The Hot Gates by cjsplace

The Hot Gates

Summary:Summary: Can the Slayer essence only spread so far before it circles back on itself? Are we doomed to live our lives over again until we learn what we need to pass on?

Published: November 28, 2007

Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon, the movie The 300 based on the graphic novel by Frank Miller is the property of Warner Bros.

Ratings: PG

Author's Notes: This is an AU that looks at reincarnation. Several things will come to light, regarding the Slayers. I've meshed together the the movie storyline and actual facts pertaining to the 300 and the Battle of Thermopylae, that the movie either brushed over or left out completely.

Story Art

I know I am deathless...
We have thus far exhausted
trillions of winters and summers,
There are trillions ahead, and
trillions ahead of them.
(Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, 1st (1855)

A body lay unmoving in a darkened room. Machines forced the lungs to inflate, while others kept a constant beep to monitor a weak heartbeat. Bandages wrapped around the small head, hiding the once beautiful features of the original Slayer. She laid there broken, possibly dying, and her friends didn't know how to help. They stood outside the ICU, looking through the glass, watching her fight for her life, or so they thought.

Nysa had faced many horrors during her training as a chosen daughter of Artemis. The mythological beasts created by the gods weren't the only creatures that stirred in the night. Foul monsters that some say had wandered the Earth even before the gods, and came from the deepest pits of darkness, with evil for breath and malice pumping through their veins rather than blood. Nightmares come to life that walked the night and could pull a man's soul from his body by thought, claw or fang. They found a use for their prey as food, slave, progeny, or worse still - example. She had trained for the duty she fulfilled each night, since she was a child. A sad smile lifted her lips as she thought about her childhood. It brought her homeland to mind. Sparta. It was more than just a city or province that she called home. Spartan laws and beliefs helped to shape her into the woman that she was today. Sparta was famous for its soldiers, but its women were equally fierce and proud.

Her father, Teleclus, had wanted a son. He loved her and her older sister, Delias, but a Spartan man needed sons to carry on his name, send to battle for the glory of Sparta and to allow him the same honor. It didn't help that the gods had chosen his daughters. Her sister had the sight and went to live with the priestesses at Delphi at a young age. She bore Artemis' mark, and had joined the goddess' service with the visit of her first moon cycle. Her father went before the assembly and had obtained for her the right to enter the agoge. King Leonidas himself had accompanied her father in escorting her to the school's gates. It was a good day. The training was hard, meant to cull out the weak. When it came time to leave for Helios to start her training under the goddess' care, she wore her scars proudly. Her only regret was that she wouldn't get to participate in the krypteia rite of passage. King Leonidas and Queen Gorgo had wished her well on her journeys and reminded her that Sparta would always be her home.

Nysa remembered arriving at the temple at Helios. She, like any good Spartan, worshipped the goddess Artemis. They revered the goddess whose very name encompassed everything that a Spartan held inviolate - health, strength, and vigor. She was also their patron goddess of education. Spartans held knowledge in the highest esteem. She had resigned herself to a life without men. But, was pleasantly surprised to learn that Artemis valued a keen mind, whether it resided within a man mattered little to the virgin goddess. It lightened her heart to learn that, although many bore her mark, only a few would become her living embodiment. Those not selected had the unexpected opportunity to find a suitable husband after they completed their commitment to the goddess or to continue in the goddess' service. Nysa had hoped that the goddess would pass her by, but the Fates had already woven the tapestry of her life. Children for the honor of Sparta were not part of it.

On her sixteenth birthday, she became the embodiment of Artemis' spirit on Earth, her chosen warrior filled with the goddess' power. She grew faster, stronger, and gained heightened senses; everything needed to fulfill her allotted purpose, her duty to her goddess - protect the innocent from the evil that roamed the darkness. Trusted men and women, dedicated to Artemis, her called daughters and their duty, followed her. They protected and guided her while she carried out her sacred duty. Artemis visited her through prophetic dreams, guiding her with visions and portents.

She was on her way to see her sister at Delphi. Delias' powers of sight had grown stronger over the years. She had become the Oracle on her eighteenth birthday, and was still going strong five years later. They hadn't seen each other in over ten years. Nysa hated that her visit was duty related, rather than pleasure. She had missed seeing her sister's beautiful face light up when she smiled, or the way her large blue eyes blurred when she got lost in a world that only she could see.

It worried her that evil surrounded her sister, a far-reaching evil, one that reached into the very heart of Sparta. Artemis spoke to her in a dream and told her that the Ephors, the five elected judges, meant to ensure that even Sparta's kings upheld the laws had been corrupted evil.

Xerxes, the King of Persia, intended to pick up where his father had left off in conquering the world. His vast armies had marched across Egypt and Babylon, and he had turned his greedy eyes toward Greece. He had vast numbers available to him for his armies. His armory held strange weapons and creatures unseen in these lands. He used whatever means necessary to win, including magic. Rumor had it that Xerxes had sent out messengers to every kingdom throughout Greece. They came offering each region the honor of calling Xerxes their lord and master. Those that accepted this wonderful offer got to keep their kingdom, in name only, of course.

King Leonidas had answered the offer in true Spartan form. He gave the messengers a beautiful death as his answer, whether they wanted one or not. Determined to stop Xerxes, Leonides wanted to assemble the army and take a stand at Thermopylae where there was a small easily defensible pass. He went to the Oracle at Delphi for guidance, with the Epochs following close in his wake. The Epochs waylaid the Oracle and interpreted her message to suit their own desires, before relaying it back to the waiting King and his men. They used the quickly approaching Carneian festival along with the distorted message from the Oracle as their reasoning for vetoing Leonidas' request to assemble the army. Worst still, they didn't tell the Spartan king the words meant for him alone.

Nysa snuck into her sister's chambers, knowing that time was working against her. She crept closer to a large bed where sheer draperies provided privacy. The soft breaths and shifting materials told her that someone lay inside hidden from view. Her keen vision allowed her to see the exact moment that her sister realized she was there. Delias' slender body sat up in the bed. She turned toward her younger sister, her large blue eyes luminous in the dark.

"Artemis' daughter, Spartan sister, you've finally come."

She crossed the distance to drawback the draperies. There sat her beautiful sister, Delias. She gazed down into those eyes that saw into far off worlds. Her hand came up to cup the beloved face of the sibling that had left her life too soon.

"Yes, sister, I'm here. I've come to hear the words meant for King Leonides, words that you spoke two days ago. They didn't reach his ears as you intended. Artemis sent me to carry your words to him."

A serene smile crossed Delias' lips. Long, dark hair fell down her back, giving her face the appearance of a pale moon rising from a dark cloud. The midnight blue eyes dulled as the sight overwhelmed her with its power.

Her voice came out in a soft whisper, "The lion does not need the words; he knows what he needs to do. If the goddess feels that he should have this reassurance, I give it freely." She whispered them into her sister's ears, then pulled back to stare into the womanly face that had replaced that of the little round faced girl that she had cherished. "Know this, daughter of Artemis; your fate will not end at the Hot Gates. The goddess' gift will cycle through time. Her warriors are chosen, their numbers known to her and her alone." Her body wilted like a flower back down onto the soft mattress.

Nysa sat on the bed, brushing the dark hair away from the pale face. "I'll remove those that threaten you, sister. Live in your hazy world where the darkness can't enter. The Fates wove my skein on the day of my birth, and whether I die in this battle or another, death will forever snap at my heels."

She bent forward to place a soft kiss on the smooth, pale brow. Slipping from the room, she melted into the shadows, searching out those inside the temple walls that didn't belong and extinguishing them. Her shadow raced away from Delphi, heading for Sparta and the Ephors. They had too much power and too many months left in their year of service to leave them alive. The evil that they could spread was unimaginable. Her feet moved swiftly over open fields, hills and streams. She ran swiftly through the day and night, never pausing to eat or sleep. Time was against her and as those working to bring about the downfall of all she held sacred worked in conjunction. King Leonides needed to hear the words meant for him. His actions could determine the future of all Greece. Yet, her sacred duty called for her to remove an even greater threat that sat at the heart of Sparta - the Ephors.

How would she provide Leonides the information he needed and remove the hidden threat that lay in the corrupted Ephors?

Her mind whirled with confusion as the scenery passed by until she suddenly found herself standing on Sparta's outskirts. She crept into the city. Her first destination was Artemis' temple, which stood next to the school that she had once attended. Entering the temple, she went directly to the large statue of Artemis Orthia. She bowed formally, before going down on her knees and lowering her head as her lips slipped into a silent prayer. Nysa thanked the goddess for watching over her during her long journey. Standing with a liquid grace, she went to find the high priestess.

Each temple, no matter how large, lavish or simple, had the same basic design; a large antechamber for public celebrations and ceremonies, with bathing quarters directly behind it, then a private chamber for the high priestess that was large enough to perform private ceremonies lay to the left of the bathing room. Cooking, eating, storage and sleeping quarters for the other priestesses, acolytes and servants took up the remaining open area to the right. This was where Nysa headed, knowing that the high priestess would either be there, or would soon arrive when she learned of her appearance.

She stepped into the busy room and all noise stopped. Her dress and the mark clearly defined on her bare shoulder announced her place among Artemis' Chosen Daughters. Servants and acolytes alike rushed forward to assist her. They practically carried her over to a long table over-flowing with fresh fruit, flat breads, water and wine. Towels and bowls appeared, along with a multitude of hands to clean her hands and face so that she could eat. The high priestess entered the room, followed by a matronly woman that Nysa had seen quickly leave when she arrived. She started to rise from the table to greet her properly, when the high priestess motioned for her to stay seated.

"Eat, Daughter of Artemis, you look weary from your journey. The bathing chamber awaits you when you are ready. I am Athis," she said with a rich, deep voice. Her back was ramrod straight as she stood before a chosen warrior of the goddess. She couldn't imagine the life this young girl had led up to this moment, yet she didn't envy her. No doubt, the goddess walked beside her, guiding her through the night as she fulfilled the destiny that the Fates had woven for her. She much preferred serving Artemis here within the temple walls where the evil and darkness didn't enter.

"We each serve as the Fates demand."

A soft voice intruded on her deep thoughts, startling Athis into looking back down at the speaker. She found herself caught within a pair of emerald eyes. They were unusual in their coloring. Spartans and Greeks alike had predominately brown eyes, with blue eyes showing up whenever the trait somehow became dominant from some long ago ancestor. She couldn't ever remember seeing green eyes, and never such a deep color. They were startling and seemed to see much more than normal eyes should.

"Do not worry. I don't have the sight that is my sister's gift. Your face told me your thoughts." She nodded to her helpers, then easily moved up and away from the table. Her lean muscles were stiffening from sitting too long after the abuse she had put them through the last few days. "Please, come and keep me company while I bath. Share with me news of Sparta. It's been a long time since I've been home and I long to hear what has transpired during my absence."

The high priestess nodded and waved an arm, indicating that the tall, lean woman-child should follow her. They walked the short distance in silence, preferring not to be overheard by the no doubt curious others. The older woman waved the bathing attendants out, shock showing clearly on their faces, along with disappointment. The two women shared a knowing smile as Nysa started to undress. She dropped her outer cloak, followed closely by her weapons, short tunic and under dressings. Moving over to a shelf built into the wall, she sat down and allowed the warmth from the tiles to seep into her tired muscles. She prepared herself for the cool waters that would shower down on her when enough steam built up in the next chamber.

"You said that you used to live here. Who are your people?" Her curiosity got the better of her and she wanted to know more about this strange child of destiny.

Nysa's lips curved up into a soft smile. Her eyes remained closed as she answered, "My father is Teleclus and my mother was Iaera. I left Sparta when I was a child of twelve. Please, tell me the news. I've heard rumors, but would rather hear the truth from one that knows the inner workings about what's happening in my homelands." She heard the pipes as they started to fill, and tried not to tense her muscles, knowing that the cool waters would stimulate her skin and start the bathing process.

"The Gerousia, led by the Ephors, went to confront King Leonides and 300 of his men where they had assembled outside the city. They threatened to imprison them for going against the mandates of the council and even the Oracle's words about when to march against Xerxes, saying that Sparta dare not bring down the wrath of the gods along with that of the Persians. Our good king merely smiled and told them that he had gathered no army, just a few friends, who like himself, felt in need of some exercise. If their exercise took them toward the Hot Gates, the Oracle said nothing about that and it broke no laws; they were after all free men of Sparta. Queen Gorgo sent him off with shield and helm, like a good Spartan wife, with our young prince standing by her side. The dining clubs are ripe with gossip as to when the Gerousia will break and send him the troops he wanted from the start. They say that to a man the assembly can't walk the streets without someone coming up to them with a request to join our good king."

The news equally gladdened and saddened her. Her king had found a way around the Carneian festival's traditions forbidding the army from leaving Spartan territory during the festival, and Spartan rulers couldn't declare war. He had limited time before the festival started and any help that he might receive would have to wait until the the full nine days of the festival came to an end. She wasn't sure that he could last that long, with only 300 Spartans and several hundred Helots along to protect their backs. Nysa sent up a silent prayer to Artemis that Leonides had somehow gotten word out to his allies and that they would send him the reinforcements that he sorely needed.

Cool water shocked her from her morbid thoughts. It shot through the small holes in the pipes, raining down on her body, drenching it and washing away the dirt and grime from her long journey. The water ran out and she got up, shaking like a wet dog. The high priestess laughed at her antics.

"Come, the steam is ready," the high priestess said with a smile. "It will revive you, and then you can tell me what brings you back to Sparta."

She felt refreshed after her time in the bathing chambers. The hot steam had sweated the impurities and stiffness from her body. She had gratefully sunk into the large bathing pool to soak, and later swam several laps to finish off the entire process. Rising from the warm waters, she allowed the bathing attendants, who Athis had let back inside, to dry and then wrap her in a large piece of cloth. She followed a young Helot to the high priestess' private quarters. Entering the chambers, her eyes automatically assessed the new surroundings. It wasn't a conscious act. Her finely honed warrior skills took over, looking for signs of danger while noting the exits, sizing up the people, memorizing the layout and every article, no matter how small, for its possible use as a weapon. She approached a high table, where scented oils stood nearby and dropped the cloth before climbing onto it. Laying down face first, she closed her eyes, keeping her senses on high alert.

Athis dismissed the slave, then moved to stand beside the table. A soft clatter filled the room as she smelled the oils until she found the one that best suited her subject. She chose a mixture of sandalwood and amber with a hint of citrus, then let the rich oil pool into well-worn hands. Those same hands started at the base of Nysa's spine, slowly working their way up one vertebra at a time. When they came to those that joined the head to the shoulders, they spread out, delving into the still damp hair to massage the scalp. A deep moan from the supine woman brought a smile to Athis' lips. Her fingers continued to work their magic, releasing the tension just beneath the surface and easing the soreness from the overworked muscles. After massaging Nysa's entire body, she stepped back to wipe her hands. Artemis' Daughter had evaded her questions earlier and she hadn't pressed. She hoped that the younger woman would feel more inclined to confide in her after having some time to relax.

Having worked among young women for many years, Athis took another approach and asked, "May I help you with whatever brings you to Sparta? I may be the high priestess here, but first and foremost, I am Artemis' servant."

Nysa lifted her head. Her dark green eyes staring hard at the high priestess, whose words though heartfelt didn't fool her. She gave her a soft understanding smile. "Thank you for your offer. Artemis is blessed to have you in her service." Choosing her words carefully, she continued, "Know this. The days ahead will bring to light many things. Through that light, our beloved Sparta will learn that the darkness has crept close to home. Don't let the people lose heart. Let them know that the gods are with them." She saw the confusion cloud the normally wise eyes. "It will all become clear in the days to come. Remember the light will clear away the dark."

She sat up, swinging her legs over the table's edge. "May I rest here while my clothes and weapons are seen to?"

"Please use my sleeping chambers. No one will disturb you. Your things will be lain out for you once they've been cleaned."

They nodded to each other. Nysa stepped off the table, walking toward a sleeping area hidden behind a set of screens. She lay down, forcing her body to relax and drop off into a light sleep.

A shadow moved through Sparta's streets, darting between buildings and homes, evading the passing guards as it continued on its strangely winding path throughout the capital city. It had started its journey at the city's center, but wound back and around, as if it followed a drunkard's steps. Moonlight gleamed overhead, wafting down to cast additional shadows, providing the lone figure company to dance among on its journey. Feet crept across stone streets, creating no sound as the figure passed through. It moved by homes where those inside slept soundly, little knowing what dangers walked about at night. Stopping before a home, larger than the last, the shadow slipped inside without disturbing those within or without. It moved more surely now, prowling closer as the moonlight shining through the opened portion of the roof gleamed off the metal of a sword that had appeared in its hand. The shadow silently moved toward the master's chambers. Moonlight filtered down, catching the ghostly intruder in a loving caress, revealing the oval face, green eyes and dark hair of Nysa, the Chosen Daughter of Artemis.

Her face showed no emotion as her long, lean body moved with a smooth, predatory grace to complete her allotted task. This was the last. The other four Ephors lay dead in their beds. She entered the room, stepping toward the bed where a man lay surrounded by four young women. The women had numerous bites and scratches covering their bodies. They whimpered even as they slept. Her lips compressed into a moue of distaste, regretting that she couldn't kill her intended target with more prejudice. The sharp blade separated head from body, breaking the glamour that had hidden the demon that had crawled inside the last of Sparta's Ephors. A repulsive creature, with grayish skin, a stooped and wrinkled body, rotten teeth, a bald head and enormous protruding eyes had replaced the man that had lain sleeping on her entrance. Her lips turned up into a feral smile. The Ephors deserved to meet Hades this way. It was only proper that they should live out their days in the Underworld, forever stuck in the guise that they had sold their souls to attain.

She left the house, dancing back through the shadows until she came to the outer walls. Crouching down, she pushed off from the ground, leaping up and at the wall while pumping her legs. Her body flew up several feet, using the momentum to literally walk up the wall. She grabbed onto the top ledge, hoisting her body the rest of the way; from there it was a simple matter of dropping down to the other side. Nysa knew that she had far to go before she slept this night and was thankful for her respite at the temple. One part of her journey was complete, while another had just begun.

Leonidas remembered standing on the cliffs, watching as the storms tossed the Persian ships. His men had cheered as the fragile wooden husks shattered against the rocks. The tempest created by Poseidon's wrath with Zeus' furious thunderbolts showing his added displeasure tore the Persian fleet apart. He stood silent and strong, immovable as the cliffs beneath his feet, a shining example of Spartan reserve braving the harsh elements without faltering. Their hoplite comrades-in-arms had joined them as they shouted for the gods to blast the devils from the sea. Although the gods had destroyed numerous ships filled with men, he knew that their number reflected barely one-fifth of Xerxes' mighty army of over 300,000. His own 300 crowded around him, with the Arcadians close beside them. There were Mantinean, Teagean, Corinthian, Phlius, Orchomean, Mycenaeans and even their own emancipated Helots sprinkled through the crowd that trailed down the cliffs. Their numbers didn't swell to compare to Xerxes' huge contingencies, but altogether he had counted 4000 Peloponnesian ready to push back the threat to Greece's freedom.

They had survived the first day with the 300 still in tact. Thousand of Persians died with little loss to their own numbers, thanks to their vantage point. He knew that tomorrow would bring more of the same, with the added threat of "the Immortals." Xerxes was sure to send in his elite unit. Let them come; they'll meet Spartan spear and shield and sword.

"Spartans, we have another chance for glory tomorrow. Gather the dead, see to the wounded and get some rest," his deep voice roared the orders.

Captain Artemis, ever present at his king's side, motioned for the Helots to carry the wounded to safety. A group of soldiers set about ensuring that the enemy scattered about their camp were indeed dead while others stacked the bodies, creating a veritable wall within their already limited fighting area. A feral grin spread across his lips at the sight of that particular construction. The way his king's mind worked never failed to amaze him. Yes, let those Immortal devils come. We'll test their name, then send their blackened souls to Hades.

Nysa moved closer to a small fire. She chased after King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans, with them always just out of her reach. Each place she passed on her journey showed proof that they were at least a day or more ahead of her. She had hoped to catch them, since she could move much more quickly than 1200 men could. It seemed that this was not to be. Pulling her cloak more securely around her body, she fell into a light sleep, planning to rest for only a few hours before starting for the Hot Gates.

She stood high above a valley, where as far the eye could see, Grecian soldiers stood ready for battle. Lined at their forefront, leading the way with their dark red cloaks and bronze shields, Spartan soldiers had gathered like exotic birds. They worked the men into a frenzy, before they started across the battlefield in a glorious wave of human flesh and steel.

Shouts rang out, "For Leonidas, for the brave 300, for freedom."

Everything faded to black, except the moon that shone down on her head. The silvery moonbeams grew brighter, until they practically blinded her. Drawing her hand up to shade her eyes, she saw a shape in the distance. It approached, becoming only slightly clearer the closer it drew. Nysa squinted, seeing the hazy outline of a stag standing beside a woman in flowing robes with crisscrossed straps for a quiver and bow between her breasts. Artemis, her goddess, had come to speak to her in person, drawing her spirit here to this dreamscape. The goddess had visited her dreams many times. Her presence was always soothing and her voice warm as she spoke of important events or impending dangers. She remembered waking from these occurrences feeling loved and protected. This was different. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine that the goddess would come to her in person.

"Ease yourself, my daughter. Do not fear me, I mean you no harm. You have served me well. I come to ease your mind and offer you a boon."

She swallowed hard, trying to figure out what she might have done or would do to have need of a boon. "A boon?" Her voice quivered slightly as she asked.

The goddess of the hunt smiled at her chosen warrior, understanding how confused the young woman must feel. It saddened her that this one's thread was so short. The Fates had decreed it so, and only they knew each soul's true journey, every weave in and out of the loom, each knot that needed tying off, and when it was time to make that final cut.

"Once you relay the Oracle's words to Leonidas, I will release you from your duty to me."

"I won't be a chosen daughter anymore? Have I offended you? Done something wrong?" She fell to her knees prostrating herself before the goddess. "Please, what have I done?"

Tears blurred her vision, blinding her momentarily as her body filled with the deep cold of abandonment and fear. Warmth filled her, when two strong hands lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and cradled her next to Artemis' breast. The goddess rocked her like a mother soothing an injured child.

"You have done nothing wrong, my daughter. The Fates have shown me that you'll not live one hour longer than your king. His fate and yours are tied together. My offer is simply this; give Leonidas your sister's words, and fight beside him, not as my daughter, but as a Spartan woman. Let him know that what he does matters. Share your dream, for it will come to pass. Your destiny is spun and I cannot undo what the Fates have decreed, but I can offer you a choice to die for what you believe so that others may live."

Nysa startled awake. Goose bumps raced over her skin at her dream's impact. She jumped to her feet, kicked dirt on the fire, gathered her things and took off at a fast jog for the Hot Gates. Her face set in a determined expression. She never gave Sparta children to continue its glory. As Artemis' words echoed in her mind, she vowed that she would do her part to see that had its chance at freedom from Persia.

She crested a small hill, coming to a slow halt. Her eyes surveyed the standards that flew from the tents erected near this outermost edge of the Hot Gates. She counted no less than seven different ones flying proudly in the light sea breeze. Thank the gods. Word reached our Peloponnesian brothers and they answered. Renewed strength rushed through her veins as she hurried toward the sound of battle.

What she saw when she arrived at the scene was startling even to one that fought the darkness. Silver masked soldiers dressed in black swung deadly swords at anything that moved. This didn't disturb her. It was the beast they pulled and prodded within their midst, for beast was the only description that fit. Standing nearly eight foot tall, with shoulders the length of her legs, its massive body though flesh seemed near indestructible from the attacks it swatted away with ease. These silver faced soldiers pointed their beasty like a hound on the hunt and it went after its target time and again. Its enlarged bald head, protruding teeth and general appearance brought to mind the ancient tales of ogres.

The Spartans fought the Immortals with the inherent drive bred into them. They pitted their spears and swords against the Immortals' mystique. Leonidas went after the beast, intent on removing the threat to his men. His shield protected him from a near fatal blow. Falling from the impact, he came up with his sword and pierced the beast's side, eliciting a horrific howl. He leapt back to his feet, ready to finish the monster, but stopped to watch in shock as it pulled his blade from its flesh seemingly unharmed. Taking advantage of the situation, the beast swung at Leonidas, planning to cleave him in half. The sword started its downward path, when a body came hurtling through the air straight into the beast. Leonidas felt the tip score his forehead and cheek. He quickly grabbed his shield, used it to broadside an Immortal, took his sword and slit his throat. His focus went back to his previous quarry, which he found engaged in a battle with a - woman.

Nysa saw the beast about to kill Leonidas. She couldn't let that happen. Today wasn't his day to die, not like that. He deserved a beautiful death. Pushing her legs to go faster, she crossed the distance that separated them and threw herself at the enemy feet first. It shoved the creature backward and kept the blade from its intended path . She used the momentum and the creature's own unsteadiness to topple them to the ground. They landed with a resounding thud and a loud growl from the angry beast. Its arms and legs flayed about as it tried to get back to its feet, but Nysa had other plans. She darted back and forth, avoiding the flying limbs, lashing out at them with brutal kicks and blows. Grabbing the sword from its hand after one such blow, she used it to sever the large head from its body.

Turning back to Leonidas, she shouted, "My king."

He was already staring at her even as he fought the Persian devils around him. She threw his sword back to him, which he caught before twisting to the side to stab an Immortal. Arcadian soldiers rushed the field, hacking and slashing at the Immortals. The Spartans withdrew, leaving the remaining kills to their comrades.

Seeing that the skirmish was over except for the stragglers, Nysa maneuvered around the body-strewn area with her focus on one person and one goal, Leonidas and the Oracle's words. Her presence was like waking from a startling dream. Men, trained soldiers, slowed as she passed, trying to determine whether she was real or a figment of their imaginations, making them seem frozen in place. The sea breeze became still and stagnant and the incessant gulls went silent. All eyes watched as the lithe female form that had appeared before them approached the Spartan king. She went down on one knee, placing her right arm across her chest in a show of honor and fealty. They heard her speak in a proud, clear voice.

"My king, I ask that you allow me the honor to stand beside you, here at the Hot Gates."

Spartan soldiers gave a resounding shout. They had witnessed this woman's prowess during the battle, along with her timely rescue of their beloved king. Leonidas stared at the dark head bowed in supplication. When the woman tilted her face up to meet his, he knew that he had seen those eyes before, but in a much smaller face. They had filled the small face of a soldier's daughter born with Artemis' mark. His dark eyes glanced toward a bared shoulder, seeing the same mark proudly displayed. He put out a large hard which she took allowing him to pull her upright.

His booming voice filled the Hot Gates with his answer. "Spartans, friends, we've received a gift from the gods." He turned her around to face the still frozen, gaping men. "Artemis' Chosen Daughter wishes to join our fight. Let Xerxes send his worst and we will beat them back until the Hot Gates turn cold."

Killing the Immortals and Nysa's appearance had renewed their faith in the battle they had chosen. Strength filled their bodies as the call for battle rushed through their blood.

The shouting reached such a fevered pitch that Xerxes, who awaited the triumphant return of his Immortals, leapt from his throne with an unholy roar. His anger rose to dangerous heights, sending his generals shrinking back in terror.

Barbarian troops marched onward, pushing forward in a seemingly endless line of soldiers. No matter their numbers, the gate funneled them into its narrow pass where Spartan shield and blade, along with their Greek brothers waited. Xerxes' men saw their deaths in flashes of scarlet and bronze, swooping down on them like a great carrion. Their eyes grew wide with fright when they noticed a woman warrior among the Spartans. She fought like the personification of Death itself. They tried to retreat, pushing against the soldiers that were still trying to enter, injuring their own men in an attempt to flee the scene.

Mythical warriors and mighty numbers had failed. The generals sent for their magic casters, strange creatures with hidden faces that created fire with their gnarled hands then sent it flying toward the Hot Gates. It destroyed the earth, shaking the ground where it landed.

Using his bronze shield as protection, a Spartan soldier darted over the quaking earth, zigging and zagging in a drunken path toward the casters. He had noticed that the magic came from a strange looking gourde with a wick attached. A caster set fire to a wick and prepared to throw it. Reacting instinctively, the Spartan ran forward, snatching the hissing object from the enemy's hand and threw it against a pile of similar gourds. He pivoted around, already running back toward the pass. The explosion knocked him off his feet, but he quickly regained them and continued back to Hot Gates' waiting embrace. It annihilated the casters and the surrounding soldiers.

Outnumbered nearly a hundred to one, it mattered not; the Persians fell by the thousands, while the Spartans and their Greek comrades stayed relatively unharmed behind their wall. A furious Xerxes disciplined his generals for their failures. He had brought monstrous creatures from the darkest corners of Asia. They trampled forward wildly enraged from the smell of blood and fear that tinged the air. Their master's lashes drove them ever onward toward their king's enemy. The large animals couldn't maneuver through the narrow pass and tumbled down to the sea and rocks below, becoming more food for the gulls. Watching his beasts topple over like dominoes, enraged Xerxes even more.

Nysa danced among the Spartans. Her blade joined their spears as they pushed the Persians back, time and again. She slipped through the groups, always appearing where the fighting was heaviest. Her strength and stamina was endless as she jumped about, seeming to dance among the dead bodies. She leapt, twisted and spun about in an intricate show of gymnastic prowess and power. Her movements slowed as the others looked about counting their numbers to reassure themselves that they still stood 300 strong.

Spartans dispatched the last few stragglers, and took a well-earned breath. Captain Artemis turned to gaze at his youngest son that had showed great bravery and ability on the field this day.

He called out, a smile lighting his face as words of praise formed on his lips, "Astinos, my son."

Father and son exchanged smiles across the bloodstained ground. The Captain's eyes grew wide with horror as a lone rider galloped through the pass straight at his son. "Astinos!" he shouted in warning, his feet already moving, even though he knew he was too late.

Astinos turned to search for the danger, but was defenseless against the sharp edged sword already pressed against his skin. It sliced cleanly through the young Spartan's neck. His head toppled to the ground as the rider passed him.

"No!" Artemis screamed in horror as he watched his son's body crumpled to the ground. A terrible rage filled him. He went crazy with bloodlust, moving out of formation, intent on killing Persians, all Persians, even Xerxes himself.

It took three men to wrestle him down before he got himself killed. His howling screams of agony echoed across the battlefield, scaring the enemy more than the Spartans' fierce fighting skills. The day's fighting was over, and it was time to regroup, see to the wounded and bury the dead.

Each contingent returned to their encampments to rest and prepare for the fighting that would resume tomorrow. The Spartans gathered to compare wounds and retell stories of the day's battle. Hope filled the air, the hope that they might actually defeat the Persians.

Leonidas smiled at his men with fatherly pride, but his attention swung back to his unexpected guest. She leaned casually against the stone wall, cleaning her weapons. Her lips twitched upward in a half-smile at the men's boasting. He watched her slow, steady movements as she wiped the blood and gore from a large sword. It should have overpowered her with its length and breadth, yet he had seen what she could do with it. There was no doubt who was the master.

Nysa felt his eyes on her. Setting her weapon aside, she rose to her feet and walked over to stand before the Spartan king. Her large green eyes caught and held his somber brown ones. They nodded in greeting, their eyes going to the men when the rowdy laughter hit a high note. Turning back, they shared a smile before moving away for a more private place to talk.

"King Leonidas, I'm glad this day still finds you well," Nysa said formally, unsure how to broach the subject behind her true reason for being here.

"And I, you, Daughter of Teleclus." His smile broadened when he saw the shock cross her face over him remembering their past meetings. "Come child, did you think that I could forget you? You were the first girl-child admitted into the agoge in Sparta's history."

Her lips broke into a huge smile. "Those were good days. Thank you for standing with my father before the Gerousia. Your words helped ease my entrance. I hear your son will enter soon. May he break even his honored father's scores."

Leonidas' eyes gleamed with fatherly pride. "Yes, he will do great things for Sparta."

"You leave large footsteps for him to follow. I bring news to aid you in that goal." She saw the interest light his eyes and quickly continued. "The Oracle had words meant for your ears. Artemis sent me to ensure they found their way to you." Closing her eyes, she repeated the words her sister had whispered to her only days ago.

The strength of bulls or lions cannot stop the foe.
No, he will not leave off, I say, until he tears the city or the king limb from limb.

She heard Leonidas' heart rate increase, with fear or excitement, she wasn't sure which. Peeking up through thick lashes, her green eyes slowly opened to see the Spartan king's reaction. Dark eyes filled with a renewed sense of purpose met hers. Large hands reached out to grasp her smaller ones, bringing them up to the finely chiseled lips to place a brief, grateful kiss upon her palms.

"Thank you, thank the goddess and the Oracle," he said, his deep voice lowering to a whisper.

Dawn came early the next day. The evening brought bad tidings that changed the earlier high hopes. A traitor named Ephialtes told Xerxes about the mountain path guarded by the Phocians, who fled when Xerxes sent men to scout out the truth of the matter. The Greek leaders met to decide what to do. Leonidas refused to leave. Spartans did not retreat or surrender. He had started this battle and he would end it. The Thespians, numbering 700 strong, decided to stay, as did the emancipated Helots. The others left with the king's blessing. Leonidas sent a Spartan soldier, who had lost an eye, back to Sparta to report what happened at the Hot Gates, requesting simply that he tell their story, so that they might be remembered.

Xerxes' forces would surround them when the fighting started. Leonidas had decided to take the fight to them. Giving each man, or woman, a chance for a beautiful death, he planned to lead them out past the wall. Horns blared. Whips cracked. The earth shook from the army of a thousand nations marching toward them.

"Spartans, loyal friends, we march forward for freedom, for Greece."

Nysa clutched her sword as she stood among her Spartan countrymen. Her blood heated in anticipation of the coming battle. She felt her muscles tense as the Spartans placed their helms on their heads.

Leonidas lifted his spear, pointing it toward the narrow pass that had sheltered them from the larger Persian numbers. "Spartans! Show no mercy. For tonight, we dine in Hell!"

The excitement his words brought pulsed through them. They moved out in the famous phalanx formation, marching pass the Hot Gate into the battlefield. Nysa got lost in the fighting. Persian soldiers quickly surrounded them and she concentrated on nothing but the heady rush of battle. Her hands, feet and sword lashed out with equally deadly accuracy. The strength that came with her gift made her body a living weapon. Leonidas remained always within her line of sight. The Spartan king fought with a vicious abandonment, knowing that he wouldn't survive this day. He intended to leave this world in a blaze of glory taking every Persian he could along with him. His Spartan soldiers were not far behind as they hacked and slashed with their heavy bronze shields and long deadly spears. They seemed to feel no pain, faltering, falling, only to pull themselves up to kill one more man. A pained cry went up when Leonidas fell, the mighty lion taken down by the jackals.

Nysa saw it happen. She had started working her way toward him, but for every man she killed three more took his place. When her king went down, she pushed with everything she had, refusing to allow Xerxes' men to take Leonidas' body. Her muscles ached as she shoved against the living wall of flesh that stood between her and her goal. She threw bodies out of her way as if they weighed nothing until she finally saw him. The remaining Immortals fought over the honor of taking Leonidas' head back to Xerxes. Nysa gave them a feral smile as she shoved them away, taking up a stance over his body. She brought up her sword ready to kill anyone who tried to come near the body. And come they did.

Buffy floated in a sea of black. She didn't know what was happening. One minute she was living another person's life; no that wasn't right. She was another person. That still wasn't right either; she was another person that was still her. She was someone else; someone named Nysa that lived long ago, another Slayer.

What was this all about? Why were there only 1000 Slayers activated? Shouldn't there be more? What did Delias say to Nysa, to me? The numbers known to goddess and will cycle through time. Does that mean that there are only so many Slayers? And that we get reincarnated? How many times have I been reincarnated? Is that what all those weird dreams were about with Lothos?

Daughter.

Who's there?

Have you've forgotten me so soon, daughter?

Artemis? It was real. All of it? You're the source of the Slayer Line. Understanding flooded her consciousness. The other, it was a trick by the First to get me to take the darkness into me."

Yes. You passed the test. It's time to come home, child. This thread has spun its final weave and the tapestry of your life is complete. You've done all the Fates set out for you to accomplish, and I'm here to take you home.

Light broke through the darkness, a beeping sound shattered the quiet and pain lanced through Buffy's body.

Dawn noticed the change first. "Something's happening. Call a doctor," she squealed, her voice hitting an impossibly high note.

Xander started running down the hall, but needn't have bothered. The staff came barreling toward him. He plastered himself against the wall to keep from being run over as they raced into Buffy's room. His return wasn't quite as hurried, as if he was fearful of what he would find when he peered through that glass window this time.

Faith stood off to the side never taking her eyes off her sister Slayer. Giles wrapped an arm around Dawn and Willow as they watched the medical staff crowd around the small body. They blocked the view keeping the anxious observers from seeing what was happening. The door opened and the doctor stepped out. He wore a strange look on his face as if he was unsure what to do or say.

"Miss Summers has woken up and insists on speaking to you, all of you." He raked a hand through his hair before continuing. "She's very weak. I'm not entirely sure how she's even awake, to tell you the truth."

Dawn disengaged from Giles and moved toward Buffy's room, but the doctor blocked her way. She glared at him ready to shove him aside to get to her older sister. He gave her an indulgent smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm allowing this, although it's unorthodox, with the understanding that you'll not let her get too excited and that you won't stay long."

"We agree," they said in unison.

If it were under any other circumstances, they would have laughed at the occurrence. But, this was no laughing matter and these circumstances were becoming all too familiar. Dawn rushed by him, slowing only when she got close to the bed where Buffy lay looking small and broken. Giles came up to stand beside her, slipping his hand into her hand. Willow and Xander joined them, completing the Scooby circle. Faith went to the other side, with them but still not part of the group.

"Buffy, can you hear us? The doctor said that you wanted to talk to us," Giles said, his voice wavered slightly, but he was the only one that seemed able to speak.

The normally strong hands trembled as they pulled the oxygen mask away from her face. She tried to smile, but couldn't quite do it.

"Take your time, dear girl, we'll wait," he said.

"No, no time," she gasped.

"You have plenty of time. The doctor said not to tire you out; that means that you're getting better. Just have to wait for your Slayer healing to kick in, and then it will take off and heal you all right up and if it doesn't you know kick in soon, then I'll just do a healing spell and it will kick it in the pants, then it will kick in and it will be a whole kicking thing."

Xander put his hand over his best friend's mouth to stop her babbling. His dark eye saw what the others wanted to deny. He hated that even with one eye that he was still 'The One Who Sees.' Slayer healing wasn't going to fix Buffy this time. Nothing short of a miracle was going to, and he didn't think that they had time to find a magic vase on E-Bay.

"Not dark. Lie." Her breathing grew labored. "First set trap. Numbers fixed, recycled." She gulped, her mouth suddenly going dry.

Giles dropped Dawn's hand, placing ice chips in her mouth from a nearby glass, giving her the much-needed moisture to continue. His brow furrowed as he tried to decipher her cryptic words. He gazed into the fevered emerald eyes that begged him to understand what she was trying to tell him. It scared him that he might fail his Slayer in her hour of need, possibly her last and final message to him. He felt his heart constrict at the thought that he would outlive his Slayer, his daughter emotionally if not physically. Giles wasn't sure if he could survive losing her, not so soon, not like this.

How could it have come to this? She wasn't even supposed to have gone with Xander to look for the activated Slayers. But, there was no stopping Buffy once she got something in her head. If only they had known, it would lead to this. If only. Two simple words that held such a heavy meaning. Buffy started to speak again. Giles worked hard to keep from crying as he saw the toll it was taking on her to force the words out through chapped and broken lips.

"Tell them." She paused.

The machines whined, beeping loudly as her heart rate increased to an alarming rate. The doctor rushed in, shoving the Scoobies aside as he checked her pulse. A nurse followed close on his heels. She reset the machine, motioned for everyone to move back and give the doctor room to work. Her face was set, but her eyes were sympathetic. They heard Buffy's voice hoarsely override the doctor's.

"No," she said, "I have�to�no�time." More whispering wafted their way and they heard her softly reply. "Yes."

The doctor reluctantly moved away from the bed. He looked at each of them letting his expression tell them what his patient wouldn't allow him to say. "Don't tire her out," he said cryptically and stepped out of the room.

Giles quickly went to Buffy's bedside, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Buffy, dear girl, we can come back later when you've had a chance to rest." His eyes pleaded with her to stop and use her strength to recover, to stay with them.

"No."

His shoulders slumped as he watched her work hard to swallow. The others watched in dumbfounded silence. They didn't know what to do or were afraid that if they broke the tenuous balance that their house of cards would come tumbling down, sending her away from them all the more quickly. So, they continued, doing what they had always done in one way or another. They followed the two who had always led them - the Slayer and her Watcher.

Buffy closed her eyes, grasping for the words to tell her family what she needed them to know. "Love you. Sorry. Lots of things." Her eyes wandered around, lighting on each one of them. "Faith. Up to you. Lead them. Not dark, light all of us, always. Other a lie, remember - promise."

Faith took a deep breath and said, "It's all five by five, B. Don't worry about anything. Just do what you need to do."

The original two Chosen Ones stared into each others eyes, understanding passing between them.

She squeezed Giles hand with what remained of her strength. He winced, but didn't try to remove his hand. The pain was nothing compared to the damage occurring to his heart. "Just rest, Buffy. You've earned it." He took a faltering breath before saying the words that he knew she needed to hear as well. "It's okay, just close your eyes. You don't have to say more. We understand and we love you, too." He turned back to the others, who stood frozen in place. "Don't we?"

They came alive at his words and responded. "We love you, Buffy."

A soft, weary smile ghosted across her lips. It melted away as her eyelids closed as if they were too heavy for her to keep open any longer. The air in the room grew heavy, with the only sounds coming from the beeping of the machines, Buffy's labored breathes and the collective sighs everyone let out each time she took another one. Their sighs were short lived when the alarms went off on the machines and the next breath didn't come.

Dawn clutched her heart as though it had physically broken. Her large blue eyes filled with tears that soon spilled over to slide down her cheeks. She watched the doctor silently step into the room and turn off the machine. Anger consumed her when he didn't even try to revive her sister. Her hands clenched at her side, and she started to step forward, whether it was to verbally or physically assault him, she wasn't sure. She felt a hand on her shoulder stopping her and she looked up at Giles.

"It isn't his fault, Dawn. There's nothing he can do to bring her back. All that we can do for her now is let her rest in peace and try to understand the message that she worked so hard to pass on to us."

Peace. It encompassed her, filled her with happiness and a sense of completeness that she had only felt at one other time in her life.

"Welcome, daughter, we have been waiting for you," Artemis said as she walked forward to pull Buffy into her arms.

"We?"

Artemis elegantly gestured toward something behind Buffy. She turned around and her eyes widened with shock that quickly turned into joy. Standing there were all the important people that she had lost in her life. Her mother was there with Celia, Tara and Jenny; the list seemed endless. A tall slender figure with large fathomless blue eyes stood next too a lithe dark haired woman who stared at her with intense emerald green eyes. It was Delias and her past life self, Nysa. This was amazing, wonderful and frightening all at once. She slowly walked toward the people who had left her for a higher plane. They welcomed her with open arms. She had completed her journey, and had finally come home.

~The End~

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The Hot Gates