NOTE: This story takes place in an alternate Buffyverse, a few years into the future. Faith has remained with the good guys and is Buffy's secret girlfriend. Dawn is now at college and Willow and Tara are still together. Spike is still evil and some of Buffy's past adversaries are not as dead as she thought.
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"Glory! But tha... that's not possible. You died when Giles killed Ben!" Buffy's heart was racing as she tried to believe what she saw.
"Oh, come on. You don't suppose that darling Ben was the first meat prison I've been in, do you? Seriously, puh-lease! I'm immortal, Buffy! One flesh sack dies and I'm cast into the next. That's the way this grubby little curse works, and let me tell you, I'm getting pretty darn sick of it!"
Faith glanced warily from the blonde in scarlet to Buffy and back again. Whoever this Glory chick was, her looks must be deceiving, because she had never seen Buffy look so scared before. Never.
"Now look what your interferring has reduced me to. Keeping you out of the way while Spock here, completes his ritual," Glory said, petulantly.
"That's SPIKE!" the English vampire shouted from the back of the room, "You psycho Bint!"
"What do you care if Spike summons The Corrupter?" Buffy asked, stalling, trying to think what she could do now.
"I don't. But you know, sweetie, if he does manage to bring Hell to earth, then that just may spice up this dull little town. I'm ever so bored, you know?"
Glory walked further into the room, her hips swaying. Stopping in front of Faith, she looked the brunette up and down. "You're new."
Faith hit Glory with a massive right hook. She pressed her advantage and rained blow after blow down upon the golden haired beauty. Glory staggered backwards a couple of paces and then, with one hand, snatched Faith around the throat and lifted her into the air. With a sparkle in her eyes, she looked at Buffy and nodded towards the struggling Slayer. "I like her, she's sassy."
With an almost casual flick of her wrist, Glory tossed Faith across the room. Even as she did so, Buffy was springing forward. A jab from her foot struck Glory on the side of her knee, causing her leg to buckle. Before the Hell God could recover, Buffy was launching a deadly combination of kicks and punches. Time after time, she hit Glory with every ounce of strength and skill she possessed. It wasn't enough. Reeling under the onslaugh, Glory finally managed to snag hold of Buffy's wrist, and with a yank, pulled the Slayer to her. Pain blasted through Buffy's skull as Glory head butted her. Stars danced in front of her eyes while she slumped to the floor. As she felt herself slipping into unconsiousness, Buffy could just make out Faith leaping onto Glory's back and trying to twist her head off.
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Surfacing from the depths of unconsiousness, the pain behind her forehead returned, followed by the sound of chanting. As Buffy gingerly opened her eyes, she saw a stone roof, dancing with shadows. Turning her head, she discovered that she was chained down on one of the two wooden tables in the room. Across from her, she could see Faith manacled to the other. Faith was naked. With a groan, Buffy lifted her head and squinted along her own body to confirm that she had no clothes on either.
Between the two Slayers, Spike was chanting from his book again and making complicated gestures in the air above the small glass figurine on the altar. Glory was lounging across a rather ornate chair, at the back of the room. Standing beside her were four of her minions. Xander couldn't have put it better when he once said that they looked like "Hobbits with leprosy." They were dressed in brown sackcloth, tied at the waist with rope. Their hair was stringy and greasy, looking as if it had never even heard of water, let alone felt it. Their faces were a pale, sickly green and covered in sores. One held a bunch of grapes and was busy peeling them for his Goddess.
Slowly, quietly, Buffy tensed her arms and tested the manacles that held her. They felt extremely solid, and she did not think that even with her slayer strength she could snap the chains that held her down. Spike looked at her and sneered.
"Wakey, wakey, Slayer. The show's about to start and you wouldn't want to miss it."
"You'd better enjoy what you do to us, Spike, because as soon as Faith and I get free, your dust." She had wanted to say something witty and clever, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how helpless she felt, but nothing would come.
A look of surprise crossed his face. "What I do to you...? Ohhh. You mean the ritual defilement? Sorry, Buffy, but you don't get to play."
A mixture of relief and regret surged through her as she turned to look at the unconsious Faith. Spike followed her gaze.
"No, no, Slayer. You see, the thing about Elder demons like Brakkhan is that they're old, geddit? Old. They were here long before humans. This means that for most of the rituals involving them, human victims won't do because they simply weren't around at the time the ritual was created. See?"