Chapter 20: Full Circle

Well guys, it's been a tough ride but here's the final chapter. Hope you enjoyed part 2 of my virtual series. Part 3 will be a lot shorter than I previously anticipated but it's coming along nicely. Hope you guys join me then

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review my story.

After the incident in the Hyperion alley, Connor drove the car all over LA. Lost and confused, he couldn't think of anything. His father was being consumed by two powerful hellgods and thanks to interference of his demon alter ego, he was powerless to save him.

As if by some random act of fate, Connor drove to the alley where Darla had "given birth" to him. He turned off the engines of Angel's car and quietly looked at Laurence at the seat next to him. His father didn't look well. Although barely conscious, horns and marks had begun to appear all over his face, covering it like a malignant infection. His skin was slowly being covered by malignant looking pox marks. He wondered if he could hear him but he said nothing.

The anger began to consume him. At first, he aimed it at Lawin and Aidan who had accused him of being an unwitting pawn, and who had attempted to remove the crystal from him as a result. This feeling quickly faded away as Connor realized that they were right. They had all been pawns and now, they were all lost. Everything was lost.

Connor shook away that brief moment of self pity to focus upon saving his father, but nothing came to him. The Crystal was his only gambit and he did not have the time to create another one. The possession was proceeding rapidly, killing what little was left of Laurence. A lingering despair was left in him and it seemed as if he had lost all hope that very moment. He walked about as if in a fugue, staring at his father only once in a while to make sure he was still there, or at the very least still human.

Already the demons – the Kluthu gods – were beginning to consume him, and he was slipping away fast. Connor stared at all this in horror and in despair. If Laurence died, he would lose his father, and in turn he will lose his family. Without his family – without the Reilly's – Connor Reilly would cease to exist and it would all end there. All the sacrifices Angel gave - all the bitter pain and agony – would be lost forevermore.

And it will start all over again. The same loss, the same failure – trying to pick up shards of a broken world. Cordy, Jasmine, Holtz, Angel and now, Laurence. Connor's mind was consumed by the darkness of despair and it choked out all hope, all sense of future, whatever was left inside of him. He had climbed out of the pit so many time before – be it the darkness of hell or the emptiness of sorrow, but he has fallen again and again. Was this the essence of life – to be broken and pieced together over and over? And endless tide of false hopes and sorrow? Connor was tired of it all now and not just Connor Reilly. His deepest self, even the demon, the Destroyer, wearied of it all. He wanted it all to end. The sensation was not unfamiliar. He felt it all his life and not just in that goods store. It came to him when he was still a 5 year old boy who killed demons to survive. It came to him when he was a thirteen year old, who learned about the dark powers that was his to wield and command. He learned it as frightened young man when he learned that his father had betrayed him.

And he felt it again more acutely this time.

This was more than just the sorrow of ego or sensations. This was true suffering, and it reached into his soul – demanding an answer that refused to come. Connor's inner self emptied out into the darkness and once more he was right back where he was before – falling, forever falling.

"You did this!" Connor said silently to the demon within him. "You brought us to this."

"Yes, Connor, it was me." The Destroyer answered. "It was all me. My genius and yours. You see, I have complete control over your mind, but it wasn't just me. It was also you. We are one. Two sides of the same coin maybe, but we came from the same source you and I, just as Steven Holtz did and all those personas that we have been and will be."

"You give yourself too much credit," Reilly answered bitterly.

"I give credit where credit is due and the credit to these carefully planned series of events goes to me. Admit it. You always knew in your gut what was going on, but you were too scared to look at the abyss of your own soul."

"You seem to forget that Whistler betrayed you!"

"Yes," the demon answered thoughtfully, "the son of a bitch thought he could outsmart me but he overplayed his cards, didn't he? No matter. I don't need him any more. And the same goes to you. So you can start despairing now Reilly. I've won."

"You can't do away with me and you know it"

"Oh yes I can. I have power over you! Look!" Connor watched in terror as his body moved without his command. "See that! That's me doing that! I have control over this body. I always had but not to the extent that I wished but thanks to Marastoth's interference and his shattered Bane Crystal! It was inevitable."

"No!" Connor grabbed a knife and there was no mistaking what he had in mind.

"Yes!"

Connor's hand paused midair and it dropped the knife, its metal blade clanking on the floor. He looked at it with pure bewilderment.

"This isn't how it's going to end!" The Destroyer said.

Connor couldn't say anything. He no longer had authority over his own body. His vision was dimming into darkness. He felt like he was inside a shell, a hole closing in on him from all sides. He couldn't keep his focus. The demon, the destroyer - it was too strong.

"Have you seen one of those movies where the hero loses control of his own body to an evil demon? Didn't think it would happen to you, huh?" The Destroyer taunted. And Connor's body twisted violently towards a mirror. He stared into his image with bewilderment, for the demon straight at him.

"Yeah, ain't we a pretty sight?" the Destroyer said. "Take a long good look hero. You won't remember it when you cease to exist."

"One keeps his friends close, and his enemies closer – I think we gave that little phrase a whiole new meaning." The Destroyer laughed. "Marastoth thought he was in control so does the First Evil, but they are both delusional. For you see, I shall become more powerful than either of them could imagine."

"And yet I'm still here," Connor Reilly answered, "and yet you need me."

"Not for long."

Something occurred to Connor. It wasn't brought about by any information only a certainty in something much deeper than himself. "Your afraid me."

"You flatter yourself," the Destroyer scoffed.

"You are. But not just me, something else inside of me. That's why you orchestrated all this, because if you were really in control, because if you are the true power then you would have nothing to fear."

"I am not afraid of anything."

"Something else is happening to me. It's more than you. More than anything the prophecies or the plots made by higher beings. I know this because you know this. More than demon, human or god. Something else much nastier."

"Shut up!"

Connor relished this new found revelation and somehow he forgot that his father was in mortal danger. He only felt increasing satisfaction at the thought of the demon – the Destroyer – cowering else from something much worse.

Yes, much worse. There is something else much worse inside of him and it terrified Connor to think of it. On one hand, he didn't know what was happening to him, and he didn't know what he will turn to. On the other hand, was his father dying, and Angel still lost. Everything had gone mad and the world which had once been so real was broken once more.

"Yes… That's right. You're screwed. So you know the whole picture now. It doesn't matter. Your dad's gonna die and there's not a goddam thing you can do to stop me. One way or another, I will become manifest and let the universe be afraid. I am the Destroyer and I will be the fulcrum to recreating the universe."

Connor fell down and he began to lose control of his mind. He felt the living death consume him, and he looked on with cold unfeeling eyes as the darkness flooded within him while outside the world broke apart.

The wind whispered to his ear but he could only the whispering wail of doom. It was over. There was no hope. None.

Thus Spoke Marastoth…. the biggest troll in the universe.

It's begun. The time of change is here. You know it by the uncertainty – by your own blindness. When the darkness clears, when the war is over, your world will be changed irrevocably.

I can't say anything beyond what I know, but you should welcome this time of strife boys and girls. Its arrival will save you from the certain death of stagnation. The universe is dying of its own banality and it sought redemption through change.

But change alone is not enough. Something beyond this universe – this creation is needed, and Connor has come to give that. Peace leads to death. Destruction renews life. That is the ineffable power which he represents and its time has come.

It is likely that I, Marastoth ancient evil and demon god of antiquity, shall be destroyed. But I have seen power beyond my own. For such a gift, I'm not scared of my own extinction. I know what's coming, and you should pray for the same enlightening death.

I don't know how it will happen, nor what the effects of the coming conflict will be, but one thing I am certain of - the Destroyer, at long last, is complete.

The fight between Anash and her former protégé, Lawin, had lasted for almost an hour.

For one who is trained in the arts of war, Lawin knew this to be a bad thing. Not only was he outclassed, Anash had managed to block every one of his attempts to either escape or turn the tide of battle.

At this point in time, he was severely weakened and all his reserves, both magickal and physical, had been depleted. Nonetheless, he still had one trick up his sleeve and he would use this to maximum effect – subterfuge.

As powerful as Anash may be, Lawin knew that due to her age, she could not sustain heavier, more demanding spells. Lawin looked at his former mentor and without uttering a word put his plan into motion.

Although at first, Anash did not understand what he was implying, it soon became apparent what he intended to do. In a desperate gamble that hinged on many different factors, Lawin summoned the last of his reserves and encircled the area around them with several overlapping concentric flames. These glowed with unnerving intensity, scorching the area around them, getting ready to consume the entire area in a massive explosion.

Anash understood quickly. If Lawin would not win the fight, he was determined not to let her win either. The explosion would kill them both, and with them Vorathon's heart – her only means of eliminating the demonic legions arrayed against the world at this time.

She could not allow this to happen and she would not. With all her power, she cast a spell that would dispel the eruption. It worked but not as she had planned for in her haste to stop Lawin's spell, she had neglected to keep watch of Lawin's movements. This mistake only became clear to her when the Zarakite's knife slashed her leg, and pinned her down on the ground.

With rage on his face, Lawin prepared to strike the killing blow, but it would not come to pass. A large ball of blue flame connected with his chest, burning away the upper part of his tunic and knocking him into the ground barely conscious.

The source of the attack came from an old man who emerged from the clearing. With him were a dozen other old people – all of them ancients – all of them allied with Anash. They looked upon Lawin and prepared to kill him, but Anash raised her hand to stop them. She stood up, keeping pressure on her wound, wincing as she walked.

"What will you… do with the heart?" Lawin managed to croak as he threw it at her – knowing the futility of further combat.

"Does it matter?"

Lawin kept quiet but he did not turn away.

Anash sighed, looked up and closed her eyes. She began to speak as if in a dream. "For aeons, we have guarded the power – the magick, and now it's all about to end. All magicks – all dreams." She looked at Lawin with an accusatory look. "And all because the Destroyer has arrived and with him the legions of hell. Well, let the demon think that he's won." She said as she took Vorathon's heart from the scorched earth. "He may think that he was using me, but in truth it's the other way around. I and my brethren now have the means to stop him."

"You think your plan is so noble. You'll kill billions of people!" Lawin accused.

"Oh Lawin! Do you really think that I would use the heart as Rukash would – to turn it into a bomb? Oh no, I have other plans for it, but it doesn't change anything though. People will die. It is a necessary evil to protect all creation from an evil far greater than anything previously known."

The other ancients – almost a dozen in number – surrounded Lawin and threatened him. Knowing the futility of any further defiance, Lawin remained lying on the ground – not that he could get up or anything. He said nothing but his gray eyes bore into Anash who now walked up to him silently. She looked at him for a moment and nodded her head in resignation. Both knew the futility of words.

"I am sorry, Lawin." Anash then infused Lawin's body with energy, causing him to scream in agonizing pain. She then cast his body into a nearby ditch. "You were like a son to me."

She walked over to where he landed and although she was prepared to make the killing blow, she reneged, for she meant what she had said to him. He was like a son to her. So without further self pity she left him where he lay and walked away.

Lawin's broken form bled from the amount of magick that entered his body. A couple of ribs were broken, and his breathing was weakening. He tried to get up, but collapsed. Seeing his tenacious nature, Anash gave him another dosage of pain. This one knocked him out his consciousness.

She knelt down besides Lawin and with gentle hands, stroke his dark/grayish hair. She traced the line of his jaw and without further thought, teleported out of the area, leaving him unconscious and very near death.

"You were working with the First all this time," Aidan said as Malcolm dragged him to a dark room. He was handcuffed and the bag which had been covering his head was removed. As far as he could tell, they were somewhere near the docks - the noise of the sea close by. He had passed out on the way over, but conscious once more, he now knew the plot which was spun to deceive him every step of the way.

Aidan managed to piece together the missing pieces and figure out just how he, Malcolm, the council and the slayers fit into all this mess. Sirk who was secretly working for Conn… the Destroyer arranged for his transfer to LA. However, Sirk wasn't the only watcher with secret alliances. Malcolm who was the servant of the First also had his own agendas – at that time unknown to all but the First Evil. In the end, Aidan became Sirk's pawn, and through him, the Destroyer.

It was still hard for Aidan to believe that Connor's demonic alter ego was behind all this mess, but then again it didn't really surprise him anymore. In the end, they were pawns – Him, Lawin, the council, the slayers, even "Connor Reilly" – their faith in their own free will had been an illusion.

Aidan related this to Malcolm as he lead him past the corridors and into a room with two Turok Hans. Malcolm then threw him to a corner of the room, but kept quiet as he foraged through Aidan's supply bag, searching for something. Nonetheless, Aidan kept talking if only to listen to the sound of his own voice. When he finished relating his revelations, Malcolm looked at him with a bemused smile on his face.

"Aidan. Aidan." Malcolm smiled. "So you figured it out. You're a genius." Deadpan.

"Yay for me…"

"Don't be snide, mate! You got yourself into something a little too deep for your own soddin' good!" Malcolm began shaking the gun in Aidan's face. "You weren't supposed to see this Aidan! You weren't supposed to get involved." Malcolm took out Aidan's Laptop and smashed it against a wall. He then took his leather bound journal and asked: "Are they all here? All you've figured out?" Aidan didn't respond so Malcolm shrugged and burned the journal with his lighter.

"Just between you and me, Aidan. I always knew about those bastards, Price and Sirk and the rest old guard. Such a bloody shame you got yourself involved with those scum."

"Yeah," Aidan's voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. "terrible shame, eh wot?"

"Now. Now. Don't be snide mate. We're just a couple of old watchers trying to find our way around a new world, curious isn't it? Sirk, Pryce and the rest of those old bastards thought they were using you to gut old Rupert Giles in the back. Instead, it's those bastards who are now dead."

"And I'm to follow them right?"

He shrugged. Malcolm then related the rest of the plan to Aidan and reviewed each and every detail meticulously like a villain from a Bond movie. "I almost forgot to thank you. Remember that night when the council's HQ was attacked? Remember that laddie? Glessing was killed by a demon, but that's not true. I killed him. The demon was after me. It knew who I was working for."

"The First Evil."

"That's right and soon, the council will be no more."

"You're a bit premature. Giles and what's left of the council is still alive."

"A tempor'y setback, laddie. Soon, they'll be out of th' way as well." Malcolm went to one of the Turok Han and said something to its ear. Aidan strained to hear but he couldn't. He then turned back to Aidan with a stern face. "So you think you have it all figured out do you? Well, let me piece together the missing pieces for you, laddie. Everything that's happened – the slayer armies, the arrival of demon armies, the fall of the Wolf, Ram and Hart, the interference of the First – they were all part of a much bigger plan."

"I know. I know. We're all just pawns in the First's plans," Aidan said laconically, "sing a different tune, won't you?"

"You're bravado's amusing Aidan," Malcolm said with a smirk, "But nothing you say will change what is about to come."

One of the Turok Han went forward and whispered something into Malcolm's ear. The ex-watcher's eyes went wide with surprise as he absorbed the bad news. "What! This is bad!"

"Something wrong?" Aidan asked with a renewed sense of sardonic, but Malcolm ignored him.

Suddenly, the image of the First Evil appeared before them in the image of an old man – Roger Pryce – deceased now. "Finish this. We have other problems to deal with.

"How did he know?" Malcolm said. "You said Marastoth would not find the deeper well."

"I miscalculated. Now shut up and finish him."

Aidan overheard the conversation and this apparent misstep in his enemy's plans, however small was of small comfort to him. "So much for your grand plan, eh?"

"Shut up, Aidan!" Malcolm snapped.

"Guess things just don't turn out the way you hope." Aidan continued defiantly and as he thought about the treachery, it made the prospect of death seem somewhat lighter.

"No, Aidan. No they don't. In the end, we're both traitors to the council. You working for Pryce and Sirk. And me…" Malcolm shrugged.

Malcolm then shot Aidan on the left leg. The necromancer fell down screaming against the wall. Black veins began spreading instantaneously, healing him. "I'm sorry," Malcolm muttered to his former friend and shot him five more times on the chest and extremities. The silencer smothered the screams of the gun, until they were just brief whispers. Even after the barrage, though, Aidan was still breathing. Bloodied but still breathing, the black vein nearly covering his face.

"Was… that…all?" Aidan smiled through bloody lips. "You're boring me Malcolm."

"Die already!" Malcolm screamed. He walked towards Aidan and Malcolm knew that he had to deal a blow that Aidan's powers wouldn't allow him to recover from. He pointed the gun to Aidan's head, closed his eyes out of fear and pulled the trigger.

The empty shell casings clanked ominously on the floor, mixing somewhat rhythmically with the ominous deluge of the rain and sorrow outside. Malcolm blinked his eyes in disbelief. He had killed his own friend – his comrade from his days back in the academy and fellow elite cadre who knew about the deepest secrets of the council. But Malcolm only saw it with his eyes. His mind and his heart were shut off. He was about to ascend and that is all that matters. Everything is okay, everything is forgivable, as long as you are doing it for a higher purpose. Gods are beyond responsibility. Sirk was a threat. Pryce was a fool. Aidan was a… victim.

Just a victim, not my fault, Malcolm thought. That was the final moment of his conscience. Henceforth, Malcolm will never know guilt again.

"Take the body and throw it into the wharf," The First commanded Malcolm.

"What?"

"Look at him he's still alive," Aidan was breathing faintly. Malcolm had to squint to see Aidan's breathing. "We need to be thorough."

"I emptied an entire clip on him!" Malcolm lashed out with the empty gun at the First.

"I told you to kill him not use him as target practice! Take the body and throw it to the nearest docks… Now!"

Malcolm looked at Aidan's boy with an odd sort of guilt. He shrugged and then gestured for the Turok Han to take the lump of flesh with them. The demons obeyed, leaving Malcolm and the First alone to talk a little.

"You still haven't told me the true extent about Connor Reilly," Malcolm said to the first. "What is the Destroyer?"

"Someone you wouldn't wish to know intimately! Now, cease asking questions. You have much work to do!"

"I will," Malcolm persisted. "But only after you tell me how this Connor is involved with the two demonic armies trying to annihilate each other."

The First may have been incorporeal, but its energy certainly was not. It struck Malcolm with a heavy wave of heat that seemed to scorch his skin. "Don't Tempt Me, Malcolm! I am not in the mood for any of your games. We have very little time left! If you dally any longer, we will lose our element of surprise, and you will be forced into a confrontation with Connor!"

"Good. I've been meaning to try out some of my powers!"

The image of Glessing became somber. "Don't be presumptuous, man child. Greater men have said such words before… and they are all dead." Malcolm was about to say something snide, but he was cut off by a piercing sensation at the base of his skull. "I grow weary of your games, Malcolm Ingram," the voice was no longer human, "I'm not all sugar and cream puffs. I do have a dark side, and if you persist…"

"I won't!" Malcolm stammered. "What next?"

"The Slayers. They must be removed. Is the plague prepared?"

"Yes," the watcher responded.

"Excellent. Make sure that it kills most of the slayers. I don't want anything to interfere when we are so close to the end of this thing."

"What about the Kluthu? What happens if they do manifest into this world? They could ruin our plans."

"Don't worry about Marastoth's siblings. They won't make it here in time."

"You seem so sure."

"Of course, I am Malcolm," The First answered with mild humor, "Aside from being a primordial being and all, I know human nature, and in the end, it will be the Destroyer's downfall."

Laurence felt death gripping him as he pondered what he had done. When he made the deal to become the host of demonic beings, he did so with Connor's welfare in mind but now with his body broken from an indescribable evil, he was scared. He had gotten himself into something that he could hardly comprehend – this hidden part of his son, this nightmare.

Connor's story was something entirely different from what he had believed – what anyone would believe. This dark mystery tormented him as if he did not know what was real anymore. A college kid. He was supposed to be just a college kid.

How the hell did we get here?

It was kind of like Superman and Clark Kent. Only this story was filled with darkness. Laurence suddenly remembered his pact with the demons, and once more, he remembered the price he paid for the preservation of Connor Reilly, a Faustian deal to sacrifice one life to save another. The only problem is that his deal affected more than just him. In offering himself as a host to the Kluthu gods, Laurence also endangered the whole of humanity. In retrospect, it was foolish him to even consider the deal, but could he have done? They were threatening his son.

Even now, the demons were whispering to him, devouring him. Laurence was terrified but as he looked at his son, in pain and lost in his own agony, the father in him was no longer afraid, and for a brief moment, Laurence wondered about Connor's real father. The one shown to him by vision.

What was his name? Angel? That's right. Angel – weird name. I wonder if he felt this way when he made that deal for Connor's memories? Did he sell his soul to save his son' life? Was he scared? Did he hesitate? Did he think too much on the subject?

Laurence didn't know the answer to any of these questions, but he did know one thing – the demons were taking over and he didn't have much time left. If he is to do something, he has to do it quickly while his will is still his own.

Laurence knew what to do. The only thing he could do. He could not allow these beings to manifest into the world. The deal was to allow the Kluthu to possess his body. There was no injunction about him not killing himself. And besides, he was dead anyway.

And so he reached out for a broken piece of glass. As if sensing his intentions, the Kluthu voiced their opposition.

You don't have the guts. The sound was pure evil, made up of both male and female voice.

Laurence smiled at the taunting demons and with a little trepidation, he cut open his wrists.

Connor came back to find his father where he left him. Only this time, Laurence's wrists were bleeding open. At first, Connor didn't know what to do, he became frozen at the pinnacle of the nightmare but it soon dawned on him that he had to stop the flow of blood.

He ran to his father and without word or sound, tried to patch up the blood. Laurence touched his hand and shook his head.

"I had to do it," Laurence said and the voice was tinged with the evil that was consuming his entire body. "I die. They die."

"There has to be another way," Connor said.

"You tried your best kiddo."

Connor lowered his head and a shadow covered his face. He had nothing left. Laurence couldn't tell what was going on but he knew full well that he wasn't the only one with a demon inside of him. Connor had one too, and whatever hope he allowed himself he focused on his son – that he will come out of this okay.

"Do me a favor, huh? Tell… tell your mom and sister what really happened here… No wait, maybe it's best that you lie. It'll… uh…" Laurence chuckled. "You know what? Just tell them what you think is best. God knows your mother already suspects what's going on. It'll only be a matter of time before they find out." Laurence looked his son in the eye and with his last breath he said, "it's gonna be okay. I know it."

As the darkness consumed him, Laurence's final thoughts was a strange phrase. To be real and unreal. Regardless of the fear of death, this afforded him a sense of completeness. And with that, he was gone.

And with him, the Kluthu that desired to enter this world. All that was left was an empty corpse.

A terrible despair flooded into Connor's mind. In his very eyes, he now saw the countless people who died or were lost because of him. Cordelia, Holtz, Angel and now… Dad. The fluid darkness twirled and it spun his whole world into an unstable madness.

Once more the Destroyer made itself felt and it spoke nonchalantly about Laurence's death. "Don't be overdramatic. Angel created an illusion. Laurence was a small part of that illusion."

"You did this to me! You ruined my life," said the human to the demon.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," the Destroyer answered. "Death and Destruction, Reilly! That's the only reality you'll ever know – the only truth you'll ever have. Connor Reilly, Steven Holtz – they're just skins you wear to hide yourself from what you really know you are."

"I can still stop you…" Connor Reilly said to the Destroyer.

"No you can't," the Destroyer taunted.

Connor walked over to the glass that Laurence used to slash his wrists, and he picked it up. He walked about in dreamlike state and seated himself on a broken TV set left and leaned back against the wall.

"You wouldn't!" The Destroyer snarled.

But Connor Reilly didn't hear its harsh voice. The human had sunk back into himself, leaving something else in its place and it was being consumed by the grief of the past as well as the loss of the present. This part of Connor – this innermost being - did not hear the Destroyer, because it was more real than the darkness. Instead, it felt only its sorrow and loss, drowning in the darkness that it created for itself. It was suicide at a psychological and spiritual level, and it was the very pinnacle of Connor's agony.

Somewhere from the back of his unstable mind, a voice, not the demon, whispered sarcastically: You better cut off 'ole Laurence's head. You know, just to be sure that he won't turn into a vampire. The voice laughed and laughed. But, it was soon cut off by another. This one, far more menacing than anything the facetious one could muster.

You killed my father! Connor accused himself – his entire self – demon, human, the power and everything in between. He accused them over his entire life. He accused them over Cordelia, Holtz, Angel and now, Laurence.

I did what I had to do.

You lost the people you love and now you're killing those of mine!

Millions of lives were at stake! Should I have allowed them all to die?

Kill one to save thousands? Kill thousands to save millions? Sounds like Jasmine reasoning, if you ask me.

Don't mock me! It's not my fault dad died.

It is.

I saved countless millions!

You said the same thing when you murdered the girl!

I did what I had to do." This time the reason sounded hollow.

That doesn't change the fact that you let that girl die! Don't accuse me of killing some old man. He was just a false memory. You'll get over it.

Saving a million people does not exonerate us from what we have done.

You would rather have all those innocent people die?

You killed him, like you killed that girl in the warehouse.

It's not the same.

Isn't it?

I stopped the other Kluthu from breaking through, and escalating the problem.

You said the same thing about Jasmine.

Holtz.

Angel.

Jasmine.

Cordy

Dad.

Dad.

Dad

It

It

Is

Is

All

Our

My

Fault

Destroyer. That's what you are. And the darkness consumed him, as he bleed to death.

End of Part 2