harsens_rob (harsens_rob) wrote in spanderverse,

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Disclaimer: Legal stuff, don't own characters, haven't made any money, this is for entertainment purposes, no profit earned, lawyers go away. –kisses-

Emails are welcome as are honest reviews. I respond to all correspondence.

POV: Shifts Perspective

Spoiler Alert: There are tidbits from past episodes and especially the Spanderverse series.

Notes: Story number Nineteen in the Spanderverse-universe, following “Songs of Pain and Comfort”. Everything from the television series through the defeat of Adam also occurred as depicted, in the Spanderverse.

People’s thoughts are depicted in italics. You’ll find emphasis depicted with an underline.



Battling with a God

Ch 15 – It’s Always Darkest…


Spike stood under the broken window and stared at the twilight sky above him. In minutes he’d be free to catch up with the gang and feared what he’d find. Times like this left him nearly gasping in shock at how far he’d fallen, or how much he’d gained depending on one’s point of view. It was something that Dru would never grasp and the thought that Angel was the only one who would turned his stomach just a little.


I swear, he thought, if I turn into Broody Poof, Junior, I will have Xander stake me on the spot!


The night had cooled considerably and the stars beginning to flood the sky reminded him how beautiful it could be to live on this poor wretched world, after all. He just wished that Xander and he were on a hilltop somewhere, maybe with a bottle of wine and a telescope.


In his hand he tightly clutched the sewing kit he’d found among the jumble in the tiny bedroom. It’d taken a solid forty minutes to find the bloody thing and it’d been practically glued to his hand ever since. Just thinking about Xander had his face shifting; if those men caused any permanent harm to his man, he’d rip their bloody limbs off… chip or no chip.


Finally, the demon’s instinct told him he was safe from the rays of the sun. He wasted no time in jumping up to the window and hauled himself out one-handed.




Orlando paced furiously behind the clerical spellcasters. His mood had grown progressively worse as the hours wore on. They’d assured him that they were nearly through at least three times now, only for them all to remain trapped behind the witch’s barrier.


“Clerics! What is the hold up,” he shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth and he expended no energy to tone down his anger. “And so help me if you tell me again that you are nearly through and fail to deliver…!”


“Maybe I can help,” a female voice surprised him. Around him he became aware of a ripple of fear going through the dozens of men he now commanded.


“What you really need in this situation is somebody useful. Unlike the brown robed set and believe me, I know how pointless their existences can be,” Glory said as she walked toward them seemingly without a care in the world.


“The Beast,” Orlando whispered with awe.


“It’s Glorificus, hon. And, I’ve come to collect what’s mine. Step aside and you’ll live long enough to return to your olive groves or whatever you do in Vatican City.”


Orlando tried to swallow but found he was out of saliva. He looked at his sword with their etched runes and tried to take solace in them. They all knew this day may come, when it was not the Key that they sought to destroy that they found, but the Hellgod herself.


“Attack!” Orlando yelled with as much confidence and passion as he could summon and rushed the blonde woman. He noted the irritated look on her face and then he was swinging his sword to behead her. He never got to see if he’d been successful, for a heartbeat later and he was lying with a broken neck fifteen feet away.


Glory ramped up her assault on the Knights. She knew that their weapons were designed with her in mind and although the thought that they could actually harm her didn’t enter her head, she didn’t want Buffy and Key to make a get-away while she was occupied. Her arms flew around her in punches and grabs almost faster than the human eye could follow. Surrounding her were the sounds of dead bodies striking ground and the cries of the soon to be dead screaming and moaning. She was especially amused when she noted that one cleric was running, while the other was looking dumbfounded at this turn of events. He was quickly killed by a spin kick that had his stomach caved in, his body leaving blood smears behind on the wall of force keeping the Key ensconced in false safety.




The gang heard the commotion outside and though no one wanted to think it, their first collective thought was that Glory had found them. When Dawn peaked out, her stomach, heart, hell… everything fell into a dark, despairing pit in her stomach.




“I know, come on,” she yelled as she grabbed Xander. He was able to hobble along beside her, but knew he couldn’t make good time and he was dragging them down.


“Buffy, for God’s sake, grab Dawn and go!”


“No! I’m not losing anyone,” she insisted. “Willow we need a door in the bubble behind the garage. We’re going out through a wall!”


In the meantime, Tara struggled to pull Anya along. The woman wanted to stay, her face full of rapture.


“She’s here! She’s here for me! It’s time… it’s, stop… it’s time. She’s come!”


When they reached a rear wall, no one stopped to release Gregor. Willow focused a telekinetic blast and hurled the force at the back wall, punching a hole through it. A moment later and the gang were running out into the blackness of the desert. No one wondered where they were going or how they were going to find their way back to civilization. Only one concern filtered through the group: Dawn had to be gotten away before it was too late.


Giles yanked on Dawn’s arm, forcing her to hurry. He refused to allow his mind to consider the alternatives.




Glory stood looking at the broken bodies around her. She wasn’t really interested in whether they were dead or just broken, but a groaning man was at her feet. She couldn’t resist the temptation and lifted her foot over his terrified face. A moment later and she’d kicked him in the side as hard as she could, lifting his body and sending it air born.


“Hmm, about forty feet,” she smiled at herself. “Not bad.”


Next she stepped up to the barrier that had been holding the Knights at bay. She wound up an arm and punched it flat on with a fist. Instantly a hole shimmered into the field, allowing her to step through.


The dilapidated door of the building was even easier. She’d barely had to push on it and it fell off its rusty hinges. She surveyed the room, expecting a Buffy sized fist to come her way. Not that it would do any good. But nothing happened. The room appeared empty.


“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang.


Entering the back portion of the place revealed a large hole in the wall. She grimaced, irritated. They still thought they could just waltz away with her property.


What are they, mentally deficient? Is there something in the water destroying brain cells?


They had left her a bonus gift, however. Tied tightly to a pole stood Gregor glaring at her coldly. She couldn’t help but laugh in an uproar.


“Oh, now that is just about the saddest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. The mirth in her eyes belied her statement. “You’re the one that I was supposed to be so worried about? The mighty General of God’s Army? Boy, his face must be red.”


“Hand me my sword, Hellspawn and untie me. I’ll show you what the Vatican’s Warrior can do.”


“No, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time. But I will give you this,” she said pulling down an old hubcap hanging on a nail in the wall. With a hard throw, she sent it like a Frisbee, slicing deeply into Gregor’s chest. His lungs were instantly halved and his heart smashed by the blow. A few reflexive jerks of his body and he slumped over; eyes wide with shock.


“Sorry, Gregor. Tough break,” she said proceeding through the hole and out into the night. Another punch and another tear in the barrier and she was running across the desert sand. The dark was as nothing to her and she saw her prize about thirty feet ahead and slipping and stumbling in the sand.


Although the gang was scrambling out there as well, all Glory saw was Dawn.




Spike could smell blood thick in the air long before he reached the first body. Though it was just one of the sardine-can guys, and ergo he didn’t much care, he knew who had to be behind the carnage. And that, he did care about.


“Dawn?” He began to run at the upper most limit of his mortal speed. Until he hit the barrier around the gas station, which had yet to fade on its own. Picking himself up off of the ground with some colorful swearing he ‘knocked’ on the shield.


“Got me feeling bloody ridiculous,” he complained. And then he heard Dawn scream.




Giles was urging Dawn to hurry when he felt something clamp onto his shoulder painfully. Spun around off balance, he saw the woman from the shop. The woman who’d summoned Sobek. The woman, who wasn’t anything of the sort.


“Excuse me old man,” he heard.


All of this passed through his mind in a few heartbeats. Before he could cry a warning, he was being unceremoniously thrown aside, colliding with the struggling Anya and Tara and the cajoling Willow. All three women were knocked flat by Giles’ weight.


Ahead of them, Buffy heard Dawn scream for her. Turning around, she dropped Xander to the ground and took a flying run at Glory as the bitch tried to man handle her sister into her arms.


Buffy’s momentum carried her into Glory, who’d already noted the Slayer’s approach. She swung out a fist and Buffy almost comically ran straight into it. Except instead of laughing, she’d yelled in pain as her nose started to rush blood. A moment later and Glory kicked her away and sent a shocking pain through her ribs. She found herself slamming hard into Xander with him yelling out as loudly as she.


When Buffy regained her feet, Glory was gone. And so was Dawn.


“No… no…,” she whispered as she fell to her knees.




Spike was racing around the abandoned garage when he caught sight of a blonde and brunette blur race past. Jumping immediately to the conclusion that it was Glory moving at superhuman speeds and that she had Dawn with her, he concentrated a moment toward the task at hand.


Summoning the reserves of ‘fuel’ in his muscles, he took off running far faster than even the Slayer could manage. The wind smacked his face and his leg muscles strained and complained at the load they were being asked to carry. Like when he’d had to get Xander to the hospital, he moved faster than the human eye could account for.


It wasn’t enough. Ahead of him, he could make out more details of the back of Glory. He saw Dawn’s hair flying behind them nearly straight. She was unconscious, which wasn’t surprising. At these speeds, getting enough oxygen became an issue for mortals.


He redoubled his efforts to catch up with the goddess. He had no idea what he’d do if he did catch her. If she dropped Dawn, or if they fell, she’d be killed instantly the moment she impacted the tarmac. Hell, if he fell at these speeds, he’d be lucky if his shattered bones ever healed right again, if he didn’t dust immediately from decapitation or the liquefaction of his heart muscle. It’s why vampires didn’t fight at these speeds. All it would require was to try to make a hairpin turn and his leg bones would snap like twigs. Practically speaking, he needed to remain in a relatively straight line and hope that he didn’t run into anything. He wondered if Glory would even be mildly inconvenienced. Just how tough was she? Where were her damned limits?


He needn’t have worried. In all too brief a time, she pulled out ahead of him again. He hadn’t even gotten close to her. And like when he’d used this stunt to save Xander, his body was quickly lapsing into mortal speeds and it was crying for blood and rest.


Spike stumbled to a stop and dropped to his knees. Fighting against his muscles and stopping their cramping with sheer willpower, he took several ragged breaths of the night air. He looked for Glory and Dawn, but they were gone. It was likely that they were several miles from him by now.


He turned back the way he’d come, still kneeling on the road. Then he remembered who was left behind, “Xander?”


By the time he’d gathered up enough strength for the walk back to the service station, he found the gang shell shocked out front. Around them lay the dead, but he doubted that it was the bodies that had them so upset.


Anya was crying because Glory’d left her behind and she needed her. Giles was furious, staring with a look of unadulterated murder down the road at Glory’s (long gone) back. Willow and Tara both looked a little beat up, but were otherwise fine. Willow currently had her arm around a teary eyed and curiously blank looking Slayer while Tara was supporting Xander as much as she could. He immediately rushed to their side and took Xan’s weight off of her.


“Hey, undead… our situation just went from poor to sucks,” he said.


“Yeah. I tried to catch her, but no dice… sorry,” Spike muttered. No vampire liked when their limitations were thrown in their face, but Glory taking Dawn from them had him feeling like a failure. And terrified for the teen; his Little Bit. She’d needed him and he wasn’t there for her.


“Buffy… c’mon, Buff, don’t flake out on me now,” Willow was heard muttering.


“Buffy,” Giles added in a sharp tone.


“What’s up with the Slayer,” Spike asked.


“I-I’m not sure. I think she’s gone into shock,” Giles murmured. “We need to get back to Sunnydale. There’s still time to save Dawn if we can get Buffy to come around.”


“Good idea,” Xander said. “Uh, any idea how we’re supposed to get there?”


Nearby, a horse chose that exact moment to whinny.


“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Xander exclaimed.


“Saddle up cowboys and girls,” Spike said with no enthusiasm.




It took over an hour to return to Sunnydale, mostly because they had to keep stopping so that one or another of them wouldn’t fall off their horse before they could reposition. Spike immediately took Xander to the hospital, having had no time to use the sewing kit he’d lost in the desert. His side was bleeding again as Giles’ spell had long since worn off and he was muzzy headed.


It fell to Tara and Willow to take Anya and Buffy to the Magic Box, or what was left of it. Giles had decided that would be where they’d make their final plans. He was confident that Dawn wouldn’t be hurt until it was time for the portal ritual. That would give them time to find what they could use in the store’s basement and to get ready.


He’d told them that he needed to return to his apartment. Willow had immediately objected to them being separated, but Giles was adamant. Glory wouldn’t waste time with them anymore, now that she got what she wanted. As he split off from the others he muttered ‘that’s a mistake she’ll not live to regret’.


The look in his eye was enough to give even Spike pause about saying anything.





End Chapter 15


Tags: battling with a god, btvs, buffy, fanfiction, harsens-rob, spander, spanderverse

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