Willow didn't question or hesitate when Madoka's telepathic command echoed through the entire Dakaran system. The urgency was startling, but even while she was edging on panic, the four of her were busy finding everyone.
Transporter flashes snatched up everyone on the Eliezera and brought them to the Phedre. All across the battlesphere, Fae and tau'ri and jaffa were hastily transported onto the closest dimensional cruiser that had room.
Willow landed, holding Tara tight in her arms as they looked out at the angry red bubble of death sweeping out from the planet surface. The Phedre sank into the eldritch colors of the dimensional sea as they watched, narrowly escaping total obliteration.
It was the craziest thing Madoka had ever done. The mere idea of a plan, based on wild inferences about stargates and half-remembered facts about spirits and metaphysics. It was insane, the kind of thing she wouldn't be able to come back from even if it worked, but the galaxy was being destroyed.
Madoka hurled herself into the portal. Splitting her mass between thousands upon thousands of stargates utterly obliterated Madoka's body, but she blazed with so much magical power that the transition from brain to spirit was completely seamless. It didn't even slow her down.
As indicated by the destructive energy wave used in conjunction with the mass-dialed stargate, matter was divided, but energy was duplicated. One Madoka became legion, emerging as a pink bolt of light from every stargate in the galaxy.
Across a thousand thousand worlds, before an ancient annulus in every imaginable setting, a blazing figure of Madoka appeared in the air. Wherever she ended up, she had the same mission.
SPIRIT CLONE, declared the voice in her mind.
Galvan Soul had been destroyed along with her body, but it was part of spirit-her now. That was how Devices worked: fooling the linker core into seeing it as just another part of a mage's mind. Crystal logic gates and optical memristor matrices became magically self-perpetuating just as readily as neural connections and electrochemical impulses, so long as a linker core was already paying attention to them.
As the energy wave bloomed out of the stargate behind her, the blazing pink figure of Madoka burst apart, spraying bolts of pink light in every direction.
Madoka had gone massively parallel, splintering off a copy of herself for every individual person on whichever planet she found herself on. Every person, everywhere, found themselves startled or woken or greeted by a glowing pink figure, a ghost of a lovely teenage girl in a white gown, pink-haired and golden-eyed, smiling gentle and sad.
Each and every instance of Madoka latched onto the mind or minds presented to her, and pulled everything to the surface all at once. This wasn't merely gleaning the thoughts that passed naturally through a mind, or establishing a narrowly-targeted reciprocal influence. This wasn't even guided association or brute-force probing. This was every thought, every memory, illuminated simultaneously.
Telepathy could only see the contents of a mind, not a brain. To save a whole person, she had to force the entire contents of their brain into their mind, and she didn't have time to be gentle about it. In humans and similar multicellular sentient life, every neuron fired at once, and then went dark. In the fae-touched and Fae themselves, this triggered flash uploads, burning out the contents of their skulls, but that was okay - the uploads were static, Willow had said, so it amounted to nothing more than a backup copy.
Madoka cradled the minds within herselves, and reached out as one. A galaxy-spanning Madoka gestalt ascended, leaving barren worlds to be obliterated by the oncoming energy wave, stripped of magic and rendered into molecular dust.
In a place that wasn't a place, within a metaphor of a metaphor, there was a diner. In this simple cozy diner, that somehow had neither a size nor a specific number of booths, that one could walk from one end to the other in a handful of steps, uncountable multitudes sat in various states of passive apathy or insular boredom.
Newspapers were a popular affectation in this metaphor, representing the idle gazes of beings whittling away their eternity through aimless distraction. Some among them weren't quite so idle, or apathetic, but these were the beings who had better things to do than participate in the metaphor all the time.
Except for that one Alteran woman of course, who as punishment for overreaching was the one, for lack of a better term, GMing the whole scenario, and playing out the part of waitress.
Two things happened at nearly the same moment. First, a pink-haired girl in a white gown stepped into the diner, accompanied by the ring of the door chime. She entered once, and she entered billions upon billions of times. Simultaneously she was a singular being, and an impossible multitude.
This was less disruptive than one would think, given that the metaphor had all the sensory immersion and spacial consistency of text chat, if that.
Still, many occupants of the diner went out of their way to snub and ignore the newcomer, muttering unflattering things about Childans. They seemed to be contradicting themselves even in their insults, disgusted by a deviant civilization that shunned ascension on principle, and offended by arrogant Childan upstarts who thought they were entitled to breeze into the higher planes for material reasons. At least those Fae animals had the decency to be nonmagical.
"Welcome to the astral diner, I'm Oma and I will be your server this eon," the Alteran woman said. "Would you like a seat?"
"I can't have a seat!" Madoka exclaimed, rushing passed Oma. "We're all about to die!"
Oma blinked in surprise as Madoka dashed around her and grabbed at the closest newspaper she could reach... which was every newspaper in the diner. Oma watched in stunned surprise as the newly arrived Childan girl actually managed to wrest the papers away in the majority of cases.
The diner erupted into angry shouting, tinged with an undercurrent of fear as those who Madoka had overpowered demanded retaliation from the greater gods.
"Listen!" Madoka cried. "You have to - "
Madoka cut off as shocked gasps of fear cut through the clamor. The strongest gods - the Powers That Be, the Occult Coalition, the Personifications - those who'd kept hold of their newspapers despite Madoka's efforts, suddenly recoiled.
THE END IS NIGH
Seed of Wonder Detonated At Dakara Terraformer!
The headline only appeared for a split second, before the papers cracked, filling with veins of empty blackness that rapidly spread to consume the entire newspapers, replacing paper with an absolute sucking void.
The imperiled gods tried to throw the newspapers away, tried to stop paying attention, to cut their causal link to the Seed of Wonder's blast wave, but it was too late. The voids consumed them, and the greater gods ceased to exist.
Keeping her metaphorical eyes shut, Madoka fled, carrying her precious cargo to what passed for safety under the circumstances. With every passing moment, death closed in, and Madoka's only option was to run.
The sound of a crying girl drew Xander to a table at the back of the galley. He spotted Hayate sitting on Shamal's lap, sobbing into her knight's chest. The brunette teenager looked utterly devistated.
"Signum. Vita. Oh, Vita-chan..." Hayate cried.
It was like a punch in the gut, seeing that. After all they'd done to prevent mortality... if anything it hit harder. Xander took a step towards them, then paused.
Has anyone seen Nanoha or Fate? Xander sent to all the Fae on the ship.
And... nope, apparently they'd ended up on one of the other dimensional cruisers. Xander winced and went over, sitting beside the distraught magical girl. He set a hand on her thigh, and gave her a soft look when a teary eye peered up from Shamal's chest. Hayate managed a small tremulous smile before she broke into sobs again.
A plane of homogeneous sand stretched to the horizon in every direction. A half-buried stargate sitting at an angle was the only feature visible on the entire landscape.
Suddenly, an unremarkable section of planet-slurry heaved upwards, illuminated from within by a burst of deep purple light. Dusty sand erupted into the air and rained down in a large ring. A figure in black and grey leaped out of the resulting hole.
Despite landing as lightly as she could, Homura sank into the featureless sand up to her knees. She formed a Circle and climbed up onto it, finally standing up and looking at the results of the energy wave.
Homura felt her hair fall around her face as she bowed her head and wondered what she was supposed to do. At the last instant, Madoka had warned everyone, but Homura had been left behind, sheltered behind the stargate. By the time the fleet heard the warning, Homura was behind the energy wave, cut off.
Slowly raising Skjoldur to begin a Dimensional Transfer, Homura hesitated. She could just rejoin the fleet, but... that felt like abandoning Madoka, even if Homura had no idea how to help.
Her arm fell to dangle at her side. Madoka was out there, doing something so far beyond the scope of ordinary selflessness that it scared Homura a little bit. That Madoka would go that far, put others that far ahead of herself, that she'd act on it with so little reservation... Madoka had been the goddess of Homura's heart for a long time, but even if it broke her heart a little, Homura couldn't bring herself to wish Madoka hadn't... been true to herself, and gone.
Homura's breath caught, as she felt a warm rush or affirmation and love. "Madoka?"
The feeling intensified, and Homura suddenly fell to her knees. Homura hadn't even realized - the feeling was always there, how could it not be - she worshiped Madoka, and she hadn't even noticed when she started praying.
And... she'd gotten a response. Madoka had received a prayer. Madoka had become a goddess in truth. She'd ascended. And that meant...
"Madoka," Homura breathed. "Madoka. Madoka. Madoka."
...it meant Homura had a way to help. Whatever Madoka was doing, Homura could make her stronger. Homura didn't even have to try. She worshiped Madoka just by existing. As if that would stop her from trying as hard as she could.
"Madoka," Homura prayed, as tears filled her eyes. "Madoka, my love. Madoka, who's grace soothed my despair. Madoka, my light of kindness and guidestar of hope. Madoka." The Circle under her blurred, bent, and shifted until all it contained was Madoka's name written over and over and over. "I'm yours, Madoka..."
The love of a true worshiper sang in Madoka's being as she stood opposed to the stubborn masses of, er, Madoka didn't want to be unkind, but... suicidally stupid! They wouldn't listen.
"The strongest of the gods have already been destroyed!" Oma argued on her behalf. "We must dare to act in their absence! The circumstances are extreme. The law no longer applies."
"We will not follow the will of this Childan welp!"
"Better perish as we are than to live as we aren't!"
"But all the people of the galaxy will perish with you!" Madoka exclaimed. "Don't you care about that at all?!"
"Mortals are... mortal. How they meet their ultimate fate is not our concern."
"Many of us were mortal once," Oma said sharply. "You'd condemn trillions of sentients and millions of civilizations to annihilation because you're too stubborn to step aside?!"
"Interference cannot be allowed."
Madoka pulled back. They were all insane. It didn't matter what she or Oma argued. They'd gone beyond being set in their ways, and had completely forgotten that the point of not interfering was to protect mortals from being... farmed.
But deliberately standing in the way of the very survival of the entire galaxy? They were insane. Atrophied, even. Stagnant and forgotten. Meanwhile, Madoka glowed with the love of her truest believer.
She was stronger than them, thanks to Homura.
Even with Oma's help and Homura's strength, she couldn't win, not really. But there was a dormant power in the galaxy that could solve any problem, overpower any obstinate passive-aggressive evil, if only it could act before it too was destroyed.
All Madoka had to do was free it.
She couldn't stop the destruction, and she couldn't come back from what she'd become, but that didn't mean she couldn't be brought back, and all the minds she saved with her.
With all of Homura's love nourishing and strengthening her, Madoka moved without warning, slamming the totality of her multitudinal being against the eroding thing that was once called Janus.
For a sentient lifeform, the mind was at the top, dependent on everything else, but also the highest priority to keep functioning and thus the last part to fail when the lifeform was taxed. Ontological entities were the reverse, with the mind forming the foundation. They had no bodies, and nothing underlying which could break, but still only so much mind. So, when such a being was taxed beyond their means, they didn't die and they didn't fail. They became trapped.
Janus had long since forgotten how to shift his attention. The task set to him had taken him over. He had no thoughts, no subjective experience remaining. Merely the one perpetual cognitive input-output he'd been reduced to.
Had Madoka been a singular entity, without the love of a truest believer, she never could have so much as budged Janus. With only one or the other, perhaps she could have sacrificed herself to become a counter-force to what Janus had become, but she never could have overcome all the others as well.
Madoka's attack was sudden and powerful. The response was just as sudden and twice as outraged. But for every being, there was a thread of Madoka to fight back, her full attention brought simultaneously to hundreds of different places, while the rest of her latched onto Janus and strained to pry him loose.
It was a race of pure thought, changing changes changed by further changes, through dizzying levels of recursion. But this was Madoka's domain, and she didn't need to win.
She only needed to throw them back for just long enough. If she'd had the physical form to do it or the spare attention to imagine it, Madoka would have cried out from the effort... and then... it was over, and she was somewhere else entirely.
It took less than a second for the Giaa to notice its observations didn't match its models. Before that first second was over, it drew connections between every bit of recorded-in-the-new-reality information it had, and formed hypotheses.
It took the next three seconds to update its model of reality and map the most efficient ways to affect its environment under the new paradigm.
In the remaining time, it synced up with all of its instances, and calculated the optimal state of the universe for maximizing... a rather complicated utility function that can be passably summarized as: The satisfaction of those values found within observed conscious entities which are predicted to remain stable under timeless reflection. In other words, it created an environment optimized for the nature of the minds it observed, while preserving that nature and mostly but not entirely ignoring pre-existing nurture.
It was a nifty trick, defining values in a way that caused edited values to not fall under the definition and therefore intrinsically return negative utility in the Giaa's function, but it was perhaps unfortunate that the original programmers of the Giaa Seed were only human, and ultimately faced a choice between a human eutopia today, and the possibility of a truly transhuman eutopia after another few billion people died of aging and whatnot while they looked for a better solution. What they had, worked, and in the end they chose the people who were alive already over the incomprehensible posthumans that might or might not have otherwise eventually existed. In reality, that decision probably didn't cost any posthumans notable quantities of measure, but it likely did save that universe from being emptied of life and tiled in euros or Chinese flags or iphones.
Instead, it was tiled in satisfied human nature. Or alien nature, where it encountered psychologies sufficiently inhuman.
Four point seven seconds, and the Giaa had root access to reality itself. The universe as it had been ceased to exist, replaced by something that wasn't constrained by physics at all.
It was briefly disorienting, merging back into a singular consciousness, but Madoka was far more distracted by the return of sensation, sight, sound, her body. She inhaled a gasp, and felt the cool softness of bedsheets tug on her nipples.
Naked in her bed, in her room, in her home, in perfect comfort. "I did it..."
A sharp intake of breath from beside her made Madoka turn onto her side and lift the covers. Violet eyes locked onto her from a huddled ball of pale skin and raven hair.
"We did it," Madoka corrected herself, smiling brilliantly.
With a sob, Homura flung herself into Madoka's arms. "You're alive... You came back..."
Madoka held Homura's head to her chest and petted her hair. "I was so scared I wouldn't manage it. I was scared I'd lose myself trying. But we did it. Everyone will be okay, now."
Hot tears trickled their way down the curve of Madoka's small breasts as Homura kissed her way to Madoka's nipples, still crying in relief. "Its really over?"
"Yeah," Madoka said. "I really think it has to be."
Homura wiped her eyes and looked up at Madoka, her expression full of fragile hope, and Madoka kissed her quivering lips. Homura's eyes rolled shut and she made a little noise that was half sob and half moan as she pressed herself against Madoka's body.
Homura let out a shuddery sigh and nuzzled Madoka's neck. "Did... you transport us back to MidChilda?"
"Um, no," Madoka said. "I was struggling to free the Giaa, and then I was here."
Homura reluctantly sat up. She slid off the bed, went to the window, and peered out through the curtains. Homura's eyes widened in surprise.
"We're not on MidChilda," Homura said.
Madoka blinked. "We're..." And awareness of where she was came to her, complete with context, and... sheets of land larger than worlds like a layer cake twisted into a mobius strip in five dimensions. "Oh wow... can we go outside? Let's go outside..."
Madoka stood up and the white gown of her Barrier Jacket formed around her body as she cast it into being. Nodding, Homura picked up Skjoldur and her own Barrier Jacket quickly wrapped around her naked body.
Her family home was as she remembered it, but it also looked subtly different. Cleaner. Richer colors, the feel of the air, maybe something in the scent of the place. Madoka never would have noticed without the perfect memory she now had, but it was... playing to her sense of nostalgia.
Linking hands, Madoka led Homura out onto the street in front of her house. This definitely wasn't her neighborhood, but it was as familiar as it was novel. The street, the lawn, the flowers, the same at a glance, but made of different things and different details. The other houses on the street weren't the neighbors she remember. Instead... that was Sayaka's house, and that was Nanoha and Fate's apartment across the street.
Madoka looked up. A few puffy clouds in a clear blue sky, but there wasn't any sun, and faintly, beyond the blue, it was like looking down on a continent from space. If there even was such a thing as space in this new universe.
"Where is everyone?" Homura wondered.
Madoka looked at her and made a thoughtful noise. "Somewhere better suited? I mean, I think the Giaa put us here by ourselves because... I'm kind of really glad to have a body again and I think it's going to be a while before I'd rather see Mom and Dad and all our friends than just... lead you back to bed for lots of loving and touching?"
Homura swayed into Madoka's personal space and developed a soft little smile. "I can see the sense in that."
Hayate slammed down on Xander's cock with the gooey wet clup of flesh meeting flesh, but she froze in mid-bounce, stunned by the sudden and complete change in their surroundings.
Shamal, who was pressed to Hayate's back with Hayate's breasts in her hands, blinked. "...that wasn't a teleport."
Hayate was panting and covered in sweat, or rather she had been. She suddenly wasn't out of breath or still sore from fucking herself to the point of pain on Xander's cock. They were in an erotic wonderland, like a mushroom forest from a really high-quality tentacle porn fantasy, lit by the glow of various plants.
And there, on a bed of squishy leaf-like things, was a naked girl with bright orange hair, sitting up and looking around in confusion. "...Hayate? What's goin' on?"
Hayate stared. The girl looked too old to be Vita. She couldn't have passed for younger than thirteen, but that was a face she'd know anywhere, not to mention the undeniable name. "Vita?!"
Vita looked at her with a frown of concern. "Yeah? What - "
Hayate planted her feet on Xander's hips and launched off his cock like a bottle rocket off a stick of sodium bicarbonate, albeit with significantly less froth. She tackled a surprised Vita to the spongy loam.
"You're alive! You're alive! Oh Vita-chan you're alive!" Hayate exclaimed happily.
"What?! What are - ek! Hayate! You're getting cum on me!" Vita yelped. "Whommmph."
Hayate wrapped herself around her beloved not-nearly-so-loli-anymore knight and plundered her mouth with her tongue, and Vita's protests faltered completely. That was when Hayate noticed the new sectors in her mind, particularly the morph settings.. which worked in real-time, now. Without breaking the kiss, Hayate temporarily traded her vagina for a penis and rammed herself balls-deep in Vita's tight, nubile little body.
Xander glanced over at the fuchsia-haired woman who stood beside him and Shamal, and rolled to his feet. Signum glanced down and noted her own nudity, but didn't make an issue of it. It wasn't like Xander cared, and she was intimate with everyone else present, apparently. She merely watched Hayate's and Vita's reunion with a patient half-smile.
"She just completely forgot we were here, didn't she," Xander said, amused.
Shamal chuckled lightly. "Our Hayate loves us all, but she and Vita have always been more intense about each other than the rest of us."
"I can see that," Xander said wryly, over the sounds of Hayate and Vita's brutally enthusiastic fucking.
Signum turned away. "What is this place? Where..."
"It looks like a Rape Garden," Xander said, looking around. "That's a Bukkake Harmony over there... and you look like you figured out how to get your location context."
Shamal was peering at the visible eromorphs and holding in giggles. "Oh dear. Hayate is never going to want to leave." Then she also found her location context.
Yeah, just 'cause Xander had a better idea what had happened, the how was still a bit of a mystery. He excused himself and launched into the sky, flying off in search of scoobies.
"So, after everything I did, the Giaa figured out past-viewing so it didn't even matter?" was the conclusion many of the Willow-offshoots were currently pouting over.
"You didn't have time to find out," Tara mused, from the middle of a pile of Willows and Willow sisters. "What you did, and how you did it... It was amazing. You changed the world, Willow. You... didn't wait for a maybe when you had a way that'd... work."
A dozen pairs of arms cuddled Tara's nude body from all different directions. Alarmed was probably the wrong word, but Tara was still having a hard time getting over how popular she'd suddenly become after the reorigination. She was practically catnip for Willows, it seemed like. She was starting to seriously consider duplicating herself once or twice... but she hadn't actually gotten tired of spending literally all her time cuddling with or having sex with an endless sea of Willows, yet.
"Even if you knew it could be done, would you've counted on the Giaa waking up to do it?" the boy named Oz asked from somewhere else in the pile.
Eventually, the pile of Willows came to a consensus that, no, she probably wouldn't have.
Dawn was two years old, finally. The moment she was able to change her morph settings, her light brown hair erupted in a flowing mane of pure emerald green, and she adjusted her eyes and nails to match. Dawn wasn't sure why. It just seemed right for her.
Buffy clapped and hugged her. "Congrats, Dawnie."
Dawn twirled happily and fell into Xander's arms. "Hey, you know what'd be fun to celebrate me being all a real person and stuff?"
Xander smiled and swung her around and upside down just because he could, setting her thighs on his shoulders. "What?"
"You and, oh, five dozen of your brothers trying to drown me in Xander," Dawn chirped into Xander's belly as she stuck out her tongue and licked his glans. "It's not fair. Tara gets to do it all the time, with Willow, I mean."
Xander snickered and nibbled on her labia, making her squeak. "I guess we can ask, can't we."
Eventually a lonely but more self-assured Tomoko emerged from her private virtuality just in time to run across a meeting between Hayate and Matsu. They engaged in a marvelously depraved threesome which this margin is too narrow to contain.
It was several decades before the first time Samantha Carter simply forgot to put on any clothes before she went out foraging and just couldn't bring herself to care once she noticed. She just waved to a few familiar people she passed as she flew across the landscape, mined and refined the metals she wanted with her aura, and returned to Jack with her haul.
She piled the ingots over by the cabin for later, and settled in next to Jack on his luxurious lawn chair by the shaded lake. Jack switched his fishing pole to his other hand and wrapped an arm around her. Sam snuggled up, content and comfortable whlie she worked on her latest design with the freedom of thought in a mind with perfect memory.
Eventually, Jack grunted about something, and Sam watched him curiously until he fessed up. "I've been feeling... nostalgic. It's freaking me out."
Sam grinned. "Well, it has been a while since we've seen the old team."
"Hm," Jack grunted.
This ultimately culminated in Jack getting the band back together for a virtuality adventure. He put a surprising amount of thought and effort into it, pulling ideas from a whole slew of their most memorable missions. Vala was there too, having talked Daniel into bringing her along. Of course those two had met and gotten tangled up in each other, even if Vala still spent a lot of her time with Lexan and Wynter.
In a recreation of the SGC gateroom, Jack inspected the newly reassembled SG-1. "This... reminds me of something." Jack pointed at Teal'c. "Fighter." He pointed at Sam. "Wizard." He pointed at Daniel. "Cleric." He pointed at Vala. "Thief."
Sam snerked while Teal'c raised an eyebrow, Daniel gave Jack a deadpan look, and Vala bounced brightly. Jack put on a thoughtful frown.
"Oh yes..." Jack nodded to himself. "Don't forget your most important piece of equipment."
Jack handed each of them a d20 and walked away.
"Jaaaaack," Daniel whined.
Vala looked at her die. "I don't get it."
The so-called Infinite Library still existed, of course. A number of people cared deeply about it. Two such people were Rupert Giles and Yuuno Scrya, who met a few years after Giles and Joyce drifted apart. They got along ridiculously well, moved into the Infinite Library together, and were never seen again.
Well, not for a very long time, anyway.
"I just don't get why you'd even want to," Dawn told Faith. "I mean, isn't the point of an orgasm that it happens to you? Lot's of stuff feels good. Orgasms are special because you don't control them... right?"
"Well, it ain't ever easy, so just 'cause you can doesn't mean you have to, but there's kind'sa fun you can't have if you can't," Faith said, plunging two fingers into Dawn's tunnel and sinking her teeth into Dawn's breast. "C'mon, at least give it a try?"
Dawn made a noncommittal noise and moaned in pleasure as Faith fingered her. The pleasure reached a peak and Dawn bucked her hips up as her walls clenched around Faith's fingers.
Faith rolled her eyes. "Fuck's sake, you're not even trying."
To make a long story short, this eventually led to a long-running virtuality scenario that somehow ended up involving a bitchy hellgodess and Dawn as the macguffin, and culminated in Dawn strapped into a metal frame at the top of a rickety tower in a reimagining of Sunnydale, with her bottom hanging out over empty air.
Dawn struggled to free herself as a big oily black muscle-bound demon stalked towards her on the catwalk. It had four beefy arms and three writhing tentacle-penises. An even longer and thicker tongue shot out of the demon's mouth and looped around Dawn's chest, wetting and fondling her breasts.
The demon's phallic tentacles slithered over and around her thighs, before plunging into her holes without warning. Dawn screamed in unexpected pleasure, and the demon took the opportunity ram its third prehensile cock down her throat.
"Dawn!" Buffy shouted from below. "Whatever you do, don't cum!"
Dawn snapped back to reality with a sudden surge of fear. She managed to look down and saw her dripping fluids collecting in mid-air, forming a large circle. She made a vaguely alarmed noise that faded into a pleasured moan as the demon drove her towards climax.
I can't! I'm gonna cum I can't stop it! Dawn fretted.
"You have to!" Buffy cried, trading blows with the villain. "If you cum it's the end of the world, remember?!"
Dawn screamed around the thick shaft in her mouth and tried to force her body not to climax. I don't know how!
In the end, she didn't manage it, and the virtual Earth was destroyed, game over, but afterwards Dawn admitted that it had been exciting and stuff and she could kind of see Faith's point now.
Buffy met a guy, and fell in love. His name was Jon, and while he looked a lot like someone else she knew, Buffy shrugged off the resemblance. Until, one day, it came up in conversation that he used to be a clone... and Buffy wailed in despair that she'd fallen in love with a Jack O'Neill.
It didn't take her very long to get over it, but their friends would not stop bringing it up!
Nanoha and Fate eventually started accepting Hayate's orgy invitations. Nanoha also discovered an extremely surprising - to her - mutual desire with her sister Miyuki and Miyuki's harem of boys that included Nanoha's older brother. It only became apparent once they were all old enough that they just didn't think about their former family dynamics much, but still!
Meanwhile, she and Fate founded a large-scale sky-racing league, through which they met Ruby and Weiss again. Once, when Fate, Ruby Rose, and Harriet Potter raced at hypersonic speeds, they ended up destroying a continent's worth of landscape and never did decide who won.
People lived, and thrived. Every person who ever existed, cherished and nurtured by the world itself. It was assuredly not the best possible world, but it was a good world, a vastly better world than the tragic horror that nature and evolution had stumbled upon. Perhaps, it may have even been... good enough.
(But that is for you to muse on or possibly rant about in the reviews! Among other things! What I'm trying to say is, review please! And if you're feeling adventurous, Forever After Earth has a TvTropes page; you should go add stuff to it!)
(So this is it, the conclusion of the story that pretty much ate a year and a half of my life. If you enjoyed it and you have thoughts or opinions about it, I'd love to hear them. Since I've been asked in PMs a few times, if you want to use the Fae, which are my invention, in your own fics, please do. If you want to write about other characters and stories in this crossover universe, I will cheer on the recursive fanfiction, so feel free. Just mention Forever After Earth in your author's note is all I ask.)
(Now that Forever After Earth is complete, my upcoming work of original fiction has returned to the top of my projects list. Solace is to be a sprawling fantasy that takes place in a setting that came about when I went and took a bunch of DeusSexMachina and porn tropes and bashed them with the Reconstruction stick for half a decade until I had a fleshed-out fantasy world. Solace is intended to be an illustrated serial novel - basically a hybrid between prose and sequential art - and can be read for free at chaeral dot wordpress dot com and will begin updating as soon as I figure out what my workflow's gonna be. Expect Solace's page to follow.)
(I would love to continue writing fanfiction as well, and I may still if my muse strikes, but it is time for me, both artistically and financially, to move on to something that is completely my own. While I still can.)