Chapter 7: The Crucible

The place looked like Kansas - windy prairies in the middle of nowhere. All of it as far as the eye could see.

Angel looked up at the bright sky. His face, a mass contortion of muscles. His eyes feral red, mouth protruding with fangs - very similar to that of his grand sire, the master. For a brief moment, he remembered a girl, blonde and young and beautiful beyond comprehension. He forgot the name but he remembered the face. She felt like heaven, like being human. Then he remembered being human, in a time and place called Ireland. He remembered a family, the one's that he had left behind and the ones he had lost.

Faces, People and Places – too distant for the mind to comprehend – just vague sensations and shapes. He remembered them all.

He remembered a boy, brown-blondish hair with brooding blue eyes. There was another, a man with an English accent. He saw wisps of Platinum blonde hair. And then another girl, brown hair and very gregarious - She was always there for him.


These memories were from a life back then. He could not even remember the names but he felt them there, in the depths of his soul. He looked up once more to see an enormous demon with three heads, one wolf, one ram and a hart, moving towards him. It looked like a tornado, destroying everything in its path. It was fully conscious and it was coming for him. Angel smiled. He felt that he had somehow come full circle, and that for the first time, he was truly free.

The demonic entity loomed closer and Angel cringed at the finishing blow. It did not come. He was surprised to see that in front of him now, was a figure of medium height. He was battling the entity viciously, its image and form also seemed to be composed of energy, red and black mixing with the scales of a demonic carapace. It moved sideways and dodged a killing blow from the creature and then lashing out with its blade, knocked the demonic entity away. The figure ran towards Angel, picked him and together they ran away from the rampaging behemoth.

As they ran, Angel's rescuer shot spikes of red energy at the pursuing monster. This did not seem to inflict much damage as the creature spat out blasts of energy of its own. One of the blasts found itself on a loose pile of earth and it caused the ground around Angel and his companion to crumble, pulling them down to a darkened hole. They stumbled, fell, and before they knew it, they were at the bottom of a cavern. Angel muttered something, not in English. He wanted to know why he was being saved by the being.

It did not answer, and before anything else happened, Angel's rescuer started pummeling Angel's face. The punches fell down like hammer blows. Instinctively, Angel struck back and bit into the other person's neck, no longer needing to vamp out, his face set into a permanent vampiric monstrosity. Angel drank the blood! It was familiar. It was human. But more than that, it reminded him of something that he thought he had lost.

Suddenly the figure was no longer an unknown entity. It became human and it was looking directly at him. Light brown-blondish hair, and cold blue eyes.

Connor looked up for a moment. They had fallen several feet into the cavern. He wanted to chop Malachi into a hundred pieces for hurling him straight into the battle without any recourse to strategy. But here he was obeying him - no idea as to what he was supposed to do, no idea as to what will happen and definitely no idea as to what the consequences will be.

"You already know. You know it because the answer's inside you," Malachi had said; and he was right. Connor knew exactly what Malachi meant. But the thought still rankled him. Damn that bastard!

He looked at his father. The demon within had consumed him utterly. Connor was suddenly overwhelmed with grief. Laurence was gone. Holtz was gone. And Angel… God only knows what turned Angel into this. And he'll be gone soon too. He felt like he had lived countless millennia. They all died because of me…

No, not because of me. This was their lives. This was their choice. His fathers, he chuckled. I was just one part of it. But why does it have to be the people I love. Yes, love. I love Angel too it's not the perfect kind but I do love him. Oh God dad, why couldn't I have told you that before? Why did I have to cause us both so much pain? Why do I have to go through any of this again and again?

I'm not strong.

I'm just me. I'm no Destroyer. I'm no champion. I'm just a screwed up, lazy college kid, Connor Reilly spoke.

Please Angel. I can't lose another one. My life is dark and miserable enough as it is. Please, you need to pull through. You all need to pull through. Mom and Kit. Tracey. Terry and my friends in Stanford. Even Dawn…

I need you to stay alive you hear me. You filthy, self-righteous, condescending demon bastard. I need you to stay alive and live a happy life because, to tell you the truth I'm afraid my conscience is going to kill me and I'm going to brood myself to death. So yes, I am a selfish jerk. So survive already!

Connor looked at the entrance of the cave-in. He could hear that thing coming closer. Whatever he needed to do, He'd better do it bent his head down, panicking and at peace at the same time. His father was here, a demon but still his father… as much as Holtz And Laurence, he was helpless. What do I do? He wanted to scream.

What about you Connor Steven Nebadon Reilly Holtz Angel? Connor asked himself. What about you? What about the choices you have to make?

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just a scrawny boy bullshitting his way through life. Well, Mal did say that this was my destiny. Accept it. Walk into it. Let it be. Amen. The father will kill the son. Destiny: Accepting the choices by virtue of who you are and accepting that this world is ruled as much by consequences as it is by freedom. Maturity and all that bullshit.

There was clarity in his mind.

"Okay. Kill me." Connor muttered to the demon on his lap. Angel did not respond. He just laid there, unconscious. "Okay… That was stupid."

The greater demon beyond their sanctuary was looming ever closer. Fulfill the prophecy…then what you stupid fuck? He wanted to shout. Do you believe Malachi that if you do as he says everything will just be honky Dory? "What if he was only trying to trick you into going into that portal? Ever think about that? What if this creature isn't even Angel? He thought about that for moment. No, this is Angel I know his scent."

So what about you stupid fuck!

It's hard to believe, yes. But dammit, Connor. You're the son of two demons, you were raised and feared in a hell dimension, you fathered and killed a hellgod and to top it all off, you're not sure what's real because you have another memory that says everything on the other side is a lie.

"Ahh… Well, it's not like I never wanted to do this." He shrugged

Connor began beating on his father's face. He punched it with all his might until the demon fought back and it bit into Connor, draining him of his blood. The Destroyer felt his life slipping with each tick of his pulse. It was done, he thought. But it was not. Connor knew as Malachi knew, that Connor must commit himself. And death or destiny had nothing to do about it. It was a choice, a choice to become a champion like Angel. Failure to make that choice will result in the destruction of everything Connor cares about. It's a losing game. Heads they win, Tails you lose. One way or another Connor must become the Destroyer. Connor Reilly was disappearing. The life he loved was fading. And if it does will everything that is good and beautiful also fade away?

Isn't that what you're scared of? That everything that has ever made life worth living was a lie. If that is true then you're lying to yourself, he thought. Something good has to come out of all this. It has to. Angel believed in that; why not you? If he didn't believe that there could be a better world then he wouldn't have sacrificed so much for you!

You always believed that Angel was doomed to be in hell along with you but if that's the case he'd have gone there a long time ago, not here with you, fighting for each other.

What was it that they said about me? Something about my powers? Something about finishing the cycle? Only blood can pay for our salvation, Malachi had said.

"Complete the circle," Marastoth's voice echoed.

Mine, Connor thought ironically.

Out of faith in some guys assertion of his place and his choices, Connor pulled up to his father's neck and bit down hard. The blood that poured into his mouth tasted vile and evil but he sucked it up and kept drinking until he felt weak from Angel's own bite into his flesh.

Connor crumpled to the ground. The last thing he heard was his father calling out his name in an inhuman voice.

Connor smiled. "Hi dad," He rasped.

Then he died.


As Malachi promised, Connor found Angel. He did not really understand what prompted him to cause Angel to bite him. It was like he was compelled by a force that was deeper than he could possibly understand.

Somewhere deep within Connor, he felt the Destroyer stir into consciousness, and he knew that this more than just the machination of various forces. Here was something more powerful than what the Powers or the First Evil envisioned. He knew with clarity that this was the very moment all the prophecies and uncertainties pointed to. All that time he sought Angel for answers to his own enigmatic nature, all that time struggling with his demon and the humanity that he never had, all the fear and suffering lead to this point

But first, he had to do something. What? The pieces were here, but he has yet to put them together. He struggled between chaos and the destiny. And on both sides, the Destroyer's face – his face – leered at him.

"So, you are complete at last," it said in a taunting voice, "you thought you could get rid of me."

Connor said nothing. Something about the First's choice of words told him that it was afraid. Afraid of him. This made him smile and he reveled in that feeling. That old feeling of clarity, he loved it and he feared it, for although it lead to the answers he craved, it also lead to something much more powerful than he could possibly imagine. This is where he is meant to be. This is where Angel is meant to be. Everything is where they are meant to be. Marastoth was right. This is supposed to happen.

As Connor reveled in this clarity, his human self – his human ego, Connor Reilly – erupted from deep within him and swallowed him back into madness.


Aidan walked with renewed purpose and will. As Lawin, Malachi and Connor sought out their respective targets, he would have to fight Malcolm single-handedly… Malcolm who was working for the First and who was probably protected by an untold number of demons.

"What?" The realization dawned on him and he couldn't believe that he had allowed Malachi to talk him into this.

"Hey Aidan," a female voice called out to her. Standing right behind him was Ashley, the slayer the he was supposed to watch over. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Hey…o." Aidan looked around suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you actually."

"Aren't you needed by the council? You should be with the other slayers."

"You're right I should be," Ashley answered, "but before I get back, I want to make sure I know what you've gotten yourself into. You're a very difficult guy to find. I usually don't have a lot of trouble looking for a guy."

"You don't want to be here, Ash. Go back home." Just a second after the last breath left Aidan's mouth, Ashley had him pinned against a wall with only a single hand.

"I want answers, Travers and you owe me some," the slayer hissed.

"I… erk… I'm looking for Malcolm. I know where he is."

Ashley let go of him, "go on."

Aidan knew that time was low and knew that she wasn't in the mood for a long explanation either. "He's working with the First. He's planning to do unleash a plague that will kill the slayers stationed here. He already has begun and it's going to become worse if no one stops him."

"And you're going to stop him?"

"That's the idea," Aidan answered. "Look, I respect your need for answers but I really have to go. Time is short."

"I'll go with you," Ashley said and it was an order and not a request.

"And you're going to call Giles for backup right?" Aidan asked.

"Do you want me too?"

"No, a squad of slayers would be easy to spot, and by that point we are screwed. And besides, there's not much time. I have less than an hour to stop him."

"Fine let's go."

"Let's go? Just like that? No arguments or anythin'?" Aidan asked, incredulous.

"None for now, but I'll want more answers later on."

"Right." Aidan agreed reluctantly. Whatever prompted the slayer to follow him – it was because of someone else's direction. Who or whatever that is – he can only guess but for now, he had work to do.


Lawin's task would bring him once more back to the source that started all of this mess, his masters – the Ancients. More specifically however, this would bring him into their hidden sanctum. He had never gone there before, but now after their civil war and most them dead, he knew that this is where he would find Anash. And this is where he needed to stop her.

The sanctum could only be accessed via a special portal. Casting it had been simple enough. What he found on the other side however, scared him very much. Strewn all over the floor were the bodies of more than a dozen old people – all of them members of the ancients. They had been mutilated and slaughtered – the most powerful mages in human history, ageless and immortal – slaughtered.

Lawin followed a small stone passageway leading into a sort of lobby. It was there that the ancients conducted the most powerful of their spells. It was there that the scythe was forged. It was there that battle would be joined.

When he reached the lobby, scenes of devastation greeted him. At the center of it all was a flowing pillar green energy, and without a doubt, he found Anash hovering the thing like a moth to the flame. However, his former mentor had by now transformed into a horrendously deformed creature, tendrils extending from her body and her body now turned into some kind of gelatinous shell. She was also much larger easily three times larger than a normal human. Despite her immense size however, she also appeared to be injured – probably the result of her fight with all the ancients she massacred.

Lawin took stock of Anash's extensive injuries and judged them to be an advantage for him. "You're hurt," he said stoically, and glad that it was there.

"Yes, it was quite a battle. You should have been there… You should have seen me kill my own brothers and sisters." She smiled down at her bloody hands, now corrupted into inhuman claws. "Tell me, will your friends be joining us?"

"Connor, Malachi and Travers? No. They have their own targets. Your mine."

"Is that so? And what do you intend to do, hmmm?"

"Talk to you. Kill you. The difference is trivial, but I will try."

Ana paused at what she was doing and mused to herself a passing thought. She smiled a bit, "Yes, I believe I underestimated you."

"You planned me to kill Rukash, Vrill, Boluz and Urkonn, as well as help you retrieve Vorathon's heart for your little spell. There was no… misapprehension on your part. I was your pawn"

"Yes... Among others things," She looked up to the halls of the sanctum. "But that no longer matters. Vorathon is dead and I have his heart in my possession. Yes. And while I appreciate you foiling Rukash's plans, it is truly a pity that you did not kill him and the others as well."

"Ana! Rukash and those who you have killed are ancients! Like you!" He jabbed an accusing finger at the ancient. "Don't you care that you are dying out?"

"They betrayed humanity to the Horde!"

"And what of the woman who's planning to wipe out a three fourths of the human race!" Lawin said derisively.

"They are infected by the Kluthu, by the First Evil, and by countless abominations which are now about to spill from the deeper well. They will die along with all the other desecrations on this world. When the worst comes – and it will come - I will stop it! Vorathon's heart will allow me to create a spell that will burn them all! And after that, I shall raise my own army to destroy the remnants."

"A demonic army? With you as the demonic general of course." Lawin didn't need to say it. The accusation of hypocrisy was blatantly obvious.

She heaved herself into a self righteous indignation and sputtered a torrent of rage that was so unlike her. "Was I the one who made a pact with the demons? Was I the one who conspired with Vorathon! Was I the one who tried to open the deeper-well? No, I do this now with a clear mind and a clearer heart! We, the ancients, have done worse than what I try to do now. I am merely settling accounts. The demons will be destroyed! The Kluthu, The First and the remnants of Vorathon's legions! All of them! That is all that matters! We always knew that the war had to end someday. And if the cretins wish it to end today, then so be it! Albeit with devastating losses, humanity will survive. That is all that matters, survival!"

"What about the people you are about to kill?" Lawin muttered - suddenly seeing his one time mentor for who she really was.

"Acceptable. Always acceptable where survival is concerned."

"No."

Yes, the Scion within said.

"Yes," Anash said. "The alternative is complete extermination at the hands of the coming darkness."

Lawin was tired with words and headed straight to the point. "They could be saved Ana. If the Kluthu is killed before the transformation is over they could be saved. If the First is stopped…"

She snapped at him. "And who will do the killing boy? Your friend, the Destroyer? Malachi? The Powers? You cannot afford to be naïve anymore, Lawin. The Kluthu cannot be destroyed. They are beyond the reach of any power in this world. None of the higher beings care about us! Humanity must fend for itself."

"You don't get to decide that! What you are doing is no better than suicide for the entire goddam human race."

The ancient laughed. "And here I thought you believed in nothing but yourself. Your innocence is disheartening, child. You have no inkling at the consequences of allowing things to go on as they are."

"Give me Vorathon's heart, Ana." Lawin said with finality, knowing full well now that talk was pointless.

"No," she said gently.

"Give it to me!"

Ana opened the front of her tattered dress to reveal a large gaping wound. Inside, the wound was a beating demonic heart. "No," She said with finality.

Lawin looked down in dismay. He had one option left if he was to stop a mystical nuclear bomb. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Me too."

Lawin summoned the Scion, and then attacked with a feral rage. Anash flung several fireballs at Lawin but he easily dodged them and thus, get close enough to impale Anash with a blade. The ancient gasped at her wound and she crumpled to the ground.

Lawin looked at the broken body of his one time mentor and he could feel a deep, confusing agony in the depths of his soul. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and plunged his hand into his former mentor's body to pull out Vorathon's demonic heart. He was about to pull it out when Anash's eyes flared red and she grabbed Lawin's arm before he could pull it off completely.

"Oh shit…"

Lawin was thrown like a sack of dirt across the hall. When he got up what he saw made him gasp in horror. Before him, Anash's body had turned into that of a giant serpent, not unlike that of Vorathon's. She flexed her new found body and her smiling face looked directly into Lawin's own, it was the only human part of her left.

"You didn't really think it would be that simple now did you, child?"

"I was pushing my luck."

Anash laughed good naturedly. "I'm sorry, Lawin. I know you may not like what I am about to do, but believe me when I say that there are no alternatives. You and your allies are doomed to fail."

"Kill three fourths of the world to stop a demonic war? Call me provincial but I think justifying genocide is a little bit of a long shot even for me." Lawin spat out a wad of blood, got up and summoned the Scion to create him two concentrations of energy shaped blades on each of his hand. Next, he intoned spell that gave him the ability to amass energy into a protective shield. The effort drained a lot from Lawin and he began to feel excruciating pain on the back of his skull accompanied by vivid sounds.

"Are you sure you want to do this Zarakite?"

"I am the Scion Patriarch of the Zarakim. Direct descendant of Amazarak. What do you think, Ancient?" Lawin threw himself headlong against his one time mentor.


Malachi's task was perhaps the most difficult one of all. He had to contend with Marastoth, his one-time ally who inevitably turned on him and his masters, the powers that be. For the hundredth time, Malachi cursed himself for his secret alliance with the Kluthu god, but again it was tempered by the certainty that he had no real choice at that time.

Reaching the Deeper Well was not a difficult task. With Los Angeles in chaos, and the rest of the world in utter disarray, no one really understood where the hysteria was coming from. Malachi however, was among the few people who knew and he steeled himself for the coming events – knowing full well that Connor's reunion with Angel was preordained by more than just the tyranny of higher beings. Destiny was at play here – and with it, its master, reality. They were poised to spin into an explosive new universe, a universe that will be decided by what Connor will do next.

As Malachi approached the deeper well, he used what little prescience he had left to avoid the sparse number of Kluthu'kar guarding the area. The gateway leading to the Deeper Well had been forcibly destroyed and now lay open for any invader to approach.

From deep within the Deeper Well's central cavern, a monstrous underground area, Marastoth called out to Malachi.

"Mal! Over here!" Malachi hesitated and crouched lower but the demon's voice called out once more. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have reached this place in one piece."

Malachi walked over to the main anteroom of the Deeper Well, and regarded the area around him. Marastoth had activated the murals on the ceiling and now the various shapes and forms of the prophecies concerning the Destroyer circled around them like so many images. All around them the cases of the elder gods had been opened and Marastoth had contrived some sort of spell to siphon their energy into a twisting sphere of energy, feeding it with immeasurable power from immeasurable beings.

Malachi was horrified by what he saw, yet he kept his face emotionless. He knew this would happen. And even though he was ready, the sight of his fears made real still unnerved him. All around him, the walls of the deeper well seemed to shake and shiver with energy, as Marastoth flew over head like a wraith, his human visage peeling away to reveal a reptilian-like face underneath, leering with soulless black eyes at the mentalist.

"Rejoice Mal. We are participants in creation and destruction. The death of the gods of Deeper Well and the ascension of the Destroyer. There can be no greater privilege than to be a part of that."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Malachi told the Kluthu god as he approached him.

"You've seen the vision, Mal. You've seen it as well as I have. We both know that it has to be this way. The new universe – the new reality that Connor will bring forth – shall be born from the blood of the old ones." Marastoth pointed at Chrysalis – the sphere of energy.

"You'll destroy us all."

"Of course! From the corpse of the old shall rise the new. You cannot change anything without Destroying it. That is Connor's gift to us all."

"I will stop you!"

"Don't even try."

Malachi did not say another word. Although he knew that he would be beaten, he had to buy Connor time. Whatever will happen next is still an unknown. He had to hope for the best. At this point, Malachi's only weapon was hope.


Aidan and Ashley reached Malcolm's hideout in time. It was a fairly large faux Spanish structure. The streets were empty and quiet, but also rife with signs of chaos.

As they made their way inside the building, they found the energies already seeping into the main lobby where the spell was being conducted. There can be no time for talk. They quickly gathered up their weapons and attacked. Three burly demons were the only things which stood in their way, and Ashley quickly dispatched them.

They made their way to the lobby where Malcolm, the former watcher, was conducting a spell.

"Malcolm!" Aidan howled, pointing his gun at him.

Malcolm didn't budge rather. He chuckled audibly. "You're like a roach, you know that you bloody Kiwi bastard? I put a bullet into your brain and yet somehow you survive."

"Don't worry about it mate, New Zealand is still best at Rugby."

"Ha! Rugby. More like sheep shagging."

"Hey! Guys," Ashley interjected, aiming her crossbow straight at Malcolm's back, "can we maybe not talk about sports right now?"

"Oh look. You brought your slayer with you."

"I brought myself, tough guy," Ashley spoke up.

"Townes, right?" Malcolm looked at slayer. "I remember you. One of the new ones. Well, let me end my lil' speech by saying that Aidan is involved with things that are a whole lot worse than you can imagine. For example, did you know that LA is about to become a battleground between various demonic factions?"

"Buffy and the others are already on it," the slayer answered defiantly.

"Too bad for them then love. Your sisters are about to die en masse, along with that bitch, Summers. It's a trap you see. But don't worry I can accommodate the both of you."

"Aidan told me about your little plague."

"Oh, Traverse told you?" Malcolm looked at Aidan, somehow his face looked liked it was being consumed by eldritch energies. "Let me fill in the missing parts. The spell I'm conducting now, it's going to fry every slayer in the world and all thanks to Aidan there."

"Aidan?" Ashley gasped in surprise as she turned to the watcher next to her.

Aidan did not speak. It was Malcolm who spoke for him, "remember the last few weeks when the demons seemed to have had a big foight? I won't bore you with the details, but one of the factions tried to take the scythe so they could use you," Malcolm pointed at Ashley, "and your sisters to fight for them…"

"We would never…"

"Quiet, love!" Malcolm snapped, "trust me, you'll love this. While Travers was gone, AWOL, he met a few… gentlemen, who had similar interests as he did a spell on the scythe. To make a long story short, Aidan and… ehem… his mates decided to take things into their hands their hands. One of their goals was to protect the slayer line from the demons that wanted to corrupt them..."

"Shut up!" Aidan snarled. Ashley remained quiet.

Malcolm continued talking, "… and the only way they could do that was to put a teensy weensy spell on the scythe."

Ashley looked at Aidan, distrust plain on her eyes.

"Fast forward," Malcolm chuckled, "Aidan came to my rescue, and he told all about the spell that he and his mates did to protect the scythe. Ain't that lovely love? You see, the demons that wanted to corrupt the scythe were enemies of the First evil, and well, they're gone now, again thanks to Aidan and his mates. And to make the victory all the more sweeter, he helped me retrieve the only means to destroy the slayer line once and for all."

Ashley seemed speechless. She didn't understand what motivated the blind madness in Malcolm. "Why?" was all that she could say.

"Why?" Malcolm laughed, "simply, love. The slayers are a nasty little bump that the First wants to remove, and I will oblige." Malcolm turned to his altar and removed a small crystal. "This lovely little trinket is attuned to the Slayer Scythe. Before this night is over, the scythe will be corrupted and with it you and all the slayers now fighting a desperate battle.

"We used to be friends, Colm," Aidan said and then he pulled the trigger. The sounds of gunshots were drowned by the rain and sirens, but the bullet smashed into some kind of force field and they quickly fell to the floor clanking.

"Ah sod!"

"Yes, sod indeed. You're too late Travers."

"Yeah, what am I late for this time?"

"Even if you can kill me, even if you can stop me, Angelus' Doppelganger has already reached the Deeper Well. You can't imagine how powerful that creature has become."

Malcolm was suddenly alarmed but he kept his mind focused.

"What is he talking about Aidan?"

"That ain' your problem, slayer. I suggest you focus on yours," At the sound of his voice, several Turok Han erupted into the room from portals which appeared out of nowhere. "You didn't really think I'd be so careless now, did you?"

"No I suppose not." Aidan said then he and Ashley fought their attackers, while Malcolm returned to what he was doing.

"Real nice Travers," Malcolm muttered to himself, "getting a girl to fight your battles for you. Well, it won't matter much longer, mate."

"Oi! Travers." Malcolm yelled and Aidan and he showed him what appeared to be a remote. "Aside from vamps, the room is also full of explosives."

Ashley and Aidan exchanged looks. They can't escape. The Turok Han were blocking the exits. There wasn't much time.

"Bye, Travers." Malcolm said as he entered a small hidden passageway in the altar. Once he was gone, the room exploded into a giant fireball.


Angel was completely disoriented but not far gone. Connor? It had been so long. What was he doing here?

Whatever happened just now, the creature that had once been Angel still had to find a way out of the mess that has befallen him. The vampire got up and transformed his body into a hardened image of monstrosity. Looking pretty much like a behemoth, Angel threw himself at the looming beast of the Wolf, Ram and Hart.

He lashed out with claw, fangs and inhuman strength. The blows had no effect on the monster though but it did nothing to dissuade Angel from his own attack. When the Wolf, Ram and Hart has had enough, it retaliated with a series of swipes and charges.

Angel was thrown around and his broken form was hurled into the verdant plains of the prairie, his body smashed and disfigured but he still managed to pick himself up and attack the overgrown demon again.


Pain is always relative

You could live your entire life in hell and never notice it.

You eat it, breathe it, sleep with it, awaken to it, laugh, cry and lose all sanity

And you'd still not know what it is.

I'm used to pain. I grew up with it, endured it until it forged what I am now

But pain has nothing to do with suffering. It has to do with understanding that there is something better, something good and worthy of hope.

Goodness, Happiness, Love…

Love

That's pain. It tells you that something is missing,

That things don't have to be always about hell.

You feel it when you kiss a lover.

When you recall your childhood

Or when you step into a world that is not of darkness for the first time.

We demand pain. We demand it to tell us that there is such a thing as something better.


"What are you afraid of?"

Connor was lying sprawled on the ground. The puncture wounds on his neck had taken a lot of blood out of him. He had found Angel, and this was how it was supposed to end. The father will kill the son. Again and again and again.

"Filthy demon." The voice cried out within him.

"You killed him! You killed her. You killed them all. They're all dead because of you."

I'm hallucinating!

"Are you?"

Connor opened his eyes to see that he was back in his house, in his bedroom, in the place he had always known to be real. In front of him was a 13 year old boy who was barely a teenager. He wore clothes made up of demonic skin. His face, his hands and any flesh that was not covered by clothing was covered by fleshy coverings. The young boy was very powerful despite his youth and he gave Connor a demeaning look as if the older person was someone inferior.

Steven Holtz. This was a part of Connor – a part that was broken and shattered, no one wanted him.

"You're not real," Connor sobbed, curled near the wall, trying to block out memories of a distant world inhabited by powerful demons that tried to create a god out of a frail, skinny boy. "…Not real…"

"Was Holtz's love for you real?" Steven Holtz stared down at Connor menacingly. "You betrayed him!"

"He betrayed me!"

"You betrayed the light! You betrayed all that's holy! You betrayed everything that is good and decent in your life by consorting with lies and evil. Get up you filthy demon! Get up!" Steven kicked Connor in the ribs. "Get up, wretch!"

Steven grabbed Connor's neck and began yelling at him. "You filthy demon! You filthy demon! You killed Holtz! You killed Cordy! You killed an innocent girl! You wretched, filthy demon! You deserve to burn in hell for all eternity! You and your father and your bitch of a mother for what you've done!" Steven's face contorted into a sick smile. "Does she cry out to you, that girl in the warehouse? Does she cry out for you to die?"

Connor could only cry. "You bastard son of a bitch! Do you feel no remorse for what you've done? Do you wonder each passing day how you could forgive yourself?"

Steven Holtz ranted on and on. "Filthy Demon. Filthy Demon. You and your filthy magicks!"

"Please…" Connor pleaded with tears in his eyes. The wind seemed to howl harder and harder, scraping the pale skin of the boy. "Please," he cried out some more.

"You killed him." Connor Reilly stood over Connor. "You killed my dad." There was no hate in Reilly's voice, only a deep sadness.

Connor Reilly – another past, another dream gone. Here he stands, an illusion from a little box of a false reality, of sweet love and sentimentality – a lost treasure thanks to the machinations of a dead sorcerer and a speeding van.

"Oh God!" Connor wept and tried to turn his face away but Reilly crouched down low and so Connor could still see him from side of his eyes.

"He's gone. Because of you. Because of us." Connor Reilly smirked slightly, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Holtz. Angel. Laurence. And the body count keeps piling up. Demons. People. Lives. They were right to call you destroyer, you know. Everything you touch ends up dead." The voice kept becoming sadder. "I always thought that it could be done. I always thought that the easy answer would work… Live in peace… live in happiness… Family… Love… Friends… Purpose. It all seemed so simple but I should've known the price would be more than we can bear… And in the end, it would only force us to betray who really are."

"It had to be done."

"Can we afford to keep doing what needs to be done?"

"You know the answer to that," Connor – the real Connor - answered Connor Reilly.

"I guess you really are Angel's son. What will happen to me?"

"You're here. You're real. As real as all the others in my sickening twisted head."

Reilly nodded solemnly. "Do you ever think we would be able to live with ourselves someday?"

"In time… I… don't know."

"You better get on out there. Its show time." Reilly motioned outside the house.

"Where?"
"Out there. It's time we make the final choice."

"I can't," Connor answered.

"You must." Connor Reilly said and he disappeared.

Despite the fear, Connor obeyed and so he picked himself up and walked outside the house. What greeted him was not the suburban street that he knew to be real. No, it was Quortoth. He was back in Quortoth and the house from which he emerged had all but disappeared. Connor was alone in the vast wilderness of the hell dimension, but for one other person – a demon, a hell god, a creature that was waiting to be born – the destroyer.

"Hello," the demon greeted, "You're late."

"Took the bus. Sorry."

"It's time buddy. The circle is upon us. This is the moment of my birth. The moment where I create myself… through raw choice. Angel has brought forth the end of days through me – his son. Things turned out not exactly according to plan but it's good enough.

"You're full of crap, you know that?"

"Enough talk. It's time that we become as one," The demon called out. "From the unreal to the real… This is the final turn of the wheel. The last march to oblivion before the universe sets itself anew. Gods themselves will fall before me." The destroyer – Nebadon – called out without the least bit of fear or hesitation. "Behold, am I not a terrible power? Am I not the creature worshipped by gods? Am I not both creator and destroyer? Am I not you deep down?"

"Can you get any gayer?" Connor retorted.

The demon laughed and the two were consumed by a massive swirling red cloud. "It's over Connor. It's really over. You can do nothing for I have arrived! It's time you fade away back into the illusions that spawned you."

"You're also an illusion – no different than Connor Reilly or Steven Holtz." Connor answered.

"And yet the universe awaits my arrival."

"And yet Kit and Colleen Reilly wait for Connor Reilly' return," Connor retorted. "And yet Steven Holtz was a murderer, a killer. You are not real. At least, no less real than they were…"

"Oh and who are you supposed to be if you are not any of those personas - not me? Look around you," the demon gestured around the desolate wilderness of Quortoth, "there is no reality beyond what is forced upon us, no universe beyond that which you are willing to create for yourself."

"No," Connor Angel answered. "We are more than that. I am because of the choices that I have made."

"And did you choose this?" The demon asked amused.

"I am here and I am."

"Ha! Cute, but no less futile. You have served your purpose but now, you no longer matter. I am the new truth, the new reality, the potentiality manifested. It does not matter whether you are Steven Holtz or Connor Reilly or whatever… Your time is passed."

Connor Reilly felt the demon's words plunge into his deepest soul. It was there, the temptation to plunge into oblivion: to disappear into oblivion – from nothing into nothing – from the real to the unreal. Connor certainly felt that he was unreal and this deepening emotion was terrifying indeed for he had faced it before and had failed utterly.

And yet, he could not bring himself to disappear. He is here. He was led here and yet he chose to be here – now.

This was not truth or fact. It was more than that. This was something deeper. It was reality. It was awareness – true awareness. Connor had plunged himself into something that was connected with the universe. His heart and soul drowned in this awakening. It consumed him whole and he welcomed it. All of it. He was more than a demon. More than a man. More than his memories, potential or his destiny. He had touché something that was eternal, and unbroken. Existing because he chose to create himself.

I choose and I am.

I choose to create myself.

I choose to destroy myself.

I choose to create my destiny.

I choose therefore I am.

Destiny and free will merged into one. Choice creating destiny that it may lead to more choice. A cosmic paradox, just like Connor. The circle was forming. It was so real that one could almost feel it to be alive. It was terrifying. It was awesome. It was salvation. It was everything and yet it was nothing. And in all of it, there was Connor - dead once more; reborn once more. And the cycle of destruction, the path of destruction continues.

The demon was no longer amiable. It was glaring at Connor with barely contained fury. Connor laughed out loud. The universe was falling apart but it was okay. He understood.

"What's so funny?" the destroyer demanded.

"All this time I was afraid of you…"

"You should be!"

Connor ignored the snarling demon. "I thought you were the evil part of me, but you were only a miserable shadow, some dumbass messiah worshipped by some dumbass hellgod. Before, I was afraid. Afraid that you would take over but you see, it hasn't occurred to me that I can stop you."

"You can't stop me."

"Thanks," Connor smiled, "You wouldn't have said it if I weren't truly a threat." The mask had fallen and the truth was painfully obvious that it was a wonder how it could have been hidden.

Without any warning, the destroyer flew into the air and plunged his blade into Connor's gut.

"How's that for a threat bumpkin?" the demon snarled in an inhuman voice.

Connor only smiled, blood flowing down the side of his lips. "All this time… I was scared of my own shadow."

"Die! Die! Die!" The Destroyer plunged his sword deeper into Connor and smashed him into the ground.

"I was scared of who I was… scared of what I could become…" Connor said the words as if in a fugue. "But you're just an illusion."

"Shut up!"

"But you see, I'm more than a demon, more than human sure, but it's okay now." A smile creased Connor's face. "It's all okay. I know"

"Shut up!" The demon flew several feet into the air and slammed into Connor, dragging him up several meters in flight and then hurling him like a sack of brick into the shattered ground. Connor smashed with a sickening thud but he got up smiling - bleeding but smiling.

"You can't hurt me," Connor said nonchalantly.

"Wanna bet?" snarled the demon and it unleashed several spikes of demonic lightning into Connor. The assault ionized the air around Connor and all around, everything ended up looking like a train wreck. And yet, Connor was still standing, still indomitable.

The Destroyer, frustrated by his ineffectual attacks, flew straight at Connor and glared at him. "You are not real! I am! Me!" The terrible voice, the blinding rage, the monstrosity… None of it mattered. For it was all but a show, "Me! Me! You are nothing!"

"Oh shut it!" Connor parried a blow from the Destroyer and struck back with a hard left jab. "you're getting overdramatic."

The Destroyer flew yards away, suddenly scared but at the same time awed that its prey had hurt him. "You're not real, Reilly!"

"I'm not Connor Reilly," Connor responded and he attacked the demon ferociously. "I am more than Connor Reilly. I am more than you."

"You are a weak pathetic little boy!"

"What does that make you?" Connor laughed. "Concentrated drama?"

The Destroyer attacked, but Connor managed to block the blows, dodging them as if he had rehearsed all of it his entire life. As the demon thrust and sliced his way, Whistler's words plunged into Connor's head like a deluge. You are Angel's son. Face darkness and defeat it, just as Angel did before you.

Connor pushed his attack and struck the Destroyer backwards. The demon changed into human form, Connor Reilly. The human boy struck back but Connor dodged the attack and struck him back, kneeing him on the gut then smashing his elbow into his face. Connor Reilly then became Steven Holtz, resplendent in his garments made out a demon's tattered flesh. Again, Connor struck him down.

The illusion shifted between everything that Connor had ever been: from human to demon and back again. All the pain and sorrow, all the struggle and conflict served to culminate into this single point, the point of realization when Connor would rise beyond the human, the demon and the mundane and become a being that, for lack of better words, would be known as the Destroyer.

Once more, the illusion shifted his appearance back into the Destroyer, the demon. He looked at Connor menacingly accusing him of guilt, of sin, of betrayals and failures. But Connor was beyond that now, beyond all the pain, and he shattered what remained of the demon, of his demons, with a single punch to the face.

And in that single act, Connor was whole.

"It's okay." Connor closed his eyes and began to breath deeply. It was done. It's now time for him to go back.


Connor opened his eyes. He was breathing.

He was alive. He didn't feel it but he knew that something incredible had happened. Creation was reshaping itself to fit the changes done in this singular moment.

What are you! someone asked Connor

Where did you come from?

You're not supposed to be here!

Abomination!

"Yet I am here." Connor quieted down the voices and he summoned his blade to his side. The litany slithered up to him and into his waiting hand.

Every part of his body felt like a living hell. He lost a lot of blood. He had bruises in every limb. He could barely focus his eyes. He could barely stand. His finger felt numb. Sweat was all over his back. His forehead was covered with blood. His right arm was dislocated. The puncture wounds on his throat were leaking small amounts of blood. His vision kept twisting and turning. He felt like puking. He felt like falling down. But most of all, he felt like dying.

Despite all of this though, Connor felt more alive than he had ever been, and he quickly dug himself out of the cavern.