Where Do We Go From Here? || Finale Chatzy
Estela had made sure that all firearms were relinquished to the armory before departure. No sidearms, no rifles. Given their general inexperience with supernatural hellbeasts, bullets flying about would only serve to piss off demons and injure the slayers fighting in close combat with them. Slayers weren't meant to fight with firearms. "Close combat and bladed weaponry. Don't take on a Turok-Han alone if you're not a Slayer, don't split up, if you leave formation then get back to your place as soon as the threat is dealt with. Crossbowers Matheson and Erikson with Avery and Jack, left flank. Miller and Crowe with Brennan and Wicke, right flank. Rowe and Spencer, keep an eye on the back with McCale and Swan." The orders came easily and quickly but she had been half expecting to be questioned about the tactic. Instead, even the army men fell in and took the direction without complaint. Fuck. She twisted her familiar knife in her hands, the most cherished gift from Liam that she'd never been able to push herself to get rid of, and nodded with a slow breath. Being just outside of London, it didn't take long to properly begin deploying into the city. "Echo's moving in just behind us, Delta's to the west, Bravo's to the east, Charlie's circling around to come from the north. Stay in contact with Alpha and your shadow teams—" First hostile in sight. Hostiles. And they certainly weren't only Turok-Han.
The radio at Gen's hip had gone silent. They were dead, she realized. They hadn't checked in in five minutes. She knew very well what that means and every minute they weren't on top of the Hellmouth was another minute Turok-Hans piled out of it and into London. She stiffened her hand around her sword hilt as the military vehicle drew closer to the epicenter. She could hear the roaring of rubble and the monsters tearing through it. Estela's orders were stiff and precise, as though she was born for this. Miller caught Gen's eye as they piled out, giving her a small nod. "Your people here?" he asked. Gen gave a small shrug, looking over her shoulder at her mother before she answered. "Probably." Definitely. They rushed forward, their teams coming in from all the directions Estela had described. Gen knew military language just well enougb to work it out but she was glad Estela was taking the lead. It came so naturally to her. "Hearts and heads," she reiterated, drawing her weapon. The sword in her hand felt a lot more natural than the gun she had left behind.
Pen had situated herself at the front. She had found a suitable blade and made sure the rest of her unit had outfitted themselves similarly, but this piece of metal didn’t belong to her. It didn’t feel at home in her hand. The soldiers that had once been all too eager to put her in her place as it were had gone silent now. The look in their eyes was one she had seen many times now. They were waiting for her. Looking to her. Listening. “You will not engage with a Turok-Han individually under any circumstances. Ranged fighters, aim for the hearts and heads. For the rest of you, a good decapitation will eliminate most of what we find in here. Strike hard and strike true. We will be met with non-military allies upon arrival. You will treat them as your equals. Do I make myself clear?” The nods of unanimous agreement were almost enough to make her feel accomplished. She drew a long knife from her belt. “Let’s end this.”
Wesley had turned shoved his phone into his inside jacket pocket. He still hadn't heard from Penelope. The irritation of the fact she'd been in touch with Maggie and not him was a distant but present gnawing. He buried it under his sense of duty, of what was expected of him, giving Illyria a long look as they armed up. "If you portal us into a giant hole, I won't be impressed," he teased, deadpan. "Ready?"
Illyria gave him a reproving look, albeit devoid of the coolness reserved for his kind, gaze lifting from the sword she was examining. "I am always ready," she chastised, selecting a sheath to sling over one shoulder, making a point to ignore the other comment. The fight ahead did not intimidate Illyria, although the possibilities therein continued to provoke anxiety. Wesley's safety lay forever in the balance, along with the fate of London's innocent people. Unwilling to let what if-s distract her, she created a portal, indicating Wesley to follow.
Xander had scratches and bruises in places he didn't know could get scratches and bruises. His scratches had scratches, for crying out loud! From the moment they'd felt the earthquake, Xander had known with a lump in his throat that it wasn't about finding Oz anymore. It was about getting people to safety. Each road that brought them closer to Westminster had more casualties, more people panicking. Where they could, they helped. Told people to get their loved ones out of the city as fast as they could, by walking if that was faster and safer. When they were within a few blocks, they'd encountered the first Turok Han. From then on it had become worse. More bodies, more blood. Xander knew they were regrouping, that soon he'd be fighting alongside Peyton and Maggie as well as countless others. He just didn't know if it would be enough. Last time it had taken Spike turning into a disco ball... what would it take this time?
Buffy gripped her scythe as she swung to take out another Turok-Han. As soon as her and Xander had felt the rumbles from the Earthquake, they booked it in the direction of ATHENA to stock up on weapons. Her home had been a bit more damaged than she left it, but there wasn't time to think about it. Only ten minutes and they were out on the streets, making their way back to where they knew the epicenter would be, trying to convince anyone and everyone they could to get out. She kept Xander close to her side, ignoring the bodies and blood in favor of taking out whatever crossed their path. The ruined, collapsed government building came into sight, and the area was crawling with all kinds of demons. Lucky them, there weren't just uber vamps, either. "You okay?" She said, looking over Xander, trying not to think too hard about the cuts and bruises already visible. A moment later, and a portal appeared in front of them. Buffy nodded to Wesley and Illyria, grateful to have the God-King here already. "Welcome to the party. Take your pick of Hell beasts. Open invitation."
Jayan felt at home here. It was an odd thing to think of feel but it was the truth. Here with Renee at her side, a sword in her hand, in the midst of battle with nothing but evil before her. This was what she was meant for, what she was born to do. She tightened the grip on her sword and her jaw clenched and tightened as she focused. Her Mother's words rang in her head 'If it is not your time to die, the jaws of death itself cannot stop you, but should it be your time then no armour may protect you'. She heard the words as clearly as she heard Penelope's instructions from training. Their voices were vivid in her mind as she swung her sword forward at the first demon that came towards her, swinging through the body cleanly.
Maggie already saw the army in place, numerous people milling about and the Slayers and Council members she had sent ahead of her while she finished the last of everything that needed to be done to ensure those who needed to be safe were so, and those who were fighting were armed. Now, however, she could leave all that behind as she felt the bow comfortable on her shoulder, but with both her own sword tucked away and Pen's Father shining weapon in her hand also she felt like a well-armed packhorse. Worries about the well-being of absolute everyone had to be pushed to the side, even the nagging fear and concern of losing Kennedy had to locked away for fear such a distraction could cause her own death not to mention the death of the closest person she had to a daughter. Focus. And as she saw the teaming masses of demons, Turok-Hans and God knows what else, nothing but determination, self-preservation and a general fierce anger filling her mind. She turned to Kennedy, swords clanging at her side, as she took the bow in hand and already had one of the specialist arrows Xander had gifted her for Christmas, positioned to shoot, as they carried on forward.
Patrick didn't get a chance to meet up with Renee before reaching Parliament on his own. Demons of all kinds spewed up and away from it, scattering in every direction. He grimaced, jogging to the fray as quickly as he could. London would need to hold its own for a while. Patrick was going in. The fear didn't hit him until he spotted a Turok Han approaching. Wielding a sword, Patrick struck, the force of the blow rattling up his arm.
Giles had seen far too many an apocalypse. It was never pleasant, never easy, just the oppisite. Watching it devour his own home city, his own cultural heritage, though, it stung all the more profoundly than usual. It took a mightily powered crossbow to pierce the chest of a Turok-Han. There was a reason slayers went first. Even Buffy had almost been overpowered by one before. Engaging them was far from easy, but this was their challenge and they had to rise to it. Dawn and her slayer - Dani - had joined him and though his stomach tightened unhappily at the thought of such youth being exposed to this, he couldn't send the young slayer away. He didn't have the authority. She should have left with Anya, but this was her choice. Anya. She hadn't come back yet, but she had sworn she would. The sight of soldiers met his eyes as he approached the disaster zone, but they didn't try and stop him. Perhaps the selective co-operation of their people had done some good after all.
Estela took little pleasure even in knowing that the formation held longer than she believed that it would. Crossbowers fired, close combatants covered them with swinging swords, axes and daggers, cross bowers reloaded. The cycle repeated. Estela did take a moment to examine Penelope critically before saying, "This unit is under my command. If you wish to command Bravo then I'll relieve Mason and you can take over there but there will be no additional orders from anyone save myself or second-in-command, Penelope. One unit, one commanding voice. These are my people now. My responsibility is to keeping them alive as long as I can and that ability is hindered if they're divided by a challenge to command." Estela drove her dagger into the heart of demon wretched with the stench of blood and something like sulphur. "My duty is to them as much as protecting the innocents. If I die, Gen's to take over next. And regardless," Estela wrenched the heavy body off of her blade to push backwards in a slump onto another demon. "You will give them the equal respect that they deserve without any smugness."
Simon was already out in the field. You learned a thing or two in five years walking with a hands-on Watcher. He’d never been more grateful for all his training sessions with Gen. He cut his way through a demon crawling to its feet just as the cavalry rolled in. He peered at what faces he could make out. Was she in there? Had they finally started listening to her? He ran to meet them. He’d lost his phone to some beast with horns and spikes and he had to know if she was there. He had to know now.
Gen didn't want to dwell on the fact that several members of their team would probably die today. They were soldiers, but human soldiers. They were used to wars being fought in deserts, against human evils and human oppositions and human perils, not monsters with superpowers and more ferocity than they had ever seen. The line of Turok-Han rose to meet them. They had no organization, no order, but they smelled blood in the water and like sharks, it whet their appetites. She lifted her sword. The 'good' in hand-to-hand combat on her scorecard taunted her. She was about to prive it wrong. Her sword met the pale, sickly flesh of the demon as she swung. It turned to a cloud of dust before her just in time for another to grab at her elbow, twisting. She spun, loosening its grip, kicking it back with a hard strike, impaling it on a piece of rebar. Ugh. Not nice. She disposed of it quickly before moving on. Ahead of her, people out of uniform were fighting, a cluster of them. A single human seperated from the pack as the last of the Turok-Hans in that cluster were vanquished. "Identify yourself," Miller ordered as he cautiously lifted his bow. The thing was foreign in his hands. "Stop! That's my fiance!" Gen gripped Miller's elbow in an action that would have inspired a few hours in isolation and a stern lecture a few days ago. He nodded, but she could tell he was a little skeptical about the uniform-less individuals running around. She didn't care. Simon was alive. She could just about resist the urge to run into his arms, but Estela was right there. She managed a vague smile instead, bittersweet. "You got to see me in uniform after all." She turned to Estela. "What's next?"
Anya tightened her hold on the crossbow she had borrowed from Maggie after she had helped everyone leave. checked her side to make sure the hatchet and the quiver full of bolts were still there. As she got closer to the Hellmouth, hiding whenever she spotted a group of enemies too dangerous for her to handle alone, she got the chance to look around and see the damage done to the city. It was a familiar sight to her, she had witnessed death and destruction many times before. But this was different: she was going to fight this time, she had been given the chance to run and she had turned it down. Just like in Sunnydale. The main difference though, was that Sunnydale had been abandoned by its inhabitants long before the final battle. This time people were fleeing and panicking and running for their lives… In the past she had witnessed that as a demon, not as a human, and that changed everything. Anya was afraid, terrified even, but the hand loading the crossbow was steady as she reached her destination and scanned the street in front of her looking for an easy target. That’s when she saw a bunch of people, some soldiers even, already in the heat of battle. She was still too far away to recognize any familiar face, but Anya knew without a doubt her loved ones would be there. She just hoped her hiding spot behind some debris would protect her from the demons and vampires she was going to turn into pincushions long enough for her to find Giles or one of her friends.
Landon was practically shaking from anxiety. "Come on Flint, keep it together." What, he was even talking to himself now? He had the choice to run earlier and didn't take it. He decided to do the brave thing, now he was going through with it, no matter the consequence--It was the right thing to do. That note didn't direct him to ATHENA by mere coincidence, he knew now more than ever--that it was destiny. He couldn't be a competitive athlete anymore, that ship had long since sailed. But he could do his part to make sure the world was still around so other people could have that dream. With a sword sheathed on his back, quiver around his waist and bow in his right hand, he immediately went and took his place in the second line into battle--and not a moment too soon. Those super-vamp freaks were already within sight, and range. Landon got out an arrow and quickly took aim. "This is for not letting me get a good nights sleep, you fucking bloodsucker!"
Wesley fell into line beside Buffy. "You're far more punctual these days than you were in high school." He offered an easy smile, just a momentary break from the death and destruction surrounding them. He wasted no time in raising his weapons. Guns were holstered beneath his jacket and at his ankles (one could never be too careful, especially when the military might invade at any moment) but the crossbow was familiar in his hands. He loosened a bolt, sending it through the eye of the Turok-Han that was charging Buffy with destruction and intent on its mind. It slowed and whelped enough for her to easily finish the job, and he reloaded. The rest of the battle wouldn't be so easy. He turned his head at the sound of military trucks, his arms stiffening. "Looks as though the cavalry is here." His tone was dry as the concrete and dust at his feet.
Xander nodded as Wesley and Illyria arrived, smiling at the other man's quip. Wasn't about to tell Wesley it, but he felt far more comfortable fighting alongside him when he wasn't wielding a shotgun. Had it seriously been just a few weeks ago with that hellhound? He could hear a military team approaching - maybe MI-12 wasn't so bad after all. He had no idea whether any of them were sufficiently trained to deal with actual demons, but they could hope, at the very least. He looked around, trying to recognise anyone else in the chaos of demons. Something was coming from there left flank, green and lizardlike, similar to the Varrel he and Peyton had faced but smaller. Two more followed in its wake, and Xander raised his battle axe once more. "Heads up this way," he said, hopefully not distracting the others from their own fights
Simon made a note of Gen's reluctance. Not the warm welcome he was exactly hoping for, but battle zones weren't the place to get choosy. He squeezed her shoulder. "It's good seeing you at all. Do I get to fight with?"
Gen spoke to him with the subtlety of her body language, moving closer to him while staying in formation. "I'm on duty. It's not up to me. Not my unit." Her words were almost an apology, but she had a job to do, a mission, and an obligation. If anyone could understand that, he could.
Illyria covered Wesley's right side, dispatching one of the Turok Han with ease. The body vanished. Illyria turned her attention elsewhere, surveying the scene with curious eyes. Hellmouths were easily opened but not so easily closed. What could conclude this scourge? Illyria wondered in the moments between combat and rest. She overpowered another vampire, hardly giving it a second glance after its struggling ceased. Vermin, she thought in disgust.
Estela critically looked over at Simon impassively. They might very well all die today. Better that they have the opportunity to fight side by side than apart. "You and Simon regroup to Bravo. They have the firestarter, Brooks, with them. Consolidate with Buffy since she's bound to be out here somewhere." It wasn't a request. "Miller, fall in command with me." Estela raised her voice smoothly, clicking on her comm just long enough to speak with the other units, "All units consolidate with shadow teams. Delta, move up to the high ground in the office building to the eat and provide long ranged support. Be advised of civvies fighting without uniforms. Eyes on the demons, not the humans. Move, now."
Maggie found the chaos of the Hellmouth to be so immense even the demonic creatures pouring out seemed unsure of direction, of whom to attack first, or even where their potential victims could lay. Her eyes fell on one particularly demon guzzling away on an innocent bystander (a woman, around Maggie's age, a Morrisons' shopping bag in her hand) it had killed with what appeared to be a single blow. Maggie took aim and the arrow pierced right through the demon's neck, killing it instantly. A Turok-Han would not be so easily beaten, and she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of the primordial vampires as she picked through the fight, dodging what she knew she had no chance against and would be better left to Slayers, and taking out those she had a chance at. She wanted to keep looking to her side, looking behind her, to check, to reassure herself that Kennedy was still there fighting with the fervour she always had on patrol and more besides, but she couldn't afford to and she knew the girl would kill her if she distracted herself even that much. She fired another arrow and was lucky enough in her shot to take one demon out and injure another in one go (he would be easy pickings for any fighter who came along). She needed to find Penelope. She hadn't carried her treasured sword not to bloody give it to her. And both Maggie and Kennedy needed to make their way through the lines, to join their comrades. They weren't so far now, minutes away.
Wesley turned his head in the direction Xander had gestured. Green, scaled demons rose from the gaping hole in the ground, coming up to meet them. Somewhere below, Wesley could make out the orange glow of the open hellmouth. He could almost feel its heat. "I don't recognize the breed," he murmured, frustrated as he strapped the crossbow to his back and reached for his biggest gun. "But this works on most things." If anything, at least he could identify the fact they weren't vampires. He emptied a chamber into the closest one. The bullets barely dented the flesh, and when the creature squealed it was more in anger than agony. "Armor is too thick. Illyria, Buffy? I think this one is on you."
"What can I say?" Buffy smirked as she sent her scythe straight through the neck of the Turok-Han, cutting its head clean off. "You learn the importance of time-management when you're on your sixth apocalypse." Buffy turned in the direction Wesley was, and saw the military filing in, but didn't have enough time to comment before Xander threw out out a head's up. "Got it," she called out, sending a powerful slayer kick to the demon before following up with her weapon. She wasn't given a moment of reprieve as another Turok-Han came her way. He got in a good blow to her ribs, and Buffy doubled over, backing up before trying to throw another kick. God, and she thought she was done with these damn things.
Jayan had the blood of demons on her face, she could feel it wet and sticky, clinging there, but she ignored it. She was barely even aware of it. She was not even aware of the tear in her trouser leg, or the scratch on her arm from a Turok-Han she had allowed to get too close. She wasn't making that mistake again. Dispatch them at the greatest distance her weapon allowed. The further the better; give them no time to ambush, no ease of distance to reach out and grab. The danger didn't lie in their power or their size, but in permitting them close proximity. A demon she faintly recognise from a book ran at her, teeth bared- she swung under him and following the turn allowed her sword to carry her round, it's blade slicing it's head clean off, rolling past her feet. She did not spare it a glance as she turned to the next thing, a determined look on her face.
Giles lost himself in the fray. Landon fought bravely, and not badly for someone who was relatively new to the game. He supposed all that training worked wonders, at least for ones upper body strength. He curled up his lip in distaste at the ant-demons that crawled from the wreckage. Horrid things. The sword in his hand would do them good, though. He swung at their legs and bodies, narrowly avoiding a bite. It was just as well. They would hardly have time for an antidote. "Watch out for the pincers!" He informed a clueless but gung-ho soldier who joined him. They weren't using guns. Shocker. Penelope and the girls' influence, no doubt. "They carry a toxin in their bites. It can be deadly if untreated." The soldier nodded, communicating this to the rest of the crew through earpieces and radios. At least he hadn't argued.
Gen nodded. "Yes sir," she said unironically, crossing the battlefield to join Bravo team. She reached to squeeze Simon's hand as soon as they were far away enough that it wouldn't look grossly unprofessional. "I didn't hear from you," she sighed, gripping it more tightly. "I was worried something had happened, and that nobody would tell me because they didn't want to--I don't know--panic me." The worst part was that such things weren't entirely beyond the realm of possibility. She felt the engagement ring against her breastbone, under her uniform. Something to live for. "Come on." She sped up, cutting through an ordinary vampire who was apparently so far out of his depth, he might as well have been drowning as she made her way to the Bravo unit. Introductions were brief. They were joining this unit under Barros' orders. Nobody seemed to be inclined to argue.
Anya‘s aim wasn’t perfect, and she knew that, which is why she tried to focus on smaller threats: a straight shot through the heart was the only thing that could stop Turok-Hans, but the same couldn’t be said about some of the other creatures that crawled their way out. She had killed at least a dozen of the small critters, but she knew she wasn’t really doing any good there: she needed to get closer to the actual battle. She started running from hiding spot to hiding spot until she could almost feel the evilness of the Hellmouth tainting her skin. A group of people were battling not too far from her, but she couldn’t be distracted now: a Turok-Han had spotted her and was already charging at her. Anya raised her crossbow and aimed for the heart. The bolt miraculously hit its intended target and Anya squealed in satisfaction as she saw the monster turn to dust. What she didn’t notice though was another threat creeping up behind her, silently getting closer to her.
Xander looked around as the Buffy's next victim fell to the ground, fighting the urge to wipe the blood from his axe again. He;d taken down a grand total of one Ubervampire ever, and that had been with Dawn's help, so unless he was planning something stupidly heroic, he'd avoid those for now. Still looking for any signs of Peyton, or, even less likely, Oz, he spotted something just as worrying. Anya was crouched, by herself, working her way through the horrors of London. He spared her a grin of pride as her own enemy turned to dust, looking back at Buffy, Illyria and Wesley. They were all better fighters than him, Xander knew, even if him and Wesley was a close call. An ordinary vampire, taking advantage of the chaos, tried sneaking up on the four of them, and Xander swung at it violently, its claws catching his arm as it turned to dust. Panting with weariness - he'd been awake for two days straight, he turned back to look at Anya, eye growing wide as he saw the demon crawl up behind her. "Anya!" He broke away from Buffy's side, sprinting towards it. His axe bounced off whatever it was and it pounced on him, knocking Xander off his feet. The back of his head slammed into the pavement, right next to a broken lead pipe. Xander's grasping fingers tightened around it as he located the chink in it's armour. Blood splatter over his face as he stabbed it in the neck, pushing it off himself before scrabbling up, looking at Anya with an ironic smile. "You really need to work on the whole looking behind you thing."
Pen followed in line with the unit. The closer they got, the more the city smelled of smoke, rot, and gore. A shiver ran through her as she saw rebar jutting out of the street and bodies bled into the sewage drains. Her eyes widened and she remembered just how terrifyingly familiar this sight was. The ash in her nose, sweat pooling around her neck, and blood, so much blood and howling everywhere. But the screaming wasn’t from her this time. And this time, she wasn’t helpless. None of them marching in here were.
Wesley stiffened as the soldiers joined their forray. He was bound to see someone he knew, and they were bound to recognize Illyria from their panic and their security footage. It happaned about as soon as he'd expected. In the absense of a gun to point at her, one of the commanding officers - whose voice was as gruff as a personified bear - pointed a sword. "Pryce, you're in serious shit when we get back to base." Illyria would knock him to the ground before he said another word, Wesley knew. "I was taken, against my will." The words were only a partial lie. "My comrade was concerned for my safety. You can't blame her for that, sir." He uttered the final word with almost disdain. "And we were right, in case you still disbelieve your eyes." He reloaded his weapon, emptying the gun into a juicy, plump hellhound. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that was probably human blood on its nuzzle. "I'm here now. I'm doing my job. Are you going to help me, or are you going to argue with me?" Bear shot a cautious glance past Wesley, to Illyria, then lifted his weapon. "As you were."
Maggie and Kennedy were closing in now, the two fighting side by side with a perfect harmony that seemed to require no communication. Maggie held her bow low, but loaded, ready to aim at the next thing. She ducked out of the way of something far too large for her simple human body and it bowled past like some sort of cannon ball. She could only pray something would stop it, but there was too much going on now and she had to prioritise. She fired an arrow at, shocker, an ordinary vampire (a sight that seemed almost pleasant in comparison) and felt the sense of satisfaction as it turned to the dust. As the ash fell, it revealed several army officials and a very familiar head of hair. “Oi,” Maggie called out, pure Camden, calling Pen's attention to her. She held up the sword, as she dodged a wayward arrow (That better have not been Landon's shot), “I believe you forgot something,”
Pen knew the sound of Maggie’s voice at once. A smile came to her face as she looked her way. The woman was worn to the bone, with more bags under her eyes than she’d ever seen. Leading the pack had taken its toll on her and it had only been a few days. She nodded for Maggie to come up to them quickly.
Anya heard her name and turned around, just in time to see a set of fangs about to close around her torso. It was too late to grab the hatchet. She closed her eyes and hoped it would be as quick as the first time, but the fatal bite never came. Xander struggled with whatever attacked her and actually managed to defeat the creature. Despite everything, Anya smiled. Here, on the battlefield, talking with Xander didn’t feel weird anymore. She got closer to her savior and helped him up before hanging her crossbow to her side and grabbing the hatchet. “Looks like I don’t need to do that anymore: my backup’s better than the last time.” Some other regular vampires were getting closer. She adjusted her footing and got ready to actually fight. Thinking about bunnies still helped.
Giles had lost sight of Dawn and Dani somewhere in the panic. He cursed himself. He cursed the soldier (silently, of course), fighting through the hoard as best he could until he caught sight of another familiar face. Not Dawn. Not Dani. Anya. "You came back," he said, almost as though he'd been unable to believe it until she was right there. He lifted his head, looking beyond her at Xander. “And you’re both alive. Good.” He felt as though he had just missed something, but the change of subject granted him a moment of gracious distraction from the awkwardness of the situation. He squinted past both of them, taking heavy breaths as he focused on the second lot of military personnel he had seen. "And if I'm not mistaken, Estela and Penelope have their own army. How convenient." He was getting far too bloody old for this. Was he actually wheezing, or was that just the cut on his side, making it hard to breathe? "Come on," he murmured, lifting his weapon. "There's more where they came from."
With a smirk, Landon shot another one of the vampires right in the heart with an arrow, dusting it on the spot. Easy. "Come on, keep it coming, I can do this all day." There was something else that was quickly approaching. Another strong vampire? No, it was some kind of bug demon. No matter, it wouldn't survive an arrow either. He took his aim and shot, but it missed. Shit! Please don't let that hit anyone! If the demon didn't notice Landon before--it definately did now. It was scurrying up to Landon way to fast for him to get another shot in. He had to get his sword, but he couldn't put down the bow or that'd be an opening for a vampire. He made sure to hold unto the bow tightly while pulling out the weapon from its sheath. By the time he had got his sword out, the creature was in arms reach of him! He took a leap back and then swung the blade. Got it! The demon fell to the ground, but not before some sort of gunk--demon blood?-- got all over his shoes and jeans. Ugh. He sighed as he put the sword back into the sheath and got his arrows ready for the vamps once more. Maybe doing this all day was a slight exaggeration.
Patrick didn't get much further than the row of soldiers, but that was fine. He tried to get what the front lines missed, although the count of two dead Turok Han wasn't too impressive. He struggled, sent sprawling by a two headed demon before killing it with any debris he could get his hands on. Patrick clambered to his feet, preparing for the next attack.
"Penelope, join Maggie and Kennedy. Reinforce Charlie and their shadow. They have the least amount of experienced support." Estela ripped a demon away from one of her cross bowers and rammed her knife up into the roof of its gaping mouth so she could kick the corpse away. "Alpha, Echo, we're moving up." They were just soldiers following orders and she was just some woman who'd only been around for a couple of days. But they followed, obeyed, respected the job. And knew that they were more likely to die than those who were more experienced. "Matheson, Erikson, drop back with crossbows. Everyone else, change to close combat. Swords and axes out." They began the forward push slowly, steadily, but more effectively than a disarranged slaughter. They efficiently cut down and cleared out but it hardly was going to come without costs. Her first one to drop was Wicke in a bloody scream and spattering of blood that splashed over her lips from the violence of limbs being removed by a particular hulking, scaled mass of demon. All flashing teeth and glaring eyes and roars that caused her hair to stand on end. Brennan followed in a symphony of cracking bones and shortened gasps. Crowe came soon after when a Turok-Han ripped his throat out just before Estela could effectively decapitate it with her blade.
Anya wasn’t a trained fighter like the rest of them, but fear and adrenaline were fueling her arms as she swung the hatchet around and managed to defeat another vampire. Fear and adrenaline were also the only things keeping her from feeling the pain of the numerous scratches she was collecting. Hopefully they wouldn’t scar. During a rare pause in the enemies’ assault she heard another familiar voice. Giles. Giles was here. She ran toward him and threw her arms around him, not even caring about his or her own wounds. “Of course I came back.” Giles was right, though: more were coming. They had to hold the line. That meant they could die, of course, but they had to fight. Without really thinking about it she quickly kissed him before taking a couple of steps away. “Once this is over you have to buy more cheese.”
Giles' lips parted, startled by the gesture, but not entirely put off. "I, uh-- well, I'm glad. And...cheese. Yes." He swallowed, immediately regretting it. Dust and ash was on the air. It stung his throat, his nostrils. He caught a cloud of blue, moving effortlessly through the mob, and the thought hit him, as though he had forgotten something he needed to do. "I'll come back," he promised. He'd come back, just like she had. He squeezed Anya's arm before taking off again. He'd barely caught his sodding breath the first time. "Ill--Illyria..." he panted, sucking down air as she turned to face him. A Turok-Han shattered in her fist. "The... the man behind the ritual. He's down there." Giles' tired arm pointed at the hellmouth. "Can you... can you stop it? Stop him?" The ritual required him to stay in the epcenter. He was protected during the initial collapse, but anything outside of that, any interfering force... That was up to them. If the scrolls were right, they could stop it. He knew precisely what he was asking, and he knew Illyria was the only person for the job. Death didn’t come easily, to any of them, but weighing one life, the life of an already dying man against all these innocents? There was no choice.
Xander grinned at Anya as Giles showed up. "Couldn't let the hellmouth get you again, now, could I?" He replied easily, turning to stand back to back with her as they took down the other vampires. As the dust fell to the floor, Xander turned back to Anya who... had just kissed Giles. Oh. He hadn't known, and apparently, looking at Giles, he hadn't either. Xander expected to feel something, he wasn't sure why, but he had. Bitterness. Loss. But it never came. He was happy for her. He was glad for her. Even if it was Giles. Because seriously, Giles? He could deal with that, and she seemed happy. Giles ran off to Illyria, and Xander tapped Anya on the shoulder. "Isn't kissing mid battle kind of cliche?"
Anya looked at Xander and shrugged. "At least I didn't propose."
Gen lost herself in the roar of combat. It had been a while since she'd done this. Come to think of it, she never had. She had been at home, safe and sound while everyone else defended HQ. Large battles had been too much for her then, but Gen had grown. She was proud and strong and vicious, sick of score cards and orders that didn't make sense. She and Estela had already changed so many minds. She was going to change even more, and she didn't care who criticized them. It was their loss. She felt sick to her stomach as she shot at a Turok Han vampire feasting on--someone. A female someone. Dark hair. Gen disposed of it, looking down as the body fell to the floor. No, no--it couldn't be. "Dawn...?" he voice was a hoarse whisper. She fell to her knees, shaking, as though trying to will life back into her. "DAWN!" A hand gripped her shoulder. People were looking, those close enough to overhear the anguished screams. It couldn’t be Dawn. She had too much promise, too much to live for. "Savidge," said one of the soldiers. Officer Mori. "Savidge, you have to get up. She's gone." Gen didn't move. She couldn't just leave her here. She wouldn't. The voice came again. "There's nothing you can do for her now. Stop the creatures that killed her. That's how yo honor her memory." Gen remained still, stubbornly resisting. Her heart pounded. Her sword was heavy at her side. When she stood, tears stained her cheeks, but her features were marked with ferocity. "We're ending this."
Illyria heard Rupert Giles before she saw him, even over the roar of her opponents and allies alike. She nodded, hand touching Wesley's shoulder before she departed. The biggest foe awaited ahead, standing in the epicenter of the Hellmouth. He seemed…serene, despite the mayhem of their surroundings. Momentarily startled, she appraised him in the moments prior to her attack. A sick human. Was that all? She mused, surprise soon overshadowed by contempt and indifference. No matter. A sick human, one about to become a dead human. She raised the sword, bringing it down upon the man in a single blow. The body went into opposite directions, the sight undoubtedly gruesome to those of weaker heart. To Illyria, it was commonplace. After a breath, the building stopped rumbling. Demons continued to flee and attack the assembly of soldiers and civilians, although their unsurfaced brethren were now locked away below. She wielded the sword again, decapitating the nearest monster. Angel's words of a year previous rang in her head, prompted with some mockery from Fred, the first the godking had heard her voice since the news of Oz's disappearance. Illyria had work to do.
Wesley lifted his head. Giles had rushed to him and at his warning, Illyria had vanished from his side. He fought on, a vicious creature taking his arm in its mouth, biting down to the bone before he blew its head off. The body collapsed on his chest and its mouth loosened, but it had bitten deep enough to go down to the bone. Damn hellmouth. Damn hellhounds. He could feel the pain scorching through him. It would be worse when the adrenaline wore off. Broken arm. How very convenient. Just as he prepared to continue fighting, the world stopped shaking. Everything became calm and serene all of a sudden. Was he dying? Had the injury been worse than he thought? This was what it had been like before, with the world closing around him, like going to sleep... But no, nothing faded, it all remained clear. She'd done it. Whatever Giles had said, Illyria had done something about it. They were safe. He mustered the strength he had, swallowing his breath as he shakily got to his feet. Penelope... She had to be here. But everyone was... strange. There was a body on the ground. One of their people. Brunette, slender... "Oh no."
It was just one after another. Waves upon waves of demons with twisted features, flashing claws, bared teeth, armored flesh. A thick skinned beast deflected all arrows and shattered a sword against its flesh. One after another ended up falling as it became more and more difficult to defend themselves with a shrinking group of support. Miller had had to retrieve the crossbow from Matheson's twisted body. Only when the floods began to trickle away and demon after demon either fled or fell slain was Estela able to fully assess the damage. Swan, Erikson, Rowe, McCale, Avery, Spencer. All dead. "Units…" Estela slowly pulled the spearlike bone from where it'd been impaled through her body. It burned, bled, agonized. At least she was alive. "Report in." The entirety of Delta: gone. Shadow unit Tango: gone. Charlie and shadow Sierra: seven casualties. Bravo with shadow unit Foxtrot had remained the most intact with only three casualties. At least she'd made the right call in switching up those plans. Shadow unit Echo: three survivors. Commanding unit Alpha: Jack and herself. Miller? Gone. Fallen into the gaping maw of the hellmouth before it had been closed. Jack tried to apply pressure to her wound. It hadn't mattered how well organized her tactics were. The soldiers hadn't been prepared for what they had had to face today. Not even the best tactics would win out against a lack of exposure; knowledge. And Peyton? Estela had yet to see her or Xander anywhere around. Peyton wasn't there. Reaching out to wipe blood from Jack's cheek, nausea threatened to join the pain. Peyton wasn't there. Anywhere.
Landon had been focusing on the vamps so much he didn't even notice when the shaking had stopped. He just kept aiming and firing arrows at whatever undead creature came within range, then they started to diminish...and finally...stop? Perplexed, he slowly lowered his bow and looked around. Did it stop? Was he just imagining things? Was he dreaming? Did he just get knocked out or killed by something and was this imagination? No...this was real. But nobody was rejoicing. Not a single person looked happy. Relieved, yes. There were heavy sighs all around as the battle had come to a stop. Did he miss something? It took him a moment to notice quite a few others gathered around a body. Oh...duh. When entering battle, there's always the chance of a loss. Of course people weren't relieved. He immediately felt a pang of guilt for having a moment of happiness before realizing that people had died for their cause. It wasn't anything to smile about. Honestly, he had expected to be one of the ones dead himself; but here he was, with only a few scratches. He'd be sore tomorrow; that was certain, but at least he was living. He doubted he would know the person on the ground, but if they died for the world, they definitely were an admirable person. He got closer to the body to pay his respects, but once he saw that face he immediately froze. He knew that face. Not well, but he still recognized the woman. That was Buff's sister, wasn't it...?
Buffy caught sight of Giles and tried to rush to his side, only to get caught by a Varell in her way. She fought it off, chinking into its armor slowly before finally managing to take it out with one fell swoop of her weapon. Her hand instinctively went to her side where the burning sensation had started, and as she pulled it away, she noticed a pool of blood was left in her palm where the Varell had sank its claws into her. Then, she noticed something else. Where the world had been quivering beneath her, threatening to swallow all of London whole, the ground was now still. Buffy's brows furrowed as she gazed around, and saw that she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Many people (and even demons) had stopped fighting for a brief moment, eyes all focusing on the gaping hole where the parliament used to be. Most eyes that is, except those of the person a few meters away from her. Wesley’s were fixed on something else—someone else, and Buffy ran over, putting a hand on his shoulder, silently letting him know that the battle wasn’t over yet and that whoever it was needed to wait for any kind of proper mourn—that’s when the features of the body began to register. Brown hair, slender face, blue-grey dull eyes that had looked at her before in so many different ways. Angrily, accusingly, mockingly, lovingly. She’d know those eyes anywhere. Except where once they had been filled with all those different emotions, all she could register was that they were empty. “No…” Buffy muttered, pushing Wesley out of the way and dropping to her knees. She pulled her sister’s limp body into her arms and wiped a few strands of loose hair from her forehead. “No…Dawn, wake up…” No signs of movement. She felt someone’s hand on her own shoulder, but the small gesture of comfort didn’t register. Neither did the hot tears already springing from her eyes. She kissed her sister’s damp forehead roughly, rocking her, muttering anything, anything to wake her up. “Dawnie, please, no. Not you. I can’t lose you, too….Dawn….” She knew it was pointless. The younger Summers sister was gone. And somewhere she knew people were still fighting, still cleaning up whatever demon hell spawn was left from the near–apocalypse, but it didn’t matter. It honestly didn’t matter that it seemed like they might have won. Buffy was sitting on the mouth of Hell, and Hell had swallowed her heart whole. But this time, it was her choking on her own tears.
