Clark followed several sets of fading thermal footprints through the winding sewer tunnels of Los Angeles, their size and stride consistent with his targets, and one of them dimmer, and therefor colder, than the rest. It might have been a more faded footprint from much earlier, but none of the brighter prints ever crossed over them and they maintained a consistent distance. So, they were walking in formation, which meant that all those pairs of feet had been present at the same time.

That would be them then; Angel, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, and Lorne. Clark followed their path down the sewers until he came upon a pitfall of all things. The path here was filled with a confused panic of impressions. A new group had met up with Angel Investigations. Clark breathed in the scents; humans, and all fairly ripe too, as if they had been down in these sewers for weeks.

Whatever had happened, both groups had moved out together, and Clark followed the brightest set of footprints further down the twisting tunnels until he came upon a makeshift gate made of plywood, grating, wire, and various other scavenged odds and ends. It was fixed with a padlock that he pulled apart, quickly shoving the door open.

Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at him as he stepped into what could best be described as a hovel. It was a circular room a few yards in diameter that had been filled with sleeping bags, cooking utensils, and various other odds and ends, the space turned into a makeshift shelter. Clark assumed that the place's tenants were the three teenagers who were now staring at him with open astonishment. The smell confirmed Clark's suspicions.

"Clark?"

Clark turned his head to look at Fred, who stood side by side with Gunn and Lorne in front of a dirty, scruffy, unconscious blonde boy.

These people get into all sorts of craziness, Clark thought to himself as he confirmed the child was merely unconscious.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.

"And how did you find us?" Gunn added.

He could sense the fear in them all as he stepped closer, but it no longer shamed him. He knew now that there was a place where he was accepted, where he could be himself without being afraid. He would find a way to make them understand, break whatever dark curse was keeping them from Jasmine's love.

"Hello," Clark said as he smiled, "it's good to see you guys again. Now, why I'm here…I'm here to help you. I'm here to help you get back."

"Back?" Fred asked, eyes growing wide as she slowly came to realize what Clark meant. "Oh god," she rasped.

Gunn quickly moved to stand between them, shaking his head.

"Damn," he said, "this could not get worse."

Clark stepped forward until he was almost in striking distance.

"I know you are confused and afraid," he said gently, "and I know that whatever is making you act this way is going to keep you from believing me, but that's okay. We'll figure out what's wrong and we'll help you, no matter what, I promise."

"Boy, that Jasmine," Lorne scoffed. "She brings new meaning to 'kill with kindness'."

"We are not going to kill you," Clark insisted.

"Ha, that's a good one," Gunn said. "Tell me another!" He snapped his hand out in a blindingly fast punch, a punch that stopped an inch from Clark's face as Clark caught Gunn's arm by the wrist and held it firm. Gunn tried to pull his hand back but it wouldn't budge even a little from Clark's steel bear trap of a grip.

"That wasn't for my benefit," Clark said, looking Gunn in the eye. "It was for yours, if that had connected, you might have broken something. Gunn struggled harder, pulling against the fierce grip with all of his weight. As Gunn was struggling, Clark suddenly let go. Gunn fell back and landed, sprawling on the floor.

"I know how this is going to sound, but you can't hurt me, so just come quietly. Nothing is going to happen to you, I swear."

"Gunn," one of the young men said, "what the hell is happening, man? Who the hell is this?"

"Randall," Gunn warned, "stay back and shut up."

Clark turned to face the other trio.

"Hi," Clark said, extending his hand in greeting. "Sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Clark Kent."

"Kent?" Gunn wondered.

Randall eyed Clark's outstretched hand, keeping an improvised spear between them as he continued speaking to Gunn.

"Is he…I mean, he's not…"

"I'm not human, no," Clark said, guessing the train of Randall's thoughts. Randall set his feet and grit his teeth as he brought the spear up higher, pointing it right at Clark's solar plexus.

"Does that bother you?" Clark asked.

"Hell yes it bothers me!"

Clark nodded.

"I thought it might, but don't worry, it won't bother you for long."

Randall scowled at Clark, inching closer, his two friends flanking him with makeshift spears of their own. Clark considered is words and laughed at his own carelessness.

"Sorry, I get how that sounded, but I'm not threatening you or anyth-"

Randall lunged forward, stabbing at Clark with his spear. Clark resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that would be demeaning to them. It wasn't their fault; they didn't know any better. He interposed his hand and the tip of the spear hit his palm, bending in an arch, then splintering, and finally snapping off and clattering to the ground between them.

Randall and his friends stared at the snapped spear tip on the ground, their burst of violence abruptly frozen by astonishment.

"See?" Clark asked. "Now, as I was saying-"

"Everybody run!" Gunn yelled as he grabbed what seemed like an axe made out of hubcaps and other bits of metal welded together. Fred, Lorne, and the three youths broke into motion, each trying to head for the exit as Gunn charged Clark, bringing the axe up to slash down at Clark's exposed neck.

The axe blade met empty air, and in fact the axe itself was gone from his hands. Gunn heard Fred yell and spun to see Clark suddenly standing in front of the exit, axe gleaming in his hand. Clark held the axe up and looked at each of them in the eye. Once he was sure he had their full attention, he took the axe in both hands and crumpled it as easily as tinfoil, bending and crushing the iron down into a fist sized ball.

Clark dropped the scrapped weapon onto the ground and let it roll to a stop in front of the group. The three teenagers just stared at it before dropping their own weapons to the ground and slumping forward in defeat. Clark stared silently at Gunn, whose hands were clenched so tight his fingernails were digging into his palm, almost hard enough to draw blood.

After a long silence, Gunn sighed and let go. He went to stand by Lorne and Fred who looked up at him fearfully. He simply shook his head, there was nothing they could do. Gunn could see now, how this kid had killed the Beast. He had believed Faith's story, but to see it himself was another thing.

"It's okay," Gunn said, even though Lorne and Fred both knew he was lying. "That little demo our boy put on just goes to show that if he wanted to hurt us, he could have done it at any time."

Clark nodded and stepped forward.

"Gunn is right, like I said, I don't want to hurt any of you. Quite the opposite, I want to help you."

"Help us?" Fred asked, exhausted and done after days of running and hiding. "You mean help us go back to Jasmine."

Clark nodded.

"Sorry, Reverend," Gunn interjected, "but you're not gonna make us drink the kool-aid, and we're not gonna tell you where Angel and Wesley are no matter what you do. So if you're gonna kill us, kill us. If you're gonna lock us up, do that."

"Whoa, hold up," Lorne interjected, holding his finger in the air. "Have I mentioned that I'm really not great with the whole torture thing?"

"Torture?"

Everyone turned to the kid who had been knocked out on a cot in the corner of the room. He smiled a blissful smile, and when he spoke, it was with the voice of Jasmine.

"Lorne, my dear, don't be so dramatic."

The child's body sat up and looked at them all in turn.

"These poor things," Jasmine said with the boy's mouth, looking at the young man named Randall and his friends. "They've been down here since the sun went dark, but they had no idea that it had been restored days ago."

"What the hell?" Randall yelled as he stared at the boy who had relied on him for protection as something spoke through his lips. But that voice was so soothing, so soft and sweet, Randall's fear all started to evaporate. He knew, for the first time in his chaotic life, that everything was going to be okay.

"Aw hell," Gunn said, before turning back to Clark. "Clark, listen, Jasmine is evil. You ever notice how she calls people into her room and they're never seen or heard from again. Everyone thinks they've won some super special alone time with Jasmine. Well, winner, winner, chicken dinner."

Clark looked at Jasmine who sighed and shook her head.

"Really, Charles, I had hoped you were beyond such silly lies."

"Wait," Clark said, raising his hand into the air. "What does happen to those people who keep going into your room?"

The child-Jasmine looked at Clark and paused before saying,

"It's not important."

"It's not important?"

"It's not important," Jasmine repeated, but now with a strange weight in her words, an almost physical pressure that seemed to push Clark's doubts down and down into oblivion. Now that he thought about it, it really wasn't all that important.

"I guess you're righ-ahhh!"

Clark suddenly clapped his hands over his ears and cried out as another mind rending ringing noise echoed from seemingly everywhere. This one was the strongest yet, so powerful that Clark collapsed onto the floor, eyes screwed shut and body crushed into a ball to protect himself from the invisible attack.

Jasmine made the child's body rush over to Clark, calling his name, but Clark couldn't hear her. He could hear nothing but the excruciating ringing.

Lorne, Gunn, and Fred all looked at each other, then as the same silent thought passed through all of them, they split for the exit tunnel. Jasmine didn't even spare them a glance as she called out to the three kids newly in her thrall.

"After them," she said, and the three sprinted after their targets, knowing only that the most important thing in their lives now was that they did not disappoint that voice. Jasmine knelt by Clark's side.

"Clark, can you hear me?"

No response but the face contorted in pain.

Jasmine placed her borrowed hands over Clark's head and fell into deep concentration, feeling the invasive force that stabbed deep into Clark's mind. She set her own power against it, halting it's advance, pushing it back step by step.

It was cold, and it was vast, and it was utterly inhuman. Jasmine was pretty sure she knew what it was.

"Crazy bastard is going to get you killed," she whispered through the child's mouth as she slowly forced the invader out.

Clark gasped as the pain ebbed away. He opened his eyes to see a young blonde boy standing over him with an inscrutable expression.

"Clark," the boy said with Jasmines voice, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Clark blinked a few times before sitting up.

"What happened?" He asked.

Jasmine shook the child's head and shrugged the child's shoulders.

"I can't be sure, though I have some ideas."

Clark nodded and got up.

"I have to go after Angel and the others."

Jasmine made the boy's face frown.

"Clark, I don't think you should go after them now. You need to rest-"

"I'm fine. I promise, I won't let you down."

Clark stood and took a few unsteady steps forward before finding his footing and vanishing into the maze of the L.A. sewer system with a rush of parting air.

"Wait-"Jasmine called out to the empty air. She made the boy's body heave a sigh.

"Damn it."

Far away, in an upper room of the Hyperion Hotel, Jasmine clicked her teeth. Her opponent was very good. If she was to be strong enough to defeat all the opposition this world had to offer, she would need to accelerate her plans to bring humanity under her power.

Clark shot through the sewer like an arrow, following the fleeing footprints until he at last found Connor and a whole swat team standing in front of another large door that had been constructed to block off a tunnel.

It's like no one comes down here ever to check things out, Clark thought.

"Clark," Connor said as he turned and saw the other boy.

Clark nodded toward the door.

"Are they behind that."

Connor nodded.

"We chased them down here, but they seemed to have barricaded this door. Also, do you smell that?"

Clark nodded.

"Blood," he said.

"Wesley's, and a whole lot of other peoples' besides" Connor supplied.

Clark raised an eyebrow and Connor grinned.

"You're not the only super boy around, you know."

Clark smiled.

"Always good to know."

"That being said, not all of us can bend steel-I mean I can, just in small amounts, so if you could…"

Clark nodded as the SWAT officers stepped back and allowed him access to the door.

He could almost make out what Wesley was saying on the other side. Something about sending Angel somewhere. Then there was a rush of wind and every hair on Clark's neck stood up as he felt a surge of power charge the air.

That can't be good.

Clark battered the door down with one blow and stepped into "Modern Art by Buffalo Bill". It was a dark, cavernous room filled with death. On the far wall was a mural of rent flesh and blood, mutilated corpses suspended in a web of rot and viscera.

"What the…"

"Yes, quite disturbing isn't it?"

Clark turned to face Wesley, who was giving him a grim, sardonic grin as Connor and his SWAT team filed in after Clark.

"What happened?" Clark asked.

Wesley simply inclined his head to where a strange creature slumped dead on the floor. The top half of its body was humanoid, but hairless and gray skinned, tumorous growths covering it. The creature's bottom half was four long, crablike legs.

"What is it?" Clark asked.

"Where's Angel?" Connor interrupted.

Wesley just glanced over to Connor for a second before looking Clark in the eye and twirling the longsword he carried. The whole group, Wesley, Fred, Gunn, and Lorne, were armed and ready for a heroic last stand.

"I tried to kill you, you know," Wesley told Clark. "After Faith and I took you to my apartment, you were still unconscious, I tried to kill you. I failed, but looking back on it, there was nothing I could have done then. No, my moment was before that. After the Beast skewered you, I think you were really dying. Faith is the one who saved you. I tried to convince her not to, but I relented, in the end."

"Thank you," Clark said.

"I should have insisted she kill you."

"Thank you anyway," Clark repeated.

Wesley sighed and shrugged.

"So then, if you two are done making out," Connor said, raising his hand, signaling a dozen rifles to suddenly train on the Angel Investigations crew. "I think I asked you a question. Where is Angel?"

"Oh," Wesley said, finally facing Connor. "Angel? He's out on a coffee break. Try again in fifteen."

Connor grimaced and opened his mouth to issue orders when Clark suddenly appeared by his side.

"I thought we were not going to kill them," he reprimanded.

Connor shifted his eyes over to Clark. In reality, Jasmine had given him orders to kill all of Angel Investigation if and only if he thought he could do it without Clark finding out.

"I'm not sure why," Jasmine had told him, "but my connection to Clark is incomplete. I can't compel him to kill them yet, and I fear that he will slip away from me completely if he thinks we killed them purposely. After Clark finds them, I'll try and keep him busy while you finish them off. If that's not possible, try and capture them. They will certainly resist, and that will give you a chance to manufacture their accidental deaths."

"It's the best case scenario if we can bring them in," Connor said, "but they're dangerous. If I try and capture them while holding back, it's a lot of our brothers and sisters that are going to wind up dead."

"If you two are done making out," Wesley said, "are we going to fight or not?"

Clark looked over to Wesley before turning back to Connor.

"Just give me a second."

Connor was about to respond when Jasmine's crystalline voice sounded in his mind.

"Let him, Clark can overpower them easily. Once we have them, there will be time to kill them later."

Connor grit his teeth and stepped back.

"Thank you," Clark said as he smiled at Connor. Clark turned and advanced towards the Angel Investigations crew. They all raised their weapons a little half-heartedly.

"You know you can't beat me," Clark said.

Wesley shrugged.

"We can't be sure until we try."

"I can take you all out like that," Clark snapped his fingers so quickly they sounded like a gunshot. "I can knock you all out before you can see me move, but I don't want to do that. You could still get hurt. Now, trying to resist me, or later, if you wake up while we move you and start struggling."

"And you want us to what, surrender?"

Clark nodded and Wesley laughed a humorless laugh.

"That's unlikely."

"Why is that?" Clark asked, pacing a little in front of them.

"I need to explain?"

"Humor me."

Wesley stared at Clark, considering.

"Alright, because you'll kill us."

"I could have done that at any point."

"True," Wesley nodded. "It seems you don't want to kill us, but I can't believe Jasmine has the same view. The fact that you want us to live means you must be resisting her power somehow, maybe due to your demon blood."

"Right, about that, not actually a demon."

"What?" Fred and Wesley exclaimed at once. Gunn just raised an eyebrow and Lorne idly scratched his nose.

"I'll explain later, for right now let's focus on how you surrendering is actually the best move for both of us."

"This should be good," Gunn said, wondering if they were ever going to get around to fighting.

"You are the leader, Mr. Wyndon-Price, what are your parameters for victory right now?"

Wesley smiled an indulgent smile and pretended to think.

"Well, I'd say kill Jasmine is the primary condition for victory, killing you comes up somewhere secondary."

Clark nodded.

"Sure, but that's all long term stuff. What about right now, this very instant? What are your conditions for victory?"

Wesley lost the smile as the train of Clark's thoughts started to dawn on him.

"To survive," he answered seriously.

"Makes sense. So, do you know what my victory conditions are?"

"To convert us back to the Legion of Jasmine."

"And I can't do that, if you're dead. I have reason to keep you unharmed, and I have ability. It's a numbers game now, Mr. Wyndon-Price. You try to fight me here, you risk getting yourself and your team hurt, and I take you anyway. Ninety-nine point nine bar chance."

"Or," Wesley said, "we surrender, and we're guaranteed to live, and open up possibilities of somehow escaping later on."

Clark nodded again, but Gunn frowned.

"Hold on, if that's true, why would they want us to surrender."

"Because," Wesley said, loosening his grip on his sword, "Clark is sure he can bring us back into the fold."

"I try and see the good in people."

Wesley smiled and shook his head, looking at Clark with genuine remorse.

"You have a lot of compassion, as well as intelligence. I'm sorry they are being used this way."

Clark shrugged.

"There'll be time to talk about all of that."

Wesley sighed and turned to his team.

"He's right. Clark's sure he can turn us, so he needs us alive. We're sure we can't be turned, so we need to stay alive as long as possible. Jasmine clearly respects Clark's opinion, possibly because her control over him seems tenuous. I don't think she'll do anything to directly affect his view of her in the negative, not immediately. And if we cooperate here, she might even give over to Clark's point of view. Our surrendering really is the best option for everyone."

Wesley dropped his sword. The others stared at him for a long beat before they all dropped their weapons as well.

"Man," Gunn sighed as he put his hands behind his head, "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

We'll see, Wesley thought as Connor's SWAT team closed in around him. Besides, Clark doesn't have all the facts. All I really need to do is stall long enough for Angel to find what he needs in the other world.

Buffy peered through a clear shot glass at some kind of liquid, so pink it was fluorescent as adolescence.

"Well?" Someone asked her.

Buffy looked up at the dark lady, leaning over the bar and staring her in the eyes. Those eyes were so black, more than the absence of light, the reversal of it. Buffy could feel the negative space pulling her forward like a vortex, asking her to dive in. The woman blinked and Buffy managed to escape the undertow.

She looked around at the dimly lit archetype of a bar, nodding "hello" to Davey, who was still in the Navy, and probably would be for life.

"I'm dreaming again," Buffy said.

"Well, duh," the Lady answered, smiling. She gestured with her head, urging Buffy once more to take a drink.

Buffy lifted the glass and inspected it, turning it over with a critical eye. After a while she just shrugged and threw it back.

She coughed a bit and shook her head before laughing.

"So," the lady asked, "what's it taste like?"

"Like being seventeen," Buffy told her.

The lady gave her a brilliant smile.

"More?"

"Yes please."

Buffy admired her as she poured another shot. She was beautiful as the black ice over a lake. Unknown in depth or thickness, who could know what would happen if you were to walk out onto it? Maybe it would hold you up, maybe it would pull you under.

Buffy took another shot and savored it, knowing it might be the last time she'd ever get a taste.

"So, why am I back here?" Buffy asked.

"Well, you had to run off last time and there were still some things I needed to clear up."

"Ah," Buffy said, distracted as her glass was filled once more. She put it with the other two and turned when she heard two people singing. At the far end of the bar, Spike and Angel were singing a duet, gazing directly at her, both of them shirtless.

The lady snapped her fingers right next to Buffy's ear and Buffy leapt a little on her stool before twirling back around.

"Hey now," the lady said, "let's try to focus. I don't need this dream going to weird places while I'm still here."

Buffy coughed.

"Right, sorry…it's just…it's been a slow year."

"It happens. Especially when I'm around. So, questions, questions?"

"Um…yeah, yes." Buffy sat up straight and put all of her focus on the lady. Buffy picked up the Scythe from where it lay on the stool next to her and set it down on the bar between them.

"So," Buffy began, "what exactly is it."

"Well, in a manner of speaking, it's a piece of me."

"Right…and who are you? I'm sorry, I mean, I know we've met but I can't really rememb- oh come on, don't make that face."

The lady pouted and looked away, covering her face with her hands melodramatically.

"Buffy, I can't believe you. That hurts my feelings. Wah! Wah!"

Buffy rolled her eyes as the lady snorted and started giggling.

"It's fine, people usually don't remember me. You'll start to though, more and more, the more you use the Scythe."

The lady stopped her theatrics and faced Buffy with a sudden and even face.

"As for who I am, you know that already."

"I'm not…" Buffy trailed off as she felt her heart beating in her chest again. A rushing excitement, something like terror, or something like desire. The lady was right; Buffy did know who she was. But it wasn't real, not yet. When it became real, when the veil fell away, would Buffy run toward her or away from her?

"Come on, Buff. I know you've got way more brains than you like to show, even to yourself. Here, let me give you a hint."

The lady dropped her head forward so that her dark hair fell over her. When she pulled it back up, the black hair had become a hooded robe of total night. The white velour of her body had become immaculate, ivory bone. A fleshless skeleton in a drape of shadow.

"Recognize me now?" The voice was cold as the gulf between stars and Buffy fell back out of her stool.

"Come on, Babycakes, say my name."

"Death," Buffy whispered.

The eternal skull-grin became a warm, womanly grin as Death returned to her previous form.

"And Bingo was her name-o," she said.

Buffy stood up and sat back in her stool. She looked at the Scythe and groaned.

"Last time we met, you told me this was your gift to me, and now you said it's a part of you. 'Death is my gift'."

Death clapped once and laughed.

"Ha! I'm not huge on most prophecies, but I gotta say, that one is one of my favorites. It just works on so many levels, ya know?"

Buffy groaned again.

"Whatever," Buffy finally said, "so you're really going to answer my questions? Don't you have places to be?"

"Well, yeah. I'm there too."

"Whoo, boy." Buffy scratched her eyebrow as death grinned and poured her another drink. This one was something else, a dark amber. Buffy downed it, then gazed thoughtfully into the glass.

"It tastes like a rainy Sunday afternoon."

"Calmed down a bit?"

"Yes, thank you. So, you're here to answer my questions? Can I ask you anything?"

Death shrugged, but she was no longer smiling.

"Free country."

"Why did my mom die?"

Death was silent for a long while.

"I actually had a kind of snappy answer," she said, "about how your mom had to die because of the tumor in her brain, but I know what you're really asking me. The truth is that I don't know."

Buffy's face twisted as she gripped the edge of the bar.

"You don't know?" she asked, and then she laughed. "You don't know. Of course you don't, obviously you don't. Why would you? Why would I ever catch a break?"

Death sighed and poured something cold and blue into her glass. Buffy drank it down and slammed the glass onto the bar. She stared at nothing before she spoke, almost choking.

"It tastes like…waiting for the last bus home."

Death tapped her fingers on the bar, deep in thought.

"I'm going to give you a peak behind the curtain here, Buffster, and you might not like what you see. Just speak up at any time if you want me to stop."

Buffy said nothing, so Death just shrugged.

"Okay, so you know these guys, the Powers that Be or whatever. They represent the 'good' side of the whole good vs evil cosmic balancing scale. Then you have some guys on the other side and they represent the 'evil' side of the equation. They go doing this whole back and forth over the fate of the universe, and a lot of them have a lot of awesome lines about what it all means, and about purpose and so forth."

Death pushed herself off the bar and ran a hand through her long dark hair as she stared out into the distance. Then she leaned back, braced herself against the counter behind her, and hopped up, sitting herself on the counter as she looked back at Buffy.

"Thing of it is, none of it is real. They made it all up. Those guys, the creatures of light and darkness or whatever, they don't speak for the universe. They can't, because the universe doesn't have a voice. There is no higher meaning, the only meaning is the one people invent themselves. Gods and monsters, they're just people too. Not humans, but people. So, meaning of life, meaning of death, good, evil, right, wrong, that's all on you, Buffy. You need to figure out for yourself what those things mean to you, and what you want to do about them."

Buffy laughed again, but her face was all rage.

"So, what? I don't have any control? My life is decided by some people sitting up on clouds somewhere because they have some ideas about how my life should go?"

Death shrugged.

"No one's in control, Buffy, not really. Everything everyone does affects everyone around them in a thousand ways they can see and ten thousand ways they can't. That's true for all the little guys like humans, and the big guys like gods. Nothing to this universe but the people living in it, human and inhuman. A bunch are looking out for you, a bunch have it in for you, ten times as many don't care about you one way or another, and a hundred times that don't even know you exist. All anyone can do is decide how they want to deal with that."

Death poured her something greenish as Buffy sat, thinking.

"Well," Buffy said, "You were right. I didn't particularly like hearing that."

"Yeah, most people don't. Hey, who knows, maybe I'm totally wrong. Maybe there's some over-over-mind above anything even I can see who's actually making up the rules. I wouldn't know if there was any more than you."

Buffy downed the drink and then immediately spat it out.

"Oh god, what is that?" She yelled. "It taste like…gym socks that fell behind a drier and were colonized by fungus!"

Death frowned and looked down at the bottle.

"Really? I think someone mislabeled this one."

Death set the bottle aside and waited for Buffy to finish gagging and spitting.

"So, any more 'big picture' stuff?"

"No," Buffy gasped, "I'm super done with that. Tell me about the Scythe. Why is it called that, by the way? I mean, it looks like an axe."

"Ha," Death broke into a huge grin. "It's shaped like an axe, but it's the Scythe. Anyone who looks at it knows this. It could be a pop-tart and you'd still take one look at it and say 'that's the Scythe'."

"A pop-tart? Would it still kill people?"

"Duh."

Buffy grinned.

"That is what I need. I can see it now, me atop a white stallion, leading the Potentials into battle against the forces of darkness, brandishing my mighty pop-tart in the air, smiting baddies left and right."

Death laughed her musical laugh.

"You know who would really enjoy this conversation? A friend of mine, maybe you've heard of him, Plato-"

"-Oh, I know him," Buffy said, "I'm a big fan of his modeling clay."

Death rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, he had this idea he was trying to figure out for a while, he called it the 'Theory of Forms', and basically he was trying to figure out how much of the world's attributes were 'real' and how much were inventions of the mind-"

Buffy held up her hand.

"Sorry, I gotta stop you, 'cause it sounds like you're about to launch into a whole thing again. I really think we should keep moving forward."

"Ha, of course, sorry."

"Okay, so you said this thing is a part of you, but the lady at that weird temple said she and her proto-sorority or whatever made it."

Death shook her head.

"That's not what she said. She said they forged it. A forge doesn't create the iron that it turns into a sword. They gave it shape, but it came from me."

"How did they get it?"

"Oh, I gave it to them."

Buffy blinked.

"You…gave it to them? Just like that?"

"They asked nicely."

Buffy simply stared at her until Death broke into snickers.

"Okay, so it was more complicated than that. Heavy duty magic, the kind that hasn't been unleashed in a long time. They used it to make the Scythe into a weapon for the Slayer, so she could chase the last pure demons off the planet…well, the surface of the planet."

Buffy nodded and looked down at the Scythe, hungrily gleaming.

"So, how does it work, exactly? During my fight with Caleb, things got…weird."

"Well, do you know what two things in this life are inevitable?"

"You and taxes?"

"Exactamundo, so that's the principle that the Scythe embodies. Everything that lives, could die, and the Scythe finds that potential death in all the possibilities in all the universes and brings it into existence. It is the ultimate weapon, with the power to bend causality. It kills you, and then the details of how you die get fixed in post, so to speak. The weirdness you felt was your brain trying to adapt. Human minds aren't really built to handle that kind of thing. You'll get used to it the more you use it, start to remember more clearly, but be careful. I can tell that you're hurting yourself just trying to grasp the concept."

Buffy rubbed her temples and looked up at Death.

"Hey, I'm a drop out. I've got my excuse. The basics is that it can kill anything right? That's good enough for me."

"Basically. Humans, Vampires, assorted demons, aliens, rocks, stars, songs, abstract concepts, and the passage of time. It can kill anything, but human brains can't really grasp the death of things that aren't alive in the way they are, like minerals or ideas. If you try to kill these things with the Scythe, you'll probably just go insane."

"…huh…got'cha. Anything else I should be careful about?"

"Yeah, I know how exciting having an all-killing weapon sounds, but it's actually not as great as it seems. See, despite the fact that he was crazy strong, you and Caleb were not that far apart, power wise. On top of the weird stuff, the Scythe also has a magical blade that can cut through basically anything. Just edit its position so it lands a solid hit and Caleb goes down. Be very careful using this on beings that are much, much stronger than you."

Buffy frowned.

"Why is that?"

"Because the more unlikely your victory is, the bigger the changes the Scythe needs to make to reach that possibility. For example, if you use it on Clark or someone like him, by the time you land the killing blow, the continents might be different shapes, humanity might have been replaced by super-intelligent vacuums as the dominant life form on the planet, and basically it's Ray Bradbury's 'A Sound of Thunder'. Okay…probably nothing that dramatic, it is really good at finding the subtlest changes that need to be made. Still, while the Scythe will let you fight way outside your weight class, but it's still dangerous."

"Hm…okay then," Buffy said, disappointed. Still, she supposed an unbeatable killing machine with no drawbacks was asking for too much. She traced little figure eights in the condensed water on the bar top with her finger as she thought.

"I think that's it," Buffy finally said.

Death nodded and hopped off the counter, walking up to the bar and leaning in till she and Buffy were only a breath away.

"Okay then," she said, "let me leave you with one more bit of knowledge. There's nothing wrong with you."

Buffy frowned and leaned back.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, kid. You've been here making eyes at me the whole time and you've been wondering what's wrong with you. I'm telling you, nothing. Sure, you've got plenty of damage, but wanting me is normal. Everybody wonders, wants me to take their pain away. So, there's nothing wrong with you, Buffy. What's the line? 'Everybody want go heaven, but nobody want dead'."

Buffy snorted in derision.

"Really? No one wants to die for real?"

Death waved a dismissive hand.

"Suicides don't want to die either, Buff. They just don't want the life they have."

"I don't care much for this life I've got either."

Death gave Buffy a gentle smile.

"That's not true. Plenty of things in your life you don't like, but you love too much about it to give it up. You've been wondering, ever since you came back, so I'm telling you now."

Buffy stared at the spaces between her fingers, traced the lattice of the woodgrain.

"Thanks…" she whispered. "Pour me one for the road?"

Death nodded.

"What would you like?"

"Oh, I don't know," Buffy shrugged tiredly. "You got a Maui sunset back there?"

Death smiled at her.

"I'm not tending bar as some kind of statement, kiddo. Tell me what you really want."

"Okay," Buffy paused, "how about a good night's sleep?"

Death turned and pulled a long necked bottle off the top shelf, pouring her a drink the color of the Milky Way.

Buffy took her drink, breathed it in, and drank it. It had been so long; she had forgotten how good it was.

"Well, Buffy said, picking up her favorite coat and folding it over her arm, "guess it's time to go."

"Don't worry," Death smiled, "I'll make sure that next time, Mr. Sandman brings you a good dream."

Buffy nodded and was about to walk to the door when a man came up to the bar and leaned on it. He was thing, reedish, wearing a tweed suit and wearing round spectacles.

"Shot of bourbon," he said.

Death poured his shot and slid it to him. The man picked it up, stared at it like a snake, then sighed.

"Picked the wrong week to quit drinking," he said before he quickly downed the shot, turning the glass over once he'd drained it.

He reached into his overcoat and pulled out his wallet, which he rummaged through, pulling out several squares of cheese that he slapped down onto the bar top.

"Keep the change," he said as he walked away and out the door, turning his collar up against the cold.

Buffy and Death both stared after him in utter perplexity.

"Okay," Buffy growled, "please tell me you can explain who the hell that guy is."

Death bit her bottom lip as she stared, silent. After a long moment, she turned to Buffy.

"You know, I actually think that he's-"

Buffy shot upright in the passenger seat, gasping. Willow looked over to her from the driver's seat.

"Buff, you okay?"

Buffy blinked as they sped along a dark road.

"Yeah…" she leaned back into her seat as her brain readjusted to reality. "How much further?"

"About another hour or so…were you dreaming?"

Buffy nodded groggily.

"Anything interesting?"

Buffy shrugged.

"Just about an old friend."

Buffy's head whipped around as they shot past a pale figure on the roadside.

"Speaking of…Will, turn around."

Willow brought the car to a skidding halt and made a quick U-turn. She flicked on her high beams and saw a pale, misshapen figure standing by the roadside. Willow pulled up next to it and rolled the window down.

"Clem?"

"Hey ladies, I gotta say, super happy to see you both not dead."

Buffy leaned over Willow to get a better view.

"Yeah, we're pretty happy with our lack of dead-ness as well. Clem, what are you doing by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere?"

Clem scratched one of his long, floppy ears.

"Well, I figured I'd head to L.A. after getting out of Sunnydale, but turns out the whole city's been taken over by some kind of cult, so that's out.

Buffy and Willow exchanged a glance.

"I know a Fossorian demon who lives in a borough around these parts…somewhere. Figured I'd crash there for a while until-"

"-Uh, hold on," Buffy interrupted. "Sorry, can you go back to the cult bit?"

"So, wait…" Gunn said as he paced the cell in the Hyperion basement, or at least the area of the cell not taken up by the rest of his friends. "You're an alien? Like, a real life, flying saucer, ET alien?"

Clark nodded and held his hands out to the side.

"In the inhuman flesh."

"…wow."

"That's astonishing," Wesley said.

"Astonishing?" Fred was incredulous. "Beyond astonishing, you're the answer to a question humans have been asking themselves since forever, 'are we alone'?"

Everyone stared at her.

"…I mean, other than demons." Fred hiccupped into her hand and tried to shrug into her jacket.

"I remember hearing about that meteor shower," Wesley said, deep in thought. "And you're saying that all these people who mutated were affected by these same meteor rocks?"

"Yeah, it's all pretty crazy."

Wesley shrugged.

"Well, it's hardly crazier than anything that happens on a Hellmouth. Hm. Clark, if you don't mind me asking, why did you tell us all of this? You were reluctant to before."

"I was afraid before. Afraid of what you would do, or say, or think. I was afraid of your fear, and your hatred. But I'm not afraid anymore."

Wesley took off his glasses and gently cleaned them with the edge of his shirt.

"Because," he asked in a tired voice, "you know now that there is somewhere where you're loved and accepted?"

Clark nodded.

"I know you remember what that's like.

"Clark," Fred said, "don't you get it? That feeling, that love of hers, it isn't real. It's all her power."

"Well," Clark said as he shrugged, "obviously."

"Clark, you have to trust me-wait…what?" Fred looked up at him in shock.

"Hold on, you mean you knew you were under her mojo?" Lorne asked.

"Of course," Clark said, sounding for all the world like he was being asked if two and two made four. "Humanity wouldn't suddenly start cooperating to such an extent after just seeing or speaking to her without some kind of supernatural effect."

Gunn, Lorne, and Fred all stared at him.

"Wait," Gunn said, "if you knew, then how come you're okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Clark asked in genuine confusion.

"Uh, how about the little fact that everybody's favorite caramel macchiato is brainwashing the populace en masse to be her willing slaves?" Lorne asked incredulously.

"Brainwashing? That's not how I see it. Her power is revealing to us the truth that we've always known. I mean, isn't that exactly what you people have been fighting for this whole time? The idea that the force of love is stronger than the force of hate in humanity?"

"Well, yeah but…" Lorne sputtered, "that's not-I mean…guys, little help?"

He turned to Fred who stammered.

"Uh, it's not the same, Clark. This love of hers, it's a lie."

"Oh, and can you prove that?" Clark asked, "Can you prove that Jasmine's love is the lie, and that this fear in you is not?"

"I know it's true, Clark. When I touched-when we touched her blood…I saw past it. I saw through the lie to the monster within."

"So, it just came to you…like truth?"

"Yeah…" Fred winced as Clark nodded.

"Then you already know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

Fred sighed.

"Yeah. Under Jasmine's influence, her love also feels like truth."

"So, here we are, two groups with different ideas about the truth, both believing absolutely that their version is the real truth. Worse, their truths are mutually exclusive. For one to be correct, the other has to be false. What do we do now?"

"Historically," Wesley said, a grim smile on his face, "this is the part where we start screaming Deus Vult and slaughter each other."

"It won't come to that," Clark promised. "I think there's another way of looking at it. If both our ideas seem equally true, then maybe it's equally likely they're both false."

Fred groaned in exasperation.

"And where does that get us?"

"Well, if there's no way to make it about proof, then isn't it about belief? If you can't prove one position or the other, then you have to decide for yourself what you choose to believe."

"Okay, okay," Lorne said, holding up his hand. "We're just going in circles here, Blue Eyes. We have to choose what to believe, okay. In that case, why would we ever pick to side with Jasmine?"

Clark shrugged.

"Because that's what you guys do."

He paused for effect as they all stared at him in bewilderment.

"You guys have been fighting monsters, fighting evil, for years. You've all suffered, and you've all lost. Every day you guys are inundated with the darkness of the world, with the all-pervasive misery, but you don't give up. You keep fighting because you believe. You choose to believe that this world is worth it, despite the darkness. When faced with all the evidence that this world is rotten, and hateful, and evil, you reject it. You say, 'no, I choose to believe that there is good in the world, that there is love, that there is light. It's what makes you all heroes, it's why I admire you as much as I do. It's why I'm asking you now, don't give in when we're so close. For the first time ever, the finish line is in sight. I'm asking you not to give in to despair and to hate. Choose love, choose hope."

Clark stared at each of them in turn, but they couldn't meet his eye.

Lorne broke the long silence.

"Whew, it's like the last twenty minutes of a sports movie in here. I gotta say, that was pretty good. Almost had me singing the 'Praise Jasmine' tune again."

Lorne laughed a loud, nervous laugh.

Gunn rolled his eyes.

"Damn, see, If I had known this was gonna turn into a high school philosophy debate, I would have just let you kill us." His tone was harsh but his voice was shaken.

Clark just smiled a slightly deflated smile.

"You want to believe me," he said, "I can tell. I can only imagine how hard it's been for you all, feeling lost, and afraid, and alone."

"That speech might be more convincing," Wesley said with a wry smile, "if it weren't delivered from the other side of an iron cell."

Fred just stared blankly at Clark's hopeful face. She was just so tired. She could see the concern on the boy's face, the earnest desire to save them, who were basically total strangers. The goodness in him touched her heart, and broke it. Jasmine had taken this enormous compassion and twisted it to her will as she had done to everything else.

"I'm sorry," Fred whispered.

"For what?" Clark asked, but Fred didn't say anything else.

"Besides," Lorne said, "you make it sound like flowers and sunshine, but even I don't want to live in a utopia where people get eaten. It's gotta be a pass for me too. Sorry little…doughnut…hole?"

Gunn turned to Lorne with a questioning glance and Lorne just shrugged.

"I've used up most of my pastry nicknames on Angel."

"Wait," Clark interrupted with a frown. "What do you mean by 'people get eaten'?"

The three members of Angel Investigations stared at Clark, stunned, before Gunn grinned.

"You didn't know? My boy, your new pal Jasmine is-"

"Clark," Clark blinked and looked around. That was definitely Jasmine's voice he had just heard.

"Clark, come upstairs please."

Clark turned to the Angel Investigations crew.

"Sorry, I've got to go. We'll talk more later."

"Hey, wait-" Gunn yelled, but Clark was already gone in a blur and a whoosh.

"Damn."

Clark was up the stairs and by Jasmine's side in an instant.

"Hey," she greeted, smiling at him.

"You called?"

"Yes, I wanted to share some good news. The governor called me, and he will be dissolving his administration tonight. He's also arranged an interview to be broadcast worldwide."

Clark pumped a victorious fist.

"That's awesome. World peace is going to leap closer once that broadcast goes live."

Jasmine nodded, still smiling.

"Yes, but there is a lot of work that needs to be done in order to get ready, and we could use your help."

Clark paused and Jasmine's smile dimmed.

"Is something wrong, Clark?"

"No, it's just…is that optimal? I could probably get it all done in a few minutes by myself."

Jasmines smile brightened again.

"That's exactly it, isn't it? I want you to know, Clark, what it feels like to work with others, what it means to truly belong. Yes, you could get everything into place yourself with super speed, but I guarantee you'll have more fun getting it done slowly with everyone else."

Clark swallowed a lump of emotion and smiled.

"I…yes, thank you. Only two other people have ever looked out for me the way you do."

Jasmine touched his shoulder.

"Go on, Clark. I'll have Connor stay with our guests in the basement for now. There will be plenty of time to help them after we save the world."

"So, how sure are you of this spell?"

Buffy looked at Willow as Willow smudged both their faces with a dark paste.

"Well, since we left Sunnydale, or maybe since you killed Caleb, the First hasn't been slithering around trying to bite my arm off whenever I try to cast a spell."

"Kinda not an answer, Wills."

Willow shrugged.

"To be honest, I've never tried this spell before, but it's not like we have any other confirmed way to stop this so called Jasmine's evil brain-washy powers."

Buffy sighed. Willow was still right though. Untested spells it was.

"It's not all bad," Willow said, pouting. "At least the cloaking spell I have some practice with…I'm just not sure if it'll get us past Clark's super senses is all."

Willow finished applying the last of the black latticework to Buffy's face and turned to the car mirror and started to apply her own.

"What is in this stuff?" Buffy asked, nose rankling at the stench.

"How much do you really want to know?"

When Buffy grew silent, Willow smiled.

"Thought so…are you sure we shouldn't go back and get reinforcements?"

Buffy shook her head.

"We still need Faith and Spike to stay, just in case the First tries something again. Besides, when going up against an enemy who can brainjack your friends, less is more."

"I guess so," Willow said as she finished her own pattern. They both looked at each other, and as one smiled and said

"Fabulous!"

They laughed and got out of the car, making their way on foot through the streets of Los Angeles.

"This is beyond creepy," Buffy told Willow through a telepathic link. "Everyone is just so…happy."

"It's like Mr. Roger's Neighborhood."

"…well, there's something I never thought I'd have nightmares about. Thank you, Will, for ruining my childhood."

"I try."

They weaved carefully across streets and avenues, sticking to shade and taking back alleys whenever they could, but Willow's spells held. No one who saw them noticed them. After long hours of walking without incident, they arrived at the Hyperion Hotel.

"Jonestown, USA." Buffy said.

"Jasminetown," Willow corrected.

They weaved through a tight throng, carefully bumping into no one.

They split up and made their way through the crowds, eyes and ears open for any sign of their friends. Buffy liked not at all the camera crews that were setting up all over the hotel floor. From what she was hearing, they were here to interview this Jasmine creature. That could only be bad.

"I overheard some people say Wesley and the others are locked up downstairs," Willow said when they met up again.

Buffy nodded.

"Supposedly Jasmine took a bunch of her followers upstairs to her room to 'prepare for the interview', whatever that means," Buffy supplied. "No sign of Clark yet."

"So what should we do?"

"I think our best bet is to use our stealth to take down Jasmine before he shows up, but I don't want to just rush in blind. Go downstairs and talk to Angel's people, see if they have any important info. I'll keep watch up here."

Willow nodded and made her way to the basement while Buffy found herself an out of the way corner where she could wait. She did not get the chance to wait long.

"Miss Summers."

Crap!

Buffy looked up to the hotel's second floor balcony. A beautiful, dark woman was standing there, leaning slightly on the railing. Every set of eyes in the hotel turned as one to stare at Buffy.

Double Crap!

"It's good to see you again," she said. "Granted, you've never actually seen me. But I've seen you, from on high."

"Peep much?"

Buffy licked her suddenly dry lips

"Hey, Willow!" She thought as loudly as she could. "A little help, please!"

Jasmine's smile abruptly vanished as she looked down at Buffy, and something that seemed a great deal like fear to Buffy's learned eyes took over Jasmine's face.

Buffy followed her line of sight down to the hungry red weapon in her hand. Buffy pulled out her cockiest smirk and twirled the Scythe.

"You like?" She asked. "Come a little closer and I'll let you really admire it."

"Where did you get that?" Jasmine rasped.

"It was a gift."

Jasmine snarled, and all her followers snarled in unison.

"…uh-oh," Buffy whimpered. This was going to suck a little bit.

She heard rapid footsteps and soon Willow, Wesley and the others came flying down one of the hotel's long halls and came to her side.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Willow said, facing the crowd, hands raised and shimmering with arcane energy.

"I can't do the sparkly thing, but" Gunn said as he put his own fists up.

The crowd continued to stare that them murderously, but they didn't advance.

"Should have known you weren't far when I managed to spot Buffy," Jasmine said as she glared at Willow.

"Guess my cloaking spell still needs work to escape the detection of evil gods," Willow said to Buffy.

"You should get right on that when we get home," Buffy said. "Can you break her control over these people?"

"Not before they swarm us."

Jasmine stopped scowling at them and closed her eyes in deep concentration.

"Not that I don't appreciate the jailbreak," Wesley said, "but is there any steps to the plan between 'escape' and 'get torn limb-from-limb by a swarm of zealots'?"

"Willow," Buffy said, her voice snapping into the instinct of command, "get ready to clear a path to the stairs. I'm going after Jasmine. I need you guys to keep her minions off me. Follow behind me and take up positions on the stairs."

Wesley nodded.

"We'll have the high ground and they can't flank us. Good thinking."

"Thanks, let's get it done before-"

A sudden rush of air, a blur of blue and red, and Clark was standing in front of her.

"Oh, come on!" Buffy groaned.

"Buffy," Clark said, eyeing her.

"Be careful, Clark," Jasmine said. "That weapon she carries is dangerous beyond belief, even in the hands of a human. She can kill everyone here with it. You need to take her down, now."

"Damn it, Clark! Why couldn't your demon powers come with immunity to mind control? You have all the other ones!" Buffy complained.

"Oh, I'm not a demon."

Buffy blinked.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, alien."

"…oh."

Clark's fighting stance lost some tension.

"Oh? That's it?"

Buffy shrugged.

"Sorry, it's just…well, you know. Demons, robots, etc. An alien is kinda like 'neat, but it might as well happen'. Don't get me wrong, still super cool."

Clark sighed.

"Oh, come on Clark, don't sulk when we're about to fight."

"Hey, no, it's fine..." Clark turned suddenly and started looking around. "Does anyone else hear that?"

Next thing anybody knew, a large object, silver, dart shaped, and about half the size of a compact car crashed through the ceiling of the hotel, raining debris on several news teams who scattered left and right.

"The heck?" Willow exclaimed.

Clark saw the object, floating eerily in the air, and he grimaced.

"Jor-El."

Buffy turned to him.

"Who?"

"Basically my biological father made an AI of himself and put it in the spaceship that brought me here."

"Oh," Buffy said.

"Creepy," Gunn added.

"That's a real spaceship?" Willow and Fred cried in unison, eyes alight.

"Kal-El," a booming voice sounded from the empty air. "I have sat by and waited to see if you could overcome these obstacles on your own. I have even prevented you from falling totally under the sway of the Extra-dimensional entity calling itself Jasmine to the best of my ability by disrupting your neural-cognitive network."

Clark sighed his understanding.

"I should have figured those piecing headaches were you."

"I have concluded," Jor-El continued, ignoring him "that at this stage in your development, you are not capable of dealing with entities such as Jasmine and what is known as the 'First Evil'. As such, I shall terminate both these threats."

"Whoah, hold up!" Buffy said. "Things keep happening and I'm being left behind but, did you just say you'd take care of Jasmine and the first?"

"Correct."

"Huh, well let's hear it for dad ex machina."

Clark glared at Buffy.

"What?" She asked.

Clark shook his head and looked back up at the suspended metal pod.

"Just out of curiosity, Jor-El," Clark said, "how exactly, do you plan on eliminating these 'threats'?"

"I shall destroy the polities of Sunnydale and Los Angeles, thus removing the threat of their extra-human populations and susceptibility to extra-dimensional influence."

"Yeah, I figured," Clark said, giving Buffy a knowing look.

"So the robot is evil?" Buffy asked rhetorically, "guess I had that coming."

Clark turned back to Jor-El.

"Obviously, I can't let you do that."

"Expected," was all Jor-El said. Suddenly another blur tore through the room, slamming into Clark and through the walls of the hotel until both Clark and it were gone. Then the ship slowly began to ascend into the air, leaving through the hole it had made.

There was a long stillness in the hotel lobby.

"Well," Lorne said, "that happened."

"So," Gunn said, raising his hand. "I'm lost, anybody else?"

Buffy cricked her neck and adjusted her grip on her weapon.

"Relax, Gunn right?" she said, "I'm about to make it real simple for you. Same plan as before, but Wills, I need you to go take on the heartless Tin Man up there."

Gunn snorted.

"I can get behind that."

"Good," Buffy said. "Will, clear a path."

Willow clenched her hands into fists, bringing them together near her chest. Then she thrust her fists out and a wave of scarlet energy shot forward, transforming into the shape of a ram's head as it flew forward and knocked Jasmine's slaves aside like bowling pins, creating a clear path between them and the stairs.

Buffy charged into the gap, heading straight for the stairs, the other's right behind her. When Buffy reached the first step, she leapt with all her strength and sent herself flying over the stairs and onto the second floor balcony in one leap.

Jasmine glared at her and quickly retreated down the hallway, Buffy running after her.

Willow began drifting slowly into the air, mumbling to herself.

"Careful, careful…whoah! Focus!"

She slowly started to stabilize and shot out into the sky, following the rogue ship.

Wesley, Fred, Gunn, and Lorne all turned around at the top of the stairs as Jasmine's worshipers picked themselves up off the ground.

"Remember," Wesley said "our opponents are just humans being controlled. Try not to kill them if you can…but if it comes down to them or us…"

Gunn nodded, Fred swallowed and looked away, Lorne turned even greener.

Whether it's Angel or Buffy, you had better hurry, Wesley thought as a wave of human bodies came rushing up the stairs.

Clark landed somewhere outside the city limits with a shattering impact that sent him skidding, carving a path in the earth.

When he finally stood he was faced with a young woman with long blonde hair in a frilly white tank top and long white skirt.

"Hello, Kal-El," she said. "I am Kara, of Krypton."

Clark staggered to his feet.

"What? How is that possible?"

"Jor-El has been keeping me preserved until such a time as I was needed would come."

Clark shook dust and rock off of himself.

"Preserved? Needed? What the hell are you talking about."

The girl named Kara smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Clark, all will be explained…after."

Clark looked toward the city in the distance.

"Right," he said, "after Jor-El wipes a major city and change off the map."

He looked back at Kara with a stony glare.

"I take it you're supposed to stop me from interfering."

"Correct."

Clark rotated his shoulder and cricked his neck.

"Guess there's only one choice now."

He shot off like a bullet, smashing into Kara with a blow that shook the leaves off of nearby trees.

Back over the city, Jor-El and Willow strafed each other in the air.

"You are the…I believe the English term is 'witch'?" Jor-El inquired.

"That's me…they don't have witches on your planet?"

"We had those who knew magic, but your word 'witch' has no direct translation in Kryptonian. Our word for such people had far more religious overtones. Priestess would better fit."

"Really? That's pretty-wait what am I doing? Listen, I'd love to talk to you about our cultures, but I can't let you destroy the city or my town!"

"Pity," Jor-El said.

The ship was surrounded with a shimmering green aura and from it a sudden blast of green energy lanced out at Willow. It struck an aura of red in the air right in front of her and sent her flying back, shooting across the sky and crashing through a high rise.

When she was out of sight, the ship began to emit a high pitched whirring noise as it taxed its system to control and amplify the great force that held the cosmos together, gravity. It concentrated the force to a point directly over the city center and began to feed it.

Willow untangled herself from the debris her crash had created, unharmed thanks to her mystic barrier. She stood up, hair black, eyes black, body blazing with fury and power.

"Okay," she snarled, "now I'm a bit miffed."

In the hotel, Buffy chased Jasmine down the hall until jasmine suddenly turned, lifted one of the large potted plants that lined the hallway, and threw it at buffy like a cannon ball. Buffy barely managed to twist out of the way, slamming into the wall as the high speed projectile went shooting past her.

That was clo- She had no time to finish the thought as her senses screamed and she shifted her head, Jasmine's fist punching through the wall where her face had been.

Buffy leapt back and faced her opponent, now done running it seemed.

"You should not have that, girl," Jasmine snarled.

Buffy shrugged as she got to a comfortable distance.

"Again, it was a gift, so…"

"Your primitive monkey brain can't make use of it's true power. It is wasted in your hands."

"Well then," Buffy smirked, "let's go bananas."

Jasmine gave her a cold stare and charged.

Outside the city, Clark and Kara exchanged rapid blows, each sounding like a crack of thunder, each shaking the world around them.

Clark had hoped his recent training would give him an advantage, but it seemed this Kara had training herself in a martial art unlike anything Clark had ever seen. He supposed it was Kryptonian. It was exceedingly fluid, adept at making use of his own energy against him, and worse, it was designed to take full advantage of the third dimension, for Kara had another ultimate advantage over him.

She could fly.

Clark threw a punch but she caught it on her arm, sliding it away expertly and retaliating with several lightning jabs, pushing Clark back as he blocked them.

There was a lapse in her assault and Clark retaliated with a powerful blow. She flowed through the air, moving up and over him, grabbing him by the arm as she flipped and throwing him through the air.

Before he even skipped along the ground she shot after him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming his face into the earth, dragging him along.

Clark couldn't find any purchase to maneuver as they sped across the countryside. He lashed out blindly until a lucky hit forced her to let him go. They spiraled away from each other and Clark managed to jump to his feet.

She shot towards him again and Clark feinted a punch with his left. She fell for the ruse, and as she turned away from the fake blow, the real one came up from the other side. Kara was launched through the air, Clark chasing after her, continuing the rain of stone shattering blows, pushing her farther and farther. They had traveled into some deep forest, their paths marked by a trail of demolished trees.

Kara suddenly regained control of her trajectory, whatever force granted her flight allowed her to snap out of the horizontal free fall and dodge Clark's next blow.

She flowed around him, pulled through the air by that greatest of Kryptonian powers. Clark chased after her, but Kara uprooted a massive tree and through it at him. Not wanting to be slowed even a little in a fight taking place at such tremendous speed, Clark opted to duck under the trunk, sliding along the ground…and right into Kara's knee as she smashed it into Clark's face hard enough to launch him into the air.

There, she had the home field advantage as she chased after him, landing blow after blow, sending him higher and higher into the air, each strike sending any nearby clouds scattering across the horizon.

Clark tried to fight back, but he was helpless in the air. As he reached the zenith of his latest rise, Kara flew around and above him. There was one perfect moment of stillness when the force of her punch that had been propelling him could no longer overcome the gravity that pulled him toward the earth, and Clark was totally still in the air as these forces became equal and negated each other.

In that moment, she struck, shooting down and smashing into him with a full body blow, pushing them both toward the earth like a meteor. They slammed into the earth and the ground rippled and quaked like a pond as a wave of energy and pressurized air shot out in all directions, smashing into massive trees and tossing them like toy blocks in the invisible hands of a petulant child-god throwing a tantrum.

When the dust and vapor settled, two figures lay unmoving in a crater the size of a football field.

In the skies over Los Angeles, Willow and Jor-El flew, exchanging furious blasts that caused the air to crackle with a sympathetic charge.

Willow knew that time was against her, she could feel the growing pull on her body, trying to drag her towards a far off point Jor-El had created that even now had accumulated dust and loose debris into a growing dark sphere. Willow had no illusions that soon the force gathering at that point would grow until it had consumed the city, spreading from there until it had reached Sunnydale.

Let's try a different tactic.

So far the ship had been able to match her energy with its own, and Willow had no idea how long it would be before the thing ran out of power. Willow got some distance, weaving around destructive green bolts as she muttered an incantation and made a complex series of patterns in the air with her hands.

As the spell completed, she reached out to the very molecules that composed the ship and tried to rearrange them, a transmutation spell to turn the ship into something less threatening, like a duck.

There was a strange quake in the fabric of the ship's reality as it seemed there and not there. Her spell could find no useful purchase.

"What the heck?"

"The scientific knowledge of Krypton is so advanced that, while it approaches things from avenues different than your magic, their potency and capability are equal."

Willow huffed.

"Clarke's Third, is it? Fine then…guess that makes this, for all intents and purposes, a wizard's duel."

She stretched out a hand and commanded the electric blood that flowed through the city's power grid to come to her aide. The lights in the city all extinguished and great arcs of electricity formed in the air, bending and twisting into the shape of Chinese dragon kings, mouths agape as they descended on Jor-El.

The ship lit up as it worked huge forces and shifted the air around them, altering charges and conduction so that the lightning beasts were pulled downward, even against the will of their master, towards a large building still under construction. Their collision caused the steel skeleton to melt into a slag, bringing the whole thing crashing to the ground as the huge energy discharged in a pulse of power that smashed windows for miles around and blacked out the whole of the city.

Willow herself had to focus totally on her barrier when the pulse reached her. The ship remained totally stationary and Willow stared at it in astonishment.

"Kryptonians solved our machines' electromagnetic pulse problem millennia ago."

Willow was almost sure she was being made fun of.

The ship whirred again as it began to weave the complex force of magnetism, and soon cars, lamp posts, benches, and construction beams were shooting through the air at Willow faster than sound, as if they had been launched from a railgun.

Willow reached for greater and greater depths of power as she fought to deflect the projectiles with her barrier, knowing she could never dodge them. She called out to every Great Name she knew and her body was saturated with a might she had never felt, a river of force that flowed into the world through a tiny channel named Willow Rosenberg.

She reached out her hand and fired a scarlet blast that looked something like a flame, but was nothing like fire.

A hail of cars and lamp posts fell to Los Angeles as Jor-El redirected the energies he had applied to them into a counter blast of his own.

The two beams met in the air and pushed against each other, excess energy spilling from the point of impact and shooting into the sky. The two combatants floated motionless, pushing against each other with all their might.

In the halls of the Hyperion Hotel's upper floor, Jasmine retreated from the bloodthirsty gleam of a red blade as the Scythe cut towards her. It seemed everywhere at once, because in a way it was.

Buffy took another swipe at her and Jasmine dodged, only to find the Scythe blade suddenly in her path. Only her tremendous reflexes allowed her to escape with nothing more than a new wound.

The Scythe, powers limited by Buffy's own abilities as a human, had not yet managed a finishing blow. That was fine, death by a thousand cuts was still death, and the Scythe loved a challenge. It chased Jasmine's death, hounded it, seeking it out in every permutation and possibility. It would get there, it was the Scythe, and its mistress was the Slayer.

Jasmine jumped away from a vertical slash, and the world seemed to bend and refract like a kaleidoscope, and suddenly another dozen slashes were making their way towards her. Jasmine twisted and turned, saving her vitals but avoiding none of the blades as they opened her flesh.

Jasmine backed up into another of the hotel's rooms, grabbing the queen sized bed by the frame with one hand and tossing it at Buffy as easily as Styrofoam.

Again a multitude of slashes as the Scythe found everywhere it could be and was in all those places at once. The improvised projectile almost dissolved under the flurry. Jasmine hadn't expected that to work, but it had bought her time. She went crashing through the wall of the hotel and into an adjoining room. The irritating blonde bitch following right after her, sticking her head in through the hole made by Jasmine's passage.

"Heeeeeeere's Buffy!" She sang as she stalked her prey back out into the hall. Jasmine launched herself forward almost faster than Buffy could see, hand lashing out with enough force to punch right through the Slayer. The world shifted and slid on the sands of the possible and suddenly the Scythe was there, taking Jasmine's hand as remuneration for her arrogance.

Jasmine cried out as blood seeped from her arm. Her cry of pain became a snarl of rage as she kicked out at Buffy's leg, forcing the slayer to dance back, but not before a quick swipe bit deep into Jasmine's face, splitting an eye. Jasmine howled and jumped to her feet, flying down the hallway.

Buffy cursed as she ran after her opponent, embarrassed by her own carelessness.

"Stop her," Buffy yelled to the Angel Investigations crew, still mired in a staircase melee. Gunn turned long enough to see Jasmine vault over the balcony railing and fall to the first floor.

Jasmine rolled with the fall and sprang up.

"Kill her!" She cried as her minions opened a path for her to the door. Buffy jumped down, but found herself surrounded by the bodies of the Los Angeles citizens. The Scythe was ready to take all their lives in one multiplying slash, but Buffy kept it contained as she tried to fight her way nonlethally through the throngs of the innocent.

Jasmine meanwhile, was limping for the exit when a wave of force tore through the hotel, smashing glass and knocking everyone flat. Buffy was the first to get up, nerves tingling and hair on end.

"What the hell was that?"

"Some kind of…electromagnetic discharge?" Wesley speculated as he sat up, pulling off his glasses, lenses now shattered.

What the hell, Will? Buffy thought, just knowing her friend was involved somehow. Buffy's whole body felt numb, and her legs were being disobedient. She could see that Jasmine had managed to drag herself upright, pointing at Buffy and scowling.

"Kill her," the goddess wheezed, but her servants were sluggish to answer.

Suddenly the air was once again charged with energy as a great ball of light coalesced in the middle of the lobby.

Now what? Buffy groaned internally.

The light dissipated and revealed none other than Angel in all his trench coat, mousse coiffed, beat up glory. Every part of him was battered, he held a longsword in one hand and a dripping, pulpy demon head in the other.

Buffy had seen few things so endearing.

"Angel," Jasmine cried, pleading. "Don't-"

Angel looked at her as he dropped the sword.

"Sorry," he said as he ripped away the stitching that held the demon's mouth together. Its lips parted and it spoke a name.

Before Buffy's eyes, Jasmine morphed from a beautiful woman into a hideous, maggot ridden corpse. Panic ripped through the Jasmine worshippers as they ran, screaming out of the hotel.

Jasmine's face molded and shifted again, becoming a little more like its former self.

"Wait," she begged, "please don't go."

Too late, the spell was broken.

She sobbed in pain and anger before turning to Angel with hateful eyes.

"You, I'm going to kill you-"

"-Hey!"

Jasmine turned to see Buffy behind her, Scythe in a perfect arch toward her neck. In that moment, it seemed like the tiny blonde girl cast an enormous shadow onto the wall. A shadow in the shape of a dark woman.

Then Jasmine, an existence of power and age beyond human belief, was dead on the floor.

"Nobody kills Angel but me," Buffy finished.

Angel looked at her and blinked.

Buffy smiled and shrugged.

"I mean, historically speaking."

In the air, the standstill between Willow and Jor-El came to an abrupt end when the ship and its beam vanished from sight. Willow's red blast shot through the empty space, igniting the atmosphere and causing a flower of red fire to bloom across the blue sky over the city for a moment before dissipating.

Willow twisted around, searching for her enemy.

"Where are you?"

She continued seeking, but there was no answer. Willow warily floated back down to the hotel to see panicked people streaming out of it, screaming. She frowned and sped forward, entering through the hole in the roof and descending. She saw Buffy and the others catching their breath and laughing, Jasmine's twisted, beheaded corpse on the ground by Buffy's feet.

When Buffy saw her, her smile vanished and she gripped the Scythe.

"Willow," she began, cautiously, "are you okay?"

Willow frowned before she realized what she must look like.

"Oh, right, one sec."

She closed her eyes and focused, pushing back the power that thrummed in her as she breathed in and out. When the power was gone, she fell back, crushed by exhaustion and regret, hair and eyes once again restored to their normal hues.

Angel quickly caught her and she gave him a tired, grateful smile.

"Well," she said, "guess I can control it after all."

Buffy sighed in relief and let the Scythe hang loosely at her side.

"So what happened to the robot spaceship?" Buffy asked.

Angel looked at her in bewilderment.

"Robot spaceship?"

Buffy waved a dismissive hand.

"I'll explain later."

Willow would have shrugged if she had the energy.

"No idea. Up and vanished. Weird gravity ball is gone too. Maybe when you killed Jasmine, he decided he didn't need to destroy L.A. after all."

"Whoa, wait-" Angel exclaimed, "what do you mean 'destroy L.A.'?"

Buffy sighed.

"Just hold on a sec and we'll tell you."

She looked around.

"So, I don't suppose anyone knows where Clark went?"

Clark lay in the crater, staring up into the sky, unmoving. He supposed he should get up. He was hurt, but healing. He wanted to get up, to go see if anyone else needed his help.

They must have beaten Jasmine, but who knows what else is happening. We still have Jor-El's insanity to deal with.

Clark told himself to get up but his body refused.

"Get up," he whispered softly through cracked lips. But he didn't.

He heard Kara shiver next to him and he frowned, turning over. His eyes grew wide as he saw her convulsing. He moved to her side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She blinked blearily at him and smiled.

"Hey, nice to meet you."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm dying. Sorry, I'm not really a Kryptonian. I remember now, I'm just a girl. Jor-El changed my body so that I could have powers like a Kryptonian, and my mind so I would think I was a Kryptonian…so I would think I was Kara. I'm not though, it was always temporary. Guess the fight burned me out."

Clark collected her suddenly frail body in his arms.

"Hey, don't talk like that. Jor-El did this to you, he can fix it."

'Kara' laughed a pained laugh and shook her head.

"Sorry, this is it for me. I want to say something though, as myself, not as Jor-El's flying monkey. I saw things, when he was messing with my mind, I saw you, and what you could be. Jor-El is an asshat, but I think he's got the right idea about you. I think you could save the world."

Clark was silent as the girl continued to shiver.

"What's your name?" He asked.

She smiled with a tear in her eyes.

"I don't remember."

Clark's face twisted in rage.

"I'm sorry, this is happening to you because of me-"

"-Hey now. I was dead, I think. The meteors came, and I was in a car with my mom. We were hit. I would have been dead if Jor-El hadn't snatched me."

"That doesn't make it right! He took you, used you for his games and now he's discarding you."

"True…but it's not all bad. I think I see, maybe even better than he does, the future you can bring. Since I was going to die anyway, guess I'll put that one in the win column."

The tremors were fewer and farther apart now as Clark held the girl close.

"Lindsey," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Lindsey Harrison, that was my name. I just remembered."

She started laughing.

"Lindsey Harrison."

She laughed and laughed until she stopped. Clark didn't know how long he kneeled there, holding her. A crow came by and alighted on the rim of the crater, staring at him. Clark stared back at it, at the life already revisiting this place of desolation.

"Sorry," Clark told the crow as he set Lindsey Harrison's body aside and started digging into the earth with his hands. "You'll have to find lunch somewhere else."

After he buried her, he found a large stone, wide around as his arm, thrown clear by the blast. He placed it over her grave and burned an inscription into it.

"Lindsey Harrison, Unknown – 2002. She wanted to save the world."

Clark stepped into the wreckage that was the Hyperion's lobby, breath tight in anticipation. Everyone looked up at him as he came in.

Clark stood in front of the entrance and silently waited.

First Buffy, then Angel, then the rest smiled at him.

"Welcome back," Buffy said.

"I'm back."

The rest of the day was spent in cleaning the mess of the Hyperion, which took a while even with super speed. Clark told them his whole story while they worked, and they all listened attentively.

By the time night had fallen, the hotel, while hardly restored, was safe.

"Well," Buffy said, "guess it's time to go."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and rest a little?" Angel asked, stepping closer to her.

Buffy smiled and looked away.

"No…you know what they say, 'no rest for the weary'. Besides, the longer I stay the harder it is to leave."

Angel wanted to argue, but he knew she was right.

"Do you at least want us to go with you and help? I mean, our big bad is down."

Buffy shook her head again.

"I need you guys to be a second front in case something happens in Sunnydale. Besides, between Willow, Jor-El, and Jasmine, this city's pretty beat up. It's gonna need you guys."

"Hey!" Willow cried in indignation.

Angel sighed and nodded. She was right about that too.

They stood there silently for a while before they both laughed.

"See what I mean? Hard to leave."

Buffy, Willow, and Clark said their goodbyes, leaving the Hyperion behind as a stretch limousine pulled up in front of it.

"Should we check it out?" Clark asked.

Buffy shook her head.

"Whatever it is, I trust Angel to take care of it. We've got to get back."

There was a fire in her step and steel in her voice.

"I'm done," she said "waiting for the big kids to kick us around the sand box. I'm taking the fight to the First."

"Sounds like you have a plan," Clark said, matching her stride.

Buffy nodded, twirling the Scythe.

"I do, it might be a long shot, but I think it will work. Willow, I'm gonna need your help."

Buffy and Clark stared out over the huge crater that was once Sunnydale.

"Sorry," Clark said. "I was only here a few days, and my time here wasn't exactly a tourist's dream, but it must be hard to lose your home like that."

Buffy shrugged.

"It's just a town," she looked over her shoulder at Willow, Giles, Xander, Dawn, Anya, Faith the Potentials, Andrew, and Robin Wood standing around and in their improvised getaway vehicle, a school bus. "My home made it out with me."

Clark continued to stare out at the gaping pit.

"He should have let me wear the medallion. If anyone had a chance to survive-"

"You're pretty tough, Clark. But whatever that thing was, it nuked the Hellmouth and dropped the whole town on it. Do you think even you could survive that?"

Clark shrugged.

"Guess I'll never know now."

Buffy smiled sadly.

"It's okay. I think he was right, it had to be him. I think he found some peace, at the end. Something for himself, something that wasn't just about me."

Buffy turned and faced Clark.

"So, you'll keep in touch?"

Clark smiled at her with the corner of his mouth.

"Of course. You don't want to think about it now, but you've got a lot of work ahead of you, rounding up the new Slayers and stuff. Give me a call whenever. Obviously you've got an open invite to stay at the farm if you ever need to."

Buffy smirked.

"Didn't you say your parents were probably going to ground you until the end of time?"

Clark laughed.

"Exactly. Since I'm already grounded forever, it's not like they can ground me more if I sneak off from time to time to help save the world."

Buffy punched him in the arm.

"So, the space boy from Smallville huh?"

Clark shrugged and walked away.

"Just a regular, small town boy," he said.

Faith leaned out of the window of the bus and called out to him.

"Hey, I've decided on a nickname. It's gonna be 'CK'."

Clark faced them and smiled.

"Dumb name," he joked.

Faith stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll use it," Xander said.

Clark smiled and waved at them. The small crowd waved back. Clark turned, faced the direction of home, and shot off into the horizon, a streak of red and blue blasting across the landscape.

"That," Dawn said, "never gets old."

End Note:

Whoo! We done, son. So this was my longest fic yet, thanks to everyone who read, extra thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Some of you may be upset that I skipped the Hellmouth battle, but I felt that nothing major changed about the way that battle was fought. Clark's presence just meant some people got to live, like Anya, who would have died.

After this I had planned on taking a break from Smaillville/Buffy and writing other fics, but I had a really good idea recently that won't leave me alone, so I'm going to explore it a bit. Maybe my next story will be another Smallville/Buffy.

Though, if I were to go by the precedent set by "Memory", the other multi-chapter story I finished, this is the part where I vanish for like five years. Well, I doubt that will happen.

I think if this story accomplished anything, it helped me build my endurance and diligence a little, as well as highlighting some other personal weak points. Maybe one day I can be as prolific as Chunk127 or ben10987654321.

Also, I learned of a funny Easter Egg in Avenger's Age of Ultron. Did you know that The Wolf, The Ram, and The Hart all make cameos? They're in Thor's trippy dream party scene.

I Know it's just a Whedon joke, but fanfiction exists to take stuff like that and turn it into crazy stories. Obviously what comes next is a Smallville/Buffyverse/MCU crossover.

Just kidding, too many characters.

I do kind of want to do a Smallville/Agents of Shield though.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed the story!