It was like that night at Longwood, only their security blanket had been breeched. That last element that separated Natchez and Washington from their respectively different realities. Despite the presence of those they had met during the insane excursion down south--the President’s seemingly unending fascination with the world of vampires, Slayers, and the gods they seemed to become--the two worlds had never fully collided until the windows of their building crashed in. Until the wall ripped away. Until people screamed and scattered. Until Donna grabbed his hand and jerked him to some corner, and shoved him underneath the nearest desk.

"Oh my God," she was saying over and over again. A mantra of endless curses. The fear in her eyes haunted him. Donna’s fears were usually small, petty, and a source of humor on slow news days. He hadn’t seen her look like this since the year before.

The year before, and a few times after he was shot when she didn’t know he was watching her. When the veracity of the shooting hit her in moments of quiet, and she lost herself to the idea of what had nearly happened.

It was a woman. A woman of average height and curly, strawberry blonde hair. And she was pissed.

"What the hell is going on?" Josh hissed.

"Glory," Donna whispered furiously.

"What glory?"

"That..." She gestured to the ranting woman in the middle of the room. "That is Glory. The god Buffy and Spike came to get away from."

"She has a name now?"

"I’m pretty sure she had one before, but yes." The blonde was panting harshly. "God, Josh, what are we gonna do?"

"I don’t know. Is anyone hurt?"

"I can’t see." A pause. "I’d imagine so."

The woman was pacing in the midst of the wreckage. Dust, glass, bricks, and pieces of computers and phone wires that had collapsed inward at her whim. "So many humans, so little patience," she was saying unsteadily. Like she had a nervous tick, or something was piercing into her mind, and she couldn’t quite shake the sensation. "I mean, you come across the country and you expect to find results. How much could the little Slayer pack away in one little trip? Honestly." She stopped and whirled around. "Does anyone here know where my Key is? It’s my Key, you know. It was taken from me. My Key was taken from me. I hate it when things are taken from me." Her heeled foot shot out and tore a hole through the front of the nearest desk, sending it skating across the rubble until it smashed into the wall. "It’s rude."

"Isn’t this the part where Buffy is supposed to show up?" Josh demanded. "Or Willow? Or someone who’s not us?"

"Yes, because we have that sort’ve luck."

"I saved the world. I can handle this."

Donna shot him a look and placed a hand on his wrist as he started to move. They were fortunate enough that the woman was ranting as much as she was, and hadn’t yet heard their whispering. The last thing either one of them needed was to come into view. "Josh, no."

"What? I saved the world."

"No, you really didn’t."

"Yes I did."

"You sat in a circle. You held Willow’s hand. You ran away." Donna winced as something crashed over her head, hand flying over her mouth before a startled scream escaped her lips. "You did not save the world, Joshua. In order to do that, you'd need to be someone who's...well...not you."

"Well, I’m not gonna sit here and let everyone die."

"And your answer to this is getting killed, yourself?"

"You don’t know I’d get killed."

"Good point. Oh wait. Yes, I do."

"Donna!"

She threw her hands up. "You’re impossible, you know this, right? We could die at any moment and you choose now to be you?"

"What does that mean?"

She just glared at him for a minute. "Fine. Fine. Go ahead and save the day with all your experience. Just don’t complain to me when she kills you!"

"Who else would I complain to?"

"Josh!"

He smiled softly. "Got you thinking of something else there for a minute, didn’t it?"

Donna paused, studied him, then conceded a grin. "Yeah, thanks."

"I want my Key!" Glory shrieked. "You wouldn’t know anything about my Key, would you?"

Then there was a man. Screaming. Pleading. Attempting to crawl away. And then she placed her fingers on either side of his head, and he fell. Not dead. Not dead yet.

"No," the god retorted in disgust, casting him to the ground. "I guess not."

But Donna saw the whole thing, mistakenly peeking around the corner of their hiding place, and her gasp of horror rang too loud to go ignored.

The deranged hellgod cast her a scathing look before her eyes brightened with recognition. "You!" she snarled. "You’re one of them. One of the Slayer’s little pals, aren’t you?"

Josh seized her wrist immediately and tugged her back to him. "Donna!"

"And the other one! How utterly splendiferous." Glory paraded over to them and rendered the desk that had kept them concealed against the nearest wall. "Exactly who I was looking for."

Her piercing gaze had settled on Josh.

"No!" Donna threw herself in front of her boss, shaking to her core. "We don’t know anything."

"Awww, but I think you do, sweetie," Glory retorted, her hand shooting out to the other woman’s throat, grip closing around her windpipe and consigning her hard across the room before the blonde could get another word out. "I think you know exactly why I’m here."

"Listen lady," Josh said, frantic eyes following his assistant. He had to detach his mind from his feet, or else he would bolt to her side, and bring the god with him. Donna was out of Glory’s view right now, and that’s where he wanted to keep her. "I don’t know what you’ve been told, but--"

"Oh, the number of things I’ve found out about you," the Hellgod retorted. "Like out of everyone selected to banish Quirinias to the netherworld, it was a witch, a slayer, and a random man from Nowheresville." Her eyes flared. "Quirinias might have been a bastard, but don’t you think that was a little rude? A little presumptuous?"

"Oh God."

"Yeah. Strange."

Josh’s eyes hardened suddenly, and the fear that had wracked his body became nonexistent. "No," he replied. "I mean, behind you."

Glory frowned and pivoted, only to be met with a blinding blast of white light. Ropes of erratic voltage that burned even before they ensnared a target. Josh dove away in a flash, racing for Donna as an endless shriek stabbed the cold tension of the broken room. It didn’t last long, though the light show seemed endless. A few wayward strands of electric power collided with the ceiling; a few more struck the wall and inspired new screams. The lights went off again before she completely lost control of the currents, and Buffy’s chest was heaving, her eyes flickering with sparks of aftermath.

"Oh shit," Josh gasped, more in awe than anything.

"Who is it?" Donna murmured as her boss lifted her into his arms.

"Buffy." He paused. "And she’s evidently channeling all the electricity of Vegas."

The fallen figure on the floor moaned and shifted to her feet, clamoring upward and flexing her muscles, even as smoke permeated from her blistered skin. "You little party-pooper," she moaned, dusting ash from her arms. "You--you think I wasn’t ready for you?"

"I really don’t care if you’re ready or not," Buffy spat. "You come after my friends, you better be ready."

"Wouldn’t have to come after anyone if you hadn’t taken what’s mine. Really, Slayer, you brought this all on yourself." She ploughed forward at that, slamming into the young woman’s body with more strength than her burnt body betrayed.

Buffy was thrown across the room and slammed a new hole through the far wall. The sound of sirens stung the air, and the streets outside were coming to life.

"See?" Glory spat, stalking forward. "This is what happens when baby gods get in over their heads. They use up everything in the preshow. Honestly, honey. I have thousands of years on your ass. Do you really have anything new to throw at me, or can I get back to finding my Key?"

Someone set a lion loose in the room. There was a flash of yellow and a terrible roar, and a deranged god was under the mauling hands of a wild animal. Josh saw a flash of fangs, and didn’t bother to ask questions.

He had to get everyone out before the police arrived. Before the press arrived.

"Donna," he whispered urgently. "Can you walk?"

His assistant blinked at him dazedly.

"Can you walk?"

"We need to help Buffy."

"Buffy’s a big god. She can take care of herself." He urged her to her feet. "You need to get out of here. Get as many people as you can, and get out of here."

"She thinks you’re the Key."

Josh’s mouth opened, but a deafening screech sliced the air before he could say a word. Glory twisted from under Spike’s vicious attach, bruised and bleeding, her eyes nearly filled with more shock than outrage. She delivered a swift kick to his gut that sent him diving for the opposite wall, but the force behind her attack wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been just seconds before.

And Buffy was coming back, her own gaze blazing yellow.

"I don’t have time for you," Glory cursed, though the strength behind her voice was fading as the sirens grew louder. She backhanded the Slayer and rendered her once more to the ground, briefly but long enough to disappear before another counterattack could be launched.

Just there one minute and gone the next. Gone.

And Josh was left staring at a room left in ruins. Debris scattered the ground. The scent of blood colored the air, thick enough that even he could sense it. Torn power lines sparked with weakening electric surges. There was nothing left to this place he had come to earlier tonight. Nothing left at all.

Only that the police had arrived, the offensive flash of red and blue pouring through the darkness.

"Spike!"

The vampire was already acting. And by the time the officers filled the space, the peroxide blonde and his mate were gone.

*~*~*

"She knows."

"She knows bloody nothin’."

"She knows the Key is human."

Spike shook his head, dipping his hand into the bathwater he’d drawn for her the minute they got home. Cold. Her skin was still searing with heat. Her eyes were never far from collapsing with tears. She asked every five seconds about Josh and Donna, and what would happen to them now, and he hadn’t answered--there was no answer to give.

Nothing to say tonight. Not when so much had been compromised.

He had absolutely no idea how CJ would hope to spin what had happened tonight. During the President’s State of the Union address, a member of his own staff--the same that had been shot the previous May, no less--had been attacked and very nearly killed by some superwoman in high heels. In Sunnydale, things like this happened all the time. It was a daily outbreak. Something that was so everyday, no one thought to alert the press. No one thought to contact higher authorities to deal with problems that were otherwise considered the stuff Hollywood movies were made of.

"Domestic terrorism," he murmured.

Buffy looked at him worriedly. "What?"

"The President has to say that what happened tonight was domestic terrorism."

"Spike--"

"’F people figure out what actually happened..." He shook his head. "Nothin’ against our respective former race, luv, but humans aren’ gonna handle news about demons, vamps, witches, an’ gods with a bloody smile an’ a nod. An’ people in a panic are loud, sloppy, an’ dangerous. He has to say it’s domestic terrorism, else everything’s gonna fall to hell."

"And that will make people, you know, not panic?"

"’Course not. But you think people’ll take better to their beliefs bein’ torn apart by governmental types all over the bloody telly?"

Buffy’s eyes fluttered shut. "We have widespread panic to stop," she murmured. "A god tearing the city apart. My mother’s in surgery. The President’s talking to the country. My sister...oh god, Dawnie."

"Red agreed to take her for the night."

"She knows."

Spike nodded, running the washcloth over his lover’s breasts. Her skin was slightly charred, but she didn’t look nearly as bad as she had after her last encounter with the irate hellgod. She’d even demonstrated more power tonight; power leveled with intent instead of an irrational, instinctual reaction to a threat aimed in his direction.

Power that had terrified her. He felt her fear of that like nothing else. She was trembling on the inside, struggling to keep herself from breaking.

"She knows," he agreed. "It had to happen, sweetness."

"I can’t...she needs to be here tonight."

He shook his head. "Buffy...’f Glory can dig up information on what happened a bloody year ago...’f she thinks Curly really is the Key ‘cause of somethin’ that went down months before she even came into the picture...she knows where we are. Where to find us. Here is the worst place for the Nibblet to be."

The Slayer heaved out an aching sigh. "Then she knows where to find Willow."

"She won’ go for the Witch, baby."

"How--"

"She went for Curly because he was the only one of the three of you that din’t fit. He wasn’ a witch or a Slayer turned god. She’s after him because of what he isn’t, not what he is." Spike shook his head again. "What I bloody wanna know is how she knows about that in the firs’ place."

"She’s a god."

"That means nothin’."

"We don’t know that. It could...we just don’t know." A pained look crossed her face. "Only that we’ve put everything in danger by coming here. We...we brought her with us. Will, Sam...Donna, the President...everyone’s in danger now, and it’s because of us. Because we came here. And now...what if what happened tonight...the President--"

"Can bloody well handle it. You really think the people there tonight are gonna believe half of what they saw?"

"But--"

"No bloody buts. Scootch up." She did, and he ran the washcloth down her back. "God, it breaks my heart."

"What?"

"You. Your beautiful skin. You...what this does to you...you gotta..." He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "How did this happen? You showed more tonight than...I’ve never seen anythin’ like that."

Buffy quivered a sigh and edged back. "I knew I had to."

"Yeh?"

"I had to."

"How’d you do it?"

A small smile crossed her face. "I thought of you."

"An’ I inspired the wrath of God?" He smirked. "Pun intended."

"I thought of you in danger. It’s how it happened before, right? How I went all wonky?" She grinned a minute more before the haunted look touched her eyes again, and her vision clouded with tears. "It hurts," she said. "Every time. Like I’m on fire...but on the inside...and it stays there, because it can’t get out. It hurts so much."

"It won’ always."

"I know." She shook her head. "It terrifies me--this thing I can do."

Spike nodded and kissed her again. "I know, sweetheart. But--"

"I have to learn. If I’m going to stop Glory, I have to learn."

He fought the temptation to collapse against her in relief. In all his life, he’d never heard a more perfect sentence. Thank the bloody Maker.

"I’ll help you," he whispered, stretching over the tub to take her in his arms. He pressed a heartfelt kiss against the hollow of her throat, and shuddered at the feel of her against him. "’m right here, luv. We’ll do this together."

She quivered against him. "Thank you."

"’S not a matter of thanks, pet. I love you. We’re in this together, yeah?"

"Oh yeah." She pulled away and kissed his lips. "I love you, too."

Spike smiled. "I had a feelin’."

*~*~*

"I swear, he’s more worried about the lack of polling numbers."

Willow rolled her eyes and leaned back in Sam’s chair, snacking on some Goldfish crackers that Danny Concanon had brought by for CJ. "A building was torn apart. Glory brainsucked three people. The coverage of the State of the Union is being overshadowed by speculation of terrorism, and he’s worried about polling numbers?"

Donna shrugged. "He also wanted me to go to the hospital, but I told him I was fine."

"Are you?"

She was quiet for a minute. "I’m sore. She...Glory threw me across the room, but...it didn’t hurt that much. Or it hurts a lot and I just don’t feel it yet." She shook her head. "I haven’t been able to stop shaking, though...ever since I...look at my hand." The blonde held up the appendage for inspection. "I can’t stop shaking. And I’m worried about Josh, because hearing music makes him subconsciously revert to sirens from Rossyln, and he heard the real thing tonight. He’s in with the President now, but I’m not going to let him go home alone tonight. He might break a window and that would just not be good, because he’s already broken a window and his landlord will eventually kick him out of the building if he keeps doing that."

Willow’s eyes were wide with concern and regret. "I should’ve been there."

"You couldn’t’ve done anything."

The redhead’s brows arched. "I banished a god. Twice. You don’t think I could’ve done anything?"

A pause. "Okay, maybe you could’ve done something."

"Yeah."

Donna leaned forward and snatched a couple of crackers from the bowl between them. "Domestic terrorism?"

"It’s the way to go. It’s how we’d do it in Sunnydale."

"Yeah, how does that work out for you guys again?"

"The press is usually on our side. Everyone in Sunnydale knows about demons; they just don’t talk about it." She paused. "As opposed to DC where no one knows about demons but everyone wants to talk about it."

Donna smiled at that, but didn’t reply. And they sat in silence.

Around them, the President’s post-State of the Union party played on. Even with five DEA agents missing in Bogotá. Even with a conspiracy brewing around Officer Jack Sloane, whom the President had named as a role model in the middle of his speech. Even with the Blue Ribbon Commission stirring all kinds of partisan waters. Even with the First Lady in a huff about something that the staff knew about but didn’t mention. Even with the confused teenage girl who had eventually collapsed into a heavy sleep on the sofa in Sam’s office. Even with a building downtown split down the middle, conspiracy theories bleeding from the seams, and the injury count too monumental to consider.

The President had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Tonight. Every night. More tonight than some. He had just given the greatest speech of his political career, and everything around him was falling apart.

Our fault, Willow thought. If we’d never come here...

There was nothing else but that.

They had jeopardized everything simply by being here.

And they were in too far to order a retreat. To do anything but watch as the world collapsed around them, and hope they were strong enough to put up a fight.


TBC