The Vulcan Watcher's face was triumphant.
"I'm afraid this is a risk we will have to take," Khassya said defiantly.
"No," Angel disagreed, "There's no way. For the temporal war, it won't matter whether I'm mortal or vampire." The painful feeling of déjà vu stole over him. If I stay mortal, one of us will wind up dead, maybe both of us. For a moment, it was as if he could see a ghostly figure hovering above them in the air, a vision of Cordelia, he never forgot her face in all those years, like a distant memory, faded, but still with a haunting presence, how she was smiling at him, shaking her head. What would she say if she were here? He could almost hear her. So you're doing it again, Angel, sacrificing your humanity, your personal happiness once again to save the world? Aren't you sick of it?
"Yes, I am," Angel murmured.
"Pardon?" Wesley asked.
"Nothin'," Angel replied. "It's clear to me when we return to the future, I will be a vampire again because Annika never became Seven of Nine."
Buffy shrugged. "I've been with a vampire before."
Angel shook his head. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "You don't understand, Buffy. If I'm a vampire, we'll never be together. There is... a curse. One moment of perfect happiness will turn me into the demon Angelus again, and you will be forced to kill me." He felt he would break her heart once again, but could not refrain from adding: "Otherwise, I..."
Buffy's eyes went wide. "That is how it happened... right? How I was killed... in your past."
Angel met her eyes. "I'm sorry. It was important for you to understand the consequences of any decision which is made now. It will affect your life, and Annika's."
Buffy's voice was almost a whisper. "How about yours?"
"My life is beside the point," Angel said. The vision he had of Buffy, living on a nice and peaceful planet when all this was over, holding Annika in her arms, taking her to school on the first day, with the little girl never hearing of Borg and assimilation, was the one thing that kept him going now. He would have to give up Buffy and the prospect of a family, but even if they were far away, he would always know his child had a mother and would grow up with light surrounding her instead of the perpetual darkness of a Borg cube.
"Well," Buffy said slowly, "So we fight side by side, win that temporal war, and just be... friends. That'll work. Right?"
Spike could not withhold his laughter.
Buffy turned to him and frowned. "I know this is hard for you, William, but..."
"FRIENDS!" Spike chuckled, "Didn't work back then, won't work now! Been there. Done that."
Buffy's look was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"He left you!" Spike burst out. "Went off to L.A. because he couldn't deal! Heroic, yes, both of you, but only when it came to apocalypse and chaos, the big emotions you couldn't handle!"
Buffy saw the truth of what Spike said. She lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm the Slayer. Saving the world, that's in my job description. Then this is how it will be."
Angel looked at her with admiration. Giving up the safety of this illusory life for an uncertain future in which the only constant was suffering, just to do the right thing once again. This was Buffy. In this universe, and in any other.
A loud and clear voice broke the ensuing silence. "This is not an option." All heads flew around. Seven's hands were shaking slightly, but her face was determined. "History happens, whether human beings like it or not. I am Seven of Nine. And I will still be Seven of Nine when we get back to our time."
"Annika, no," Angel contradicted her.
"Stop calling me Annika!" Seven's eyes, now blue again without the artificial lenses belonging to her disguise, looked at him with a calm expression. "My childhood was far from being perfect. I'm having a hard time being in my situation even now. But Captain Janeway taught me one thing: Our past makes us who we are."
Angel made to say something, but Wesley joined in. "I think what Seven wants to say... If you could go back to the day you met Darla in a dark alley behind a tavern and make sure you get drunk at home that night, get to live your life as a scoundrel, until you die at about forty due to pneumonia, syphillis, whatever people died of in 18th century Ireland, would you?"
"This is different," Angel disagreed.
"Why?" Seven asked.
"Listen," Angel said, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, playing the heroine and all, but that's not the part you're destined to play."
"No, she isn't," Wesley said with more than just a hint of sarcasm to his words, "the daughter of the Chosen One and shanshu of Surak's prophecies couldn't possibly be destined to be a heroine."
Seven's shoulders straightened a little at that.
"Anya's not going to take you away to live with the Hansons this time," Angel protested.
"Yes, she is," Seven said. "This decision is not for you to make."
With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, Angel replied: "I'm your father, you're going to do what I say."
"You can't be serious," Seven said in a louder voice than she had meant to.
"On Kronos," Khassya said, "Paternal authority has to face its challenge when the children are coming off age. Father and child resolve their conflict by entering the honorable competition of Kho'Thal Be'Nek."
"You don't expect us to fight each other!" Angel protested.
"Actually, this sounds appropriate to me," Seven replied. "We fight. You win, I won't be taken away by Anya and live the life you want for me. I win we proceed according to my plan. The competition can take place on VOYAGER, I do not think Captain Janeway will have any objections."
Khassya looked paradoxically pleased. "We still have time. The Ministry of Temporal Defence that's what they called themselves will contact T'Mira and me tomorrow morning to give us enough time to kill Buffy. They were planning to take us back to our century with their ship then. We have enough time to sort out your conflict and develop a strategy to defeat them."
"They come from the future," T'Mira saids coolly, "They have better weapons and better equipment. You cannot honestly think you can defeat them."
"We'll deal with them when the time comes," Khassya replied. "Prepare, competitors. We will meet up again in two hours. Tell VOYAGER to beam us aboard and send this dishonest Watcher to one of your dungeons."
"Detention cells," Wesley chided her mildly.
*
It had been very much for Buffy to take in: a moment ago she had been a 21st century girl on her honeymoon at the Niagara Falls, now she was dissolved into molecules and put together again on board a spaceship which had travelled through time to prevent her being killed by a 24th century alien Slayer because of a conspiracy of Watchers wanting to win a time war. She had a daughter older than herself and had found herself in love with someone who had been a vampire up until a few hours ago, and she had learnt she was a decisive figure in that temporal war of the future as well. And now this man was going to duel with their own daughter.
It would have been an understatement to say Buffy was confused as she was walking down VOYAGER's corridors towards Angel's quarters. They had two hours to sort things out.
Angel watched with amusement as Buffy was running her fingers over the walls of his quarters, feeling for a switch. "Computer, lights," he said.
Buffy looked at him reproachfully as the room was suddenly brightly lit. "You could have told me straight away," she sighed.
"Sorry." He felt like a complete idiot because he just couldn't stop grinning.
"And all this on an empty stomach," Buffy complained. "Do you have any decent food on this ship?"
Angel gestured at the replicator. "Whatever you like!"
Buffy stared at the replicator in disgust. "A microwave? You don't have any fresh food?"
Angel chuckled. "This is not a microwave, Buffy. It's a replicator. It rearranges the molecules of matter and combines them in any way you like. Just tell it what you want."
Buffy still looked skeptical. "Ice cream?" she tried.
A mechanical voice replied: "There are 5.347 recipes of ice-cream on the database. Please specify your request."
Buffy's eyes widened. "Five... thousand???"
Angel nodded. "Try Bethazoid Oogleberry with cookies. It's very popular."
Buffy backed away from the replicator. "Maybe later... I need a shower. Now." She walked toward the bathroom.
Angel looked slightly embarrassed to break the news to her. "Er... Buffy?"
She frowned. "What?"
"It's an acoustic shower. There's no water."
*
"Kho'Thal Be'Nek," B'Elanna repeated disbelievingly. "You and Seven."
Angel sighed and nodded. "We need you as a Zedaar. A judge."
B'Elanna burst out laughing. "You can't know what you're asking. A Kho'Thal on VOYAGER? You've gotta be kidding me!"
"It was Seven's idea," Angel said dismally.
The half-Klingon shook her head. "This is so stupid. You and Seven dueling about who's allowed to give their lives to make the other one happy?"
"Please, don't make this harder," Angel replied. "Will you be our Zedaar?"
B'Elanna shrugged. "If you will have it so. Just, do me a favour: No holopictures!"
"No pictures." Angel smiled in spite of himself.
*
When Captain Kathryn Janeway entered Holodeck 3, she was stunned by the atmosphere. The others had already gathered around an arena in complete darkness, only lit by a few torches on the walls. Klingon mystic symbols covered the walls and the floors. On a high chair at the side of the round arena, B'Elanna Torres was seated, wearing a purple costume with heavy decorations and a hat that was twice as big as her head. She could understand now why the Klingon had refused any pictures.
The Klingon Slayer Khassya (whose treacherous Watcher was absent, since she was under arrest in one of VOYAGER's extremely comfortable detention cells) entered the arena with a Klingon war cry.
The whispering of the audience ceased.
The torches cast a dim, flickering light on her that made Khassya's sun-tanned face look almost ghostly in semi-darkness.
"Let the competitors enter," Khassya announced.
Slowly and with heavy steps, Angel stepped out of the dark. The Klingon ceremony of Kho'Thal Be'Nek was traditionally fought without the usual Klingon battle gear to avoid any advantage of age and wealth over youth and poverty. Therefore, Angel wore black pants which allowed for rapidity and as much freedom of movement as possible. Black bonds were wound around the wrists of his otherwise bare arms to avoid arteries from getting hurt by his own weapons in case of an unforeseen mistake in combat.
Buffy, who sat petrified among the spectators or the KoShal, the witnesses, as the Klingons called them -, could see the tension in his every muscle. Buffy shifted uneasily in her chair. There was no way Seven could win this.
"Are you comfortable, luv?" Spike whispered to her in a sneering tone.
"She's gonna lose," Buffy whispered back.
"I wouldn't bet on that." Spike gestured toward the arena. "Fifty credit units on Seven."
"Credit units?" Buffy asked, puzzled. "I don't have any!"
Spike shrugged. "The house accepts twenty-first century US dollars."
Buffy pushed the thought aside it was her future that was at stake here, and that it might be odd to bet on such a matter, but after all, her pulse was racing, and she felt excited for the battle. Slayers thrived on battles. She put a fifty dollar note on the wooden bench between them. "Done."
Seven had entered the battlefield. Her blond hair was tied to a knot at the back, yet a few stray strands were falling into her face. Her eyes were steel blue and burning, betraying the seriousness of her attempt. She had chosen a tight black suit and was not wearing any shoes, yet she was still quite tall and impressive. Her slender figure was well-trained. The grace of her movements betrayed her dexterity in battle.
Captain Janeway knew Seven was not to be underestimated. Borg strength and muscle lurked under the deceivingly gentle surface, and Angel would have to be watchful if he wanted to stand a chance not to make a fool of himself.
"Round one," Khassya announced. "The competitors will prove their weapon mastery. The round continues until first blood."
Wesley, who had agreed to assist in the ceremony, handed two B'athleths to the candidates. Then he stepped back and gave the sign to begin.
"Stop this now," Angel told Seven as he held his B'athleth in a defensive position.
"Negative," Seven informed him and launched her first attack, raising her weapon high over her head and bringing it down hard so it clashed against Angel's, who had parried the blow and was now thrusting the B'athleth in her direction.
Seven staggered back several steps. She wielded the weapon away from her opponent and ducked down as Angel moved the weapon swiftly and provocatively to her left and right. Seven rolled to the side and evaded the attacks, rising quickly to her feet.
She brought the weapon forward, just to realize Angel wasn't there any more.
Having moved swiftly behind her, his B'athleth hit her legs, and Seven went down into the sand.
With an easy kick, he landed her weapon several yards before her.
Seven quickly gazed before her, calculating the distance between herself and the weapon in the sand. With a deep breath, she waited for Angel to strike and used the fraction of a second it took him to swing the B'athleth to roll over and get her weapon. Seven snatched it and was back to her feet in a moment, whirling around through the air and landing on the ground behind him, using her momentum to give her weapon speed and power.
"Over here!" She yelled mockingly.
Angel's eyes betrayed rage. He lunged at her and swung the weapon at the height of her kneecaps, but Seven jumped and landed a hit at his shoulder in the movement.
Angel felt blood trickling down from his shoulder. The cut was deep, and when he moved his arm, it hurt.
Seven looked at him in a shock. She had not really thought of hurting him. The battle was not a game, after all. For a second, she thought of giving in.
"First blood," Wesley announced.
"Round one to Seven of Nine," B'Elanna announced.
Seven pushed the thought aside.
Tom, who was standing by with a skin regenerator and a medi pack, looked at her questioningly.
B'Elanna shook her head. The competition must not be interrupted, injuries must be dealt with by the competitors.
Angel loosened one of the bonds around his wrist and pressed it on the wound to stop the bleeding.
"You're damaged," Seven said with concern.
"Just a scratch," Angel snapped, "I'm not... 'damaged' at all."
"Round two," Khassya said. "The candidates will prove their speed by evading the Holy Birds of Kwan for a period of 80 seconds."
"Holy birds?" Buffy asked in a whisper.
Tuvok, who was seated behind her, bent forward. "I am afraid Klingon mythology is not very accurate concerning biological terms. Technically, Holy Birds of Kwan are less the concern of ornithology than of endology."
Buffy's expression was blank. "Huh?"
"Vulcans!" Spike snapped. "Translation: They're not real birds, but killer insects!"
Buffy frowned. "First the butterflies, then this! Don't they have any nice animals on Kronos?"
"On Earth they are called glow worms," Tuvok explained, "Klingon glow worms are poisonous and extremely aggressive. In this task, they are targeting the candidates, who have to avoid getting stung by them. Your companion exaggerated. The poison is not lethal, but it temporarily affects your eyesight, which would be disastrous for the completion of the third task."
Buffy frowned. Somehow, she had the funny feeling the Vulcan might want to add a very emotional 'Which is pretty cool!' She looked at his intense dark eyes. "Do I know you?"
Tuvok quickly resumed his position. He did not think it wise to confront Buffy with the fact he had been Faith in an earlier lifetime.
Wesley extinguished the torches close to the arena and opened a box.
Tiny spots of light rose in the air.
Buffy's first impulse was to gaze at them open-mouthed and remark how beautiful they were when the first one shot at Angel.
He moved faster than the human eye could see and made the insect attack empty air.
More glow worms left the box and kept buzzing through the air. Angel glanced at the large clock nervously. 70 more seconds.
Seven was struggling. There were not too many glow worms, but they spread, and she had to be really fast not to get stung. She began to hit at them, successfully. Several dazed or dead insects fell to the floor. However, all that movement increased their aggression.
One more minute.
Angel had just evaded an extremely big glow worm when he felt somethink creeping up his shoulder. It was one of the insects. If it stung him, he would be blinded for at least another twenty minutes, meaning he could forget about trying to win the last task.
Just do not provoke it.
Fourty-five seconds.
A swarm of small insects was buzzing around Seven's head. Her breath was going heavy, she could not evade every attempt. Suddenly, she remembered insects could only see an object if it moved. Seven gave up her resistance and stood still, holding her breath-
Angel concentrated on the glow worm on his shoulder. It was moving, getting into position to sting. He moved his hand close, careful not to cast a shadow or draw the tiny insect's attention before he could strike.
Thirty seconds.
Angel brought his hand down and squashed the insect. Its light was extinguished. A foul smell of the liquid in its organism made its way to Angel's nose.
Seven watched the glow worms buzzing through the air before her in confusion. They could no longer detect her because they were only used to Klingon prey. Her human, Borg-tainted blood was beyond their smelling. Seven was pleased.
She took the opportunity to look how Angel was doing.
Twenty more seconds--- do not move. Don't breathe.
Seven stared, petrified. Angel had been concentrating so hard on the worm on his shoulder that he had failed to notice the glow worm buzzing around his thigh.
Ten seconds to go.
Sweat broke from Seven's forehead. If it stung there and then, the poison getting into his system would blind him for at least half an hour. She would win. But she had read about this species, and the Doctor had once mentioned it to her. These things weren't that harmless. If they hit a muscle, Angel might be unable to move his leg for days, if not weeks. And if he was allergic to the poison, it could cause permanent damage.
Five seconds. Four.
The glow worm was getting into position to land on Angel's thigh and sting. He did not notice.
"WATCH OUT!" Seven yelled, launching her body forward and dragging him down with her to ther sand, away from the insect.
He stared at her in disbelief.
Two... One...
Seven felt a tiny sting, like from an injection. She had dropped her guard and got stung.
"Timeout," B'Elanna announced.
Wesley lit a torch inside the box, luring the remaining glow worms back, and locked it.
"Why did you do that?" Angel asked her.
Seven shrugged. "You weren't paying attention, I had to do something." She rose and cleared her suit from the sand.
B'Elanna was fading from Seven's sight as she felt the effects of the poison. She just concentrated on her voice, not the figure of blurred colors. "Round two to Angel," B'Elanna said, "The third task will decide the conflict."
Khassya stepped forward. Or so Seven guessed. Everything around her was getting dark.
She was swaying, trying to steady her legs.
"She's hurt!" Buffy exclaimed and rose from her seat.
"No," Spike said, "You mustn't intervene!"
Buffy did not listen. She jumped over the barricade and rushed to Seven's side. "Annika!"
Seven held up her hand into the direction Buffy's voice came from. "Stand back! If you touch me, I lose!"
Buffy looked at B'Elanna pleadingly.
"So the rules say," B'Elanna said apologetically. "If you touch her or tend to her, she will be excluded from task three."
"But she's blind!" Buffy protested, "How is she supposed to complete a task?"
B'Elanna bent down from the high chair and lowered her voice. "The rules do not forbid you to be her moral support."
Reluctantly, Buffy stood behind Seven.
"Round three," Khassya said, "A warrior does not succeed by strength and speed alone. Therefore, the competitors will demonstrate their courage."
She lit a fire in the middle of the arena.
The darkness was closing in on Seven, she could tell the fire's position only by the intensity of its heat and the crackling of the flames. She was completely blind. Adrenaline shot through her body.
She heard Khassya's footsteps in utter darkness and the sizzling of things burnt within, guessing the Klingon Slayer had put herbs into the fire.
"Experience looks farther," Khassya recited in Klingon, "but youth dares venture into the unknown."
Angel felt his head spinning. He could tell by the smell of the herbs there were hallucinogenes in them. Powerful drugs the Klingons had been using from its very beginnings to invoke the spirits of the past, the great heroes of Klingon mythology, Khaless and Kang.
"Spirits of our forefathers," Khassya said sternly, "We learn from those gone before us, wiser than ourselves, to whom we owe our existence. Yet their memory lives on in us, with their blood brought to life by circling in our veins. Only in facing each other's demons, we can become whole."
A tide of the drugs swept over Seven and Angel.
He could bet there were not just drugs, but also some sort of magic involved, when he saw a figure forming above the fire, then becoming more material.
His heart almost stood still when he recognized what it was.
Seven heard him reach for a weapon. "What's happening?" she asked.
Buffy's voice was a whisper. "Some kind of demon is moving toward him... no, some sort of machine, rather... white skin, black torso, electronics..."
Seven needed no further description. A Borg drone.
Angel had seized a M'ecleth the Klingon dagger, the only weapon allowed in this task without thinking. He knew Borg physiology. He had fought at Wolf 359, after all. If he cut its main power, it would fall and disintegrate immediately. With Borg-improved strength and speed, it would not be a problem to reach it fast enough. This was an easy task, after all.
Yet suddenly, his blood froze in his veins as he heard the creature's voice, metallic and monotonous, yet strangely familiar. We are Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.
He looked at the drone's face and found himself looking in Seven's eyes. Or rather, one of her eyes, the other one being replaced by an optical implant, glowing in a reddish light. There was no emotion in her face, just a horrifying emptiness.
"Annika," he whispered, frozen where he stood.
We are Borg, was the mechanical reply.
Angel had been in hand-to-hand combat with Borg before, and he had always won. They were able to adapt to fighting tactics, of course, so fighting two members of the collective with the same strategy was impossible, but he had always been inventive. It was almost like fighting a gang of very skilled vampires. Yet now for the first time it was someone he knew. Someone he loved. And the dead look in her eyes burnt into his soul.
"You can fight it, Annika," he whispered.
She reached out her hand no, the robot arm that had replaced her own and grabbed his shoulder tightly in a death grip, unfortunately the shoulder that had been hurt during the first task.
Angel gasped in pain, trying to bring his own hand up, but it hurt too much to move. He felt Seven had broken his shoulder with one move.
Resistance is futile, she informed him.
He would have given anything to be able to go into game face, but of course this was impossible.
You will be assimilated, Seven replied unemotionally, stepping behind him with even movements. She held a hand to his neck and drove a long needle into his flesh. Angel felt implants growing out of nothing, invading his own tissue.
"What's happening?" Seven asked, hearing the familiar sounds and getting extremely nervous.
"He's losing it," Buffy gasped. "She's gonna turn him."
Angel felt in an instant he was no longer alone. Memories were invading his brain, voices humming in his ears, and he realized it was the voice of the collective he heard in his own head. He was being assimilated. He saw a small ship on a scientific mission, a young couple of ambitious researchers, their ship being invaded, the intruders doing the very thing to them that was happening to him now, and a little blond girl crouching under a table, forced to watch, of course they found her, turned her, made her one of them, tearing off limbs and replacing them with machinery, excluding her from sunlight, locking her up in a dark cube, to live in that darkness forever. We are Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.
So this was what Seven's life had been. Would be if he lost now.
"Resistance is never futile!" he managed to say between clenched teeth. Angel grabbed the dagger with his sound hand and cut the oxygen. The grip on his shoulder loosened, he broke free. The voices in his head calmed and finally disappeared. The cortical implants vanished, died away.
The hallucination of Seven looked at him, confused, dazed, having lost the connection to the collective.
Then she dissolved before his eyes into the smoke of the fire.
Angel sank to the floor, breathing heavily.
"Passed," B'Elanna announced.
Seven's heart was racing. She knew Angel was safe now. But what was awaiting her? How was she supposed to fight a Borg drone without her eyesight?
Another figure was forming from the smoke.
Buffy felt a fear she had only known once or twice in her life. Something was coming. Something terrible.
A figure was forming, heavy night-black boots, leather pants, blood red silk shirt, a belt with a heavy buckle, a face with marred forehead, burning golden eyes. Angel's worst nightmare. A vampire. But not just any vampire.
"What is it?" Seven asked, stumbling toward the fire blindly, dagger in hand.
"Angelus," Buffy said with a trembling voice. She had never met him in this life, yet she knew exactly this twisted travesty of the man she loved could be no one else but the Scourge of Europe himself. She took a stake from her coat and stood next to her daughter.
"Wouldn't do that, Buff," Angelus said in a sneering voice, "She loses if you intervene."
Buffy turned to B'Elanna with a reproachful look. "Isn't she even allowed a stake? I mean, he's a vampire, what's she to do, cut off his head with a DAGGER?"
B'Elanna shook her head. "I'm sorry, the M'ecleth is the only weapon allowed in task number three. I have to ask you to stand back, Miss Summers, or your daughter will be disqualified."
"What kind of idiot made those rules?" Buffy snapped.
"The ceremony has been handed down from generation to generation by Khaless," Khassya informed her. "Come, Buffy, daughter of Joyce. Seven has got Slayer's blood. She will do well."
Buffy shrugged, and only very reluctantly she allowed Khassya to draw her out of the arena.
Angelus moved in circles around Seven. Buffy pictured herself being trained by the Council of Watchers when she had had to protect Dawn. She had fought blindfolded, trying to protect a straw doll. She had pierced the doll in the process.
Seven tried to listen hard for noises to get some kind of orientation in her blindness, some idea where her opponent was standing.
"Little girl lost," Angelus said mockingly, moving with vampiric speed.
Seven felt a very light touch in her hair and spun around frantically.
There was no one there.
Angelus chuckled in the distance. "Thought you'd do better than that," he said, then turned to look at Angel, who was slowly recovering, but still looked tired. "Hey, soul boy you sure she's yours and not Spike's? I mean, with that whore, you never know, do you."
Spike rose from his seat, but Tuvok/Faith pulled him back down with gentle force. This was not their fight.
Good, keep talking, Seven thought, this way I'll know where you are. Seven had heard where the voice came from and kicked into that direction. She missed.
Instead, she felt a fist punching into her abdomen.
She caught her breath, the pain made stars dance before her blinded eyes.
Another punch in her back, she tried to evade the next blow, parried with her right arm, but the blow was aimed at her left side and hit home.
He was dancing with her. A dance of death.
Her arm shot into the direction where the blows had come from, hitting something.
"Good one!" Buffy screamed, Seven had just hit Angelus's jaw with her fist.
Angelus rubbed his chin. "Y'know, that was really vicious!" He seized her quickly from behind, holding her shoulders and pressing her shoulder blades so close together her whole body tensed with the pain. He lowered his voice, close to her ear. "And I'm so gonna make you pay..."
Seven concentrated, then flung her arms around the vampire behind her, hauling him over her shoulder, using the momentum of his weight to land him on his back in the sand.
She managed to use his moment of surprise to her adavantage, raining down hits and kicks at him, being a machine of flying fists and legs.
Angelus rolled away between her legs and struggled to his feet at some yards of distance between him and Seven. "At least we know for sure who's your mommy," he said with a smug grin.
Seven breathed heavily. He was now out of reach, and his voice resounded from the walls. He could be virtually anywhere. How was she supposed to win? Hits and kicks were all very well, but they wouldn't kill him, and the three tasks were taking their toll. She was tiring. And he knew.
"No questions you wanna ask daddy?" Angelus asked her, "Like, where do babies come from? Why won't Chakotay play with you? Hey, maybe because you're a murderous machine who probably wouldn't feel a single thing?"
Seven felt the heat rising in her face. She could tell she was blushing deeply.
"Hit a nerve, haven't I?" he asked. He was circling her, stalking her like a predator was stalking its prey. He was closing in. Closer and closer the circles became. Seven tried to be watchful, listened for him, tried to feel him, tried to divine his movements.
"You never understood it," Angelus whispered, almost soothingly, but with a coldness to his tone that made Seven's blood run cold, "All the illusions they call feeling. Life's pain or pleasure, it all comes down to that. We understand that." He stood before her, she felt her body being pressed close to his chest. He ran his fingers over her hair like a father would to a little child. "We're two of a kind, Seven. I'm your father. Don't fight me." His hands were nowaround her head, he could snap her neck any time he liked. "Things were simpler when you were Borg," he continued, "But I can make them simple again. I can assimilate you." Seven could feel the cold of his touch on her skin, the heat of the fire in her back. "Resistance is futile." She felt his face lowering on her neck, his fangs touching her skin.
Seven clasped him with all her strength and let herself fall, her momentum drawing him down with her, into the all-consuming fire. She felt the heat burning her skin, knew she would die, burn to death within seconds, but she was taking him with her, killing the demon haunting Angel's nightmares, he would be gone from this world forever as well.
*
Seven awoke on the sands of the arena, the fire gone, the darkness lit by a few torches only and she could see them.
B'Elanna was smiling down on her. "Passed," she announced. "We have a tie. Angel and Seven, two victories each."
Angel stepped forward and helped Seven to her feet. "Are you okay?"
"Within normal parameters," Seven told him.
Buffy turned toward Khassya. "A tie, huh? So who makes the decision now?"
Angel looked at Seven with determination. "She does. She only didn't win because she helped me in the second task."
Seven shook her head. "No," she refused, "I had no idea what we were talking about before I faced your demons. We will make this choice together."
Khassya looked triumphant. "Hail to thee, Khaless!"
Buffy sighed. "Are those Klingons always like that?"
"Actually," Spike said, "You will find that Khassya is a very moderate version of a Klingon."
*
"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Angel asked.
Seven nodded. "I have to ask him." She had entered sickbay with a heavy heart. Now her voice was steady when she said the words: "Computer, activate the EMH."
The Doctor appeared in front of her. "Specify the nature of the medical emergency," he said automatically, then stopped abruptly.
"Betrayal," Seven replied.
The Doctor looked at her with resignation. "So it is done. Angel has stopped Khassya. The universe Spike created is gone."
"Not yet," Angel admitted, "The universe will disappear once Spike returns to the future to make a different choice. He realized his changing the reality would gain him only a temporary kind of bliss, but could never change his stars."
"I feared this would happen," the Doctor said. "So Buffy fell in love with you although Spike made sure she would be with him from the beginning." He sat down on one of the medical beds. "So I failed."
"Explain," Seven said.
"There is nothing to explain."
"I want to understand," Seven told him, "Buffy Summers was your Slayer. You loved her like a daughter, so why did you want her dead?!"
"I didn't want her dead!" the Doctor protested. "I just wanted her away from HIM!"
Angel was shocked to see the holographic Doctor who now looked more like Giles than ever before was on the verge of tears.
"But why?" Seven asked. "I have met William Hayes, but I cannot see why anyone would want him for a son-in-law."
"I don't 'want' Spike," the Doctor snapped, "But you don't know this man, you will find you don't know him at all." He walked over to a console. "Are you familiar with television?"
"Lieutenant Paris has got a weakness for antiques," Seven confirmed.
Clearly this part was causing the Doctor emotional turmoil. "This morning,
when we observed Earth, I got this stupid idea of nostalgia. I wanted to
watch a TV broadcast, live, I know how foolish it was. So I scanned for
transmissions. I caught a broadcast of a local TV station- this is what
I saw." He started the recording.
| CLOSE-UP. Woman, red hair, in fashionable costume,
in suburban area.
TOTAL: Spacious white house with trimmed lawn and white fence.
PICTURE of little dark-haired girl in white blouse and blue skirt, holding a diploma |
SALLY: Good morning, Southern California, this
is Sally Gladstone with our weekly magazine JUST GOOD NEWS. I'm greeting
you from Sunnydale today, where we are going to visit a not so typical
American family. I'm standing in front of the home of the probably most
famous little girl on the American West Coast at the moment.
Local schoolgirl little Valery, at the age of twelve years only, has managed to get her high school diploma for the especially gifted and is now packing, because, guess what, she has just been accepted as the youngest first-year student at Harvard since 1976. Today I'm gonna introduce you to this remarkable young lady and her family. |
| CLOSE-UP. Little Valery stepping into the picture.
MOVING PICTURES: Harvard University, students walking the corridors,
students having a party, students in the library.
PICTURE: Little Valery and her adult friends. |
VALERY: Hi, Sally.
SALLY: Valery, thank you for making the time for us. You must be busy packing? VALERY: Actually, it's quite exciting, Sally. I'm going to the East Coast. SALLY: Aren't you gonna miss your mom and dad? VALERY: They're taking me to Harvard, and I can visit in the summer. I've been away from home several times before, for language classes and workshops and stuff. SALLY: Aren't you afraid of the other students? They will all be a little older than you, won't they? VALERY: No, not at all. Most of my friends are older. There's Buffy, and Dawn, William and Xander, Willow and the rest of the gang... the age difference has never been a problem. Friendship comes from the heart, not from the date of birth. SALLY: A very philosophic attitude for someone that young, Valery. Shall we go inside so I can meet your brothers and sister, and your parents? |
| Valery and Sally entering the house, followed by camera. Family gathered round the kitchen table, breakfast. | |
| CLOSE-UP: A 16 year-old girl with dark hair and eyes reading a book. Cover saying: INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE. | VALERY: This is my sister Frankie, she's graduating
this year after skipping two classes. In July her second novel will be
published. Say hi, Frankie!
FRANKIE: Hi, California! |
| CAMERA: Two boys of about 7 years of age, playing chess. | VALERY: These are my brothers, Richard and Andrew. Richard has just won the Californian Science Competition and is now entering the National one. Andrew is representing the US in the Youth Chess Championships next month against Russia. |
| CAMERA shifts toward a couple. Woman with black
hair and dark eyes, sitting over a laptop. Man with thinning brown hair,
wearing glasses. Bent over a book.
CLOSE-UP OF THE WOMAN'S FACE. |
GILES: Valery, dear, could you get your mother
a glass of water while we are talking to Mrs Gladstone?
VALERY: Of course, dad. SALLY: You must be very proud of your kids. GILES: As a matter of fact, we are. It is everything one can wish for in life. Am I right, dear? |
Angel's expression was frozen. He gasped. "Jenny."
| CAMERA catches their faces. The man kisses the
woman.
SALLY smiles at the couple. JENNY laughs, entwining her hand with her husband's. Two rings sparkling
in the spotlight.
PICTURES: Moments in the life of the Giles family. Wedding photos of Jenny and Rupert. Valery's first day at school. Jenny and the twin babies leaving hospital. |
JENNY: Shut up, Rupert. We both know you would be proud of our kids if they were the dimmest kids on the planet. GILES: Of course I would. SALLY: Aren't you worried about letting your youngest daughter go to Harvard all alone? GILES: I'm going to miss her more than I can say. But I firmly believe we all have a purpose in life, and Valery's is to go to university. She is a very special girl. I know our family will always stand together as one, no matter how far we're apart. JENNY: Well-roared, lion. SALLY: You're not the typical Southern Californian family, Mr and Mrs Giles, but you are very devoted to your children. Do you ever wonder what it would have been like had you chosen differently? GILES: Not for a moment. I cannot imagine life without them. SALLY: Thank you very much, and good luck for everything you're planning. This was Sally Gladstone for JUST GOOD NEWS. |
The monitor went dark.
Seven looked no more enlightened than before.
The Doctor wiped away a tear. "She's so beautiful. She's older than I remember her, of course. The fact she got time to get grey strands in her hair... Makes her just the more beautiful. And the kids... gifted, loveable. But she was right... it wouldn't have mattered if they were dim or ugly. My children. Do you understand that? Valery, that was my mother's middle name. Richard and Andrew were close friends at the Watchers' Academy. Jenny... Jenny told me her mom had always wanted to name her Frankie, but couldn't, because of the tradition. Seeing them, gathered peacefully around the kitchen table... This is my family. My children. Jenny's children." His eyes were burning with grief and hatred.
Angel held his gaze. "I went through hell for this more than once, I assure you."
Seven looked confused. "Who was that woman?"
"Long story," Angel said in a hoarse voice.
"Long story!" Giles exclaimed. "This is the life you took away from us. When I saw her, her eyes... that was when I swore to take it back."
"So you wanted to kill Angel for personal revenge," Seven concluded, "You had nothing to do with the conspiracy, then."
"It is the better world," Giles said wistfully. "I researched it. It's not just Jenny. Kendra lives in New York as a street worker, running a shelter and helping unemployed teenagers to find work. Faith has never heard of Slaying either, she has just signed a model contract. Cordelia's new film with Brad Pitt has been in cinemas for two weeks only, and they say she's a hot candidate for the next Bond girl. Tara lives in Phoenix, with a talented young woman, a kinematic sculptor. She never met Willow. Francis Doyle is running an in-disco in Los Angeles. And all this because you were never a part of Buffy's life. Yes, Angel, I want you dead, I'm unashamed to admit it, and I would try again anytime."
There was a long silence.
"Do you want me dead as well, Giles?" a voice asked from the door.
Giles turned and froze.
Buffy stood before him, in a blue tank top and fitting jeans, golden hair shining in the bright light of the sickbay illumination. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Buffy," Giles said, his hands trembling. "How did you know..."
Buffy smiled. "I recognized you when Ethan Rayne turned you into a demon, remember?"
"Buffy..." Giles wiped his eyes as if he did not trust them.
"I knew you couldn't be part of the conspiracy," Buffy said with relief.
Without a word, Giles embraced her and held her as if he never wanted to let go.
Buffy smiled faintly. "I'm sorry for what you've suffered, Giles. But the world down there it wasn't real. It was a beautiful dream. Our past may have been harder, darker... I don't know. But at least it was authentic. It was meant to be." She took a deep breath. "And I can't live in a dream, no matter how beautiful. I want it back. Can I count on you, Giles?"
Giles broke the embrace and stepped back. "What's the plan?"
Buffy looked pleased. "I knew you would help us."
*
They entered the transporter room of VOYAGER. T'Mira was gagged and handcuffeds, watched by a very upset yet determined Khassya.
Wesley wanted to make sure everyone understood their part, so he began to recapitulate the details. "Listen. Khassya and T'Mira are to be beamed up to the Ministry's ship after killing Buffy. Therefore, their ship will have to take their shields down. This is when Ensign Kim will re-direct the transporter beam so that it includes me and Spike. We take over their ship, which will take us forward in time to the moment Spike tried to change his stars."
"Nice metaphore, Wes," Spike commented.
Wesley ignored him thoroughly. "This will make sure the timeline proceeds the way we were used to. From then, it will be your turn, Angel."
Angel nodded. "Giles is aware how vital his role is to our plan. Wes are you sure you, Spike and Khassya are enough to conquer the Ministry's ship?"
Khassya glared at him. "How dare you ask the Dark Knight of Khome Ghon such a question?"
Angel shrugged. "Yeah. Right. How could I forget?"
Wesley smiled faintly. "There are only twelve people aboard that vessel. With two vampires and a Klingon slayer, we can handle."
Buffy looked at Spike doubtfully. "How about you? Can you handle?"
Spike lit a cigarette. "Don't worry, luv. I'll see ya." He cast Angel a self-important look.
Angel shook his head slightly. It wouldn't be fair to confuse Buffy even more by explaining their whole twisted situation in their own reality.
Ensign Kim was at the console. He nodded at Angel. "Ready to energize when you are, Sir."
Angel nodded. "A moment."
Buffy took a deep breath, looking at Angel intently, memorizing his features. "Why can't I come with you?"
Angel ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. I told you, Buffy. You're not a time-traveller. Your world will change as soon as Spike corrects the timeline, so you have to be on the surface and in your own time to be affected by the changes."
"So this is good-bye."
"Just for some time," Angel told her, "As soon as time is running within normal parameters again, I'll take VOYAGER to this very day and get you. You won't even notice."
Buffy smiled. "I won't remember all of this if the plan works. The ship, your battle..." She looked at Seven. "You..."
"We will meet again," Seven said. "All of us."
"But this will never have happened?" Buffy asked Angel again.
"No," he confirmed, "But other things will."
"And you and Spike will remember? Those on VOYAGER will remember... which is, basically, everyone but me?"
"Time travellers always remember," Angel replied.
"Good. 'Cause I'm gonna need people to tell me about this." Buffy flung her arms around him and kissed him.
Spike raised his eyes. "Why won't anyone stake me just here and now?"
Khassya smiled the grim smile Klingons usually showed.
Spike sighed. "Oh, come on, let's MOVE!"
Khassya gave him a faint smile. "Why? We have all the time in the world!"
*
The Ministers of Temporal Defence thought they had all the time in the world. That was when the storm troop were beamed onto the bridge.
Red alerts went on everywhere.
Wesley pointed a phaser at the helmsman. "Set course. Into the sun."
Schneider chuckled, looking at Wes, Spike and Khassya. "I guess resistance is futile?"
Wes looked at him grimly. "You can count on that."
*
Angel entered the bridge, followed by Seven of Nine.
Kathryn Janeway looked at them with concern. "Is everything alright?"
Angel took his seat on the bridge. "Ask me in a minute."
*
Sunnydale, California, 1997.
He was watching her. He had been watching her for a whole night, following her all over Sunnydale like a shadow, a secret protector, a guardian angel. She was pretty. And so very young.
Buffy was walking down a dark street. Yeah, she had noticed that she was being followed. She tried not to show she was aware of her follower, just kept walking, looking for some dark corner to provide shelter and a base to operate from. He heard a cat yowling and kicking some cans as it ran away.
Buffy looked upward at a bar high above the sidewalk.
"Yeah, that's right, baby," he said, more to himself, almost inaudible for someone who did not have vampiric hearing.
She grabbed it and swung up.
She did not have to wait for long for her follower to reveal himself. He slowly moved into the alley, a dark figure. The silhouette of a man was walking down the alley, not seeming to notice her, but looking around. When he had passed underneath her, she swung down and kicked him in the back. He was knocked to the ground, and Buffy quickly positioned herself above him with a foot on his chest.
"Is there a problem, ma'am?"
Her voice, impatient and sarcastic. "Yeah, there's a problem. Why are you following me?"
A chuckle. Like practiced. Like from a movie script. "I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, I don't bite."
Buffy hesitantly got up, giving him a chance to stand upright and step into the dim light of the street lamp.
"Boy meets girl. And this is where our story ends," Spike said wistfully and lit a cigarette. Then he turned his back on Buffy and Angel and vanished into the darkness.
*
"I feel odd," Captain Janeway admitted.
"Like someone's just walked over my grave," Tom Paris confirmed.
Angel rose from his seat. "It's done. I feel it. What date is it?"
Seven looked at her console. "May 16th, 2005, Earth Standard Time still. Detecting fluctuations in the tetrion values. A time manipulation has occurred."
Angel rushed to the turbolift. "Transporter room four."
*
Danvers, USA, May 16th, 2005.
Buffy had hesitated in her fight. For just an instant too long. Angelus's hand went up against her wrist and pressed so hard she had to drop the stake. He pulled her close and held her in a death grip.
That was when she knew she was going to die.
She felt his fangs sinking into her skin and knew her time was running out with every drop of blood flowing from her.
Angelus' voice was close to her ear. "But I always think of you, my love."
She hardly heard him as she felt herself slipping away, hardly realized Cordelia had come, come to fight him, there was a fight was Cordy punching THROUGH his chest?
But Buffy no longer cared. She felt how she was getting ready to leave her body and move into the light.
Only the sound of her name prevented her. It was Spike's voice.
"Buffy!"
She felt his hand clutch hers, and to her astonishment she felt her own hand was colder than his. And everything was wet. She realized she was lying in her own blood.
"Buffy, no," Spike whispered, "Not again."
Buffy's eyelids fluttered. Why was it Spike? She would have given anything for Angel to hold her hand now as she lay dying. Though it had been Angelus who had killed her. She was mad. And she was dying. Buffy tried to focus. She had to say something, say good-bye to Spike, at least that. "Spike," she whispered, "Promise me..."
"Anything," Spike said desperately, "Just don't leave me!" His eyes were full of tears. She knew he would never shed them in the presence of the others, but she knew instinctively the image of her dying in his arms would haunt him for the rest of his days. She pitied him.
Buffy tried to close her fingers around his for comfort, but she did not have the strength. "Promise me... you won't blame yourself this time."
Buffy closed her eyes. Like from far away, she heard voices, yelling. Then Dawn, sobbing. Buffy wanted to tell her sister not to cry, that she was alright, but her body wasn't responding. One of the voices belonged to Anya.
"... your need for revenge. I understand you. You must hate him for killing your sister after he got her pregnant.... Angel did not only kill Buffy, but also their child. Your niece."
Buffy had no time to meditate on this. She felt a strong pull, a pull to go into the light...
"You know what? I'm going to TAKE my revenge. I wish... I wish this child would get to live, would grow up far away from Angel, so he would suffer eternally knowing she exists and never having a part of her life!"
No, Buffy wanted to say, I'm here, I'm ok, Angel didn't kill me... did he???
"Your wish is my command."
Then Buffy the Vampire Slayer moved into the light. The light was surrounding her. And the light was blue.
*
The blue light of the transporter beam flickered, all instruments in sickbay went online as the patient was transported directly to sickbay.
"Sickbay to transporter room four," the Doctor said, "Got her!" The Doctor went to his work immediately. "Now, just do me a favour, Buffy: don't die!" he murmured.
*
Dawn looked at Spike in confusion. "What happened?" she demanded, tears streaming down her face. "Where is..." In a whisper, she added: "... the body?"
Spike looked at her, with a strangely calm expression. He raised his hand and pointed at the ceiling, wordlessly.
"She... ascended to HEAVEN?" Dawn asked in disbelief.
Spike smiled. He rose and put his arm around Dawn's shoulder. "Come on, Dawnie. Let's get the hell out of here."
*
T'Lia of Vulcan watched the Guardian of Forever for another few moments, then she made to walk from the room to take the next transport back to Vulcan.
She felt Wesley's presence immediately, even before he spoke.
"Do you really think they can win?" T'Lia asked him doubtfully.
"I don't know," Wesley admitted, "There'll always be evil. But there'll always be people like us to fight people like you."
T'Lia smiled. "Did you tell them Surak's prophecies about a second Guardian of Forever in the Delta Quadrant?"
Wesley shook his head. "They are going to find out soon enough once they return to our century, to the Delta Quadrant. Time will tell."
"So you kids got your lives back," she said sarcastically.
"Not all of us," Wesley told her.
She looked at the reflecting wall panels. All she saw was her own reflection. Wesley was still a vampire.
"So you're not going to let Beverly Crusher find a cure?" T'Lia asked him. "Wes, the Dark Avenger forever?"
His lips curled into a smile. "I prefer to be around long enough to watch people like you. Besides, without my immortality, I'm just another guy with a pre-historic taste of music."
*
Buffy's eyelids fluttered. When she woke in sickbay, Angel was the first thing she saw.
She smiled in relief. "Angel."
He took her hand. "I'm here, Buffy."
Buffy's eyes widened. His hand was warm. And he was breathing. "You're alive," she whispered.
Angel was too moved to reply.
"What happened?" she whispered. "Am I dead? Is this heaven?"
"Close enough," Angel said gently. "I can't explain it all to you right now. Buffy, there is a war raging outthere, and I need you. I need you beside me. I can't fight them alone. Will you trust me and follow me?"
Buffy smiled weakly. "To the end of the earth."
She heard him chuckle. "I'm afraid you'll have to go even further than that."
EPILOGUE
"... this is a very exciting night for all of us after seven years of being marooned in the Delta Quadrant, the starship VOYAGER is being expected home tonight..."
The docking area at San Francisco was buzzing with action.
Spike smiled to himself as he was walking down the street among a crowd of reporters, spectators and family of the crew. He was passing an elderly Asian couple, who were holding a huge banner reading WELCOME HOME HARRY.
He caught phrases of the news coverage.
"... a great night, starry skies which will be lit by marvellous fireworks..."
"... fireworks to welcome that extraordinary crew..."
"... a speaker of Starfleet Command has announced full amnesty for the former Maquis crew members on VOYAGER, as well as a promotion which will make Captain Kathryn Janeway a Commodore as soon as possible..."
"So you're here to welcome them as well," a voice said behind him.
Spike turned and smiled at Jenna Rosenberg. "Yeah, I'm here as well."
The elderly lady returned the smile. Her face was glowing with excitement. "I want to meet her. Seven of Nine. To shake her hand. Just to say hi, you know."
"So what about the red roses and the grave in Restfield?" Spike wondered.
Jenna giggled like a young schoolgirl. "I accepted Sunnydale City Council's generous offer of twenty-thousand credit units to have it moved to Shady Hill. The kids could use a new computer, you know, and my granddaughter wanted her Klingon language holidays on Kronos."
"What about the sacrilege of disturbing a Slayer's sleep?" Spike winked at her.
Jenna lowered her voice like a conspirator. "We both know it's just an empty grave, after all."
At that moment, their conversation was disturbed by a group of reporters, pushing a microphone between them.
"Admiral Hayes, will you say a few words on VOYAGER's return?"
Spike cleared his voice and assumed his media smile. "This is a great night for us. VOYAGER is a shining example of a fine crew holding upright the values of Starfleet even in the most adversary circumstances. Having met Captain Janeway personally, let me take the opportunity to express how able a Captain she has proved to be, and let me also express our gratitude to Lieutenant Commander Reginald Barclay for his unceasing zeal in bringing our people back to Earth. The odyssey of VOYAGER shows how universal such ideals as the Prime Directive are. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."
He made to walk away.
"Just one more question, sir," a female voice from the last row said.
Spike looked in her direction, but could not see her face as others were standing in front of her. "Yes?" he asked in a friendly way.
"Would you comment on the mysterious disappearance of Lieutenant Angel Summers and an unknown blonde woman during the journey home? How do you explain he was reported missing shortly after the Secret Service noticed increased activity aimed to alter the temporal flux? And don't deny that, I have reliable sources in high places! There is a sect on Kronos and Vulcan placing rumors he was the great King foreseen in the Vulcan Surak prophecies and disappeared to a distant future to decide a temporal war between good and evil?"
Spiker chuckled. "What's your name?"
The crowd parted and made way for a young Klingon woman who looked at him with fiery eyes. "My name is Khassya, Daughter of Zelda, I'm writing for the Kronos Planetary Inquirer."
Laughter was heard from several sides, but Khassya's eyes were fixed on Spike.
Spike smiled at her. "Khassya. I'm afraid your story is nothing but science fiction."
Khassya did not look in the least insecure. "But sir..."
Spike smiled at the reporters. "If there are no more conspiracy theories, I'd suggest you focus your attention on the sky..."
Indeed, a tiny spot could be seen approaching the docks from above. It was VOYAGER returning home. The fireworks went off to welcome the heroes of the Delta Quadrant. No one paid attention to Spike any longer.
No one but Khassya.
"You're lying," she hissed.
Spike turned to her and walked toward the Klingon, standing close to her. She was pretty in her rage. Her eyes were large and luminous, without the sorrow of a Slayer. Of course. She had not been Chosen. She had no memory of the path not taken. She was standing there before Spike, looking right through him. His lips curled into a smile. "I would like to discuss that matter with you," he said nonchalantly. "In private."
Khassya shot him an intense look, both interested and challenging. She snarled at him.
Spike returned a growling noise, his eyes sparkling.
He had that thing for Slayers. He just couldn't help it.
The End