Humala: mine. Buffy: Joss's. That kool "woo-hoo" song I keep hearing: I have no idea whose it is. Any questions?
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Part Five
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A few hours later, the two Slayers woke up. Their eyes were yellowish, almost green. They felt their cheeks sort of bulging away from their face, like they had cotton in their mouths. And in their mouths, they felt their sharp new teeth. Throughout their bodies, they felt a slight surge of power. As Slayers, they felt the same, physically. They had the power, but it wasn't like they felt like Arnold Scwartzenegger or anything. Just confident in the fact that they could thrash anyone and anything. But now, they were totally powerful. Not just confident, but powerful. Buffy had been a vampire once before, but it was new now. It was permanent. She felt like she was nuclear-powered, reactor cores in every molecule of her being. She knew that nothing on Earth could kill her, and it made her feel great.
Well, almost nothing. The two Slayer-Vamps cringed at the sight of the cross they had left on the table. They'd have to handle the weapons carefully.
"So how do you feel?" Angel asked from across the room. They'd heard it as if he'd said it into their ears.
"Like a tank," Faith replied. "Can't wait to kick some butt."
"We go now," Buffy said. "Let's kill them."
Driving in Oz's van, the only three people on Earth who still had souls went to the temple. Along the way, they occassionally threw molotov cocktails out their windows to ignite the houses. Except for the temple, they'd covered every place in Sunnydale with kerosene. Just in case there were any vampires hiding, waiting, they would be taken out by the flames. Over forty miles of Sunnydale went down that night. They drove right out of Buffy's neighborhood just as each house ignited, causing a huge explosion.
It was about four thirty in the morning when they got to the temple. They had to roast the trees, but who'd care?? Everybody was dead, for crying out loud!! At the temple, they took out the one weapon that had the most potential: a rocket launcher. They fired five good shots at the temple, taking out over two hundred billion vampires. They saw that the rest were standing by the lawn. Around a hundred and fifty, Buffy guessed. Among them were Spike, a Drusilla with an unnatural aura, Buffy's mother, Xander, Giles, Willow, Oz, Amy, and Cordelia. They'd have to take out their friends. Buffy felt no qualms at this. Her job was to kill vampires, and she would. No matter what it took.
"Are you ready to die?" Dru/Humala shouted. She was taunting her enemies.
"Let's go...punk," Buffy growled. She took out her bow and arrow and unleashed about ten arrows at the vampires, each one passing through three vampires. They jumped out, launching fire bombs and holy water at their enemies.
The battle raged for forty-five minutes. Buffy lost herself in the battle, not really knowing anything except for dodge, kill, live. She saw flashes of herself breaking bones, twisting necks, killing her friends and family and enemies. But in the end, nobody won.
Around twenty after five, the sun, the one thing that kept Buffy's enemies at bay, rose powerfully to the sky, bathing the unholy beings in its rays. At last, Buffy understood part of the scriptures in the Humala Sect's prophecies. `All things evil lay in the lives of vampires.' The demons in the world were all connected, in some way or another, to vampires. Whether they dealed with them, fed on them, or fought with them, they all needed vampires to live, Without them, all evil would fall. The Hellmouth would be closed, no energies coming from it, nothing drawn to it. For this was the sunset of the old world, this sunrise of 2009. Today was the beginning of the end for everything Slayers fought for: the death of evil. Buffy knew now that she had done her job right, at the cost of her own life. The flash of light as the last remnants of humanity died out. But in a vision, right at the end, she knew that two genetic projects would carry on.
In Washington, D.C., a man waited patiently for his bride to be born from her rejuvenated DNA. He had decided that his name was Adam. Somehow, he knew that he was the first of the last. Yet he didn't even know what it meant.
In a few minutes, she stepped out, fully grown. Adam handed his wife, Eve, a blanket to cover herself with. They took a look at what was in their town.
Nothing. They did, however, see something at the horizon: a fire. They smiled at it. Without knowing her name, they knew Buffy had finished her duty. She would now know peace.
With the human race gone, Adam and Eve were the last two, and also, the first two. They knew what to do. Nobody had to tell them anything. Not that there was anybody left to tell them. Yet.
THE END.
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