Tara shuffled a little, eyes downcast, as she made her way to the Magic Box. Something was very wrong out there, like a huge shadow looming over them. That was a bad description, though, and didn't come close to capturing the sense of panic and the way that trying to look towards the shadow made her eyes ache and her stomach twist. She didn't know what it was, and neither did Blaise, another witch on the campus. Blaise had felt it too, and was desperately trying to find something in her family books to try to explain the shadow.
Tara didn't have any relevant family books of magic to look through. Her mother had left her one on star movements and the phases of the moon, and a couple on herbs, but nothing about evil shadows and scary demons. Still, her time dating Willow had left her knowing one thing that she'd never forget – if something scary and supernatural was happening, Rupert Giles could probably find it in one of his books. He had books on things that she'd never even dreamed about in her worst nightmares.
When she arrived at the Magic Box, Buffy was at the register, pretending to read one of Giles's books. Tara moved closer, wondering if Buffy could remember the time that she was dead, wondering if she had been in heaven, if she'd been with her mother again. "Hey."
"Tara," Buffy greeted, almost managing a smile. "What's wrong?"
"Something's wrong out there, and I don't know what it is," Tara admitted. "I was hoping that maybe Mr. Giles had answers in his books."
"Big, mysterious shadow thing? Old and evil beyond words?" Buffy asked, no longer pretending to look at the book.
Tara nodded, uncertain if she was relieved that Buffy already knew about it, or worried that she already knew about it. Maybe both. "Yeah. I can feel it out there, looming. It's out there, and it wants to be here, and it's hungry."
"We're already searching," Buffy muttered. "Big books of every demon known to man, and we aren't getting very far. It sounds like this thing is the boogeyman's boogeyman. Patrols are almost dead because everything's either trying to hide from this scary shadow-thing or they're killing themselves off before it gets here."
Tara could feel the blood draining from her face. "Y-you're exaggerating, r-right? They aren't really killing themselves to get away, are they?"
"They are. It's majorly wiggy," Buffy closed her eyes, and seemed to ponder something. "Go on back and talk to Giles, maybe you can add something we don't know. There's a lot that we don't know yet, and what we do isn't helping."
Nervously, Tara moved to the back room, hoping for and dreading the possibility of seeing Willow again. Bad enough that she was here once more, mixed up with all the danger and violence that surrounded Buffy. As much as she missed Willow, she didn't think that she could handle her ex-girlfriend as well.
"Mr. Giles?" she called, surprised by the stacks and boxes of books that filled the room. She'd never seen this many books out before, not even when they were trying to find information about Glory.
"Ah, Tara, I'm at the table. There's a pathway through the boxes," Mr. Giles called, sounding tired.
Tara was relieved to see that other than stacks and boxes of books, there was only the table and Mr. Giles. She also felt vaguely guilty about that flash of relief. Opening her mouth, words tumbled out. "I've been… there's something wrong out there. It's old, and strong, and it's hungry."
"You mean that you've sensed it as well?" He looked at her and gestured towards the chairs. "Move some of the books and sit down. Please, tell me when and how you became aware of it."
"I was meditating, and it felt…" Tara paused, trying to find the right words. "You know how you can feel it when a cloud blocks the sunlight? It was like stepping out in what's supposed to be sunshine, and there's a storm brewing overhead. It's out there, it's strong, and hungry, and it scares me."
"I know that Willow said you were involved with the college Wiccan group; have any of the others there also felt this?" He was listening to her, as if her words were important. The intensity unsettled Tara even more.
"I think so. We haven't actually been talking about it in words. I'm certain that Blaise felt it, she's looking through her books. Some of the others…" Tara shrugged. "They said that something doesn't feel right."
Giles nodded thoughtfully. "If they have the first shred of sensitivity, they'll know that something isn't right."
"Have your books told you anything?" Tara waved her hand at the stacks of books. She'd never seen this many in the back room, even when he'd gotten a new shipment for the store.
"A little bit, unfortunately it's not good news," he paused, pouring himself more tea. "There are references to this presence that you've felt in all the oldest books and legends. They cross cultures and in some cases, species boundaries. The ancient Chinese, the Inca, the Babylonians, and several demonic cultures that were their contemporaries all mention the presence."
"When that happens, isn't it normally one group that's happy about the scary thing, and others that fear it? Like a local sports hero?" Tara was getting a cold feeling in her stomach, one that normally told her there was trouble.
"Generally so," Giles admitted. "In this case, no. Every name is some variation of a great hunger, a darkness, something that devours. Every reference hints that it is a dreadful danger that was locked away in the earliest recorded acts of magic, for the protection of all. It is said that the bitterest of enemies and most deluded of fools – generally their political rivals – all agreed that it was best that the Darkness stay locked away. Some feared that if it ever escaped, it would be the end of all things."
"What let it out?" Tara breathed the question, knowing that she wouldn't like the answer.
"It's not out yet. What you feel is its presence just outside the mortal realm, like hearing something breathing on the other side of your door. It wasn't one thing, but rather a combination of several things happening too close together." For a moment, it looked as if he was about to say something else, but what emerged was a soft, "One of those things was Glory and her portal."
"How do we make it go away again?" Tara could feel herself trembling.
"We don't know," Giles admitted.
That was the worst thing that Tara had heard in a long time.
End part 61.
Xander knocked on the door of the mansion, his head still spinning from last night. After a long day of work, he'd spent the whole night in a cave listening to demons tell stories about something horrible. Anya had been beside him, taking notes. The whole thing felt a bit unreal, that feeling perhaps helped by exhaustion.
It also seemed bizarre that he was visiting a couple of vampires.
"They're here, right? Of course they're here, it's not like they could go out and go shopping," Anya muttered.
Wesley opened the door, smelling of smoke and herbs and looking a bit scruffy and disheveled, completely unlike the Wesley that Xander remembered from senior year. "Xander? And… Anya, isn't it? What brings you here?"
"We've got some information that might help. We're not the only people who know something bad's trying to get here, and somehow, last night turned into story night at the demon cave." Xander shook his head, and then sighed. "Can we talk about this inside? I think the two deadboys and the girls need to hear this stuff."
Wesley shook his head, muttering something that Xander couldn't quite catch as he went back inside the house.
Closing the door behind him, Xander grumbled, "Not like we could be vamps standing out there in the bright, nasty sunshine. I think he's paranoid."
Angel and Willow were sitting on the couch near the fireplace, which wasn't lit. Spike was pacing along the floor, grumbling and growling about someone disappearing and what if she got herself hurt? Wesley settled on the shorter couch beside a redhead who wasn't Willow, and she leaned up, kissing him. Xander looked over the room again, counting the people before asking, "Um, where's Amy?"
"Mouse-girl just vanished! When she comes back…" Spike snarled, eyes flashing yellow. "We don't know where she went, but it had better be important."
"Hi Xander," Willow called. "Um, meet Caitlynn, the person sitting on Wesley's lap. She's trying to help fix this."
Xander made a small wave, wondering if the room was spinning. Deciding that it probably wasn't, he moved over and collapsed onto the end of the couch where Willow and Angel were sitting. "We went to story time, and have the stories as passed down by demony families of how the Ancient Hunger got locked away."
"Should we ask why they invited you to story time instead of one big, violent party?" Caitlynn asked, something about her seeming weirdly familiar.
Anya settled down between Xander and Angel, leaning on him. "They asked for protection, either a way to defeat the Devourer again, or someone to kill them before he gets here. We're going to try to stop him from arriving first, and as a backup, we said we'd go back and help with the killing before he arrives."
"Now that's freaky," Caitlynn muttered. "I've never heard of scary things meaning 'kill me now' when they say help."
Xander had the vague feeling that he'd regret it later, but the words just slipped out. "Why does Caitlynn seem weirdly familiar?"
"You met me before," she smirked, the expression very familiar. "We got real close. You were pretty sure that we had a connection."
"You can't have him, and besides, you seem quite content with *him*," Anya retorted, pointing at Wesley.
"Oh, that's five by five with me." She was still grinning.
"Faith? When did you become a redhead? And aren't you supposed to be in prison?" Xander blurted, now certain that he'd managed to fall asleep.
"I used to be, magic spell from Red… I mean, Willow, and Faith is officially dead now," she replied.
"Quentin Travers was trying to kill Faith. Because of that major violation of his oaths, he broke some of the barriers keeping the scary darkness away. So, Amy and I faked Faith's death, brought her here, fixed a glamour on her, and she's going to help us try to stop the scary dark man from eating us all." Willow didn't even seem to pause for breath. "But you can't say anything about it at the Magic Box or at Buffy's house, because we're afraid the Council might have bugged them, and they have to think that Faith's dead. If they try to make her deader, things would only get a lot worse, and we don't want that."
Xander blinked, certain that he hadn't followed much more than Travers bad, Magic Box bugged, and Council makes things worse. "Okay. Anya, can you tell them what we've got?"
"The short version is that most of them had a story about how the Hunter in the Darkness, or the Ancient Devourer, or the Enemy of All Life was locked away. Some of the names were different, but everybody agrees that he's much worse than an Ascencion. Apparently, back when this thing was locked away, it took a combination of hundreds of casters from all races, including humans, working together on a powerful spell. Some of them said there were magic songs, or special dances, or that they wove a web of light to hold back the Darkness." Anya frowned at the paper. "In short, if we can find a spell that was used back before most humans had figured out how to write things down and find a group of magically-gifted people willing to work with those they're afraid of, we might have a chance.
For a few moments, the room was quiet.
"I think we need to make a few phone calls," Angel said. "Wes, you call those shamans back. I'll call Lorne. Between him and Cordelia, they can find some casters in L.A. to help out."
Xander decide that if his dream had a hope of beating this scary evil, he'd just stay asleep for now. Leaning back on the couch, he closed his eyes.
End part 62.
"Okay, everybody's great-great grandaddy's worked together to lock this guy up. We need lots of people working for this to have a shot of success," Faith muttered, staring at the pages of notes.
"We would also need the spell," Spike growled.
Willow frowned, staring at the corner of the walls and ceiling as she considered the information that they had. "We need the spell. We need a lot of people casting the spell. But do they need to be all in the same place, or just casting it at the same time?"
"What are you suggesting?" Angel's voice was soft, but hints of hope and fear were present.
"If we can get the spell, have the demons work it in the cave, the tribal shamans and medicine men that Wes talked to working in their places, the L.A. witches casting in L.A., we can work here, and everyone else we can contact… Miss Calendar once organized an online circle of techno-pagans to cast out Moloch, if that worked with them all being in different places, why not this? Wouldn't it be easier if everybody doesn't have to be in the same place, or speaking the same language? As long as they can feel the big evil and want it to stay gone, that should be enough, right?" Willow tried to explain, the words spilling out.
"I know Giles was calling people all over, England, maybe France and Germany. He was also saying something about Chinese and Indian records, so… Hey, Watchers are international, right?" Xander added, eyes still closed on the couch.
"I thought you were asleep?" Willow asked, looking at her friend. "Something about a long day, followed by demonic story night?"
"I tried, Willow. But it's hard to go to sleep with everybody talking about big, scary evils trying to come eat us all." Xander shrugged, "I don't want to die either."
"Having done that once before, I'd recommend avoiding it," Angel's dry words held an unexpected attempt at humor.
Willow grinned at him, relieved that he'd finally picked up on the reason that they kept trying to make jokes in the face of danger. A little laughter could push back the blind, screaming panic that might otherwise overwhelm them.
"Yes, the Watchers are international," Wesley agreed, a smile starting to form. "Their reach, with varying degrees of strength, is everywhere that the British Empire controlled or traded with. Most of us have at least a small measure of familiarity with mystic rituals, and we tend to learn who the local powers in an area are, especially those with true magical ability."
"So, if we can convince them that we have a way to help…" Willow started, hoping that Wesley would see her plan.
"Yes," he nodded.
"And the demons hiding in the cave will probably help, especially if we promise that if it doesn't work, we'll kill them before the big evil can do it." Xander shook his head, adding a soft, "How am I going to explain this to my boss? Sorry I was so groggy today, I spent the weekend trying to keep a scary, ancient, evil thing from coming in to eat the world?"
"Why not? In this bloody town, it might work," Spike growled.
Xander glared for a moment, and then sighed. "It's really sad that he's right. I'm going to try again to sleep, okay?"
Willow smiled, and looked back at the notes. If she could figure out how many people had been required to make it work the first time, then maybe they could figure out if they had enough to try it this time. Assuming that they could figure out how it had even been done. "As many as they could find… how many would that be?"
"I think, given what's going on, we should go for as many as we can possibly convince, and then a few more," Anya declared, and then tapped the other stack of notes. "There is no over-kill with this, I'm not even sure we can get enough kill."
She felt something, like a ripple in the ambient magic, and suddenly, Whistler and Amy were standing on the corner, Amy clutching a book and looking pale.
"Where the hell have you been?" Spike's growl sounded furious, though his big grin – fangs and all- made that a little less convincing.
"I think I've got the spell used to lock it away," Amy declared, her voice sounding nervous. "All we need to do is make sense out of it, and get hundreds of people to cast it before it's too late."
Lindsey nodded as he listened to the Researcher's explanations of the possible repercussions of acting in violation of a fail-safe clause. In this company, the consequences were usually quite personal, and ranged from excruciating pain to slow, lingering death. The oaths and binding that would be placed on some of their operatives were such that they could only affect the individual. But he still had a lingering feeling…
Looking up at the creature that looked rather like a bland, middle-aged woman, he voiced another question. "What might happen if a member of the Council of Watchers that hold the responsibility to train and guide the Vampire Slayer violated their oaths? Would it make a difference if they were a field Watcher or served in an administrative function?"
"Our information on the Council is limited," the creature began, focusing orbs of solid gray on him. "We are aware that every Watcher of any sort must go through an Initiation ceremony, the details of which are unknown to us. As the ceremony does create an alteration in the aura, there are obviously mystical aspects to this as well as traditional ones. Beyond the side effects of the ordinary consequences of their actions, we can only venture guesses."
"This is preliminary research, a guess will be sufficient to direct later enquiries," Lindsey said, trying to conceal the bad feeling growing within him. It wasn't easy to hide, and he could only call it dread.
"If they are sworn to serve the Watcher's Council, such a violation could cause…" The figure froze, and a ripple spread over it, as if it was an image in water. "The bindings… the bindings… they crack! The bindings must not fall!"
Fear clenched through Lindsey as he stared at the Researcher. He didn't know what the thing really was, though his mentor had called it a mystical construct that the Senior Partners had created to speed research on laws, precedents, and supernatural matters. There were several of them, all interchangeable, and supposedly incapable of an emotional reaction. This… this wasn't just a flicker of emotion. Wetting his lips, he asked, "What bindings?"
"The Devourer must not be released!" The Researcher wailed, its voice redoubling until it sounded like four voices overlapping. It then began to shriek words in languages that he didn't speak, couldn't even recognize. He could hear similar wailings start from the other Researchers.
"Oh damn…" Lindsey gulped. This was very bad. He backed away slowly, his mind scrabbling for a plan. If he'd broken the Researcher, which would be a rather disastrous first for him to accomplish, then he was about to be in a great deal of trouble. If the Researcher was reacting to something that Travers had done by sending assassins after his Slayer… That would be worse.
Retreating to his office, he came to a decision. For now, he'd operate on the assumption that the Researcher was reacting to outside events, and not his questions. If what Travers had done was so terrible that it could cause this sort of reaction, it would be beyond his knowledge of how to fix it. But he could gather information, hard copy about what Travers had hired them to do.
Then what? What could he do with it? Who did he possibly know that would be able to do anything about the head of the Council of Watchers? His spinning mind settled on a face, a face that had caused him a great deal of trouble, and slowly, Lindsey started to smile. If he had the evidence, he could find a way to get it to that annoying vampire Angel, and then he and his group of astonishingly capable people could pull off yet another last-minute solution.
Fortunately, Gavin never used anything more than a basic lock on either his office door or his file drawers, and his password was not only simple to guess, but hadn't been changed in two years.
End part 63.