Here it is: The Disclaimer: I don't own anything-i'm even using my 'rent's computer. So clearly i don't own Buffy or House-sadly.
Here it is the long awaited sequel to The Ass. I know it has been a while, but school has been hell. I've gotten a pretty solid idea down on paper for this story, but that doesn't mean i don't want to hear random ideas you all have. By the way, i was definetly put off of this season of house because of the House Cuddy kiss-sorry if any of you liked that. THis story will remain strictly Buffy House-no Cuddy house Loving here. That doesn't mean i will bash her either. Oh, and i finally decided on the ages for House and Buffy.
The first chapter of the Ass happened just after Buffy's Birthday so after Jan 19. Then end of the Ass happened the early weeks of July. And shortly after the team fell apart and Buffy had to go to England it is now about the end of september.
Right now: (I have reasons for all of the age changes. Some are only subtle, but House was important because i kind of figuired that Buffy wouldn't date a guy nearing 50-even if he didn't act it. Plus i just think that House looks so old because of His leg and his job-hehe. Love it or hate it, it won't play a big part.)
Rubble like the team was all around her. Bodies crushed beneath stone, and a thick layer of ash. Some she knew, others she did not. Even more were missing and listed on the pitted stone that was blackened from flame. She was here only two weeks earlier, to contend with “The Council”. Apparently she was going to be relieved of her duty and if they could, her powers: Willow was back to “dabbling” with black magic.
There was one watcher left, and only a few slayers alive. Faith had survived, but just barely, she was comatose and her healing wasn’t working the way it should. There were two slayers four hours out, they had only just been found before the explosion.
This was it, the end of the council.
Two baby slayers, a broken slayer, a mostly retired slayer, and a non-stodgy watcher. Sure, Buffy had a number of resources, but this was it-Giles, Dawn, Xander, Willow, Kennedy (the bitch), Rona, and all of the others were gone, dead, obliterated.
It all went back to Willow. She had closed off the activation spell. No new slayers would be activated by magic, only by death. Even then, it would probably be Faith’s death not hers or the last two girls. The last of the true slayer line was lying in a hospital unaware of the devastation.
Willow was a fool, and Buffy felt only the tiniest bit of remorse when she found the body of her former friend crushed beneath a charred piece of wood-a ceiling beam Buffy registered.
The witch had reaped what she sowed, they all had.
Buffy had no tears. She knew who had done this, what had done this. Something she knew would return despite the others insistence it wouldn’t. The First
Buffy scowled down at her nametag, one more way her former friends were belittling her. Her guide, a younger slayer who had not been at the battle against the first was chattering about her kill count: a whopping three. After that topic had been exhausted, the faux red head eagerly recounted her earlier magic ed class with Professor Rosenberg: the witch had turned a research assistant into a rat by invoking Hecate.
If the oldest living slayer wasn’t already t-ed off, the girl was certainly giving her enough to be: overconfident slayers, dark magic being demo-ed, and a general lack of respect and knowledge.
On a request from Giles, Buffy was halfway around the world from where she wanted and should have been. As it would happen, Buffy had to do a quarterly review of her accomplishments-that title alone ticked her off-and skills. Of course if it weren’t for the fact that Willow was not so subtly threatening her Buffy wouldn’t have come at all, New Jersey had, sadly few real magic shops.
The slayer really believed that this “review” had more to do with their visit-and the impending danger than an actual review.
Buffy stopped walking as she passed under an oak-it was squat and spindly, knobs and rough bark sprawled overhead-the green and red leaves swished back and forth. Staring upwards through the thick canopy, Buffy could only glimpse tiny flashes of sunlight.
“…So I think that after I graduate, Professor Harris will put me in charge of my own team, and that’ll only be in a year,” the girl stopped when she finally noticed her charge was standing still.
Head twisting suddenly, Buffy narrowed her gaze on the girl, “How long do you think you’ll live?”
The slayerette was frozen to the spot, “What?”
“How long do you think you have?”
It was a sharp question, but it was necessary, “Just as long as any other girl.”
Buffy snorted, “I give you two months once you’re in the field.”
The girl was frowning, arms akimbo, “That’s ridiculous, what would you know about it anyway.”
Buffy shook her head derisively, “What have they told you about slayers?”
The girl swallowed, and seemed to fold in on herself, “They used to die young, but now that there are so many of us we won’t, we’re meant to save people.”
Buffy looked over her shoulder, irritated and saddened, “Partially, slayers save people yes. But the quantity has no effect on expiration date. You’ll still die young. It’s in your blood-what you’re meant to do-die.”
Leaving the stunned girl-child on the path, Buffy continued on the way towards the “inner sanctum” as Professor Harris had dubbed it.
Swinging the door wide, the slayer stalked into the meeting room, it seemed there was already a meeting in progress, she didn’t care. Buffy hopped up onto a small counter and swung one booted leg over her knee. The others-or mostly the others-ignored her. A select few were watching her closely. Sighing loudly, Buffy pulled out a handkerchief and began to spit shine her boots-what else was she going to do.
After a good ten minutes of mindless droning about the efforts in magic study and attempts at treatise with some military groups-America especially-that had ultimately failed, and the growing threat in Ireland, Giles cleared his throat at Buffy. The slayer quirked an eyebrow at the tone he was using.
“Ah, Buffy, you’re here,” Giles smiled tightly, signaling that it wasn’t an actual smile.
Buffy gasped, “What great powers of observance, Sir,” came the sarcastic reply.
The vein in the side of his head ticked for a moment before he coughed, “Yes, well, the last time we saw each other it was a bit tense, but no doubt, you’ve come around.”
Buffy ignored the obvious comment that she was wrong all along. Scanning the faces in the room, she registered the scoobies, her sister, several watchers and more than a dozen slayers-including Kennedy.
From the opposite corner, Buffy spotted a flash of dagger slicing through air. Clearly, Faith, the pair had made amends and then some back in Sunnydale, and this had become the norm. The two older slayers didn’t openly act friendly, they couldn’t because of the new council-but they stayed in touch-it was their thing.
Tiny placards at their seats around the table held their jobs, biting back the laughter, Buffy stalked towards the front of the room, sweeping her fingers along the backs of chairs.
“I had some time to look around.”
“Oh,” Giles asked.
“Yeah, you’re army sucks,” the slayer replied flatly, her face devoid of any warmth.
Kennedy the combat teacher shot to her feet, “You don’t know anything, deserter.”
Buffy’s eyes widened comically and hissed, “Ooh, what an insult-I’d rather be dead than join this little sandbox brigade. Then again, vampire is looking pretty good compared to this
-hell, chaos demon is looking better.”
Giles cleared his throat, “Now, Buffy.”
“No. Let’s talk about Ken-Ken. Had any trouble with a purple slime demon,” Kennedy’s eyes flicked towards the door, “Yeah, I thought so. So, Mr. Commander, if you can’t clean up your own fucking messes, why are you in charge!”
Willow was scowling, her eyes were tinged black, and the pencils on the table were doing maddening spins.
Faith jumped off her perch and strolled into the light, “Chill, witch, and Miss Bitch, sit down. B’s right, if I find out that you’re messing around-you’ll be dirt beneath the watchers’ feet, got it. Get on with the meeting. I’ve got things to kill.”
A few of them looked chastised. Kennedy sat down but was pissy as hell, Willow just looked angrier. No one told her what to do.
Giles nodded, “Of course, um, Buffy-ah, why don’t you tell the group about what you’ve done since last time you were here.”
Buffy was doing a little happy dance inside but stiffened her shoulders, “I’ve destroyed a few talismans that are potentially dangerous, shut down a bite house, and I have a treaty with two of the area vampire clans.”
Xander scoffed, “You’ve really lost it haven’t you, two vampires weren’t enough? You need more? Let me make this clear, you slayer, you kill vampires you don’t play with them!”
Buffy kicked the leg of the table gently, but everything shook, water sloshed out of glasses, “Oh, well I figured that supplying them with blood in exchange for them not hunting was a good deal-but you know, if you want to volunteer, feel free.”
Giles had taken his glasses off and Buffy could hear the tiny squeaks his sweater made on the glass, “That is rather remarkable, but perhaps not the wisest choice. Hmhm, anyway, for your skill assessment, there is a small city in Ireland that is having trouble with a small faction of Soul Eaters.”
“Fine, you got it,” Buffy spun on her heal and stalked out of the meeting room.
The waking vision blurred into place, stones flying into place, life rushing into the rubble.
A rush of warmth swirled up around her. Buffy inhaled and was drowned in the scent of ash and smoke and acrid burning skin. All around her they were running, screams not really there echoed, men carried armfuls of books, girls-weapons. The scoobies were screaming and scrambling to find the exits. Dawn was wide eyed, staring straight at her before the floor fell through, and Buffy’s sister was swallowed by flame. Faith had run through a wall of fire and jumped out of a fourth story window before rolling to a halt-barely alive.
A body fell at her feet, burned tufts of died red hair only half covered the face: the pretentious slayerette.
Buffy could practically feel the vibrations as explosion after explosion leveled the building, girls falling like dominoes, ones she knew, and ones she did not. Standing in the center of it all, was a softly smiling figure wearing her face.
Please Review, and Thanks. (Oh, and House will be in the next chapter, i promise.)