Freedom Fighter
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so freakin' long to get out. I had a lot going on with school and such. Forgive the little bit of "Greek" I claim to use in this chapter-I made it up. Long chapter, fair warning, plus it's the "low-key" chapter, mostly conversation and serious character development-individual and relationship-wise. The next chapter will begin the rising action. Also, pay close attention to the dream sequence in this chapter. It give some clues, allusive as they are, to the unrevealed info about Geia and Jamal, and about Angel's connection with Geia.
Chapter 7-one week later
Dawn walked into the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand, and sat down beside her mom. Dawn loved watching old movies with her mom, a kind of bonding thing, especially when Buffy wasn't around. Then again, she was never around. Always out patrolling, but Dawn wasn't worried. Plus now she got her mom all to herself.
"Honey, did you burn this popcorn?"
Dawn saw the disgusted look on Joyce's face and grimaced. "That bad, huh?"
Joyce nodded. "Really bad. Why don't you go fix another bag, but don't put it in for so long." Dawn obeyed, and Joyce gathered her blanket closer to her as she watched the young couple in the movie dance to a beautiful slow song. Her eyes reverted to the large picture window facing the front yard when she saw a shadow on the porch. Thinking it was Buffy, she turned back to her movie.
She jumped when Angel's voice sounded through the door. "Joyce, it's Angel. Can I come in?"
Joyce hesitantly got up and opened the door. She stared at the dark-haired vampire for a few seconds before inviting him in. He stopped just a few feet within the door and glanced up the stairs. "Is Buffy here? I really need to talk to her."
"No, she's not," Dawn piped up from the couch. "She's out pat-roll-ing, like she always is. But she supposed to be back soon."
Angel's eyes focused back on Joyce. "Will you have her call me as soon as she gets home? I'll be at Geia's house."
Joyce ushered him into the kitchen to sit down before answering. "Just stay here until she comes home. She told me she'd be back at 11:00, so it's only ten minutes."
Angel glanced around the homely kitchen as he sat down on a barstool. "Thank you. I really need to speak with her."
Joyce sat down across from him. "Is it about Geia? It's nothing bad, I hope, because she seems like such a nice girl."
"It does involve Geia, but it's nothing bad, so to speak." Angel now realized that Buffy hadn't told her mother about Geia, so he didn't want to say anything revealing.
She nodded absentmindedly. "Oh, well I'm glad."
Inauspicious silence was all that could be heard until Buffy slammed the kitchen door as she came in. "Stupid, stupid vampires."
Angel spun around on his barstool, which stopped Buffy in her tracks. "Angel, what are you doing here?…I mean, is something wrong?"
"No, but we need to talk."
Buffy nodded and followed him up to her bedroom. It had been quite a while since they had been together in her room, and it felt bizarre. Angel waited until Buffy had sat down on her bed before speaking.
"It's about Geia-"
"I don't want to talk about her or anything connected to or with her."
Angel stared at her. "Then you shouldn't be talking to me."
She returned the stare, a glimmer of anger appearing. "Excuse me? You're the one who walked out of the magic shop with her, following her like a lost little puppy. What does she have on you that keeps you from acting sensibly instead of like a blind man?"
Angel closed the door completely and sat down beside his ex-lover. "I'm not following her. She's is-"
"-the savior of mankind, an angel warrior, and has perfect hair. I already know that."
A hand passed over his face in exhaustion. "Then why do you have to be so cold to her? She's not here to take over your job, Buffy. She's not a mortal."
Buffy's raised voice startled him. "I'm still not clear on the EXACT reason why she is here. If she's so great and powerful, why can't she and her other little angel buddies join together and Kumbaya all the evil in the world?"
"Geia and Jamal in Sunnydale because a force of evil greater than Sunnydale has ever seen is coming."
Buffy's eyes widened. "More powerful than the Master or Glory?" Angel's lack of a response gave her the answer. "Okay, so am I just supposed to stand by and watch? I'm the Slayer, not her."
Angel glanced out the window with a sigh. "No. We're all here to help Geia and Jamal in some way. There's a plan for us already set in motion. We must fill our parts."
"So we're actors now in some play, leaving our fates in the hands of two….things?"
"Angels, Buffy. They once were human, and now they're God's messengers and warriors. I figured because your fate was predestined by God to be the Slayer that you would accept another one with a similar fate."
Her look was viciously scornful, as was her voice. "You're one to talk, Angel. You're a demon, remember, or did Geia give you a get-out-of-Hell- free pass?"
Her words stung, and Angel wasn't in the mood to fight. He moved to leave, but turned before going out the door. "I'm not going to argue with you, Buffy. But you can't fight this Evil yourself, and Geia and Jamal are the only chance we have to do so." His voice lowered. "I'll see you later."
Buffy watched him walk out the door, and then the tears spilled unchecked down her face. She still loved him, and she hadn't meant to be so nasty to him, but she still didn't fully trust Geia or Jamal. There was something about them that was eerie, and she had this feeling they hadn't told their entire story. She wanted desperately to trust Angel in his acceptance of the two warriors, and she wanted to throw herself to Angel, to ask him to stay with her, love her again. But like usual, she had to dash headlong into danger and the Evil that surrounded her and her family and friends.
It was late, she was drained, and nothing looked better than her own bed at that moment. Buffy flopped onto her bed, and landed on something solid and warm.
Buffy rolled over to one side and saw a note held down by a small red glass ball beside her pillow. Putting the ornament aside, she read the note.
1 To the Slayer
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Buffy Summers, the dagonsphere of blood.
"……….so what you're saying is that if we cannot destroy this demon sorcerer, he'll turn Earth into his private Hell?"
Geia set her cup down and leaned back into the couch. "Frightening, isn't it? I mean, it certainly doesn't sound any worse than when Angelus was going to awaken Acathla and swallow the world into Hell or when the Master rose, or even when Glorificus wanted to open the demon dementions, but it is the worst impending doomsday yet. Every chance that demons get, they attempt a spell or incantation to have the world sucked into Hell, but Myron wants to bring Hell here…it's a completely different situation. He wants Earth to be Hell, so in essence he can destroy Heaven." (Myron is pronounced Me-ron)
Removing his glasses, Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. His obvious concern and exhaustion did not escape Geia. "Myron…why does that sound so familiar?"
"You're thinking of Mironique, the sorceress from Cambodia. If I recall my history right, as it was before my time, she tried to open all three Hellmouths at once, and was killed by her own ritual. She overpowered the potion used in the spell, which made her binding spell go awry, thus resulting in well, implosion. " Geia grinned at him. "I guess that's why she was never known as a great sorceress. How many Evils do you hear of that kill themselves, especially by implosion? Reminds me of a cartoon sequence."
Rupert looked stunned. "I've never heard of a spell to open all the Hellmouths. A spell like that would take a tremendous amount of power. What made Mironique believe that she was capable of such a thing?"
Her eyes bore into his. "Her last words were that even though she had failed, another, more powerful being, would accomplish what she had blundered. I've give you one guess who that would be."
"Myron."
"Precisely. His actual name is Myronclitus."
Giles choked on his tea, shocked by her words. "But..b-b..Myronclitus is a myth.
She hit his back until he stopped coughing. "So am I."
The Watcher straightened, gathering his composure. "Well, yes, but Myronclitus was a Greek myth. You're a myth of the ages."
"Ooo, myth of the ages. I'll have to tell Jamal that. It'll be a real kick in the pants." When Giles gave her a funny look, she continued. "Sorry. Myronclitus, if you recall, was a Greek myth, a figurehead of power and nobility until the death of Julius Caesar. There were rumors that Caesar's conspirators were being controlled by Myronclitus, and that is why they were all killed later on. Myronclitus was supposedly not a happy camper when he found out that Marc Anthony was still alive after Caesar's assassination. The plan was that once Caesar and Anthony were out of the way, the conspirators would turn the Roman Empire over to Myron. When Myron realized that he still didn't have the control he desired over the Roman Empire, he began to experiment with Black Magiks and eventually became the most powerful sorcerer on Earth."
Giles began to flip through some of the books on the coffee table, hoping to find some information about Myronclitus. Geia's hand on the book he was reading stopped him. "You won't find anything in any book you have, Rupert. Myron used a spell a while back to destroy any writing on him because he knew that if someone discovered his plan, he would have to act immediately."
Giles saw the dangerous glint in her eyes and panicked. "Act on his plan to create Hell on Earth. But why has he waited so long? If he had the power many years ago, why the stall?"
"He was lacking a few 'ingredients', you may call them, to perform the spell that will create Hell on Earth. Myron only knows that the best place to look for what he needs is demon-central Sunnydale. The only way he can perform this spell is to do it on the night of the full moon, on the bicentennial anniversary of when he became a true sorcerer."
His voice was barely a whisper. "When?"
"Two weeks from today."
A sense of dread filled Giles, the most he had ever experienced. And it scared him. He would never admit it, but just the fact that Tainted Ones never reveal themselves unless in the face of absolute Evil was proof enough for him that Myron would be the biggest enemy Buffy would ever have to face. But she wouldn't have to face it alone. "Can I hope that you have some knowledge of what Myron needs to do the spell?"
Geia's nodded yes slightly, and Giles noticed she suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "All but one ingredient. Jamal and I are here in Sunnydale to protect what Myron is looking for. We are not here to go into full combat mode unless provoked, but we will fight him if he starts anything. You have my oath that I will not allow anyone to die."
Giles shifted on the couch to face her, his pale eyes boring into hers. "Can you tell me what Myron needs?"
"No."
The words resonated in his ears. "Why not?"
Her face widened in a Cheshire grin. "Because you're not worthy enough to know."
Giles stood up abruptly and towered over her. "I'm not worthy enough? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
Geia's sword flashed, catching the dim light in the apartment. The disguised body fell to the floor, the head a few feet from it. "I can't tell you because you're not Giles." She motioned toward the hallway, and Giles came out from his hiding place. "That is one ugly demon. You'd think Myron would get better demons to do his dirty work," she commented as the shape-shifting demon's body slowly disintegrated.
Giles sat down on the couch, rubbing his rope-burned wrists, and stared at the spot where the demon had been. "How did you know that I was tied up in the back?"
Her battle-hardened eyes softened and she sat down beside him. "I could smell your fear even before I got here. And even though that shape-shifter was very good at what he did, I could still tell it wasn't you even if you hadn't been around. He still smelled like a demon." She took his hands in hers and slowly rubbed her thumbs over the burn marks. Giles could only stare in shock as the marks, as well as the pain, disappeared. "Is that better?"
He nodded. "Yes, thank you." She dropped his hands, and he slid further down the couch to get a little space. "How did you make the ropes burn if you were in out here?"
"Just a little trick I know. I can use my mind to make some things happen. Mostly physical things, like burning the ropes, but sometimes I can make a person feel certain things or act a certain way. But I usually don't like doing that unless I absolutely have the need to. I never liked messing with the human mind-it's too delicate to be subject to magiks." Geia glanced at the clock and abruptly stood. "I must be leaving-I have other things to take care of." She looked at the medallion hanging around his neck. "Take care of that. It will protect you as long as you have it on."
He nodded and stood to walk her to the door. "You will watch out for them?"
Her head dipped in response. "You have my word, Rupert. They're part of the reason Jamal and I are here."
"Do they know yet?"
"No, but they will need to soon. I just have to figure out how to tell them, especially Angel. It will mean bringing back memories he has been trying to forget for over eighty years, the memories his soul won't let him forget." Her hand brushed his cheek. "Please be careful while I'm not around."
He nodded numbly, and watched her walk into the night. He felt at peace when Geia was around, a sense of calm he had never experienced before. But her words were of a terrifying and impending danger that gripped his heart with icy hands. With a sigh, he closed the door and sat back down on the couch, landing on a small object. Giles opened up the note that the green glass ball had been on top of.
2 To the Watcher
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Rupert Giles, the dagonsphere of wisdom.
Xander and Anya also found notes, addressed to the Loyal and the Availed, and the dagonspheres; Xander's was the dagonsphere of loyalty, royal blue with his never-failing devotion to the Slayer and her purpose, and Anya found hers to be yellow, her willingness to be of assistance whenever needed.
Willow came home to discover her note, directed to the Witch. The dagonsphere was the color of violets, tinted with her magiks.
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Geia returned home to find two very awake vampires in front of the television. "You guys didn't go out tonight?"
Spike grinned drunkenly. "Nope. Hey pet, do me a fa-vor and turn the telly uuuupp?"
Angel got up and turned the volume up, then followed Geia upstairs. He sat down on her bed at her invitation, grimacing at Spike's boisterous laughter at the tv. "I was already out tonight, but I came back so bleach boy down there wouldn't be alone too long."
Geia shrugged her coat off and threw it on the bed beside him, grinning at the thought of the drunken Spike downstairs. "He does like his alcohol, doesn't he?" She turned to face Angel. "You didn't have to speak with her on my behalf. You owe me nothing, and nothing is forcing you to stay here."
Angel's face showed his confusion. "How did you know I spoke to Buffy….nevermind. You can read my thoughts…..and I wanted to talk to Buffy. She's not fond of you and Jamal being here, but I wanted to explain to her that you wouldn't be unless it was necessary."
Geia sat down beside him. "Necessary, yeah right. Nothing Jamal and I do is necessary…we either have to or we don't. Wanting to is not always applied in such situations. And necessity almost always implies that."
Angel saw her relaxed posture, and also the pure exhaustion in her stature. "Necessity implies what?"
Her face contorted, and Angel stared as she grinned at him, fangs showing. "Necessity always implies want, my dear Angel. Want, need, desire all are basic human emotions." She pinned him down on the bed. "So guess what I want." Her fangs sank into his neck, and everything faded into black……………….
Angel awoke, cold sweat running down his chest. Reaching out to turn a lamp on, his hand hit something small and warm. Flicking the light on, he picked up the clear glass ball and the note.
3 To the Purified
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Angel, the dagonsphere of the soul.
Angel stared as the ornament began to glow, knowing it can only be activated by a magic presence. His puzzlement was extinguished as Geia poked her head inside the door.
Seeing he was sitting up in bed, his gaze fixed on the dagonsphere, Geia came in and sat down beside him. Taking the object from his hands, she set it aside. "You're having the visions again."
Angel consciously pulled the covers closer, remembering his dream, and couldn't help but see her as she was in his sleep. A vampire, like him. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
"Are you alright, Angel?"
He barely shook his head yes, and Geia sensed his hesitancy. "It's okay. Did the dream tell you anything?"
"It didn't tell me anything."
Her relief showed. "I was hoping those message dreams would stop. They're…haunting." Her head cocked, confusion apparent. "So what's wrong? I'm not one to read minds all the time, Angel. Tell me."
Angel's shaky hand lifted the dagonsphere from the table. "The dream didn't tell me anything. But it sure showed me a hell of a lot." His voice lowered to a menacing whisper. "Why are you here?"
Geia took the risk and saw what he was seeing in his mind. Her blood froze at what she saw. But he apparently hadn't figured it out yet; that what he saw was the truth. "Angel…I was going to tell you later, but now that you know-"
His hands grabbed her shoulders, clinging desperately for an answer. "What?"
Her face distorted, changing her into a creature of the night, just like he was. "You must let me explain this." Her face changed back, and he jumped at her warm hand on his cool shoulder. "Just listen to me. But what I tell you is between you, Spike, and I after I inform him. He's the other part of this, and he must know."
Angel, enchanted again by her voice and eyes, pulled her fully onto the bed, facing him so he wouldn't miss a word. "Tell me."
Spike rolled into bed, the sun nearly up. He had spent all night watching re-runs of old soap operas and even older movies, and had drunk Lord knows how much alcohol. Even though he knew he'd have a splitting headache when he woke up, sober.
Geia heard him land on the bed, and didn't think to knock. He probably wouldn't hear it if she did.
Spike saw her come in, and grinned. "Your boy Jamal is asleep downstairs. Poor sap didn't even get through three rounds of our first drinking game before he fell asleep, err, passed out. Don't bloody know which."
Geia's hand passed over his face, and his vision and head suddenly cleared. "I can't talk to you if you're drunk off your ass."
Spike saw her tear stained face and red eyes, and felt a twinge of…something. Sorrow, perhaps for whatever had caused her to cry, or pity. He didn't know which. "What's wrong, pet?"
"It's not important. I need to show you something, and I don't want to shock you but-"
Spike's eyes grew large, and he held a hand up to stop her words. "You have something to show me?"
"Yes, I-"
"Shhh…just don't." He ran a hand through his short blond hair and sighed. "I'm probably gonna bloody well hate meself for this, but what do you want to show me, oh angelic one?"
Her look reminded him of how his mother would when he did something naughty as a little boy. "You're funny. Like I was saying, I've already told Angel this, and now you need to know." She paused, an odd look passing over her face as she searched his mind. "Confusing, aren't they?"
It was Spike's turn to give a funny look. "What's confusing?"
"Emotions, feelings. Most vampires don't possess the ability to feel much past death, destruction, and carnage. Haven't you ever wondered why you feel human emotions, like Angel does?"
An eyebrow lifted. "Uh, love, Peaches has a soul. I don't, but I think I feel things cause I've been around humans too bloody long."
Geia moved closer to him, staring into his eyes. "Or maybe it's because you have something that other vampires don't have." She broke the stare and moved away, leaving him in a trance. "But that's for another time. Now, I must tell you something quite….revealing."
**************************************************************************** ****************
Spike flopped back on his bed, the temporary spell to get rid of his drunkenness gone after Geia had left. He could remember everything, and was still stunned at what she had said. But he also remembered her voice, a light and beautiful whisper. He had watched her lips form every word, and could still feel her hands on his face, making him look at her when he refused to. And for those few hours, he felt almost human again.
Through blurry eyes, he read the note pinned down by the black dagonsphere on the nightstand.
4 To the Vampire
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, William, the dagonsphere of Mortality.
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so freakin' long to get out. I had a lot going on with school and such. Forgive the little bit of "Greek" I claim to use in this chapter-I made it up. Long chapter, fair warning, plus it's the "low-key" chapter, mostly conversation and serious character development-individual and relationship-wise. The next chapter will begin the rising action. Also, pay close attention to the dream sequence in this chapter. It give some clues, allusive as they are, to the unrevealed info about Geia and Jamal, and about Angel's connection with Geia.
Chapter 7-one week later
Dawn walked into the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand, and sat down beside her mom. Dawn loved watching old movies with her mom, a kind of bonding thing, especially when Buffy wasn't around. Then again, she was never around. Always out patrolling, but Dawn wasn't worried. Plus now she got her mom all to herself.
"Honey, did you burn this popcorn?"
Dawn saw the disgusted look on Joyce's face and grimaced. "That bad, huh?"
Joyce nodded. "Really bad. Why don't you go fix another bag, but don't put it in for so long." Dawn obeyed, and Joyce gathered her blanket closer to her as she watched the young couple in the movie dance to a beautiful slow song. Her eyes reverted to the large picture window facing the front yard when she saw a shadow on the porch. Thinking it was Buffy, she turned back to her movie.
She jumped when Angel's voice sounded through the door. "Joyce, it's Angel. Can I come in?"
Joyce hesitantly got up and opened the door. She stared at the dark-haired vampire for a few seconds before inviting him in. He stopped just a few feet within the door and glanced up the stairs. "Is Buffy here? I really need to talk to her."
"No, she's not," Dawn piped up from the couch. "She's out pat-roll-ing, like she always is. But she supposed to be back soon."
Angel's eyes focused back on Joyce. "Will you have her call me as soon as she gets home? I'll be at Geia's house."
Joyce ushered him into the kitchen to sit down before answering. "Just stay here until she comes home. She told me she'd be back at 11:00, so it's only ten minutes."
Angel glanced around the homely kitchen as he sat down on a barstool. "Thank you. I really need to speak with her."
Joyce sat down across from him. "Is it about Geia? It's nothing bad, I hope, because she seems like such a nice girl."
"It does involve Geia, but it's nothing bad, so to speak." Angel now realized that Buffy hadn't told her mother about Geia, so he didn't want to say anything revealing.
She nodded absentmindedly. "Oh, well I'm glad."
Inauspicious silence was all that could be heard until Buffy slammed the kitchen door as she came in. "Stupid, stupid vampires."
Angel spun around on his barstool, which stopped Buffy in her tracks. "Angel, what are you doing here?…I mean, is something wrong?"
"No, but we need to talk."
Buffy nodded and followed him up to her bedroom. It had been quite a while since they had been together in her room, and it felt bizarre. Angel waited until Buffy had sat down on her bed before speaking.
"It's about Geia-"
"I don't want to talk about her or anything connected to or with her."
Angel stared at her. "Then you shouldn't be talking to me."
She returned the stare, a glimmer of anger appearing. "Excuse me? You're the one who walked out of the magic shop with her, following her like a lost little puppy. What does she have on you that keeps you from acting sensibly instead of like a blind man?"
Angel closed the door completely and sat down beside his ex-lover. "I'm not following her. She's is-"
"-the savior of mankind, an angel warrior, and has perfect hair. I already know that."
A hand passed over his face in exhaustion. "Then why do you have to be so cold to her? She's not here to take over your job, Buffy. She's not a mortal."
Buffy's raised voice startled him. "I'm still not clear on the EXACT reason why she is here. If she's so great and powerful, why can't she and her other little angel buddies join together and Kumbaya all the evil in the world?"
"Geia and Jamal in Sunnydale because a force of evil greater than Sunnydale has ever seen is coming."
Buffy's eyes widened. "More powerful than the Master or Glory?" Angel's lack of a response gave her the answer. "Okay, so am I just supposed to stand by and watch? I'm the Slayer, not her."
Angel glanced out the window with a sigh. "No. We're all here to help Geia and Jamal in some way. There's a plan for us already set in motion. We must fill our parts."
"So we're actors now in some play, leaving our fates in the hands of two….things?"
"Angels, Buffy. They once were human, and now they're God's messengers and warriors. I figured because your fate was predestined by God to be the Slayer that you would accept another one with a similar fate."
Her look was viciously scornful, as was her voice. "You're one to talk, Angel. You're a demon, remember, or did Geia give you a get-out-of-Hell- free pass?"
Her words stung, and Angel wasn't in the mood to fight. He moved to leave, but turned before going out the door. "I'm not going to argue with you, Buffy. But you can't fight this Evil yourself, and Geia and Jamal are the only chance we have to do so." His voice lowered. "I'll see you later."
Buffy watched him walk out the door, and then the tears spilled unchecked down her face. She still loved him, and she hadn't meant to be so nasty to him, but she still didn't fully trust Geia or Jamal. There was something about them that was eerie, and she had this feeling they hadn't told their entire story. She wanted desperately to trust Angel in his acceptance of the two warriors, and she wanted to throw herself to Angel, to ask him to stay with her, love her again. But like usual, she had to dash headlong into danger and the Evil that surrounded her and her family and friends.
It was late, she was drained, and nothing looked better than her own bed at that moment. Buffy flopped onto her bed, and landed on something solid and warm.
Buffy rolled over to one side and saw a note held down by a small red glass ball beside her pillow. Putting the ornament aside, she read the note.
1 To the Slayer
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Buffy Summers, the dagonsphere of blood.
"……….so what you're saying is that if we cannot destroy this demon sorcerer, he'll turn Earth into his private Hell?"
Geia set her cup down and leaned back into the couch. "Frightening, isn't it? I mean, it certainly doesn't sound any worse than when Angelus was going to awaken Acathla and swallow the world into Hell or when the Master rose, or even when Glorificus wanted to open the demon dementions, but it is the worst impending doomsday yet. Every chance that demons get, they attempt a spell or incantation to have the world sucked into Hell, but Myron wants to bring Hell here…it's a completely different situation. He wants Earth to be Hell, so in essence he can destroy Heaven." (Myron is pronounced Me-ron)
Removing his glasses, Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. His obvious concern and exhaustion did not escape Geia. "Myron…why does that sound so familiar?"
"You're thinking of Mironique, the sorceress from Cambodia. If I recall my history right, as it was before my time, she tried to open all three Hellmouths at once, and was killed by her own ritual. She overpowered the potion used in the spell, which made her binding spell go awry, thus resulting in well, implosion. " Geia grinned at him. "I guess that's why she was never known as a great sorceress. How many Evils do you hear of that kill themselves, especially by implosion? Reminds me of a cartoon sequence."
Rupert looked stunned. "I've never heard of a spell to open all the Hellmouths. A spell like that would take a tremendous amount of power. What made Mironique believe that she was capable of such a thing?"
Her eyes bore into his. "Her last words were that even though she had failed, another, more powerful being, would accomplish what she had blundered. I've give you one guess who that would be."
"Myron."
"Precisely. His actual name is Myronclitus."
Giles choked on his tea, shocked by her words. "But..b-b..Myronclitus is a myth.
She hit his back until he stopped coughing. "So am I."
The Watcher straightened, gathering his composure. "Well, yes, but Myronclitus was a Greek myth. You're a myth of the ages."
"Ooo, myth of the ages. I'll have to tell Jamal that. It'll be a real kick in the pants." When Giles gave her a funny look, she continued. "Sorry. Myronclitus, if you recall, was a Greek myth, a figurehead of power and nobility until the death of Julius Caesar. There were rumors that Caesar's conspirators were being controlled by Myronclitus, and that is why they were all killed later on. Myronclitus was supposedly not a happy camper when he found out that Marc Anthony was still alive after Caesar's assassination. The plan was that once Caesar and Anthony were out of the way, the conspirators would turn the Roman Empire over to Myron. When Myron realized that he still didn't have the control he desired over the Roman Empire, he began to experiment with Black Magiks and eventually became the most powerful sorcerer on Earth."
Giles began to flip through some of the books on the coffee table, hoping to find some information about Myronclitus. Geia's hand on the book he was reading stopped him. "You won't find anything in any book you have, Rupert. Myron used a spell a while back to destroy any writing on him because he knew that if someone discovered his plan, he would have to act immediately."
Giles saw the dangerous glint in her eyes and panicked. "Act on his plan to create Hell on Earth. But why has he waited so long? If he had the power many years ago, why the stall?"
"He was lacking a few 'ingredients', you may call them, to perform the spell that will create Hell on Earth. Myron only knows that the best place to look for what he needs is demon-central Sunnydale. The only way he can perform this spell is to do it on the night of the full moon, on the bicentennial anniversary of when he became a true sorcerer."
His voice was barely a whisper. "When?"
"Two weeks from today."
A sense of dread filled Giles, the most he had ever experienced. And it scared him. He would never admit it, but just the fact that Tainted Ones never reveal themselves unless in the face of absolute Evil was proof enough for him that Myron would be the biggest enemy Buffy would ever have to face. But she wouldn't have to face it alone. "Can I hope that you have some knowledge of what Myron needs to do the spell?"
Geia's nodded yes slightly, and Giles noticed she suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "All but one ingredient. Jamal and I are here in Sunnydale to protect what Myron is looking for. We are not here to go into full combat mode unless provoked, but we will fight him if he starts anything. You have my oath that I will not allow anyone to die."
Giles shifted on the couch to face her, his pale eyes boring into hers. "Can you tell me what Myron needs?"
"No."
The words resonated in his ears. "Why not?"
Her face widened in a Cheshire grin. "Because you're not worthy enough to know."
Giles stood up abruptly and towered over her. "I'm not worthy enough? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
Geia's sword flashed, catching the dim light in the apartment. The disguised body fell to the floor, the head a few feet from it. "I can't tell you because you're not Giles." She motioned toward the hallway, and Giles came out from his hiding place. "That is one ugly demon. You'd think Myron would get better demons to do his dirty work," she commented as the shape-shifting demon's body slowly disintegrated.
Giles sat down on the couch, rubbing his rope-burned wrists, and stared at the spot where the demon had been. "How did you know that I was tied up in the back?"
Her battle-hardened eyes softened and she sat down beside him. "I could smell your fear even before I got here. And even though that shape-shifter was very good at what he did, I could still tell it wasn't you even if you hadn't been around. He still smelled like a demon." She took his hands in hers and slowly rubbed her thumbs over the burn marks. Giles could only stare in shock as the marks, as well as the pain, disappeared. "Is that better?"
He nodded. "Yes, thank you." She dropped his hands, and he slid further down the couch to get a little space. "How did you make the ropes burn if you were in out here?"
"Just a little trick I know. I can use my mind to make some things happen. Mostly physical things, like burning the ropes, but sometimes I can make a person feel certain things or act a certain way. But I usually don't like doing that unless I absolutely have the need to. I never liked messing with the human mind-it's too delicate to be subject to magiks." Geia glanced at the clock and abruptly stood. "I must be leaving-I have other things to take care of." She looked at the medallion hanging around his neck. "Take care of that. It will protect you as long as you have it on."
He nodded and stood to walk her to the door. "You will watch out for them?"
Her head dipped in response. "You have my word, Rupert. They're part of the reason Jamal and I are here."
"Do they know yet?"
"No, but they will need to soon. I just have to figure out how to tell them, especially Angel. It will mean bringing back memories he has been trying to forget for over eighty years, the memories his soul won't let him forget." Her hand brushed his cheek. "Please be careful while I'm not around."
He nodded numbly, and watched her walk into the night. He felt at peace when Geia was around, a sense of calm he had never experienced before. But her words were of a terrifying and impending danger that gripped his heart with icy hands. With a sigh, he closed the door and sat back down on the couch, landing on a small object. Giles opened up the note that the green glass ball had been on top of.
2 To the Watcher
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Rupert Giles, the dagonsphere of wisdom.
Xander and Anya also found notes, addressed to the Loyal and the Availed, and the dagonspheres; Xander's was the dagonsphere of loyalty, royal blue with his never-failing devotion to the Slayer and her purpose, and Anya found hers to be yellow, her willingness to be of assistance whenever needed.
Willow came home to discover her note, directed to the Witch. The dagonsphere was the color of violets, tinted with her magiks.
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Geia returned home to find two very awake vampires in front of the television. "You guys didn't go out tonight?"
Spike grinned drunkenly. "Nope. Hey pet, do me a fa-vor and turn the telly uuuupp?"
Angel got up and turned the volume up, then followed Geia upstairs. He sat down on her bed at her invitation, grimacing at Spike's boisterous laughter at the tv. "I was already out tonight, but I came back so bleach boy down there wouldn't be alone too long."
Geia shrugged her coat off and threw it on the bed beside him, grinning at the thought of the drunken Spike downstairs. "He does like his alcohol, doesn't he?" She turned to face Angel. "You didn't have to speak with her on my behalf. You owe me nothing, and nothing is forcing you to stay here."
Angel's face showed his confusion. "How did you know I spoke to Buffy….nevermind. You can read my thoughts…..and I wanted to talk to Buffy. She's not fond of you and Jamal being here, but I wanted to explain to her that you wouldn't be unless it was necessary."
Geia sat down beside him. "Necessary, yeah right. Nothing Jamal and I do is necessary…we either have to or we don't. Wanting to is not always applied in such situations. And necessity almost always implies that."
Angel saw her relaxed posture, and also the pure exhaustion in her stature. "Necessity implies what?"
Her face contorted, and Angel stared as she grinned at him, fangs showing. "Necessity always implies want, my dear Angel. Want, need, desire all are basic human emotions." She pinned him down on the bed. "So guess what I want." Her fangs sank into his neck, and everything faded into black……………….
Angel awoke, cold sweat running down his chest. Reaching out to turn a lamp on, his hand hit something small and warm. Flicking the light on, he picked up the clear glass ball and the note.
3 To the Purified
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, Angel, the dagonsphere of the soul.
Angel stared as the ornament began to glow, knowing it can only be activated by a magic presence. His puzzlement was extinguished as Geia poked her head inside the door.
Seeing he was sitting up in bed, his gaze fixed on the dagonsphere, Geia came in and sat down beside him. Taking the object from his hands, she set it aside. "You're having the visions again."
Angel consciously pulled the covers closer, remembering his dream, and couldn't help but see her as she was in his sleep. A vampire, like him. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
"Are you alright, Angel?"
He barely shook his head yes, and Geia sensed his hesitancy. "It's okay. Did the dream tell you anything?"
"It didn't tell me anything."
Her relief showed. "I was hoping those message dreams would stop. They're…haunting." Her head cocked, confusion apparent. "So what's wrong? I'm not one to read minds all the time, Angel. Tell me."
Angel's shaky hand lifted the dagonsphere from the table. "The dream didn't tell me anything. But it sure showed me a hell of a lot." His voice lowered to a menacing whisper. "Why are you here?"
Geia took the risk and saw what he was seeing in his mind. Her blood froze at what she saw. But he apparently hadn't figured it out yet; that what he saw was the truth. "Angel…I was going to tell you later, but now that you know-"
His hands grabbed her shoulders, clinging desperately for an answer. "What?"
Her face distorted, changing her into a creature of the night, just like he was. "You must let me explain this." Her face changed back, and he jumped at her warm hand on his cool shoulder. "Just listen to me. But what I tell you is between you, Spike, and I after I inform him. He's the other part of this, and he must know."
Angel, enchanted again by her voice and eyes, pulled her fully onto the bed, facing him so he wouldn't miss a word. "Tell me."
Spike rolled into bed, the sun nearly up. He had spent all night watching re-runs of old soap operas and even older movies, and had drunk Lord knows how much alcohol. Even though he knew he'd have a splitting headache when he woke up, sober.
Geia heard him land on the bed, and didn't think to knock. He probably wouldn't hear it if she did.
Spike saw her come in, and grinned. "Your boy Jamal is asleep downstairs. Poor sap didn't even get through three rounds of our first drinking game before he fell asleep, err, passed out. Don't bloody know which."
Geia's hand passed over his face, and his vision and head suddenly cleared. "I can't talk to you if you're drunk off your ass."
Spike saw her tear stained face and red eyes, and felt a twinge of…something. Sorrow, perhaps for whatever had caused her to cry, or pity. He didn't know which. "What's wrong, pet?"
"It's not important. I need to show you something, and I don't want to shock you but-"
Spike's eyes grew large, and he held a hand up to stop her words. "You have something to show me?"
"Yes, I-"
"Shhh…just don't." He ran a hand through his short blond hair and sighed. "I'm probably gonna bloody well hate meself for this, but what do you want to show me, oh angelic one?"
Her look reminded him of how his mother would when he did something naughty as a little boy. "You're funny. Like I was saying, I've already told Angel this, and now you need to know." She paused, an odd look passing over her face as she searched his mind. "Confusing, aren't they?"
It was Spike's turn to give a funny look. "What's confusing?"
"Emotions, feelings. Most vampires don't possess the ability to feel much past death, destruction, and carnage. Haven't you ever wondered why you feel human emotions, like Angel does?"
An eyebrow lifted. "Uh, love, Peaches has a soul. I don't, but I think I feel things cause I've been around humans too bloody long."
Geia moved closer to him, staring into his eyes. "Or maybe it's because you have something that other vampires don't have." She broke the stare and moved away, leaving him in a trance. "But that's for another time. Now, I must tell you something quite….revealing."
**************************************************************************** ****************
Spike flopped back on his bed, the temporary spell to get rid of his drunkenness gone after Geia had left. He could remember everything, and was still stunned at what she had said. But he also remembered her voice, a light and beautiful whisper. He had watched her lips form every word, and could still feel her hands on his face, making him look at her when he refused to. And for those few hours, he felt almost human again.
Through blurry eyes, he read the note pinned down by the black dagonsphere on the nightstand.
4 To the Vampire
A gift of heavenly power and a call when in need. If you find yourself in a situation that requires extra assistance, break this glass ball. It will not break until you need it to, so don't fear if it is dropped. This ornament, or a dagonsphere as it is called, will bring my apprentice or myself to you depending upon the urgency of the situation.
Thus I grant you, William, the dagonsphere of Mortality.