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Author's Chapter Notes:
Unfortunately I have to stop here. I have one more chapter and an epi that I'll get up ASAP tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Four

The doors had been barricaded against them.

If Riley had stopped then to think about that, he might have halted the advance. Hindsight was a bitch, he thought, as he contemplated how he had led his team stupidly into the middle of an ambush.

More than the usual number of strikes with the portable battering ram had been needed against each entry point—it had been as if each door had been held in place with stronger glue than he’d ever used and a vampire against it for good measure.

He knew now how foolish that thought had been. There were factors operating within the house that Riley still didn’t understand, but that was little surprise when he had the bigger mystery of how Willow had managed to enter the house ahead of him without his even noticing. He’d left her with Maggie himself, already concerned about his girlfriend being in the middle of a possibly hostile situation. His worry was misplaced while it looked like she was playing both sides in a sick and twisted—yet incredibly confusing—way.

The doors had barely budged an inch with each hit with the ram. His team was persistent, however, and as soon as they’d gained entry, they’d stormed the interior. His head was still spinning at how unreal everything that had happened next was. When asked, Riley would have to admit it had felt like rolling through dough, trying to push each limb ahead of his body while desperately trying to retain hold of his weapon. Time had somehow slowed to the point where every word he said—every command he gave—had been stretched one syllable at a time into a bottomless pit of nothing. Not one word made sense to his own ears so he was willing to bet that all his men heard was gibberish. Not that it mattered anymore. Not with each and every one of them tied up and helpless.

They hadn’t seen them until it was too late—and even then it had been pathetic watching his men try to avoid capture. Avoid being taken by vampires. Moving too slow—like the six-million dollar man in reverse—Riley had barely registered the blonde blur that had circled him and then disarmed him, knocking out his knees till he fell to the floor. He’d been unable to think fast enough to struggle and yet they’d had time to strip him of weapons and tie is hands and feet together tighter than a drum.

And now the world seemed clear again—the air had settled back to normal speed and his eyes and mouth didn’t feel so dry. Though obviously he’d been hit in the head without feeling it because he was seeing double.

“I’m really sorry we had to do this, Riley,” the blonde said quietly.

He nodded in understanding, then reared up his head and stared deeply into her eyes. “What exactly did you do?”

Willow stepped forward, her composure jittery but confident. “Um, hi.” She emphasised the greeting with a wiggly-fingered wave and the soldier was struck with how girlish and innocent his girlfriend suddenly seemed. “I…uh…kinda slowed down time a bit—just so Buffy and Spike could contain you. Also, didn’t want you firing at anything, because, well….house pretty?” She chewed her lip self-consciously, almost shrinking at his disbelieving expression.

“You…slowed down time?” Maybe he’d suffered several knocks to his head.

“Uh huh,” she nodded quickly, sighing deeply in relief as the short red-headed boy he recognised from one of the local bands stepped up and held her hand.

“You can do that?” Riley persisted, glaring hard at this newcomer.

“She really can,” Oz confirmed and the smile Willow shone on him was beatific and grateful.

Riley’s gut sank. “What the hell is going on here? Willow?”

His girlfriend’s eyes went extremely wide and she was suddenly looking around for help. “Guys?”

“This isn’t your Willow, you prat. Can’t you bloody tell the difference?”

The vampire Riley knew only as Hostile 17 stepped from the stairs in the foyer and slowly entered the living room. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey wasn’t quite the situation he’d been thinking of when setting off on this mission but Riley refused to give in to fear. The vampire sneered at him, hatred sparking dangerously in his cold gaze that Riley wondered if being defiant was the best course of action, but then the creature’s words registered and he did a double-take.

“Huh? How many Willows are there?”

“A-at least two, actually,” said another, older British man, though being older amongst vampires was all a matter of conjecture.

“And this one isn’t mine?” He watched as the redhead avidly shook her head and he could see how much she believed she actually was closer to being the shorter guy’s girl than his. A headache exploded behind his eyes and Riley slumped tiredly in his constraints.

“So, there are two Willows, this one isn’t my girlfriend, and she can stop time?”

The room seemed crowded all of a sudden, with replica slayers and vampires and a bunch of other miscellaneous people he’d never seen before. It was like stepping into the middle of a circus without ever having seen the tent.

“Look, I know this is confusing,” Buffy began, “but your Willow is kind of trying to kill us all. We’re just trying to stop her.”

And with that startling revelation bouncing around in his head, Riley found himself rather abruptly gagged with a suspect looking cloth and the group he’d been sent to capture escaping out the back door. Confused and now worried eyes communicated his distress to his similarly bound team and together they struggled against their constraints.

Willow and the professor were unguarded.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her irises had been completely consumed with darkness by the time they arrived. Lightning stretched from her fingertips, holding Angel high against a tree as it scorched his flesh. His mouth was open wide, inhuman screams of pain being torn from his throat but falling onto an apparently deaf world. The sight was terrifying from every standpoint, and while the professor held back, staring in fascinated horror, the witch thrived on the hum of her invincible power.

“How stupid do you believe me to be?” she screamed as soon as they came into view, and while Will and Liz looked ready to tackle her, Buffy and Spike held them back, jaws clenched tight with fury and fear at the way Angel was being tortured.

“Let him go and I know my mind will change,” Buffy all but snarled, her helpless expression unable to turn from Angel’s painfully writhing form. It was like seeing Willow once again go for Warren, though she really didn’t fancy seeing how a vampire would get on without his skin.

“She doesn’t need to put him down,” their Willow said, anger radiating from her as she confidently took to the front of the group. With a seemingly careless flick of her wrist she released the vampire, shooting Angel halfway down the street to rest out of sight and back near the house. With a bit of mind-prodding, she sent a reluctant Dawn after him.

The darkness seemed to swallow the night whole as a blisteringly furious witch threw an invisible wall at them, knocking them to the ground and allowing her to stand tall over them.

Buffy groaned, winded. Liz was slow to her feet, actually taking the time to check on Will and Giles before she turned back to face her witch. Otherworld Xander was already there, his hand outstretched and his one good eye pleading for the witch to renege on her vicious intent and share a new day with them.

“Remember the yellow crayon, Will?” His eye seemed alight with the childhood memory and Liz groaned. This was all they had?

“What the hell are you talking about?” the black-eyed Willow scoffed. “Is that all you’ve got?” She advanced on the identical image of her dead friend until she stood right in his face, and then she slapped him hard and laughed. “Did you seriously think you could come here and retell some sad old story from your own world and I’d fall to my knees and sob?”

Xander’s slow, confused nod indicated that he actually had and the fear his friends felt for him escalated dramatically.

“Go home, Harris,” the witch screamed and she replicated the other Willow’s neat trick and flicked him back several yards, taking joy in his yell of pain as he struck the ground hard. “Anyone else want to try a stupid otherworld anecdote? Come on, I’m due for a really good laugh.”

With bones protesting her prior knowledge of how much this was going to hurt, Buffy attacked, her punches hitting air and her legs effortlessly knocked out from under her.

“You I just want to squash like a bug,’ the witch admitted carelessly, and then Buffy could feel something heavy pressing her into the ground and the air being forced from her lungs. Panic kicked her from the inside and she struggled, knowing her face was turning blue from a lack of oxygen while her body felt like it was snapping into several pieces. Spike was at her side in seconds and Buffy willed him away, willed him out of nut job Willow’s sight so that he’d stay safe.

Evil Willow sent spears of fire at him and one immediately penetrated his shoulder, eliciting the first scream from Buffy’s bruised airways she’d been able to since having the ability forcefully taken from her. The flesh disintegrated as Spike fell backwards and howled, his strong hands seizing the projectile and yanking it out of his body, even as they burned and blistered with the effort. “Bloody…fuck!” he exploded, his gravely voice wracked with agony.

“Leave them alone,” Good Willow begged, and Buffy had to roll her eyes though they ached in their sockets. The depressing pressure on her chest immediately lifted, however, and she wondered if maybe the good witch could actually get through to the bad.

“Awwwwwww, webe them awone,” the evil redhead taunted. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” She laughed and the unhinged sound echoed into the street. Her eyes narrowed into blackened slits so that nothing but evil shone through as she glared at her twin. “You are obviously unable to handle real power,” she accused, hatred and disgust for the identical witch evident to even the dumbest observer.

“W-well, as it happens, you’re wrong. I can handle power just fine—I just don’t like to when its source is evil.” Willow stood back pouting, clearly unknowing what to do in this situation. She had half a mind to duel herself to sense but something told her that wasn’t going to work. This Willow had been alone, drifting in the world for too long. She had not started her slide into the darker side of magic out of curiosity—she’d not been seduced by the power slowly. She’d been changed by it for a long time now—seeking vengeance for those she’d loved and lost. Maybe if someone had been left to guide her onto the right track a year ago, there might have been hope. Now Willow saw nothing in her counterpart’s expression but cold, oozing hatred for the fighters of the balance. She wasn’t motivated any longer by trying to do good in the world—whether the notion was misguided or not. She wasn’t reacting to the pain of humanity or the hopelessness that dwelled in every beating heart.

“You’re weak,” spat evil Willow contemptuously and good Willow shrunk back in offence. “You are weak and pathetic and it would really be better for you all if you just open up a portal and take your equally pathetic friends home.”

Alarm and hope spread through all of them at the implication. She was scared to kill those not from her world, still unsure what kind of impact it would have on her own.

Buffy dragged herself to Spike and touched him desperately, eager to make sure he was okay and only singed on the outside rather than burning up from the inside yet again. She hadn’t skipped through worlds to lose him now and as much as she didn’t want to kill Willow—any Willow—she wasn’t going to risk all of their lives for a lunatic witch high on her own abilities.

Energy crackled in the air and frightened, veteran eyes zeroed in on the powered-up witch. A storm was gathering around her, making her untouchable and dangerous. She floated menacingly on the angry currents of her own making and her hair fanned out in the violent wind that whipped up out of nowhere. Buffy could see her own red-headed friend shrink back in horror and knew that confronting what she’d done not long enough ago was too taxing for the reformed witch. Liz and Will stumbled ahead, trying to reach the black-eyed witch who was gunning for their lives and being thrown around like a couple of wet dishrags for their trouble. Both fighters were bruised and bleeding and yet a matching determination inspired them to continue. Buffy wondered why the witch hadn’t just struck them down permanently and been done with it.

In her gut, Buffy knew it was almost over. This world’s Willow’s unsteady façade, barely kept in place normally, was now slipping low and the Slayer recognised that the end was so very close. She gasped as once again Liz crawled her way to her feet, furious determination spurring her forward. Willow didn’t throw her back immediately, allowing her progress to be sure and deadly. The redhead’s blackened eyes glinted with dull light reflected from her sparking fingers, her lips twisted in a caricature of a smile that chilled Buffy’s blood.

She remembered this—diving for Willow, desperate to stop her before she tried to turn Dawn into formless energy, the Magic Box into rubble and Anya into steaming demon refuse. Buffy had failed—she wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, or just plain enough to stop Willow. Slayers weren’t meant to combat magic—and slayer’s friends weren’t supposed to lose it and defect to the other side.

With pain she wished she didn’t have to bear, Buffy watched as Liz crumbled to her knees, the witch magically strangling her throat and laughing at the screams and curses coming from the girl’s vampire. Tears tracked down Buffy’s cheeks, her gaze fixated on what had once been her in her own world—her best friend intent on leaving her dead.

“Noooooooooo!”

The objection came from everywhere, and then a tremendous bang ripped through the chaos and blood gurgled at Willow’s mouth, leaking slowly from the corners of her lips. Losing focus, Liz dropped and the witch peered down to stare in shock at the big hole in her chest. Her magic fumbled some more, the storm dissipating around them as she was abruptly dropped to the ground. Shock held everyone still, except for Will who had rushed forward and was now carrying Liz away from the fray. Yet relief won the day and the crowd surged forward to be sure. To see it for themselves.

“Oh God,” Willow muttered, her voice choked with horror. “Th-that’s what I look like dead?”

“Be thankful you’ve still got muscle tone,” Buffy hissed, finding the emotion bunching in her throat too much.

Maggie Walsh stepped forward, her hand shaking around the outstretched gun. “Nobody move,” she ordered, and nobody did. The professor looked down at the girl she’d liked—before she’d tried to force her way into the middle of things she didn’t understand. No, it was better like this. She just had to help Riley accept it.

Hard eyes flitted back to Buffy, a look of opportunity suddenly blooming on her face. “You’re the Slayer,” she confirmed for herself, but before she could process anything else, a black blur was in her face and the gun torn from her hands.

“Don’t go pointing bloody guns at her, you psychotic bitch.” Spike struck her temple with his fist and the teacher went down, her body apparently boneless as she hit the ground.

Now that the action had passed, the air was filled with stunned silence.

“Well,” started Giles, and then he stopped because he couldn’t think of one more thing to add.

“You know, home’s looking kind of good right now. I like our apocalypses so much better than the ones in this world.” And as Xander tried to turn away from the image of Willow dead on the ground, he accepted the shuddering body of the one that still lived. She gripped his hand tightly and Xander held her against his body, rocking her in a reassuring hug.

Willow gave into the warmth of Xander’s comfort and cried.





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