After much delay and procrastination on my part, here's Chapter 3. Hope you like it.
Please review. It really helps alot.
On a side note, this story is post NFA and contains no element from the comic versions of the Jossverse.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Joss Whedon does. etc...
Chapter 3: A Prophet's Words
Connor found Lawin and Aidan sitting inside Angel's car – Lawin sitting shotgun and Aidan in the back. "So? Where are we off to?" He asked the guy riding shotgun.
"Sunset Boulevard. Hollywood ."
Connor raised a suspicious eyebrow. " Hollywood? Why Hollywood?"
Lawin shrugged. "I'm only reading the instructions as they're given to me, Satan." Connor entered the car and they drove straight to a random parking lot behind a porn shop, a few blocks away from Hancock Park.
"What now?" Aidan asked impatiently.
"Uh, lemme see here," Lawin checked the paper for further directions. "I think…" he pointed at a gray nondescript building a few blocks ahead. "We're supposed to go there and then go to room…" Lawin turned to the back of the paper. "14."
"Okay," Connor sighed. "Let's go."
The building was a plain, drab tenement that was probably used by struggling extras and low level movie personnel. The boys walked up to the second floor and stopped at the door marked 14. The hallway looked spooky despite the fact it was a bright and shiny morning. But that was only to be expected. During the entire drive to the building, though no one could seem to put his finger on it, LA seemed quiet and disturbingly lethargic.
"You'd think the entire world was going to end," Connor had remarked with dark humor.
The door opened and the boys entered the room cautiously. It was empty. They went from one end of the room to another, looking for Malachi or any signs of treachery – always careful and suspicious at every turn.
"Hey!" A voice from behind snapped the boys out of their reverie and they turned, weapons drawn, to see a smiling Malachi. He wore a casual denim jacket with jeans. His hair was combed neatly but a little more rakishly than the last time they had met. They cursed at him for the surprise but the mentalist only laughed it off. "You're late. We have a pressing appointment," then to Aidan, "so you're Aidan."
"So you're Malachi," Aidan responded with bravura.
"Yes, I am and we can talk later. Glad to have you on the team,"
Aidan wanted to say something but Malachi walked past him without a second look.
Malachi led them into the bathroom. The place looked like a wreck – filthy tiles, dust, and an unwashed sink along with other junk strewn all over the floor. Malachi walked up to the toilet and gestured at them to wait near the door... "Okay, stay there a moment. I still have to open this damn thing," Malachi said as he went over to the toilet.
The boys looked at each with a bit of unease.
"Please tell me that you're not going make us watch you take a dump," Connor said snidely. Lawin and Aidan chuckled.
Malachi ignored them and proceeded to perform a few incantations on the toilet which only brought out more snickers from the boys. The mild amusement didn't last very long though, because when Malachi had finished his spell, a large portal opened on the toilet.
The boys gawked as Malachi put one foot onto the toilet seat – as if getting ready to jump into the portal. "Behold, ye of little faith and testicles."
"You want us to jump into that?" Lawin snapped.
"Yes," Malachi answered.
"Why does your portal have to be a bloody toilet," whined Aidan.
"For the same reason why you guys are scared of it now. Come on kids. Where're your balls?"
"You're crazier than I thought," Connor said with a very disturbed look on his face.
Malachi shrugged. "Don't be a pussy." Without saying another word, he disappeared into the portal.
"The bastard just jumped into the toilet," Lawin commented.
"Very good. You get a gold star," Connor commented. "Why the hell does it have to be a toilet?"
"The bastard's probably trying to screw with our heads," Lawin said.
"Oh for chrissake," Aidan muttered as he elbowed his way past Lawin and Connor. "You bleeders can stay here if you want. I want some soddin' answers, by God!"
When Aidan had disappeared into the portal, Lawin and Connor looked at each other uncomfortably. Connor jumped in next. Lawin shook his head in dismay, the last one to cross the Rubicon.
"A fucking toilet," he muttered as he jumped into the portal.
Cotswold, UK
The portal from the tenement led into a large and spacious cavern. Actually, the cavern was a hole – a very large hole that held countless different coffins of primordial hell gods. Everywhere, natural and unnatural sounds echoed like bells in a large cathedral. All around the place, crypts and coffins lined the walls, each one permeating with vast energy.
"That was very… disorienting." Aidan said breathlessly as he stumbled out of the portal.
"Yeah," Connor commented. "Remind me never to jump into a toilet ever again."
"If I could remember how to puke I'd probably do it right now," Lawin said, panting. "Hey! Where's Malachi?"
"Screw that. Where the bloody hell are we?" Aidan asked.
"Cotswold and keep your voice down!" Malachi said snarkily as he snuck up behind them. "People are sleeping." He pointed around at the coffins.
"This place smells like bear piss." Lawin commented.
"I guess you'd know. Your apartment smells like it," Aidan commented.
"Blow it out, you Kiwi SOB."
"Okay girls settle down." Malachi turned towards them as if in greeting. "On behalf of the powers that be and everyone in my department, I'd like to welcome you to," he gestured at the entire hole. "The deeper well."
"Huh," Lawin shrugged.
"Okay," Connor said nonchalantly.
"Cool," Aidan said.
"The deeper well!" Malachi intoned a second time as if looking for better praises. When he saw that his audience was bored, he shook his head in dismay. "What's wrong with you guys? I show you the tomb of countless hellgods and all you could do is shrug and look like morons."
"MTV took away our ability to give a rat's ass," Connor said flatly, "that and MySpace… and porn."
"Demons! Hell Gods! Hole in the Planet! Impending Destruction! Still bored?"
"I've read many legends concerning the deeper well. I didn't know that it actually exists. The Council would dearly love to study this place." Aidan seemed excited at first but he quickly reverted back to slacker mode. "As long as it isn't me."
"How much are these coffins if we were to sell them on the black market?" Lawin asked.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Malachi snapped.
"We're being normal." Connor walked up to Malachi not unkindly. "You're talking to a bunch of guys who have fucked up lives, Mal. I mean, I grew up in a hell dimension. Believe me, this is a big thing for all three of us but you and I know that jumping around and looking like kids isn't going to make a difference. You brought us here for a reason and I don't think it's because you want us to look like a bunch of brats at Disneyland. So let's just cut to the chase shall we?"
Malachi seemed annoyed but he laughed it off. "Okay then. Let's go." Malachi led them away from the ledge and into a small but sizable tunnel that led to a large bolt type door. It was rusty and it stood a good eight by eight feet long.
"What's this place?" Aidan asked.
"You'll see. Come here and help me with the bolt."
"Goddamit! I hurt my arse," Aidan complained.
"This is a travesty. White masser' makin' me do'in all dem har' work. You'll hear from my lawyer!" Lawin joked.
"Merlin, shut up."
"We could get this door open sooner if you ladies stop whining," Malachi snapped back.
The three of them moved in to help Malachi open the bolted door. It was hard work getting it open but what awaited them on the other side was worth it.
On the other side of the tunnel, was a gallery of murals and mosaics of inhuman conception. Everywhere they turned, the boys were greeted by sights of wonder.
"Whoa!" Lawin remarked.
"Oh now you're impressed," Malachi said with some annoyance.
"Great artwork," Connor commented. "The artists probably would've done better with Photoshop."
Malachi pointed a finger at a certain mural on the ceiling. "Look at that, girls. That's where it all began."
They all looked up at the direction of Malachi's finger. The mural that he was pointing at was an ancient and archaic painting that seemed to have a life of its own.
"Is it just me or is that goddamn thing… moving?" Lawin inquired.
Before the boys could react any further their focused awareness was possessed by the mural and it depictions. It intruded into their skulls like a virus.
"You bastard!" Connor hissed at Malachi as the images exploded into his mind. He, Lawin and Aidan fell down to the floor, consumed with nausea. Only Malachi was left standing.
"Relax, it's all just a lightshow. Don't fight it. This thing will show you a lot of things."
The several murals flowed and ebbed into each other like in a kaleidoscope. Each one created with an artistic flair that no human mind, however divine, could have mustered. These images began to fall into their thoughts one by one without any semblance of order.
The boys fell down to their knees, their minds insistent on a structured universe. Again, only Malachi was unfazed.
"This is really… fucked up," Connor commented on his knees.
"You! I'll kill y… Arrrgghh!" Aidan snarled at Malachi and then puked all over the floor.
"Relax," Malachi assured them once more. "It'll be fine."
The colors kept pulsating and just as soon as it started, everything stopped. The boys got up and looked around to discover that everything had turned into some sort of three dimensional holographic projection that gave the murals their own animated life, an incredible and supernatural gallery.
"See?" Malachi remarked. "Nothing to worry about."
"Fuck you!" Lawin snapped.
Malachi just smiled, arrogant and unfazed.
The first of the murals imposed itself and it depicted several hellgods fighting each other. Varying types of primordial demons – large and small – slaughtering each other mercilessly - their armies decimating everything in their path. The setting was cosmic and not just here on earth. The pictured portrayed a universe flayed by conflict, consumed by destruction and near annihilation. This cataclysmic war extended to countless worlds, countless stars. No one was safe from the destruction. It was an awesome site.
"The age of the demon lords," Malachi said wryly, "It was overrated." He beckoned and the present animated murals were replaced by new ones.
The next mural showed a banishment of some kind. The demon lords struck down like so much chaff. Their remnants, caged and shackled into countless different worlds. The winners carving up the new order to serve their own ends.
Not all the winners were good and not all the fallen were evil. You can half an apple many ways and in this particular case, the lines were divided between the winners and the losers, not good and evil. It wasn't a pleasant state of affairs but that was how history worked: Everything is just and good only as long as you win!
The victors are the scribes of history and here, in this forsaken cavern, they paraded like so much thespians at the end of an ill-conceived play – showing off their triumph in war, telling everyone that they were the new truth in the new order.
The First evil was among the victors, gloating and formidable.
The Ancients, the self-confessed protectors of humanity.
The powers that be.
And several thousands of powerful demi-gods and higher beings – those that took over the empty niches left behind by the aftermath of the terrible wars.
None of them were purely benevolent or altruistic. They served their agendas just like everyone else.
"The Ancients," Lawin muttered as he locked onto pictures of Rukash, Vrill and Boluz from when their powers over humanity were still at their peak. "Amusing to see those miserable bastards here."
Everything that Connor and Lawin had learned the last month, paraded in images before them now – thoughts made into sight, and knowledge made manifest. Aidan, for his part, was looking at the moving images with a mixture of awe and academic detachment. The history of the Slayer was being played here as one of the many histories that has shaped the current crisis. Aidan wished he had a cell phone so that he could record all that was transpiring inside this cavern.
The image/murals rolled on like a deluge, each one was a point in time – a piece in the equation - the progression of human and higher history. All of these erupted into their minds like mnemonic collage of input. It was a very unsettling form of mental attack which crammed knowledge and awareness unbidden into their heads.
Suddenly, without any warning, the images meshed around into each other until they lost all vestiges of order that they had so subtly acquired earlier. The colors, sounds and images twisted into unrecognizable monstrosities until at last, they lost all distinction as they turned into a giant gray blob. It was a very "Far out dude" moment though it also felt like drowning.
"What's happening?" Aidan cried out to Malachi, alarmed by the madness that had suddenly erupted all over the place.
"Relax. It's almost over anyway," Malachi answered. True to the mentalist's words, the gray blob erupted into a fierce mosaic of images which then succumbed into a large empty blackness – so empty that its silence seemed like noise. It was a stark contrast to the overwhelming eruption of colors and images happening just earlier.
"What in the hell just happened?" Connor asked with a tired and angry voice.
"See for yourself," Malachi answered nonchalantly. "This is the last picture that I want you prom queens to see." Malachi gestured at a very large mural at the center of the large black mass. It was the only one left among the previous deluge of images and murals. This picture was centered and it depicted several creatures – some looked like demons while others looked like angels and balls of light. Beyond these creatures, were vague representations of worlds and planets; each one with very distinct inhabitants: Demons, Humans, and Higher Beings along with countless other depictions of unknown entities.
The mural began to move. It grew in size, and flowed away from the center, as if making way for some important image to take its rightful place in the greater scheme of things. And it did happen! On the center of the mural appeared a human-like shape. However, this creature was not human. Its face was clearly that of a vampire's. The creature on the mural was unmistakable.
"Angel!" Connor gasped. He turned to Malachi for answers. "Why are you showing me this?"
Malachi smiled and pointed back at the mural. The images and portraits were now surrounded by archaic writings and scripts.
Malachi pointed at a certain string of letters accusingly. "Tell me Connor, have you ever read this prophecy before?"
Connor's shoulders sagged and he seemed unsure of himself. "I've… I've read it in Quor'toth before. The Kluthu showed it to me. I can't remember all the details."
Lawin jumped in, "Is that the Nyazian prophecy? I thought it was all a lie."
"To a certain extent," Malachi answered sagely, "all prophecies are lies. The future is not an independent singularity. It's an attitude." He then laughed a bit. "I'm impressed that you could actually read the writings on the wall, Lawin." Malachi walked up to Connor with a fatuous grin. "It's not everyday you meet someone who can read ancient archaic demon texts."
"The father will kill the son…" Connor ignored Malachi and read the words on the mural like a curse. "How is the Nyazian prophecy related to the events happening around us?"
Malachi shrugged and told him the truth. "Everything and nothing. Lies or truth, the future only makes sense if you can overcome time. We do not know how the events will transpire. We only know the manner in which it will come to pass."
"And how is Angel related to our problems?"
"It's a long story." Malachi began telling them the whole score. The prophecies – each and every last one - were connected with each other. This is so, because all creation was interconnected with all things, just as life and even destiny itself was interconnected with all things.
"Nothing happens in a vacuum," Malachi had said. "Everything that ever happens - regardless of whether it has a purpose or not - participates in all things. The murals depicted the culmination of all prophetic events. It was pointing towards the hub, the nexus. It was pointing to the zero point, the beginning and the end. The infinitesimal, eternal moment when all things are torn down before they are made anew. Free will creates destiny for destiny to create free will, that is the essence of the Nyazian prophecy. Birth from the unborn. The circle of life – the circle of the existence."
Free will creates destiny for destiny to create free will. Connor felt the words stab into him. There was something there but what?
Destiny, causality and progression marched on like an unstoppable tide until one day they encounter a fatal slip that reveals their own flaccid evanescence. At the arrival of that time, everything is revealed to be what it is – an illusion, a dream to be replaced by another dream which consequently, will be replaced by another. Every creation carries with it the seeds of its own destruction and dreams that rise will always inevitably fall.
As Everything moves in cycles - from the age of the powers to the age of demons to the age of man - one circle after another after another, forever turning until at the final moment they are cleansed away by the salvation of change, that fatal slip which keeps all things, things. A dream within a dream within a dream.
This mural was a testament to this cosmic law. Causation and destiny are the birthed by creation and freewill that they might remake the latter anew. Every significant event since the beginning of this cycle has a place in this vast mural and each prophecy was included. However, it also prophesied their end game.
All damned – Human, Higher Power and Demon – helpless against the wrath of change, helpless against the tyranny of destiny. It was coming.
And it all started with Angel.
Connor said with some real awe. "Angel is going to start the apocalypse?"
"Yes," Malachi said. "Your father is the catalyst of the apocalypse. It starts with him. Every vision we've had since time immemorial points to this singular fact. This was the reason why the senior partners wanted him on their team. The Wolf, Ram and Hart know and they sought to use Angel to further their pathetic goals. Stupid bastards! They sought to inculcate your old man into their pathetic schemes but they have no idea how he will play out his destiny. Now, because of their meddling everything is in jeopardy. He's gone. He's lost." Malachi lied about the last parts. Angel was not lost. He knew where he was at this exact moment. He said it because needed Connor on a wild goose chase, while he spun his own plots. He also knew exactly how Angel was going to end this cycle but he didn't want to tell Connor about it. The poor boy might puke his guts out if he were given that kind of revelation.
"I thought you said that you knew where he was?" Connor accused. Malachi promised him that he knew where Angel was.
"I said I could help you find him. I didn't say I know where. At this very moment, the guys upstairs are trying to find him. Once we have something, we'll let you know. I promise you that."
Connor didn't believe Malachi but the problem was that he didn't know which not to believe. Truth and lies were being mixed together here. At this point, he could only learn and wait.
"This doesn't make any sense! Why would Marastoth think that I'm the one who's supposed to start this damned thing?" Connor asked.
"I don't know. But whatever it is he's telling you, it's a lie," Malachi lied.
"Marastoth is going after the well. That much is consistent with the damned prophecies." Connor turned to Malachi for further clarifications. "Is it possible that he's misinterpreted the prophecy to be wrong?"
"Or perhaps it is we who are wrong," Malachi answered ambiguously.
"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Connor demanded.
"It's to protect you Connor," Malachi lied again. "If certain higher ups knew that you knew about Angel and the senior partners, they might try to hunt you down."
"Flash report, Mal. Demons are already trying to cap my ass."
"True. Whoever is hunting Angel now wants to use him, which means they might use you to get to him."
"What about the senior partners?" Lawin asked. "They certainly wanted to use him. They might even try to kill him for destroying the blackthorn."
Malachi looked worried about what the Scion had said. Though Angel was safe for now, there would be no stopping a coordinated attempt from the lawyers. At the moment, that was not possible and yet… "I'm sure those miserable bastards are looking for him. But you shouldn't worry. The senior partners would never dare kill Angel. He is the last surviving member of their precious circle. Without him, they'll never have a chance of rebuilding the blackthorn. The powers made sure of that when they gave him the vision to strike down the circle." Malachi turned to Connor, "Don't worry. We'll find your father just as I promised you before. Now that you know how he is part of this, you should understand why it is also in my best interest to find him."
To what end, Connor wanted to ask but he kept his mouth shut and looked at the great image.
"Magnificent isn't it?" Malachi said.
"Yes, it is."
Like Connor, Aidan and Lawin could not believe their good fortune. They were now witnessing one of the greatest secrets this world had to offer. It certainly made them feel special, yet at the same time, very troubled. Special people have very large target signs painted on their backs.
Malachi flicked his right hand at the image and its outer edges shifted and changed to show a series of scripts:
I am Destruction
I am because I choose to be
I create
I end
I am salvation
I am damnation
I am Destroyer, Creator, Abomination, Messiah.
I am beyond reality
I am beyond causality
Inevitable
Limitless
The Complete ant-thesis of divinity
"Ever read this before?"
"No," Connor lied. Connor knew those words. He had dreamt of them for a very long time.
Malachi shrugged but he was very keen in studying Connor's reaction, trying to discern if he was lying or not. The results were inconclusive.
"That doesn't make any bloody sense," Aidan, who was overwhelmed and tired, complained, "What does it mean?"
Malachi sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "When this prophecy was first made, something terribly wrong happened. A large part of the vision was missing, kind of like an incomplete lens. No one knew what caused this anomaly. It just did. All we know is that it will be preceded by the coming apocalypse – Angel's apocalypse."
A large smirk cropped into Connor's now smug face, "And this troubles you?"
"Everything troubles me," Malachi said gravely.
"Is this missing piece a threat?" Lawin asked more concerned.
"It is the unknown," Malachi said, "This unknown part of the prophecy is said to cause many changes, clear out great beings and create new ones to take their place. But that is the way the unknown works and the powers that be are ready for this. Believe me, the unknown is not a threat. Angel is the one who we need to focus on, him and the demon armies assembling on this world. We fix these things then we won't have to worry about this fucking apocalypse," Malachi said his words gravely, "Now do you understand why I brought your three to this place?"
Connor noticed the hidden fear in Malachi's voice and he kept it for later consideration.
Lawin detected it too.
He's lying, the voice cautioned. Not about the prophecy but on something else. He's hiding something and much of what he said was just a decoy."
I know, Lawin answered his thoughts. Interesting, don't you think?
Of course, it is. He's partly lying, but lying nonetheless. My, it's so refreshing to work with pros.
Lawin observed his other companions wryly. He enjoyed the plotting and the secrets. Each of them had their own agendas and he liked it that way. People with agendas are predictable.
He stared at the image again. For some incomprehensible reason, Lawin was scared. There was something about the vast mural that told him to be very afraid. It was not a fear born out of death or terror. It was fear of the unknown, a howling abyss that kept too many secrets.
Fear the unknown.
And it was at this very moment that Lawin knew that Malachi too was fearful of the unknown. He looked at the mentalist and his deepest soul confirmed it.
"The Council… The Council needs to know... about this." Aidan could barely speak as he was hard pressed to contain his awe. "Astounding. A professor could spend my entire life studying this entire place and he'd still need to do overtime."
"You won't get the chance," Malachi snapped, "Right now thousands of demons are converging on this site for a last desperate stand."
"Against who?"
"The Kluthu."
"Oh."
"The Council doesn't need to know anything, Travers. And it's best that you keep it that way."
Aidan raised a curious eyebrow. He was about to say something witty and insulting when suddenly, a terrible pounding erupted from within the walls of the cavern.
"What the Deus is that?" Aidan yelled.
"Shut up and get down Travers!" Malachi snapped. "Everybody take cover! Get to cover and stay down! It ain't much but it sure as hell beats getting your ass crapped off."
Parts of the cavern's ceiling collapsed and nearly crushed the four boys inside. Luckily, they managed to avoid these falling pieces and make it back to their original positions. Dust and debris surrounded the entire area. There was loud noise and a lot of shouting and coughing. The tremor lasted for another several minutes and then the boys got up from their hiding places.
"What the hell was that?" Connor asked as he stood up from amongst the wreckage.
"That," Malachi turned to face Connor, "was Vorathon and his minions. They're trying to tear down the barriers into the well." Malachi brushed off the dirt from his denim coat.
"Are they going to succeed?" Aidan asked.
"Given time," Malachi looked at the Watcher with truthful eyes, "Vorathon will succeed, and he'll free each and every last primordial in this place and then…" He shrugged.
"Big ass demon war," Connor muttered.
"How long before they breach this place?" Lawin asked. Lawin already had his own estimates but he wanted confirmation.
Malachi shrugged. "Weeks. Perhaps days. Depends on what kind firepower they're using to tear down the barriers of the well."
"We have to stop them," Lawin said calmly.
"Among other things," Connor said, reminding them that they had more than one enemy.
Malachi led them out of the cavern, past the gates and back to the ledge where they had originally emerged. He then turned to the three of them. "There's nothing here for us anymore. And there's nothing we can do against an army of demons. We need to get back to LA. That's where we can make the most good. Did you guys enjoy the presentation?"
The boys didn't answer, only curious at what's to happen next.
"I'll take that as a yes." Malachi then raised his arms skyward and before anyone could say anything, the cavern began collapsing until it was buried in rubble.
"What are you doing!" Aidan yelled. "That is valuable information, valuable information that could be…"
"Used by the Council?" Malachi asked. "I know. That's why I'm destroying it."
Aidan raged at Malachi's ability to destroy such a treasure trove of knowledge, but the mentalist had simply shrugged off his protests. Outside, Malachi opened another portal. As they were about to step through, Malachi told them: "You guys are lucky, you know that? You're among the elite few who'll really know what's about to happen."
"Fuck you, you soddin' nutter!" Aidan snapped.
"You're welcome Travers."
It had been almost four days since the disasters that had rocked the very foundations of LA. California 's mainstream media labeled that terrible night of earthquakes and mass hysteria as the "Nightmare." Nobody really knew what had happened then but everybody knew that something wrong had certainly happened.
Though a lot of people were nonchalant about the occurrences, this was not the case with Dawn Summers. Her years of fighting by her sister's side had given her a unique perspective on the terrible realities of the supernatural world.
However, for all her experience, she still could not fathom the true depths of the events that are slowly unfolding around her; which is probably why she hadn't expected her attempted kidnapping almost four days ago. The van carrying her to an emergency airport somewhere near the Nevada-California border had ended in disaster. Her escorts were dead. Her phone was broken and she was forced to wander the badlands of Nevada , trying to find the Council's private Nevada airfield.
She did find it.
The bad news however was that its personnel had all vanished. Something told Dawn that they had been killed by the same group of demons that had ambushed her convoy. It wasn't a very comforting thought.
As her current means of escape had become unavailable, Dawn decided that it would be better find the nearest town and make a call to Buffy or some other Council member. Perhaps, a Watcher.
Her attempts to make contact with civilization were not successful. There were demons sulking about. There weren't many of them but she knew full well that they were hunting her. The normal civilians couldn't see them, but she had been trained in this sort of thing for a very long time. She knew where they were hiding and she knew that they were looking for her. So even if she could reach the local sheriff or police deputy, she wasn't so naïve as to think that they would be able to protect her from rampaging demons that are determined to claim her.
And so she forced herself to rethink her objectives. She had to stay hidden, and she had to think of away to contact the right people who can help her namely, the Council and the Slayers. More than once she was tempted to go up into a diner and use the phone but she restrained herself. Giles and Buffy had taught her to look for signs of demonic activity and in her immediate vicinity, there were plenty of them.
She wouldn't dare and so she was forced to play hide and seek in the wilderness, walking from one town to another – not sure where she was exactly, nor how many demons are after her. All she knew was that she had to escape.
During her second day of wandering, she was lucky enough to hitch a ride with some douche in hotrod. It was stupid but she was desperate. After twenty minutes of futile flirting, the SOB decided to throw away flirting and touch Dawn's legs.
It was a mistake because the guy got a crotch full of pain. Fighting was not far behind and Dawn was losing that fight. Luckily for her, an unexpected hero appeared in the form of Whistler.
He did a number on the would-be rapist and trashed the hood of his car. Whistler had performed the act while in his demon form. It scared Dawn out of her wits but he was able to calm her down.
Dawn was relieved that someone had finally rescued her, but that joy was short lived. Whistler appeared wounded when he reverted back to his human façade. He then took Dawn to some dirty little town with a "Santo" on it, a place very far from LA,. There, they stayed in a small motel room. Dawn wanted to use the phone to contact Buffy and the others but Whistler warned her not to. When she persisted, the demon snapped at her angrily.
"They're watching us right now! So don't even think about it."
"Who's watching us?" Dawn snapped back, "The demons who want to kidnap me? Why do they want me?"
"It doesn't matter who's after you or why they're doing it. There are many of them, and they are very ruthless. Some want to use you. Others, simply want you dead." Whistler was stern when he spoke but he was not unkind about it. Perhaps it was the tension or perhaps it was the fatigue from his wounds.
Dawn asked Whistler about his injuries but the demon refused to answer any of her questions. He was also growing a bit unstable, always increasingly irritated and usually talking to himself. They had been there for three days now – three days of hiding.
The two had barely left the room. They stayed there, watching for signs that their hunters had disappeared. But the demons never disappeared. They were still there. Both of them knew it. Again, Dawn suggested calling her sister or Giles but Whistler would not have it. He said that the lines were being tapped and she would be putting a lot of people in danger if she called.
Dawn wanted more clarifications from Whistler but the demon only ignored her, too absorbed in his own problems. Despite herself, Dawn felt the truth in Whistler's words and so she was content to be patient… for now.
It's been four days now. Four days since the attack. Four days since the hells of her life returned to reclaim her.
Dawn smiled at Whistler and then laughed out loud at the absurdity of her current situation. A few days ago, she had been in UCLA, attending college and leaving behind the supernatural world to its own devices. Now, she was back to square one all over again. Helpless and under the protection of others.
No, Dawn told herself, you're no longer a girl. You're stronger now.
But her companion was unsettling. Whistler, once calm, wise and ambiguous, was now a slightly insane. Dawn wanted to attend to his wounds but he refused any offers of help.
He just sat there, looking rather haggard, as if hiding some unbearable secret. The most terrifying thing about it was that Whistler kept asking for the time, place and day. He asked Dawn the same questions almost every hour, as if trying to make sure that he was where he thought he was.
Whistler's apparent madness scared Dawn but in many ways, she was also intrigued by it. Here was a creature privy to the machinations of the universe. It was he who foretold Angel's destiny. It was he who predicted Buffy's participation in the changing world. Whatever it was that was driving him insane now, Dawn was determined to figure out. Though she wanted to escape, she was also determined to find out what Whistler knew – good sense be damned. Surely it would be related to the unusual events that have transpired in these past few days. And who knows, she though, perhaps I could share that info with Giles and Buffy, if I'll ever reach them in time.
Once again, Dawn tried to reach out to Whistler – looking for ways to decipher his incoherent babbling. He sat at one corner of the motel room, muttering and tracing lines on thin air.
"Whistler, you once helped me and my sister. Tell me what happened. Tell me what's going on."
Whistler wouldn't face Dawn. "I betrayed them. I betrayed them all," he said. It was as if he was talking to himself. "I don't know if I am doing the right thing. But no one really knows anything these days – we can only suspect. Destruction is coming. It will change everything. Everything!"
"Then tell me how we can stop them," Dawn said emphatically, "You can come with me. We can go to Giles. We can tell them all about this mess and how to fix it."
Whistler laughed at this and for a brief moment, he was sane again. "He can't help and your sister is following a very narrow path."
Dawn was about to say something but Whistler quickly stood up and grabbed her wrists. He looked like he was going to attack her but he didn't do anything. He just held her by her wrists. Though Dawn was hurt, she didn't move. She sensed terrible knowledge in Whistler and she was determined to let him speak.
"Listen to me, Dawn," the demon began with a perturbed tone of voice, "something big and terrible is about to happen. Not even I, with my knowledge, will be able to determine how this entire story will unfold. Too many forces are interacting. Too many interests… It may very well consume us all…" Another broken laughter. "I… I have memories. No, dreams. They're the same, I think… I don't know. I don't think I even know anything anymore. All I know is that a choice must be made soon and then the universe will…" a wheezing snort that may have been a sorrowful cry or a lunatic laugh, "reshuffle to fit the new creation."
"Whistler…"
"Shut up!" Whistler grabbed his head and ran back to his Corner, gasping as if in a terrible migraine. "I'm… I'm sorry. It's the… sorry…. Malachi. You must beware of him. He's a dangerous creature. Never trust him… ever!"
"Who's Malachi?" Dawn asked, scared now and yet in some perverse way, she wanted Whistler to keep going. She knew full well that there were secrets hidden here and she wanted to learn what those secrets are. Malachi, she remembered the name.
"What? But you've already met him. Wait, I'm mistaken. That's not today… That's the past." Whistler began pacing, scratching his head and muttering incoherent sounds to himself. He suddenly looked up surprised and then smirked as if in a sudden realization. "Wait, THIS IS THE PAST! ONE OF THE PASTS. I had escaped Malachi… The Kluthu, Marastoth is already here…. The war is about to start… Wait that's not right. Okay, think dammit! Think! I was… no… Damn him! This is all his fault! Damn him! Arrogant bastard!"
Kluthu, Dawn heard that word four days ago. She wanted Whistler to prattle onwards, wanting to hear more. What war? She had wanted to ask.
"I think this makes sense now. That's why you're here. I rescued you." Whistler pointed an accusing finger at Dawn. "This was the period when I rescued you!"
Dawn flinched but only slightly. She smiled up at Whistler and answered honestly. "Yes, you helped me a few days ago. Don't you remember?"
"I… I think so. Yes, that makes sense. So we're still at his point. For a moment, I dreamed that it was all just a nightmare, but we really have gone past the point of no return."
"What are you talking about?" Dawn asked suddenly alarmed. The words, "nightmare" and "point of no return" were very unsettling to her.
Whistler ignored her inquiries and continued with his muttering. "It's still changing. The entire damn vision is still in flux. The damn vision is in pieces, like broken glass. I don't know how to piece it all back together. Of course, I can't! No one can do that. History will fix itself in due time but for now, we'll have to worry about how we can survive this shit fest." Whistler looked outside the windows. It was already twilight, the sky a pleasant red hue. "The forces are moving. Some, do not even know what they are setting in motion."
"We need to get to Buffy and Giles. They'll know what to do."
Whistler laughed and for a brief moment, he was no longer half-insane. "It's already too late for them." He was sad when he said it. "There's nothing you can do to help them. They will play their part just as we will."
This scared Dawn beyond her wits. Too late? "What… What's going to happen to them. They've already been betrayed… by the Ancients, by Rukash, by the original creators of the Slayer line. The Slayer armies will be corrupted with demonic taint."
"Who's Rukash? Who are these ancients?" Dawn demanded.
"Did your sister tell you about how she found the scythe?"
"Yes, an old woman gave it to her. It was a long time ago. How is that related to now?"
"That woman was called Yolande by her brethren. She was among the many immortal human mages who conspired to create the Slayer line, but the motive to give your sister the scythe was never benevolent."
"Why?" was all that Dawn could ask.
Whistler told her the truth about the shadow men, the Swahili brothers, about the Ancients, about the mages who were once the protectors of humanity. He told her about the demon lord Marastoth. And he told her about the treachery that would turn the Slayer army into demons. There was no grand destiny. There were only a series of chess moves.
"Your sister was once offered power," Whistler said lastly. "She refused, and so now ancients are going to make that choice for her."
"We need to stop them," Dawn said. The revelations of this new knowledge was confounding her. She did not know where to begin. Suddenly, the entire world seems so small. It seemed as if puppet strings and conspirators were suddenly everywhere.
"You don't understand do you? These series of events, the creation of the Slayer line, the fall of the Wolfram and Hart, the battle with the First, they are the progression of our destiny. And it's about to grind to a halt… And from that end point, will come or eternal salvation… or damnation. The Slayer line is just one piece of the puzzle. This is much bigger than you could imagine," Dawn did not know what to make of these ramblings but she was now clearly scared.
Later that evening, she and Whistler chose to make a run for it. He said that it was time. The stage was set and the vision was getting saturated. So they high jacked a parked pickup truck and drove all the way back to LA, something that did not appeal to Dawn. While on the road, Whistler impressed upon Dawn that she cannot go back to Giles or her sister at moment, nor can she contact them. To do so, would not only close off favorable futures, it will also result in the deaths of many loved ones.
"Don't ask me to explain Dawn. That's what my visions tell me. You involve them into this conflict and their chances of living will go down enormously. The players are already moving. They are the ones who we must rely on."
Whistler knew that his words were unnerving so he turned to Dawn and said not unkindly, "Please trust me. That's all I can ask of you. You are needed elsewhere but if you go back to your sister now, the vision will be broken and she and the entire world will suffer for it. The vision is getting smaller. I don't have all my powers and I am weakening, but no matter what happens, the vision must be maintained."
Dawn didn't understand why she was listening but she did. She trusted Whistler and her fear of the unknown dangers gave her the means to strengthen that trust.
Whistler gave her a name on a paper.
"Tracey Chapman? Who's she?"
"Someone who will help fight one the greatest demons in existence. Find her and she will lead you to the ones who you will need to meet."
Dawn wanted to ask questions but she kept her peace. A few more hours passed and they were at the outskirts of LA. It was here that Dawn wanted to complain. Whistler had brought her all the way back to the city that she was trying to escape.
Dawn didn't like it but thus far, Whistler had been the face of her salvation. Though their destination unnerved her, she trusted him nonetheless. Also, Whistler was less crazy now. There was something about him and his eyes that contrasted the madness earlier. He seemed calm now, at peace, resigned to some inescapable and terrible revelation.
Whistler got out of the car and beckoned Dawn to do the same. Though Dawn didn't know where they were, she was thankful that it wasn't in the middle of nowhere where she was helpless. The place was full of bars, restaurants and parking lots. The streets were devoid of pedestrians or vehicles and everything else was closed off against the night. Only the oppressive silence lingered, a shallow wail against the backdrop of the hidden darkness.
Whistler looked around like a child at the zoo. He smiled a bit but he was also clearly scared. "They are almost here, right on schedule."
"Who?" Dawn asked.
"The demons that are chasing you," Whistler answered.
"Then we have to escape now!" Dawn snapped.
"Not possible," the demon answered, "Together anyway. You see, Dawn the vision tells me that this where we must part ways. Otherwise, everything will be for naught."
"Screw your vision. Come with me. We can make a run for it!"
Whistler smiled and shook his head, "It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. You need to go at this alone. I can't guarantee that everything will go smoothly but you need to do this. This is one of the best possible paths."
Dawn tried to argue but Whistler cut her off.
"We don't have much time. They're almost here." He looked Dawn straight in the eye. "When you meet, tell him that his enemy is much closer than he thinks!"
"Who's he?" Dawn asked.
"You'll know when you meet. Tell him that the greatest treachery, the greatest evil can only be found inside. It is this evil which drives the events that are plaguing us now. He must face it and he must defeat it, otherwise we are all lost. Angel is the key. They have banished him beyond his reach but not for long. He must find Angel. That is where it all begins. The shanshu is not a gift, Dawn. It is a trap, a marvelous and ingenious trap that was designed to capture Destruction itself. You tell him that! You must tell him that! It is the only thing that will save us all. "
"Who are you talking about?" Dawn asked.
Whistler could only laugh a bit, "You'll know when you find him… and I think it will be a nifty surprise."
"Now, you must go. The vision is still turning and soon the demons will be here. This is the part of the vision where we are ambushed and you flee."
"What?" Dawn asked in horror. Had she been betrayed.
Whistler smiled once more, "Don't worry about me. I am willing to pay the price. Yes, I am willing to pay the price, just like Doyle and all the others. Be sure to tell them that."
At the mention of the last word, demons erupted from a nearby parking lot. Dawn was scared half out of her wits by what she saw. Dozens of demons, some of them, Minotaurs, others cat-like, while other looked like rolling piles of sludge. They were all headed at them. At first, Dawn wanted to fight, to stand right next to Whistler and fight off the creatures but she saw him looking at her with stern eyes.
"Go," Whistler said, "Please! Just go."
Dawn didn't like it but for some reason, she obeyed. A few yards away, she looked back. She saw that Whistler had turned into a gigantic demon and was now fighting her would be captors, keeping them at bay.
For a brief moment, Dawn thought of turning back and helping him but her feet refused to obey. She ran into the darkness, lost and afraid, with nothing but her faith in a demon's words.
It had been four days – four days since the nightmare began in LA.
Tracey didn't know what had happened in the Hospital Laurence was staying in. She didn't know what those creatures were. The earthquake had been slight but it wasn't the only tremor to have hit LA or California – there had been others, small inexplicable attacks that made no sense whatsoever.
Then there were the dreams. She wasn't the only one who had them. A lot of people all over LA had been dreaming things – seeing things… dark creatures from the edge of their imaginations. Dark things that threatened to consume their sanity.
Tracey waited two days since the attack first occurred. She wanted answers, and she wanted them from Connor who seemed to know what was going on. But he had disappeared. She asked the Reillys about his whereabouts but they were tight lipped about the entire matter. By the third day, Tracey wanted to get out LA, but it was too late. Apparently LA, as well as various other cities all over the world, were being quarantined and she wasn't going to leave for San Francisco any time soon.
She called her parents in San Francisco to tell them about her situation and to calm their fears and tell them that everything would be alright. But it wasn't alright. Everything was mess within LA. There was fear and insanity in the air - the lingering stench of death not far away. And the worst part of it was that everyone acted like nothing was wrong. People still went to work. They made transaction with their mobile phones, and expressed how screwed up the government is with this damned quarantine. The TV shows still went on air. The lovers still went on dates. The malls still opened. Everyone felt the danger, but no one wanted to believe in it. Death and Destruction are things that belonged in books and television. It wasn't supposed to be a part of the real world…
But it was.
The alien presence, that strange aura, never left LA. It lingered like a cancer. And though scientists concluded that there was nothing quantifiably wrong with the city, the locals would wholeheartedly disagree, though they would never say it out loud.
They dreamed of creatures so dark they could hardly see. They heard voices that spoke words like, Quor'toth and Kluthu. Those dreams were alive, and the creatures that uttered them, were also alive.
But not everyone could dismiss the intangible darkness as illusions. Tracey was there – four days ago – during that night when it first all began. She saw the shapeless darkness erupt from within her own soul, felt them emerge to do the bidding of some faceless terror that walked the world. She also knew that something attacked her during that night in the hospital. It had been terrifying. These creatures had fangs, claws and demonic visage. She didn't know why it happened, nor what kind of horrors lay underneath. She only knew that it did happen and for some strange reason, Connor was related to it… somehow.
Connor had rescued her from those things that attacked the hospital. She waited for his explanations at what had happened or why but he disappeared before he could give an answer. So for the last couple of days, she stayed in the hospital to be treated for her wounds – mostly scratches and abrasions. She dreamed of the creatures – terrible beings – just like everyone else. It was a terrible sensation, like being drowned in liquid darkness – suffocating into oblivion. Her soul cried out for help and Connor came to its call.
At first she didn't know how Connor did it, but she was sure that it had something to do with the talk that he gave her before he disappeared. Connor explained everything about what was going on, but the unusual thing about it was that she couldn't precisely remember what he had said to her. The entire thing was like fugue and though she could remember Connor's face explaining the things, she couldn't quite recall anything else. It was all a faint sound, like a distant sound from a dream emerging into the real world, and it ended with Connor saying: "You can accept any lie as long as you know it's worth it."
That was almost two days ago. Tracey didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but she never had nightmares again. Though she still felt that darkness permeating everywhere, it no longer invaded her conscious awareness. It stayed behind in the background, seemingly unreal but more importantly, with firm certainty, harmless.
That was Connor's doing, she was sure of it. How? She did not know and she was now forced into a difficult decision. As of now, she was confronted with a simple choice: She could either go straight back to San Francisco or she could stay here and find the real answers for herself. She wanted to choose the first option – go back to San Francisco , pretend nothing had happened and avoid calling or meeting for the next twenty years. Pretend it was all a terrible and bad dream. Sweep it under the rug and go back to art school and the twenty-something lifestyle.
For a normally sane human being, that may have been a viable option. However, Tracey was not someone who would willingly turn from the possibility of learning the truth… and she was determined to learn about what had really happened that night before. She felt that Connor held the key. He just wouldn't share it.
Typical, she thought. The little SOB had always been secretive even when they were still dating. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why she was attracted to Connor. There was an aura of mystery that seemed to surround him.
In the past, this appealed to her, this brooding secrecy, but now it just terrified her. There was something here that could threaten one's sanity. She did not like where this was going and yet she held on.
So after much soul searching, much of which consisted of uncertainty, Tracey remained in LA. At the moment, she was driving around Sunset Boulevard, cruising along in her Honda, heading towards a nondescript storage place, located deep within LA.
After she was discharged from the hospital, she asked the Reilly's about Connor and if they knew where he went. They were pretty tight lipped about everything and for some odd reason, she knew that what happened to her, the memory loss, had also happened to the Reilly's. The only one who gave her a straight answer was the cute little sister Kit.
"Hey Trace," Connor's sister approached Tracey. She was young and full of life and in many ways, she reminded Tracey of herself. "I didn't expect to see you here. I though you'd have left for San Francisco by now."
"I… it's… I wanted to leave, but…."
"You couldn't."
Tracey nodded her head sullenly. "Which totally sucks," she added.
"You miss Connor, don't you?"
Tracey looked at the young girl with an annoyed look, "I'll be damned if I'll be psycho analyzed by a little punk, like you. Yeah, I miss him."
"Don't worry. It'll pass," Kit assured her.
"He's a great guy," Tracey said.
"I know. One day I hope to have a boyfriend that I can call a bitch too."
The girls laughed. They talked some more. Mostly about how Laurence Reilly got sick, family stuff, Connor stuff, Girl stuff, what it's like to be in college, etc…
When they ran out of things to yap about, they ended up in awkward silence. The distant sounds of doctors, sirens and distant voices made them confront the real source of their fears.
"Please Kit, just tell me where he is."
"Why do you care?"
Tracey's face darkened, despite the fact that it was covered with Goth make up.
"Because I do. I care about you, about the craziness that is happening around us now, about Connor."
"You two are still seeing each other aren't you?" Kit said with a smirk. "God! You two can be so… ugh!"
Tracy wanted to lie but she couldn't. "It's… complicated."
"Yeah, because complicated is what we really need right now," she snapped.
"Kit, I'm sorry. I do care about Connor. You need to believe that. And he's not perfect. If he was, he wouldn't be a republican but that's why I'm here. He needs everyone he loves to help him out."
Connor's sister turned away, if she was holding some terrible burden. "You're not supposed to be involved in this Tracey. You would only make it worse for him. Please, just go back to San Francisco . You have a happy life there… not like this bizarre freak show here." at that very moment, Kit Reilly seemed so much older than her real age.
"I know what I saw that night and Connor did something to me and I know that he did it to you too. I can feel it inside me!" Tracey's anger welled up along with her certainty. Connor had done something to her and people he loved. She wanted to know what that thing was and why he was doing it.
"It's to protect you! Please! I know you're angry and so am I, but believe me, Connor's only trying to protect everyone."
"How? By manipulating us?"
"It's more complicated than that, Trace." Kit looked sad when she answered.
"Then tell me!"
"I can't! Even if I could, I doubt I could explain anything. He showed me a vision. I can't remember the details but I know that it was real. I know the reason why he did it. I ... I can't understand why it is and yet I understand why, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I think I do." Tracey understood because she felt exactly the same. She knew something, and yet she didn't know what she knew. It was as if something was blocking her understanding. Though she despised this intrusion into her mind, she felt that it was also there to protect her.
Kit sighed. "Tracey, I'm going out on a limb to tell you not to go find my brother. If you want to help him, the best way to do it is to go back to San Francisco– "
Tracey was going to interrupt but she was cut off.
"- However, if you're gonna be pig headed about this then you might want to start with a storage place." Kit wrote down the address. "He used to go to there almost a month ago. I don't know if you'll find him there, but you should you should check it out anyway" Kit handed Tracey the address, but before she let go of the scrap of paper, she looked Tracey in the eye and said, "You should really leave Tracey. Whatever is going on with Connor right now, it's dangerous. I can feel it."
"Then he needs my help, doesn't he?"
Kit could only smile and then she broke down and cried. She sobbed on Tracey's shoulder. Connor's ex girlfriend and sister hugged each other and tried to pretend that there was no darkness descending upon the world.
"I want my brother to come home," Kit cried.
"He will," Tracey assured her.
"You don't understand," Kit cried, "There's something else inside him – something very dark and evil. I think it's killing him."
Those words terrified Tracey. She knew what Kit meant for she saw that darkness in Connor Reilly as well. In his eyes, in the way he moved and in the way he talked. There was something there, something that wanted to come out.
Snapping back to the present, Tracey decided to calm her nerves by listening to the local radio. Most of the shows are crappy but they gave one the feeling of normalcy.
"You get super strength, super senses, super powers and not to mention eternal youth! Eternal youth rules! I get to be a teenager for all eternity… And if that isn't enough! I get my own radio show! I'm a star! Okay, not a TV or movie star but hell, I'm in the biz right? I mean radio is kinda like being an actor… well, sorta. Oh screw it. On with the show!" The voice on the radio was perky, something that you would probably hear from a volatile blond cheerleader.
"Hello caller."
"Uh hi. So Harmony. I'm really into vampires and stuff, and I just want to ask what kind of clothes you wear. You know like black leather, steel toe boots and dark gloves. I just want to know if that's really true."
"Oh God! That is stereotyping. Not all vamps wear that stuff, but yeah, there are exceptions. I once dated this guy – total jerk – left me for a slayer. He painted his nails black and pretended he was Billy Idol. Totally gay. Painted his nails black. How gay is that? Oh! Also, I had this boss once, complete drama queen and freak show. Wore a leather coat. Gave me a good recommendation though. Last I heard he was driven out of town by an army of demons. Anyway, back to topic. Yeah, there are vamps who wear the "uniform" but not all. Some of us wear regular people stuff. And in my case, I dress to impress. I always wear…"
Tracey tuned in on the news but it was the same thing since yesterday. Unexplained meteorological phenomenon and reported incidents of violence and mayhem. It was as if the whole world was going to hell in a hand basket. Tracey sighed deeply and turned off the radio. If she wanted to be depressed she would have worn all black and gone emo, which oddly made her feel even more depressed. You see, she did visit the store house, except it was empty. No items, no leads and no Connor.
She took out the piece of paper Kit had written for her. There was nothing special about it, just a random address of another random place in a random part of LA. As Tracey read that piece of paper, she saw something that caused her to slam her breaks.
Tracey's car screeched to a halt, her headlights glowing against the girl she nearly ran over. At first, Tracey was speechless. The girl stood in front of her car, her arms raised in a gesture to stop.
"Are you okay!" Tracey called out.
"Yes, thank God!" The girl was panting and scared. The girl was a brunette, slight and lithe. She looked haggard and dirty. Her hair was in disarray and her face was caked with dirt and sweat. Her clothes looked beyond dirty and there were small cuts and abrasions across her limbs.
"Come in," Tracey unlocked the car doors and the girl gladly entered the car.
"We need to get out of here," The girl said as she entered.
Tracey obeyed and shifted to full gear. "Why? What's wrong? Is someone chasing you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the girl muttered miserably, holding herself, self-contained in her pain.
"What happened to you?"
Tracey expected to hear date rape or drunk boyfriend but the girl only laughed. It was the kind of laugh that bespoke a hidden madness. Tracey did not like it, for it reminded her of the recent insanity in her own life.
"We need to get you to the police," Tracey said.
"The cops can't help me," the girl said dourly.
"Well then, do you know anyone who can?"
The girl chuckled a bit, "Not unless you know," She looked at a piece of paper, "Tracey Chapman."
Tracey's car screeched to a halt.