It Lives In The Sewers

R E V E R S I O N E D

A Buffy The Vampire Slayer / IT Crossover Fan Fiction

By Nicholas Clark (Warriorsong)

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Part One

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Xander Harris pushed the half open door aside as he entered Rupert Giles' apartment, the large box of doughnuts and the tray of bad percolator coffee cradled in his arms. He blew the air hair out of his eyes as he entered, his dark hair fluttering. His baggy cargo pants conspired to trip him up, yet somehow he managed to manoeuvre his way to the kitchen without mishap.

"Giles!"

"Good morning Xander," the Englishman replied. His hair looked unkempt, which wasn't unusual, and he looked like he had just woken up. Since his lack of jobbish-ness, he was lacking in tweed more often.

"What's the hubbub bub?" Xander asked. Usually being called early on a Sunday morning involved some sort of catastrophic, end of the world type manifestation, yet Giles seemed relaxed and non-too concerned.

"What? Oh! Nothing Xander, just wait until the others arrive."

Xander shrugged. It didn't surprise him that he didn't warrant being told. He seemed to warrant less and less lately. Still at least he wasn't excluded totally.

Almost on cue, to break a silence that seemed to be getting more uncomfortable by the second, with Xander being inconspicuous in the kitchen, wondering if any doughnuts would be missed, and Giles doing whatever in the bathroom, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Xander guiltily stuffed the rest of the pilfered doughnut into his mouth and was about to speak when Giles came out of the hallway. He gave Xander a look and shook his head, and turned towards the door.

Riley stood with his back to the partially open door, looking at the bright morning sky with a half-hearted grin on his face.

Giles opened the door fully, and greeted the young man. One could not fault his manners.

"Good morning Riley."

"Morning Giles. How's everything?"

"Good thanks you," Giles replied as the boy entered. He nodded to Xander, who in turn nodded back, a half mumbled 'hello' escaping around the second doughnut in his mouth.

Giles sighed, and indicated them both to sit and make themselves comfortable. He then went back upstairs.

Riley sat on the sofa, his tall frame almost seeming out of place on the small couch. Xander handed him a cup of coffee and they both waited. Xander didn't dislike Riley, in fact he though of him as an okay guy. Certain circumstances and events however made him wary. One such circumstance entered the room.

"Morning Riley, Xand." Buffy chirped and came to sit beside Riley, who smiled at her. Xander waved his hand, turned and walked back into the kitchen, hoping to find something other than the puppy eyes they were making at each other to occupy his mind.

Giles came back down the steps, having changed his clothes and looking somewhat more awake.

"Good morning Buffy. Have you seen Willow and Tara?"

"Yeah and no. I went by their place and they weren't there."

"Oh well, that can't be helped." he replied.

Xander carried the doughnuts and coffee out of the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table, before placing himself in a nearby armchair.

"More starch and caffeine for us," he quipped reaching for another cup of coffee and a doughnut.

"Quite, despite you have had three already" Giles replied walking over to his bookshelf and removing a large tome covered in dust. Xander blushed behind the Styrofoam cup at his lips but said nothing.

"I know that book," Buffy said, "it's that one that we used for the witch hound thing on New Years."

"Yes it is. It is actually a work that details events that occurred in the New England area during the time of the Salem witch trials. But rather than focusing on those events, most of which were merely speculation and prejudice, it details occurrences more akin to the type of things that we deal with."

"Boogey-man slayers R US?"

Giles ignored the comment and continued.

"The book details a period of some three hundred years time, dating from before the colonization of the area by the British until the 1970's. This came about due to certain members of the council leaving England in order to study the magicks and so forth of The New World. As well as its inherent legends and myths."

"What's this got to do with us?"

"I was about to get to that, Buffy. As I was saying, these Watchers began to document local myths and magicks and uncovered a surprising lack of demonic activity, in the form of demons and vampires. There was also a higher than normal concentration of spiritual energy, similar to what one would find at the site of a battle or tragic event. Over time it was noted that every three decades, the spiritual activity would increase, and over the next year drop off again, but to a slightly higher level than what it was before. It was in 1994 that the phenomenon was finally explained.

During the 1980's, the council recruited certain historians from the area in order to solidify the rather sketchy data gathered during the prior centuries with the more concrete evidence of historical documents. Through this Mike Hanlon became known to the Council. He was the local librarian and amateur historian of a small town outside of Bangor in Maine. When he submitted records of the period, it was found that every thirty years, around the time of the spiritual flux; a tragedy would befall the town. Over the centuries this event or series of events occurred in the form of mine collapses, mill fires, floods, earthquakes and disappearances."

Buffy and Xander both tensed at the word 'earthquakes' as Giles looked to his audience, now thoroughly captivated by his words. Riley clasped Buffy's hand when she tensed, but remained silent. Giles continued.

"And it was in 1994 that the most recent cycle took place. However, this time the amount of disappearances was markedly different from the previous years in the cycle.

While the Council frowns upon using such techniques," Giles didn't look convinced and Buffy snorted, "various psychics were employed to examine the documents sent from Derry, as well as to talk about events with Mr. Hanlon, both over the telephone and in person. Those examining the documents all expressed fear and anxiety when exposed to certain articles, most specifically those from the years in the cycle and others. Those who 'interviewed'," Giles almost spat this word out, almost like it tasted awful, "Mr. Hanlon, all believed he knew more than he was letting on, yet whenever they attempted to probe deeper they were rebuffed. Mr. Hanlon had suffered some trauma, which effectively masked his knowledge.

In 1995 the Council received a package from Mr. Hanlon. Enclosed were a sheaf of documents and other articles as well as a letter. The letter simply stated that it was over and that the documents enclosed gave more detail on events. Strikingly, it was found that the disappearances documented were nowhere near the true number believed. Mr. Hanlon detailed documents where individuals and families left the township never to reach there destinations and of 'accidents'".

Giles then opened the large book he held and passed it to Buffy and Riley. Xander moved from his chair and came to stand around behind the sofa so he could look at the book also.

Detailed was a landscape view of a woodcut, dated during the 1800's. It depicted a fire, a large building alight, and figures screaming as they were consumed by the flames. In the foreground stood a figure with a white face and a grin that seemed to be dancing.

"The woodcut is of the mill fire that occurred during one of the thirty year cycles. It was also one of the documents, both the original and replications that the psychics could not look at for extended periods without fear."

"Why is that pale guy at the front dancing about like he's happy?" Xander asked. It disturbed him that even in a picture, someone could seem happy about the destruction going on around them.

"He looks like a clown." Riley spoke up, getting both a nod from Giles and shiver from Xander, who returned to his chair, looking rather disgusted. Still, he reached for another doughnut though. Buffy just looked at the woodcut, a far away look in her eyes.

"The picture is why I was hoping both Willow and Tara would be here, if not one of them. Turn the page."

Riley complied with Giles wish and turned the page. Before them were two photographs, one from the turn of the century, another from the 1930's. Both looked absolutely normal, except for one single constant.

"The clown's still in them." Buffy said.

"Exactly." Giles replied. "The clown appears in at least one single photograph or painting from the years marked by the thirty year cycle. In every photograph he is almost identical to the one before, changing slowly over time. And in every account from the time, every single piece of gossip or folklore, he appears also."

"But you said it was over?" Riley spoke. Buffy had a confused look on her face, obviously in the throes of working something out. Xander looked uncomfortable and Giles was simply looking at him. Riley felt somewhat uncomfortable but that slid away as Giles spoke.

"Indeed. Mr. Hanlon was quite clear, and most assuredly it is. However, due to the nature of the town and the events and so forth I mentioned, the Council kept an eye on the town. Since 1995, the previous lack of demonic activity changed. Slowly and exponentially, supernatural activity has increased in the town."

Buffy's head snapped up quickly. "So this clown guy," Xander winced, "was like some sort of super creepy, keeping all the others away."

"While your delivery lacks, I believe you have come to the correct conclusion. Whether or not the creature was demonic in nature is clouded, yet it remains that the presence of this creature resulted in it holding a territory for a long period of time. In fact predating colonization."

"You don't mean to say that the Native Americans had clowns?" Riley asked.

"No. Rather, the Native American legends state that every thirty years, and I am paraphrasing mind, something would happen of a catastrophic nature. It is assumed that the creature assumed a form in which it would be able to work in secrecy, most likely something people would feel at ease with, such as a clown."

"Speak for yourself," Xander muttered half to himself.

"The fact is that while this creature no doubt was evil, it served a purpose, keeping other evil away from the township."

"That may be so," Buffy interjected, "but what does this have do with us? The Council is there; surely they can deal with it. Anyway, I quit the council and they fired you."

Giles took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. She didn't have to remind him. They had been his life for such a long time. He didn't regret his decision and the fact he did it for her, she who he saw as a daughter, yet the memory and the loss still pained him.

"What it has to do with us is the fact that in all possibility the fact that the demonic exodus to Derry could be due to the fact it holds a vortex of sorts, a doorway between worlds."

"A Hellmouth," Xander stated.

"Not quite but at least something that would cause problems."

Riley looked at Buffy, sitting next to him, quiet and with a growing look of determination on her face. Xander, to his right looked stung, almost like he was in shock, but there was a hard glint to his eyes. Giles stood before them, the book now closed and his glasses resting back on his face.

"Who's driving?" Riley asked.

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Shortly after, Buffy and Riley had left, and to Xander the pretence of 'lunch' seemed like a rather flimsy excuse. He had stayed behind in order to help Giles research. That and Anya was at his apartment and he really didn't feel like 'the sex' at this point.

Xander looked up from the woodcut book that rested on his knees, to glance over at Giles, who sat behind his desk, poring over what Xander knew to be a demonology. He had called it the 'Bumper Book of Nasties' once and while the name had stuck, Giles didn't seem that fond of it.

Xander cleared his throat. Giles stopped reading and turned towards him.

"Yes Xander?"

"I was wondering Giles," he was kind of nervous, he didn't want this observation to be taken the wrong way, "would this whole Derry thing, be under our jurisdiction, because the librarian guy called you and not the Council?"

Giles looked shocked, the motion quickly draining off his face to be replaced by a smile. While the young man before him seemed to take the world as it came, he actually took a lot in and could be perceptive when required.

"Yes." Giles answered simply. "I met Michael on a trip to the town some years ago; I was searching for a diary. We met and he offered to help me locate the book. I was only in the town for a week but we have kept in correspondence ever since. He knew I worked in the field of the supernatural, so he raised the issue with me."

Xander nodded. They often forgot that their friend had led a life before coming to Sunnydale, the sporadic appearances of Ethan Rayne being one of the few reminders.

"And this diary? What was so special about it?" Xander had another question but he wanted to build up to it and get the Englishman in lecture mode before he bounced it on him.

"The diary was one of the few accounts of the Salem Trials by a real witch, not a midwife or good-woman. Because history is often subjective, it gave the Council a view into what happened from the victim's point of view."

Xander could understand that. The voice-over in Braveheart had said the same thing. He forged on with the other question.

"So why didn't Mr. Hanlon call in the Council when the big oogly came calling in 94?"

"That, Xander, I never did find out. It was expected that the creature would manifest and police reports bought and stolen indicate that a rash or murders and disappearances took place, but the official standing was that an escaped mental patient was responsible. I believe that the creature somehow cast a spell on the town, making them not talk about it."

"So he put the whammy on them to shut them up?"

"Yes."

They both went back to their books, Xander pleased that he had figured something out, and Giles pleased that the boy was taking an interest. Over the last few months, Xander had seemed out of sorts and otherwise occupied. Admittedly he had his employment and his girlfriend, but he had seemed distant. Giles had grown to see the boy as his ward, and it worried him. If things went back to that, he would have to do something about it. He only hoped the boy trusted him enough to confide in him, should he need too.

Time ticked away slowly, Xander reading the history of the town and Giles flicking through the demonology. Giles stopped, his index finger halfway down a page and suddenly he flicked to another entry further along in the musty pages.

"Xander, take a look here."

Xander placed the book he was reading down and walked over to Giles and peered over his shoulder.

"Ugh," he said.

"Yes." Giles replied. "I was searching under the specifics we knew of the creature, likening to kills, which is most likely a form of feeding," Xander blanched at that but kept looking, "cycles of thirty years and tragic circumstances, most often involving a large amount of casualties."

"And I take it that's our boy, er, thing?"

Giles simply nodded as he and Xander looked at the image before them. The image was an artist's interpretation of a large arachnid. The creature looked to be quite large with powerful legs. A set of pincers graced what could only be its face set above two pairs of mandibles. The entire creature was segmented, like a millipede; its whole body appearing to be double jointed. The underbelly of the beast featured large blank spaces.

Giles looked to the adjoining page and began to read its description out loud while Xander continued to stare in horrified awe at the monstrosity before him on the page.

"Da'thu-kl'en. Arachnid Demon. Subsists upon both the flesh of its victims and their fear. Legend states that a Da'thu-kl'en was worshipped as a god in South America. The reign of this one ended when the Spanish arrived and slaughtered its worshippers. The cycle of years on inactivity seems to be hibernation of some kind. Its victims are placed in webs, which paralyze the victims, slowing their bodily functions down so that they survive for extended periods, and therefore, are still alive when consumed. It is rumoured that some precious metals and corrosives can harm the creature but otherwise they are effectively immortal. And quite rare. Thankfully."

"And you think this is what caused all the trouble up in Maine?"

"Yes Xander. Although it seems far-fetched, even for us, and the creature was immensely powerful, it seems to have been destroyed."

"I suppose that's something good," Xander stated.

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Giles slowly dialled the number and waited. The slow ringing was finally stopped as a voice, rich and deep answered on the other end.

"Derry Public Library, Mike Hanlon speaking."

"Hello Mike, its Rupert Giles."

"Rupert, how are you?"

"Good, my friend, good. I am actually ringing about the state of affairs you mentioned in your last letter."

The other end of the line went quite and clicking noise was heard. Mike's voice came back on the line.

"Sorry about that, just moved to my office. What can I do for you?"

"Actually I was going to offer the same thing to you. I was contemplating bringing some friends of mine to visit and examine what you have happening."

Mike was quiet for some time, when he answered relief washed through his voice, "Thank god. It terrible here man, there's a curfew and people aren't even going out much in the day. The current take is that a gang of bikers has holed up in the old sewer pumping station -slash- flood overflow, but the police won't do anything because they are as afraid as the rest of us."

Giles raised his eyebrows. That bad. "However Mike I do have one favour to ask."

It was quiet for a space before a tentative "yes" came over the line.

"I want to know more about the thirty year thing that was happening. All my research is hazy at best and I am intrigued."

It was silent for sometime before Mike replied, a sigh and deep emotion in his voice. "Alright Rupert, I will see you soon."

And with that the connection ended.

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Mike Hanlon placed the receiver back in its cradle and rubbed his temples. His dark hair was beginning to grey at the temples and his skin felt like leather. He felt old. Ever since they had returned from the sewers almost six years ago, he had dreaded this moment, when someone would ask about what had really happened. He was blessed and cursed in a way in that he didn't remember, a boon he shared with the other survivors. They had all forgotten. Yet while he recuperated in the hospital, Bill had told him what they had learnt and he had written it down as well as recorded it. He knew they would forget like they had over thirty years ago, yet he wanted to hold on to some memory of it. It had made him the man he was today. Always in the back of his mind, there would be the spectre of that clown and the possibility that it wasn't dead, merely asleep.

Now all he could remember was all that he had been told and recorded as well as foggy half formed memories that resonated in his nightmares.

He liked Rupert, the Englishman was open, compassionate and a glutton for knowledge. While he was no longer connected to that secretive group of historians, he believed maybe the knowledge that was locked both in the safe at his home and the safe not six feet from him would be made available to those that could benefit from it.

It, both the situation and the entity, had opened his eyes to the world around him and made him realize that many of the childhood legends and stories were not just myth.

He rubbed his temples harder. He needed to clear his head. Whilst it was only mid morning, he felt like it was midnight. So he stood and made towards the door of his office. Riding that bike always made him feel alive.

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Transportation was a problem. Both Xander and Giles had their cars but they were far too unreliable and not nearly large enough to hold the quartet that was to be leaving for Maine in the hour.

Real life had been put on hiatus as it were. Giles had spent the previous day coaching Anya in the ways of the shop, which she already knew. He had stressed time and again for her to be polite to the customers and not to use her usual 'charm'. He trusted her to a certain extent, she was surprisingly honest for an ex-demon but she had the tact of a train wreck and the manners to match.

Xander had made some excuse to whatever job he did now, that someone had died in the family and that he was attending the funeral as a representative for the Sunnydale branch.

Buffy had simply had to pack. College was out for the summer. Riley was to take a leave of absence from his duties, whatever they were now.

All the planning in the world however does not compensate for the unexpected.

Buffy walked slowly towards Giles apartment, before which both Giles and Xander stood, their bags before them as they waited. Each had a medium to large overnight bag with them, no doubt more weaponry that clothes. Buffy had elected for a similar take but had a bag for each. As she neared Xander walked towards her and gestured that he would take a bag. Unthinking she handed him the one he was nearest too, and continued to speak with Giles.

The bag dropped to the ground as the unexpected weight pulled Xander off balance. Xander sighed and hefted the bag.

"Riley isn't coming," Buffy spoke to her ex-Watcher, her tone indicating her disappointment. "He got called to some debriefing what-you-may-call-it somewhere in Nevada and can't come."

It wasn't that surprising in reality. Only a month had passed since the defeat of Adam and the soldier had had very little to do with whatever was happening at the complex below the campus of UC Sunnydale.

Giles placed his hand on her shoulder in a conciliatory gesture, although he didn't feel it. Riley was supposed to be providing transport.

Xander grinned, "Looks like we take my car then?"

Giles nodded at the young man and couldn't help but shudder at the prospect.

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"Oh, look at the pretty lights!" The intoxicatingly sweet voice said, in a way that almost screamed that whatever reality the individual lived in it wasn't the same as everybody else's.

The carcass lay on its side, the underbelly and its clear membranous filters staring at the cavern before it. Figures lurked in the shadows, some humanoid, a few distended and non-humanoid. The dark haired female stood before the carcass, swaying gently to whatever song played only for her.

"Oh the dark lights, they sing!" As she swayed her long dark hair and full-length blood red dress moved rhythmically. Her skirts dragged against the rough floor of stone, yet she was oblivious.

A figure moved out of the shadows towards the woman. It was large and muscular, reaching some seven feet high. Its reptilian like skin shimmered in the half-light that came from an unknown source; it said something to her, a collection of noises that sounded not unlike pebbles of varying sizes being dropped into thick mud.

She turned to him, her cheeks bones prominent and her brow furrowed, an elongated face with razor sharp teeth. Her dark eyes gleamed as she grinned at the monster beside her and twittered to herself in her throat.

The both looked at the massive carcass before them. Her twittering laughter and his verbalistic gurgling echoing off the bare rock walls.

Their servitors, the various vampires and demons looked uncomfortable in the presence of their masters. They surreptitiously stepped back and tried to meld with the shadows.

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Part Two

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The night highway twinkled above as the automobile sliced along the inter-crossing veins of traffic know as the interstate.

Giles sat quietly, his attention focused half on the road and half on what lay ahead. Occasionally, he would glance towards his silent companion.

Xander sat curled in the passenger seat, his eyes unfocused as the nocturnal scenery blurred past. He was in a state of quiet contemplation lulled by the swirling tapestry of the stars and the soft breathing and vanilla-esque scent of the young woman asleep in the back seat.

Buffy was asleep.

Giles coughed lightly enough to bring the young man back to reality.

"Xander I know that it is none of my business but you should tell her how you feel."

Xander had a range of emotion play across his face; shock, embarrassment and pain, his face going from red to white as in his shock, he straightened up, cracking his knee against the dashboard.

His eyes watered as he readjusted himself in his seat, hugging his knee to his chest. Giles didn't say anymore. It wasn't necessary.

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Disclaimers

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Buffy The Vampire Slayer and characters are copyright Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and The WB. IT, Pennywise, Mike Hanlon and related characters are copyright by Stephen King and the publishing companies.

If any of this information is wrong, my most humble apologies. No copyright infringement is intended, this is merely a work of fan fiction. I am in no way affiliated to any of these companies and people and what not. Thanks for reading.

Written (finished) 5th December 2000. Compiled 5th December 2000.

Reversioned 3rd January 2008. I had plans for a second part of this one, something to wrap it up but they were never really fully formed, kinda events that still needed to be strung together. It won't by any means make this fic mush longer but it would show what I was thinking about, so who knows maybe at some stage. Cheers. Oh and seen no one has mentioned it, the demons name I got from transposing the name of the bug planet in Starship Troopers. In the book "It" (which BTW is soooo much better than the movie) the creature is an alien, figured I was being clever. In fact screw it, I don't have the bliss on this one anymore and only had a rough plan anyhow. Here's how it went:

Guys arrive in Derry; Mike Hanlon fills them in on the legend. Dru kills her boyfriend and drinks his essence, but only after e after he combines with the Da'thu-kl'en. Her eyes become deadlights. Spike hears about Dru's new guy in a bar and heads off to Derry. X, G and B go into tunnels to find Pennywise's cave. Find porcelain doll with its eyes smashed in. Spike rescues Scoobies and kills Dru. Pan to compliance chip in sink, a'la Terminator. Romantic BX Undertones.