Chapter 29

Et Veritas Domini manet in aeternum

(The truth of the Lord endureth forever)

When Greg opened his eyes again, he struggled to anchor himself. He had slipped deep into the astral plane and was now gazing at the tattered remains of John Watson's soul. Greg felt his eyes burn with unshed tears as he took it in. It was beautiful. The angelic grace shimmered softly and soft melodic chanting pulsed from its very being. Pure light and grace, the likes of which Greg had never seen before. This was what bible verses and arias lauded. "Oh, John…it's worth saving." Greg whispered in a voice hoarse with emotion. The knowledge should have filled Greg with relief. It hadn't been for not. Greg felt his hopes sink as he took in what surrounded the angelic grace, the very light of John Watson's soul. Darkness cloaked it weaving its tendrils around and through it, attempting to choke it out of existence. The screeches of demons and other dark creatures bubbled up as the darkness strengthened and the light flickered and weakened in the wake of the attack. Greg wanted to do something to smite the darkness, but here in the astral plane, he was impotent. Only able to observe and not act. The scream of a small girl caused Greg to look up and he was greeted by a vision.

A demon attacked attempting to devour her soul, but before it could strike a bright light appeared. An angel appeared from within the light. Greg knew instinctively that it was John and watched in awe as he struck the demon down saving the young girl. What happened next shook Greg to his very core. The Arch Angel Michael appeared and used John's own sword against him. He struck him down burying his sword into his shoulder. This was how John had fallen from grace? Saving an innocent soul? It seemed so unfair and Greg wanted to ask John the reason, but was powerless to do so.

The vision morphed and Greg watched as the angelic grace fell into John Watson who lay dying on the battlefield deep in the desert of Afghanistan. The missing pieces fell into place. Greg knew the rest, army doctor wounded in Afghanistan, medical discharge with a meager pension causing him to look for a flat mate leading him to Sherlock Holmes. The rest was history. The vision faded away and Greg looked once again looked upon John Watson's tattered soul. The darkness seemed so vast and the light so weak, yet Greg could not help but cling to hope. For John Watson had proven more than once that he was nothing if not a survivor. It would be up to him. The darkness was much too strong to banish, it may, however be fought and controlled. There was a chance, albeit a slim one. Greg closed his eyes and slipped out of the plane. When he opened his eyes again he stared into John Watson's eyes, now a mixture of gold and blue. Greg repeated the words that he had whispered into the plane. "Oh, John…it's worth saving." John's eyes filled with tears and pink streaks appeared in their wake. Vampire's cried bloody tears, but John's were a diluted. "You've got to fight, it is too strong to banish, but you can control it. You must control it. The darkness, it's choking your grace, trying to kill it." John hissed in anger with the revelation.

"How Greg?" John asked. "How do I control it?"

Greg took a deep breath. "Feed. Once your hunger is controlled, it will be easier to fight. I cannot lie to you John. It won't be easy. The darkness is much stronger than the light, but I have faith in you and so does Sherlock. We will help you anyway we can." Greg promised. John nodded looking a bit overwhelmed but determined. Before Greg thought better of it, the question slipped from his lips. "You saved her. Why were you struck down? You saved an innocent."

"Guardians are not to interfere only observe and report." John said in a hollow voice. "I knew the consequences, but I couldn't let it happen. It wasn't right. All the others were taken naturally, but not her. She was innocent." John's eyes moved to Mycroft and Anthea who were still unconscious. "I should wake them." John murmured looking between Greg and Sherlock for confirmation.

"Mycroft will be down for a while John, it would be best left alone. You may do more harm than good. Anthea, on the other hand, you must release your command. I must warn you though, she will likely not be pleased with you." Sherlock explained with a haunted look in his eyes as he looked between Greg and John. Greg could understand why Sherlock appeared so shaken. Soul gazing was an intimate act causing a temporary intertwining of mind and soul. Greg had been very lucky. It could have gone horribly wrong.

"Thank you, Greg…your light, it's so pure and so rare for a mortal. I want to give you something." Greg opened his mouth to refuse, for John owed him nothing. Greg had merely granted his request. "No, take it." John said firmly digging deep into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a perfectly formed pure white feather. "What's left of my wings…I want you to have it. It will act as a powerful ward and conduit for your holy magic." Greg shook his head.

"No, John! You keep it. You'll need it. You're about to wage an epic battle and need all the help that you can get." John sighed and looked at Greg with tired eyes before replying.

"I wish I had your faith. I'll keep it on one condition." Greg raised a questioning eyebrow. "If I lose my battle to the darkness. Keep it safe on hallowed ground." Greg nodded. That was a promise that he was willing to make.

"I'll pray that won't be necessary." Greg said sincerely. John nodded accepting the truce.

John spared a look in Anthea's direction before speaking. "Wake!"

She slowly began to stir with a groan. "Greg, watch her. I don't want her attacking John. I need to explore a few options." Sherlock insisted as he picked up his mobile and dialed. "Molly, I need a favor. Can we meet you at Bart's?"