least you can make a party out of it, y'know? Give it a sense of occasion." She turned back to the book, and located the proper incantation. "Now, please be quiet, brat, I have some heavy-duty incanting to do before the moonlight hits you." She placed her hand on the page, and began to chant;

"When the moon reaches its zenith,

When its light is cast over the key,

Let the power of the key be unleashed.

Let the lock be sundered,

Let the barriers between this world and the next fall."

She began to mutter a string of arcane syllables, as a grisly white light began to pour from the book. Dawn gasped as she beheld this sight. She was more scared than she could remember. This madwoman would destroy all creation soon, and Dawn would be the tool she used to bring about this terrible end.

Glory found her concentration shattered by the sudden sounds of sword against steel. She had taken the precaution of chaining the doors behind her, to prevent anyone from distracting her from this final stage of the game. It never occured to her that her enemies would be carrying swords.

"Boys," she barked to her minions, "Go kill those annoying humans. And please, be quiet, I can't concentrate with all those swords clanging." At her command, an army of minor demons marched forward, to meet their foes. Glory returned to her text, reading the words of power from a dead language.

Outside the doorway, the demons rushed forward and met the small band of knights, and their leader, the Slayer. "Forward, men," called Sir Ricardo. "Destroy the servants of the evil goddess!"

"Just hold them off," shouted the slayer, "so I can get a clear shot at Glory!" Ricardo and the other knights understood, and pressed their attack on the demon horde.

As the Slayer made her way through the press of attackers, she could see Glory, standing over an ancient tome, with Dawn tied to a stone slab. A tiny portion of her soul recognized her as 'sister', but the emotional connection was overridden by her battle sense. The key was about to be used. She knew that she didn't have any more time to waste. "Hold them off here," she called to Sir Ricardo, "I'm going in."

"They shall not pass," Ricardo declared. He looked briefly at the Slayer, and said somberly, "May God be with you."

"Thanks," she replied, although the wish meant nothing to her; God hadn't been with her before, it's too late to show now. "You too." She stopped to grasp him by the arm in a warrior's handshake, then left for her final battle.

========

"Glory must be at the old high school," Giles said grimly as he drove, the others sitting silently in the car as it sped forward. "Close enough to the Hellmouth for her to utilize the Key, and easily defended."

"Just get us there," Xander murmured from the back seat. "If we can get close enough to grab Dawn, maybe Buffy won't need to use the sword of Reaganomics."

"Ragnarok," Giles corrected absently. Anya sat shotgun, while Xander, Willow and Tara sat in back, Willow clutching the letter that Buffy had written for her to read after Buffy died. Willow had betrayed her curiosity by reading the letter, and her heart grew heavy with what she had read. One passage in particular moved her above all others;

"I always knew that I would go before you, Willow. That's how it was meant to be, after all. I am the Slayer, which means I have to fight on to my death. I don't get to retire, I don't get vacation time, I didn't even get bereavement time when Mom died. Don't spend too much time mourning me, it's not like I'm worth the effort. Just go. Take Tara and get the hell out of Dodge. I'm not around anymore to defend Sunnydale, and I suspect the next Slayer will be heading somewhere else.

"I have always loved you, in my own special way, more deeply and more passionately than anyone I ever loved before. Who knows, if Tara wasn't in the picture, maybe I'd have made a play for you. That's all behind us now, and it's for the best; I wouldn't wish myself on anyone. Besides, you've got Tara. Take good care of her, and make sure she takes good care of you. If she doesn't I'll just have to come back from Hell and knock her around a little.

Be happy, my beloved Willow, and be well.

The Slayer"

Willow shuddered as she re-read the letter, tears tracking freely down her cheeks. Tara looked uneasily at the young woman she loved, knowing that she was hurting but not knowing how to help.

"She signed it 'The Slayer', Tara," she whispered. "It's like she doesn't even acknowledge her humanity anymore. Like she's stopped being Buffy." Giles heard her words, and grieved silently with her. She was right in her assessment, Giles thought. He had looked into Buffy's eyes before that day, and saw only the Slayer.

Xander placed a comforting hand over Willow's knee. "It'll be okay, Wills. We take down Glory, then Buffy can go on with her life again."

"But what if she uses Ragnarok?" Willow wailed. "What if it's too late for us to save her?"

"Don't say that, Willow," Tara whispered to her love. "We'll get her back."

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Remember that whole Master prophecy? She was fated to die then, but we pulled her through."

"Yeah," Willow admitted. "I just hope we're not too late now." The others silently prayed for the same. Giles grimly pressed down on the accelerator, jacking his car up to top speed.

========

Glory was continuing her recitation, disturbed slightly by the clash of swords outside. "Do you mind?" she called out in an irritated tone of voice, "I'm trying to incant here!"

"I wouldn't bother!" a voice of vengeance shouted from the doorway. "I will not let you survive tonight!" Tied to the stone, Dawn began to feel hope; her rescuer was here.

Glory stopped her incantation, and regarded the intruder who dared to stop her great work. "Buffy Summers," she chuckled. "You just don't learn, do you?"

"I'm the Slayer, bitch," she replied through clenched teeth. "You're going down now."

"Give her hell, Buffy!" Dawn shouted from her vantage point. The Slayer simply ignored her. Whatever connection Buffy had felt toward her sister, the Slayer only saw her as the Key, the power coveted by Glory.

"No, I'm going home now," Glory argued. "You're going down. And your world with you."

The Slayer stood her ground. "Not tonight, sister!" The Slayer drew Ragnarok from its scabbard. She displayed the blade in front of her, the fire of the moon reflecting off the sword's edge and glittering hungrily in her eyes. "I trust you recognize the blade."

Glory gasped, a measure of her arrogance fading as she beheld the blade. "Ragnarok," she whispered. "The Council gave you Ragnarok?"

"Yep," the Slayer twirled the blade around in a lazy arc, before pointing it again at Glory. "You feel lucky?"

Glory screamed at the night sky before launching herself at the Slayer. Despite her blinding speed, the Slayer was able to dodge Glory's initial attack. But Glory rebounded quickly, and kicked hard and fast. The Slayer stopped her first two kicks, but the third one connected with her right hand, sending Ragnarok clattering to the floor.

Glory beat the Slayer to the sword, and smiled. "Oh, this is too good," she grinned. "I get to kill you with the one weapon which could have killed me." She wrapped her hand around the sword's hilt, intent on plunging the blade into the Slayer's heart.

Her hand seized violently, and she yanked it away as though she had tried to handle a live wire. She shrieked in agony as she glared hard at the Slayer. "You've bonded