The Enjoining

Klaxons shrieked.  A red light swept swiftly around the room as if searching for the danger that had set it off.  Giles sat up and looked about wildly.  He nimbly leapt from his bed, and raced out his door towards the command center where he belonged.  A number of Council employees gave him startled looks as he raced past them.  â€˜Why aren’t
 they running?” he wondered.  He noticed the sound of the alarm diminished greatly as he got farther from his room.  He stopped and looked back.  The red light still made its sweep of his room frequently spilling into the hallway as its light reached his door, and then disappearing as it continued on its rounds.
Cautiously he made his way back to his room, and looked inside.  There sitting on his bed stand, was a beacon emitting the red light, and the blaring sounds.  Attached to this beacon was a digital clock.  Giles stared at the clock dumbfounded.  As appalling as it was that anyone would devise such a fiendish device, it was even more appalling that an employee who worked in such a dangerous environment as the Watchers Council, would think it a good idea to buy such an item.
Andrew pushed past him, and pressed the snooze button on the alarm.
“Pretty cool huh?” Andrew suggested as Giles continued to stare at the offensive appliance.  â€œIt’s a limited edition ‘Red Alert alarm clock.’  It took me months of scouring EBay to find it.”
“You?” Giles rage found focus in the young man.
“Oh don’t worry.” Andrew responded obliviously, “I got a two for one deal, so you can use this one for as long as you like.”
Giles continued to stare trying to work up how best to express his feelings.  Pity there were never any sharp objects lying about when you needed them.
Starting to get nervous, Andrew shuffled his feet, and changed the subject.
“Uhm, Clements says the ingredients are prepared.”
Giles decided Andrew’s next learning experience would be to act as bait for one of the newest Slayer’s.
“And Chavers called.” Andrew continued.
“Chavers?” Giles asked, interested, as thoughts of punishing Andrew fled into the background.  â€œHas there been any change?”
“No sir”
Rupert Giles sighed and pulled his glasses off his face.  Then for good measure he ran his fingers through his hair.  â€œWillow.” He says to himself.  â€œWho did this to you?  Who could do this to you?”
Giles looked for clues in the book he had been reading the night before.  The passage on the Tribunal indicated that they had been commissioned long ago to judge cases between good and evil on the merits of strength of arms.
“Might makes right.” Giles mused to himself ruefully.  It seemed ironic somehow that the court system in use by the Powers that Be would be determined through physical prowess rather than by moral or ethical values.  He replaced the glasses on his face, and raised the book to his face.
“But no precedent to explain the presence of other judges, such as Cordelia…”
“Mr. Giles?” Andrew interrupted.
“Mr. Jasper called and said to tell you that the werewolf has fully recovered.  They want to know if they can run some tests on her, try to determine how she healed so fast.”
“Certainly not! That woman has been through enough.  Release her at once.”
“Ok, and …”
“On second thought have them send her here.  If I tell Jasper to release her, he’ll probably just send agents out to abduct her again and conduct their experiments anyway.”
“Was there something else?”
“Oh, yeah.  Mr. Chavers is still on the line for you.”
Giles rushed from the room barreling Andrew over in his dash for the phone.
“How is she?” He asked the phone anxiously.
With his advanced hearing, Spike tried to listen in, but all he got was “unconscious, critical, and lucky to be alive.”
Disappointed Giles hung up the phone.
“So any news on who wrecked the Wicca?” Spike asked cheerfully.
“The only thing we know is that whatever it was, you will be facing it next.” He snarled…then smiled a little bit as the thought pleased him.
Andrew had limped back into the control room by now, just as the phone rang.
On instinct, Andrew picked it up.  â€œWatcher’s council” He announced.  â€œWe’ve seen it all.”
“Give me that,” Giles snarled grabbing the phone from Andrew.  â€œYes?” Giles began, “Oh hello, Holden.  Yes we are just about ready.”  He put the receiver down and switched to speaker phone.  Then he turned his wrath on Andrew.  â€œHow many times do I have to tell you, we are a secret society, and we do not have a tagline!”  Andrew was saved from further tongue lashing, as Giles turned his attention to the vat, Clements and his cronies were wheeling in to the room.
“Did you get it right this time?” He asked irritably approaching the vat and inhaling deeply.
“Yes sir.  All the ingredients are to your specifications.”
“Very well…spread it around in the shape of a Star of David…, and let’s commence the enjoining.”

***

It seemed to go on for hours, the careful painstaking painting of the mystical formula on the ground, the bathing of Giles various parts in pungent liquids.  Never having been one to be impressed by magic anyway, Spike found the entire process tedious.  He paced.  He spoke with Faith on the phone, seemed she was as bored with the process as he was, but she had managed to occupy herself with a long talk to Oz.  Spike couldn’t very well have a heart to heart with Glory, so he kept looking.  He tried to engage Illyria in conversation, a spar, anything.  But she just stood in place watching the enjoining ceremony, apparently fascinated by it.  He even resorted to talking to Andrew, but the Watcher in training was far too busy with his duties to be of any help.  He had just about decided to run out into the street and let himself combust rather than wait another moment when Illyria purposefully stepped into the star.
Giles glared at her despite his increasing frustration at his inability to work the spell.  She cocked her head.
“How did you humans ever drive off the old ones?” She asked irritably.
She took the bowl of left over mixture from Giles hands and inhaled deeply.
“Your words are stunted, unnatural.  You question within yourself whether the spell will even work.  Your ingredients are weak, and … sniffing again.  Your Fyarl Demon is impure.”  With her fingernail she cut a slice in her cheek, and bled blue blood into the bowl.  Then in a strong sure voice she repeated Giles incantation with confidence and hurled the bowl into the hexagon shaped center of the star.
There was a brilliant flash of light…then they were gone, and the star shaped area of the floor was empty.  Not even the shards from the mixing bowl remained.  Spike looked closer.  Something was different.  The star was bigger somehow.  What had been two overlapping triangles were now two overlapping squares, resulting in an eight pointed star rather than the original six pointed version.  â€œAre you seeing this?” He asked looking at Andrew…but the young watcher in training was immobile, as if frozen.  Spike reached out to touch Andrew, and the second his hand touched Andrew’s skin, he blinked.  The other people in the room remained frozen but now Andrew was animate.  Spike noticed a shimmer out of the corner of his eye, and stepped closer to the eight sided Star of David.  There was a shimmer in the air directly above the star, and one in triangle shaped portion of the star in particular was shimmering subtly.  Spike tentatively reached his hand out to touch the area, and was sucked in.
Now he was in a dark place.  Not a foreboding darkness, but dark enough that even his vampire enhanced eyes could not penetrate.  â€œWhere are we” Andrew whispered beside him in a frightened whimper.  Spike rolled his eyes, but before he could answer.
“Are they gathered?” An authoritative voice asked.
“The final champion has arrived.” A familiar female voice responded.  At the sound, Spike gasped.  It couldn’t be.  He tried to convince himself it wasn’t.  These Summer’s girls were a hardy lot, but for her to be here…
“Then let’s get this over with.” A voice that could only have belonged to Cordelia exclaimed.
The now octagon shaped center section became illuminated, and standing there before him, Spike saw Cordelia, Doyle…the real Doyle presumably, Warren the ubergeek, A trio of gnarled demon type things that looked like they belonged in a Harry Potter movie, and Joyce Summers.
“Well let’s begin then.” Doyle said.  â€œWhat d’ya all want?”
“Joyce?” Giles asked from another section of the star.
“Yes, Rupert.” She responded smiling pleasantly. “It’s really me.”
“How?   What?  â€¦â€
“Oh this is going to take all day, at this rate.” Cordelia complained impatiently.  â€œBuffy’s mom, sum it up please.”
“Ok.  At a recent meeting of the Powers that Be a question was raised, that they did not have an answer for. ‘What should become of a soul that has aspects of good, and aspects of evil so that the soul itself is not clearly good or evil, but somewhere in the middle.”
“Like Willow,” Warren interrupted.  â€œShe committed murder you know.  I’d still be alive if…”
“Naw.” Spike interrupted.  â€œYou would have annoyed somebody into killing you by now.”
Warren glowered angrily in Spike’s direction.
“People!”  Cordelia spoke up.  â€œWe are not here to debate the issue; we are simply explaining what the tournament is about.  You can agree or disagree with it all you want.”
“You still have not explained the purpose for this tournament.” Illyria pointed out.
“Well,” Joyce took over, “the issue was hotly debated and never reached a satisfactory conclusion.  Various groups had their own ideas about the answer, and no group was willing to compromise on the issue, so it was ruled irresolvable.”
“Thus a tournament was proposed.” The Tribunal spoke as one.  â€œThe various factions within the Powers that Be chose champions.  Winner takes all.”
“What does the winner take?” Faith asked.
“You get a wish.” Cordelia blurted.  â€œOne all powerful, whatever you want, wish.”
“What do the Powers that Be get out of this?” Giles    questioned.
“A resolution.” The Tribunal responded.
“I don’t understand.” Giles pressed.
“Each champion represents a faction a’ the PTB,” Doyle explained.  â€œJust like each a’us judges do.  The winner of the contest will decide the outcome of the question on behalf a’ the faction he or she represents.”
“So do I represent good or evil in this Brawl Fest?” Faith inquired.
“Neither.” Cordelia answered.  â€œYou and I.” She paused and pointed off into the darkness, “And her.” She continued.  â€œRepresent the Powers of Mercy.  If you win, a soul’s final resting place will be determined by that soul’s potential for good, or for evil.  By it’s intentions rather than its actions.  For example, if Warren died in his youth before he had a chance to become a criminal mastermind…he’d still go to hell.  And if you had died when Buffy stabbed you, you’d still have a shot at heaven.”
“How can a thing that has not happened yet be measured?” Giles scoffed.  â€œYou cannot measure potential.”
“On that we agree.” The Tribunal agreed.  â€œYou were chosen as a Champion of Justice.  Had you not failed, your victory would have meant a soul’s final resting place would be determined by their accomplishments.  All the good they had done, measured against all the bad.  And not by ridiculous moral notions such as whether a given action is good or bad, but whether the actions result promotes good or bad.  When you killed Ben, killing is considered bad, but the result was the death of Glorificus which greatly increased the cause of good.  That is how souls should be judged.  Whichever direction the scale tipped, would decide their reward.  But you failed, and now we have but two Champions left.”
“You killed Ben?” Spike asked, “Not very noble of you Rupert.”
“That is why he could not be chosen to represent good.” Doyle confirmed.
“What?” Spike asked?  â€œI represent good?”
“No.” Joyce smiled.  â€œYou are a representative of the Powers of Chaos.”  If you win, the answer will be left open, and will have to be decided on a case by case basis.  Chaos feels that no one answer will apply to every situation.”
“That concept is flawed.” A deep baritone voice suggested.  â€œTo judge each case on its own merits, is a tremendous waste of resources.”
“Yes Adam, very good.” Warren replied.  â€œSee evil really is the simplest solution.  We don’t even want to waste our time with a decision.  Just let each soul try out heaven, try out hell, see where they feel the most comfortable, and decide for themselves.”
“In the process turning the utopia of heaven into as bleak a wasteland as hell itself.” Doyle countered.
“Well maybe,” Warren conceded shrugging.  â€œBut you don’t have a say in this anymore.  All your champions lost!”
“The forces of Good lost?” Giles asked incredulously.
“We had a rough first round,” Doyle admitted.  â€œWe kind of expected Xander’s defeat, and Gunn's, but we were really counting on Kendra and the Groosalugg.  Especially the Groosalugg.  You know his name means the undefeatable.  Or maybe undefeated,  I admit I’m not up on my Pylean.”
Cordelia kicked him in the shin.
“Anyway we lost the two werewolf’s last round and that did us in.”
“What would have been the result if good won?” Giles questioned.
“Who cares?” Warren responded.  â€œThey lost.”
“At least you lost too.” Doyle retorted. “Evil started out this tournament with nine champions while the rest of us only got six, and you still lost them all.”
“Lost them all?” Spike interjected.  â€œWhat about Adam?”
“The clear linear thinking of Adam is looked upon with favor by the Powers of Justice.” The Tribunal intoned.  Though his actions tend towards evil, his reasoning is just, and he would freely admit that he belongs in hell if such a place exists for his kind.”
“Which faction do I represent?” Illyria asked curiously.
“Alright already.” Cordelia interrupted, “I can see where this is going to go, and it’s not going to get me to my yoga class on time, so let’s cut right to the chase shall we?”  She pointed at Spike.  â€œChaos.” She said, then continued in a circle stopping to point again.  â€œMercy.”, “Chaos”, “Justice”, “Mercy”, “Chaos”, “Chaos” and “Justice”.  â€œNow you know what you are fighting for, you know about the wish, and you know to be ready for tonight.  Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Buffy?” Giles called out.
“She’s not in this tournament, Rupert.” Joyce responded.  â€œPrimarily because it is about her. and Angel, and less so about others.”
“But Willow participated.” He challenged.
“Yes.  And the results of the tournament have to do strongly with her, as they do with Faith, Anyanka, and you yourself Ripper.  But Buffy and Angel have been to their eternal reward, and have returned.  Buffy was pulled back from heaven, and Angel was snatched back from hell.  I cannot explain to you all the reasons why, but it would create a greater conflict of interest if they were to participate, the contest would be too easily contested.” She smiled kindly and finished.  â€œThe last thing we want is a re-trial.”
“So, just to be clear.” Andrew piped up.  â€œI’m on the good side now right?  I’m going to heaven?”
“Putz.” Warren cursed.  â€œUseless prop like you will probably just be stuck in limbo forever.”
“Ok so no hell then?”
“I am not here to discuss individual personal rewards.” Joyce explained.  â€œI am here as a spokesperson for the Powers that Be to explain this tournament so you know what you are fighting for in general.”
“Okay.” Andrew agreed readily, “but... do you move around Tran dimensionally like in Ghosts of the Ponce Equation, or do you just travel through hyper time?”
“Dork!” Warren responded.
“Hey it was originally your question.” Andrew rejoined.
“I’m afraid this brings our time together to an end.” Cordelia announced a bit too eagerly.
Prepare yourselves.

***

They were back.  Giles, Illyria, Andrew and Spike were standing in the Star of David, each in a different triangle section.  The bowl of herbal formula was unbroken in the center octagon shape.  The star retained its square on square shape, as the only evidence that something had happened.

“Well.” Spike drawled, “Guess I am on the winning team.  What with four of the eight remaining contestants representing Chaos.”
“I hope you face Adam next.” Giles cursed.
“Nope,” Spike continued smugly, “he’s in the first round, with Caleb.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Giles agreed uncertainly, “Although I would have thought Caleb would represent Evil.”
“And I am to face the Slayer named Faith?” Illyria questioned.
“Yes, Faith the Vampire Slayer.” Andrew agreed.
“Vampire Slayer?  I thought you meant a Dragon Slayer.  This will be much easier than I expected.”
“Dragon Slayer?” Giles, Andrew and Spike were all surprised to hear.
“So, I am not supposed to kill this vampire slayer?” Illyria double-checked.
They nodded in mute silence.
“Very well.  I hardly need to prepare for this battle; I shall go for a walk.”
“Dragon Slayer.” Andrew breathed in awe as Illyria left the building.
“Just let me know if Chavers calls.” Giles said, and then he too left the building.
“So,” Spike said conspiratorially, “you still got that video camera?”

 

ROUND THREE, MATCH TWO :: FAITH vs ILLYRIA

“We are the tribunal.” A trio of voices proclaimed.  â€œThe champions are gathered, trial by combat will now begin.”
Faith blinked.  She sat up still a little groggy.  She did not remember going to sleep, but it must have happened cause here she was.  
“Time to make the donuts.” She said, getting to her feet and slowly taking in her surroundings.  She was in the exercise yard, at the women’s correctional facility in Stockton.
“This locale your idea?” She asked the three gnomish demon things that called themselves the Tribunal.
“The location of the combat is randomly selected from the memory of one of the combatants.” They responded.  â€œNow face your challenge.”
She turned and noticed a small, familiar female shape.  Despite Spike’s report it was startling to see Fred, or rather Illyria in person.  Illyria cocked her head to the side.
“So this is a vampire slayer.”  She appraised.  â€œYoung,  Pretty,  Female,  A vampire’s favorite prey.  It is a good lure.” She concluded approvingly.
“And this is what a hell god looks like in the body of a friend.” Faith retorted getting in her face.
Illyria cocked her head to the other side.  â€œThe shell… Fred’s memories of you do not indicate friendship.” Illyria responded.
“You took her memories as well as her body?”
Illyria looked away, as if ashamed.  â€œI took it all.” She admitted.  She looked back sharply at Faith.  â€œYou hate me for it.  You reek of it” She commented, a little surprised.  â€œYou hardly knew Fred, yet you would kill me, if you could.”
Faith backed up a little.  â€œNah.” She says.  â€œI mean hate, Yeah.  Kill no.  Spike says you’ve reformed.  Wouldn’t be a very good rep of Mercy if I didn’t give you the chance to make good on your mistakes.”
“You serve Mercy.” Illyria mused.  â€œThen perhaps you can explain the point of a battle that does not end in death.”
“Excuse me?”
“If I am not trying to kill you, then why engage in combat?”
With the speed of a striking cobra, Faith lashed out with her fist and punched Illyria full in the face.  â€œPayback?” She suggested following up with another punch.  Then another.  Illyria dropped on her hands, and spun about with her leg outstretched trying to swipe Faith’s legs out from under her, but Faith simply leapt over the outstretched leg, and grabbed Illyria by the hair as she spun.  Illyria stood, and stomped down hard on Faith’s foot, resulting in her release.  She spun around again this time in a standing position, and delivered a punch of her own that caught Faith in the flat of her chest, and sent her back a couple yards.
“I still don’t understand.”  She commented blinking thoughtfully as she stepped towards Faith.  â€œI understand practice/sparring.  It enhances the skill of both combatants, but we are not here to enhance our skills, rather to test them.  We fight for a prize, why limit ourselves, by fighting beneath our full potential?”
“Agreed!” The tribunal interrupted catching the attention of both Faith and Illyria.  â€œThis ridiculous limitation forced upon us by the Powers of Mercy prevents accurate final judgment.  Will you request a mistrial?” They fairly begged.
“No.” Faith exclaimed standing, and swinging her arm upwards in an uppercut that lifted Illyria off the ground nearly a foot before gravity drew her back down.  â€œExpecting us to give our lives to satisfy some entities curiosity is what’s ridiculous.” She exclaimed punctuating her remark with a kick to Illyria’s midsection; a kick which Illyria caught.
“So if you had to kill me to beat me, you would rather lose?” she asked cocking her head, and letting go of Faith’s leg.
“That’s how it works.” Faith agreed, swinging her newly freed leg into a roundhouse kick.
“Then why fight?  Why not simply give up?” Illyria questioned easily blocking Faith’s kick.
“Because,” Faith responded, pulling her leg towards herself then extending it out directly at Illyria pushing into her chest.  â€œI don’t have to kill you to beat you.”  Illyria stepped back a few feet catching her balance.  Faith ran towards her and delivered a jump kick that pushed her back even further.
“Madness.” Illyria exclaimed.  â€œEither you want to win or you don’t, your conditional desire to win is vexing.”
“Mistrial?” The Tribunal asked hopefully.
“Certainly not.” Illyria responded disdainfully.  â€œI do not wish to be subject to this bothersome conflict all over again.”
“You concede then?” The Tribunal asked slightly less hopeful.
Illyria thought about it for a moment, then delivered a kick of her own to Faith, that sent her back onto the weight bench.  â€œThis contest annoys me.” She responded, “Yet I am compelled to continue. I desire the prize.”
The Tribunal fell silent once more, while Faith arose from the weight bench holding a barbell with a small weight on both ends.  She started swinging the barbell around as a weapon advancing on her smaller limbed opponent.  Illyria looked about for a suitable counter.
“Know what Lil Blue?  I’m gonna help you out.  Take you out nice and quick-like so you don’t have to worry bout all these complex rules.”  She poked her weapon at Illyria’s midsection doubling her over.  Then dipped it a bit intending to bring it straight up and connect with Illyria’s chin, but she hesitated too long.  Illyria grabbed the barbell and wrenched it from Faith’s grasp; then spun about in a perfect circle so the weapon connected with the side of Faith’s head.  Her body spun wildly into the fence, bounced off it and crumpled into a table that collapsed under the force of her fall.
“Slayer?” Illyria asked dropping the barbell and approaching her foe.  â€œDid I use too much force?  Are you dead.”  Upon hearing no immediate response she stepped closer.  â€œSlayer?” She asked again.
“Five by five.” Faith replied weakly.  Beginning to stir.
Illyria looked at her questioningly.  â€œ25?” She asked.
“square” Faith explained drawing upon secret reserves of strength to stand and cold cock, Illyria with a piece of makeshift club from the table fragments.
“You seek to further confuse me with inane geographical references?” Illyria asked, annoyed, as Faith jumped into the air, grabbed the chin up bar and swung her feet into Illyria’s body catapulting her high into the air.  She bounced against the fence, and crashed down onto the ground at Faith’s feet.
“Square.” Faith explained.  â€œWe’re square, it’s square.  Even.  Fine.” She continued running out of synonyms in her limited vocabulary as she grabbed a hold of Illyria and lifted her off the ground.  She prepared to throw her into a wall, but Illyria grabbed both Faith’s arms and attempted to reverse the throw.  The two of them stood there staring at each other for a few tense fractions of a second, then Illyria broke the hold and stepped back, just out of reach, staring venomously at her opponent.
“Enough.” She spat.  â€œThis prattle is not helping me understand.  Let us finish this ludicrous conflict without words.”
“Five by five.” Faith agreed, stepping forward and swinging at her face.  
Illyria dodged and, and aimed a fist of her own at Faith’s chest.  
Faith blocked the blow, then raised her arm towards Illyria’s chin, attempting another uppercut.  
Illyria spun to the side and swung her arm wide, gaining momentum with her spin into a roundhouse punch, which Faith blocked with her right, and took a step back, attempting to disentangle.  
Illyria stepped forward, sensing a weakness, and raised her foot intent on connecting with Faith’s chin.  
Faith reared her head back out of reach, and shot her arms forward to capture Illyria’s foot as it returned.  
The stared at each other for a couple of moments a barely discernable look of respect crossed Illyria’s features.  
Faith was flattered.  A second later she was rubbing her jaw from half a meter away.  
A quick jab had been enough to free Illyria’s leg.  
She rushed Faith trying to press her advantage, but Faith moved out of the way and tried to trip Illyria.  
Illyria kept her footing and spun about as Faith stood tall and prepared for the next assault.  
Faith took a menacing half step towards Illyria, and feinted with her right arm, which Illyria easily blocked before Faith’s left slammed into her.  
Faith continued her assault firing jab, after punch, after kick to the increasingly dazed Illyria backing her up against the wall of the complex.  
With Illyria’s head jerking and snapping wildly about Faith fired off a fist directly where Illyria’s head should have been…and missed.  Her fist smacked hard against the brick wall, and in those few seconds during which the pain shot through her, Illyria recovered.
A punch to her midsection doubled Faith over.  
An elbow to the spine brought her to her hands and knees.
A kick to her side spun her onto her back.
Then with a swift motion, Illyria straddled the Slayer; sitting on her; pinning her.  
She punched with her right arm, but Faith blocked with her left, pushing her arm back against her midsection, pinning it there.  Illyria punched with her left, but Faith blocked the blow the same way.  Now both of Illyria’s arms were pinned against herself.  
Faith twisted, intent on dislodging her smaller opponent, but Illyria head butted her in the nose, and Faith lost her grip on her opponent’s hands.  Illyria grasped her opponent’s neck planning to remove her head…but then she remembered that irritating no kill rule and sighed heavily.  She had to content herself with choking Faith instead.  Faith struggled, but could not break the hold and as Illyria continued choking her, she grew weaker and weaker until her struggling stopped.  Illyria released the hold.
“Do you yet live?” She asked.  
Faith bucked her off, and stood rapidly but the strain was too much for her.  Her eyes rolled up into her head and she feinted from lack of oxygen.
Illyria cocked her head askingly at the Tribunal.  
“The Champion has been determined,” they announced.  â€œThe contest has ended.”

 

It has been nearly 4 years.  It is ludicrous to think there is anyone still out there who holds onto hope that I may yet finish this tale.
Yet I have not completely given up on it till just now.  My downfall could be attributed to a number of things, but there was one finality.  Darla vs Drusilla deserved more than I could give it.  I tried.  I wrote a draft I felt really good about it and had my friend WhiteDragon critique it only to find that I wasn't even close.  I scrapped it and started over, and thought I was close again, but the pen drive I had been storing it on went through the washing machine.  Then I lost my job, and my house.  Then I moved 300 miles for a job.  Then  discovered World of Warcraft.  The excuses abound.  But the bottom line is I did not understand these two characters intimately enough to tell the story that deserved to be told.
A story of Darla, selfish, self centered, spoiled.  Favored of her Master.  She became a changed person when the impossible happened and she became pregnant with Angel's son.  For the first time in her very long life she felt a feeling she could never have previously understood.  Love.
A story of Drusilla.  Damaged, fractured, demolished.  A woman who found strength in her family only to find it destroyed around her.  A monster who became part of a new family, only to find it self destruct around her as one by one every other member became re-ensouled. 
The story to be told would have explored the importance of family to Drusilla, her near worship of her "grand mamma/daughter"  and her simply longing to have her family back.  It would have explored Darla, finally feeling remorse for what she allowed Angelus to do to Drusilla.  Pitying her, and ultimately revealing that she had never intended for Dru to be turned, in fact she was rather appalled that Angelus would take it that far.  The shock of rejection would have been the opening Darla needed to end Dru's eternal torment.  (As Angel should have done long ago).  There were grand plans for this story. but ultimately it was beyond me.
So I quit. 
Why?  After 4 years can I really think that anyone is still sitting around with baited breath hoping I will get back to it?
No.  It's just, that I have to be able to move on, and I don't seem to be able to do that without this symbolic gesture.

I had plans for the remaining stories.  I would have started with an interlude that explained how The First sent an army of baddies to the hospital to dispose of Willow, and how in the end an agreement was arranged, where the First was released from the spell so long as it never again appeared in the visage of Tara.  (Gwen, would have been in the same hospital...and the Morimoto angle would have been played on a bit as well, but it's all moot now.  Connor would have also been featured prominantly)

Then I would have gotten in to the Semifinals.  Illyria would have kicked Adam's tale.  This is harder than it sounds since Hamilton was able to beat Illyria to a bloody pulp, and Adam seemed to be about Hamilton's equal. Still that's how the voters decided...way back when.  Then Spike and Darla would have squared off, and Spike would have won.  (I hadn't actually thought this fight out yet, and it would have been a hard one as well). 

In the end it would be Illyria and Spike, and although Illyria probably would not need any help with this one, the First Evil would have been sure to distract Spike.  As everyone knows, the winner of the tournament was to get a wish...and the First was pretty sure she would approve of Illyria's wish. 

Illyria was going to surprise everyone though.  Her wish would not be to restore herself to her former glory...it would be to bring back Fred, and Wesley.   However that would be rejected because it is two wishes instead of one.  And at that point, I pictured a battle royal where many of the defeated contestants would come back for a final "sudden death" round.  (Illyria vs Glory was going to be so much fun....).

Anyway.  thats the basic premise as far as I had it thought out.  I enjoyed this project and thank those who helped me with it, and urged me along.  I am sorry to anyone I disappointed.  But most importantly, now that I have written these words, I am free.  Feel free to finish the story in your own minds, however you see fit.