Title: Home and Heart
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer story.
By: Ghostrider
Summary: What happens when your heart is ripped apart by those you love? A slayerette's return after years of absence causes old wounds to be ripped open.
Rating: R
Author's Note: This story takes place approximately 8 years after the events in the this season's last episode. Personally, I don't like the ending, it's too convenient. So I rewrote it to what I would have wanted to see.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN own the characters.
Chapter 13
His head was throbbing. Correction, it was about to explode. He should get up and kill whoever was banging those drums at this ungodly hour. That's what he should do. IF only he could get up. And the swaying... It was enough to make him nauseous.
"....."
"'eave m' 'lo-"
He tried to slap away whatever it was that was crawling all over him and get back to sleep, but for that damned POUNDING! Didn't anybody appreciate a nice rest anymore?
"W- up, ....."
"-o aw.."
No, it wasn't a drum they were playing. It was a whole friggin' rhythm section! And an industrial strength drill seemed to be drilling into his skull! How was he ever gonna get his rest? Not to mention that infernal shaking! Somebody was going to pay for this.
"Ang.., ..ap out o. it!"
"Whu?"
The shaking was getting stronger; earthquake? Was it the season? Gotta get up an' check.
Slowly the fog began to lift from his brain as he tried to wake up, the dull thumping in his brain sending bolts of pain through his body as if somebody had shoved a hot spike through his skull.
"Aaaah!"
"Angel!"
Another powerful shake, even more pain but his ears finally could make out his name being called.
"I'm up! I'm up. Just shut down the radio... stereo... just make that damn racket stop", the souled vampire groaned out as he opened his eyes. Bad mistake. The light behind the silhouette above him bored into his eyes, like hot needles, sending even more spikes of intense pain shooting through him.
"Gaaaah!"
He could feel someone lifting him into a sitting position as he prayed to whatever Gods could hear him for the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.
"Welcome back, Angel. Just take it easy for a few minutes. You got the worst of it."
Hunched over, his stomach roiling, Angel did as the voice told him, the pain and nausea slowly receding. After several minutes, he began feeling a bit better and ventured to slowly open his eyes, avoiding looking directly upwards into the light. He sighed in relief as his eyes locked onto the floor.
"Angel, are you alright?"
Wesley. It was Wesley who'd been calling him, Angel realized finally as his brain slowly began to process information again.
"Wes, why did you let me drink so much?", he asked, his voice sounding like it had been ground with broken glass.
'Certainly feels that way', he thought to himself.
"Neither of us drank anything, Angel. Don't you remember what happened?"
"If I didn't drink, then why do I feel like I've been on a bender for a month?"
Angel finally managed to raise his protesting head, looking straight into the worried eyes of Wesley Wyndham-Price. His friend didn't look all that well himself, paler then anyone who lead an active outdoor life in Southern California was supposed to be. Shifting his gaze from his friend and partner to their surroundings, Angel noticed the decor and it suddenly came all back to him.....
"We're screwed."
"Really? What was your first clue", Wesley asked deadpan.
Ignoring Wesley's attempt at sarcasm, Angel let his eyes travel their surroundings.
Rock.... No, not just rock.... Caves.....
They were in the caves underneath Sunnydale.
*******
"How long?"
"Nine hours until I woke up. Four more before you came to, Angel."
"So, it's around 1 PM."
"I'm afraid so", Wesley stated, looking at his watch.
"We've got to get out of here and warn the others", Angel said as he tried to stand up, but his body refused to cooperate and he stumbled backwards onto the hard ground. Shaking his head, Wesley reached his hand out to Angel, pulling him up to his feet. The souled vampire wavered a bit on his legs, his body still not fully healed from the punishment it had taken.
"I'm afraid things aren't as easy as we'd wish, Angel. I have absolutely no idea of where exactly we are in the caves. As I recall, they stretch out underneath most of Sunnydale."
"The air here is stale. I figure we just keep walking until we find fresh air flowing in, then keep following that until we hit an entrance."
"Ah yes, vampire smell. Good show."
Each man grabbed one of the two torches that had been 'conveniently' left hanging on the walls and began to investigate the chamber they were in. It was then they encountered their first problem. There wasn't a single entrance to the chamber.
There were four, next to each other.
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
"Rock, paper, scissors? Or do you want to flip a coin?"
*******
They had been walking for several hours now, turning from one cave into another and they still hadn't found a way out. It was both a blessing and a curse, since it was still light outside and if they did find a way out with the sun still up, it meant Angel had to stay in the relative safety of the cave. However, neither man was too happy about that prospect, not knowing the forces arrayed against them. On the other hand, the information they possessed was of vital importance.
"I don't like this."
"You've said that several times already, Wes", Angel ground out in irritation. "We've not run into any opposition, we're going roughly in the right direction and we pretty much know the enemy's next move. I'd say we're doing pretty good so far."
"Exactly my point! We've not come onto ANY oppostion! From what I remember, this place used to be a favorite hiding place among the demon population of Sunnydale. Even if we forget that, wouldn't our 'host' have made sure there were some guards left to keep us inside that chamber?"
Cursing his stupidity silently, Angel stubbornly kept his face pointed forward. Had he been on top of his game, Angel would have noticed that little piece of information right from the start. Why indeed were there no guards? Why wasn't there some kind of magical forcefield around their chamber to keep them in?
"Why not make it even easier and just kill us? We wouldn't be able to warn the others and our deaths would severely weaken the group's combat power."
"Just say it, Wesley, whoever is pulling the strings, is doing just that. We're the puppets and he the puppeteer."
"Yes, we're doing what he wants us to do. Keeping us unbalanced. Off our game. It's like we're rats in a maze."
"Do you think it was all a setup?"
Angel had stopped walking and turned to look at his friend questioningly. Both remembered what had happened the previous night....
*******
*** 0002 AM, July 15th, Angel's former Mansion, Crawford Street ***
Angel and Wesley cautiously entered the empty building that held so many dark memories. So much pain and regrets. If someone had told him a week ago, he'd be back in this place again, Angel would've called that person crazy. Yet, here he was, on his way to meet someone he hadn't seen in years. Someone who might be able to shed light on the coming events.
"I take it this friend of yours is someone from the 'Old Days'", Wesley asked in a low voice as his head turned from right to left, scanning for any signs of a trap, the curved dagger held low against his leg.
"Something like that."
"Vampire?"
"No."
"Ah."
After this sterling example of informative conversation, both men stepped into the main room of the mansion, their eyes automatically taking in their surroundings. There were several large earthen bowls, suspended from chains, hanging within tree-legged iron stands around the room; each filled with scented oils and a large, burning wick floating on the surface. The room was filled with exotic, soothing fragrances, the lights from the fires dancing on the walls and roof of the room. Under other circumstances, Wesley would be admiring the effects, thinking this setting would be well suited for a romantic evening. Now, however, it made him even more apprehensive as to their host's intentions.
"Angelus."
The voice seemed to come from all around them. Wesley visibly shuddered as the sound washed over him. Scratchy, with a slight hissing quality, it was literally dripping evil. Following Angel's lead, both men turned towards the entrance of a darkened hallway. Squinting in the flickering shadows, Wesley could make out a pair of glowing eyes, bathing their contact's head in a purplish hue. As the 'man' stepped into the large chamber, the flickering fires revealed a person dressed completely in black robes, like a Bedouïn, the only visible part of his body, being the glowing eyes. He reminded Wesley of Giles' friend, who'd played a part in the sting they'd played on Faith and Mayor Wilkins all those years ago. This man, however, gave off a more sinister aura, almost suffocating, paralyzing in it's intensity. It bothered the former Watcher that such an obviously skilled practitioner of the Dark Arts would let his aura slip. Normally, one wouldn't know that one such as him was around, so great was their control over their own being. Before he could ponder this subject further, the being spoke.
"I see you have brought a companion, Angelus. A human, no less. How the Mighty Scourge of Europe has fallen", their contact stated in a slightly bemused and disappointed tone.
"There was a time when you were a force of nature, Angelus. A time when the blood flowed wherever you went. How magnificent you were then. Alas, all that power, all that bloodlust destroyed the moment you made that single, cardinal mistake. You should have known, my old friend, never to cross the Rom."
"Cut with the reminiscing, Banacek. You said you had information. Tell us, then be gone."
"Just a minute, Angel, how do we know we can trust him", Wesley interjected, as Angel was about to square off against Banacek.
"A good question, indeed, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Do tell, Angelus."
"I don't trust you. I've never trusted you, not even when the Demon was in control."
"Very good, Angelus", Banacek continued in an almost mocking tone. "You see, I am a Dark Mage, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. To me, the pain and suffering of others is a singular pleasure. Causing it, or merely being in its presence. Your companion and his merry band were, for a time, one of my best sources of this particular pleasure."
Wesley could feel the blood leave his face when their informant told him what exactly he was. A dark mage, one of the most deadly of the ancient Elementals.
"If what you say is true, sir, then why would you help us? You said it yourself, pain and suffering is what draws you. Why not stay around and soak up all the experiences?"
"Do you believe in God, Watcher?"
Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, all Wesley could do was stare.
"Allah, Jahweh, Vishnu?"
Finally, Wesley shook himself from his stupor; clearing his throat, he answered the question.
"I.. I really never thought about it."
"With all the evil you've faced, not one moment did you spare a thought as to the existence of a Higher Power? Shame on you, Watcher", the dark mage answered sarcastically.
"What has Wesley's believe in God to do with anything", Angel interjected.
Ignoring Angel's question, Banacek instead posed another one.
"Do either of you believe in the story of creation?"
Not waiting for an answer, Banacek continued.
"Creation, according to Scripture, took six days. According to science, it took millions of years of evolution to get where we are today. They are both wrong and both right."
"Fascinating. Now tell us what we want to know, or we're out of here", Angel said, taking several steps towards the dark mage, his expression threatening.
"I see that the return of your soul hasn't destroyed your lack of patience, Angelus. Ah well, I shan't bore you any longer. However, I must give you some background. I insist."
The dark mage chuckled at Angel's impatience as he slowly walked around the room, moving his hands through the flames flickering in the oil pots.
"Time is relative, my friends. What takes over a million years here, is just the blink of an eye in the spirit realm. Scripture also has it wrong, whether deliberate or through misinterpretation."
Banacek had moved to the middle of the large room and turned to face Angel and Wesley, his hands clasped together.
"The Maker didn't take six days to built the world and then rest on the seventh. No, in six 'days', he built six identical realms. Six alternate universes, if you will. He populated them with millions of creatures of all kinds, looking on critically as they evolved, or making changes himself, like a true artist. The age of the Dinosaur, the Ice Age, countless changes he made in those six days.
But as with everything else, balance is required. Without balance, there is no natural order, without balance, excesses will occur. To that end, The Maker created gods and goddesses, demons, faeries, trolls and other mystical creatures. Odin, Mars, Zeus to name but a few.
Finally, at the dawn of the seventh day, he was finished. The last act of The Maker was to create 6 Caretakers, one for each realm. In his all-encompassing wisdom, he gave them unlimited power to do their work; to keep a balance between all things.
Things went on for millenia without any trouble. But the Caretakers grew bored, resentful. For all their power, in their minds, they were just puppets, taking care of someone else's creation. So one day, they decided to do what The Maker had done, create their own universe. And so, the The Six of the First were born. Six new realms, teeming with diverse life. And just like The Maker, the Six created Caretakers for the six new realms. Euphoric over their accomplishments, the Six held a grand feast.
But just like the Six felt like they were puppets to The Maker's grand schemes, the Six of the First saw themselves as mere dolls on a string. Especially since the Six had not given them the same power stature as they had received from The Master. The Six looked upon the Six of the First with contempt and scorn. In defiance, the Six of the First followed the same path and created their own six realms with their own Caretakers, The Six of the Second."
"Does this tale have a punchline or should I just provide my own, like maybe on your face", Angel interrupted. Banacek's eyes glowed eerily as he turned his head fractionally towards the souled vampire.
"Be quiet."
Angel opened his mouth to respond. Or rather, he tried to. The souled vampire found that he had lost all control over his bodily functions. None of his limbs moved; even his eyelids refused to blink. Wesley noticed the sudden tensing of Angel's body and stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Angel?"
Almost immediately, Wesley noticed the rapid movements of Angel's eyes, his rigid posture...
"What have you done to him", the Englishman all but screamed.
"Nothing much. Just made sure I have his undivided attention, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Now, where was I? Ah yes! May I continue?"
Wesley's gaze moved from his friend to their host, thinking of ways to counter his moves. Finally realizing that it was no use to try and fight the dark mage, Wesley conceded. If Angel couldn't take him, he sure couldn't.
"I sincerely doubt that I could stop you from prattling along, so by all means", Wesley bit back, anger and a little fear evident in his voice. "But first, could you please undo whatever it is you've done to my friend?"
"Oh very well", the dark mage sighed theatrically before motioning with his hand. Almost immediately, Angel's muscles relaxed and he was able to move again. It was only Wesley's hand on his shoulder that stopped him from going after Banacek.
"Angel, not now. We don't have time for a pointless display of testosterone."
"It wouldn't be pointless, Wes. Just want to show my appreciation, is all."
"Yes, well, I'm sure it would make you feel better, but now is not the time. So, as they say 'take a chill pill'."
Angel turned towards his friend, his eyes almost bulging out as Wesley gave him a halfhearted shrug and a wry grin. He turned back towards Banacek as the mage cleared his throat.
"As I was saying, there were now a total of 18 realms and 18 caretakers. But just like the next copy of a copy isn't as clear as the previous copy, so too were the last six realms anything as vibrant as the six first realms. Their caretakers were ridiculed by their creators for this. The Six of the First had become what they had resented in their Creators and this led to deepening anger for the Six of the Second.
With less power at their command than the Six of the First, the Six of the Second thought up a plan to take what they believed was rightfully theirs. Namely the powers of their Creators. Having become complacent, because of their stature, the Six of the First were totally unprepared when the Six of the Second attacked, leading their hordes across their realms. It was a short, yet deadly battle. In the end, the Six of the First were slain, their powers usurped by the Six of the Second. However, as a consequence, 12 realms lay destroyed, devoid of all life. It was, at best, a Phyric victory."
"Let me guess, those last six guys decided to go after the first six guys, right", Angel interjected angrily.
"That's quite good, Angelus, I take it you've heard the story before", Banacek answered, his tone condescending.
"I've heard some stories bandied about, yes."
"Some stories", Banacek grinned, the gesture malevolent. "Yes, the Six of the Second, had won the battle but with twelve realms completely destroyed, they had nowhere to go. Nowhere that is, except to the Six. The Six had witnessed this grand battle and rather than await the inevitable, decided to attack, using their first line of defense, the Gods.
Greek mythology speaks of the Twilight of the Gods. Norse mythology of Ragnarok. In whatever culture you look, mention is made of this. Many of the Gods decided to fight; those that did, died a gruesome dead. Zeus, Odin, Mars, Apollo, Ares, to name but a few. Those that didn't join battle, lost most of their powers. Luckily, none of the six remaining realms suffered great damage. Oh, there was the odd disaster, like Mount Vesuvius, but for the most part things for the people remained roughly the same. In the end, the Six of the Second met the Six on the battlefield, as they were the only ones left. It was a very uneven contest, as the former had absorbed all the power of those they had defeated. The Six were utterly destroyed."
It is said that silence can be deafening. Angel had always believed that whoever had coined the phrase was a fool. Two opposites like that could not exist together. Yet again, he was proven wrong as he stood there, in the large main room of the mansion. The silence seemed to be pressing on his eardrums, trying to squeeze his brain out of his head. The silence that was permeated with the words so recently spoken. The silence that was even now, squeezing his unbeating heart in his chest.
Angel could taste the fear in the air. He could smell it, wallow in it. As Angelus, he'd struck fear in the hearts of so many over the centuries. Even now, as Angel, he struck fear in fellow creatures of Hell and evildoers of the human variety. But for the first time in his unlife, he could smell his own fear, the stench flowing from every pour, its sickening, cloying smell nearly choking him.
"That is not the whole story, is it?"
Wesley had finally broken the silence that had descended upon them. Even so, Angel could detect the slight tremor in his voice. Wesley was scared. Angel didn't know what frightened him more, the fact that he could feel the paralyzing power of fear in his own bones, or the fact that Wesley too seemed be suffering from it. His friend, who wouldn't hesitate to step into battle against seemingly insurmountable odds, a man who always managed to mask his fear under the typically British stiff upper lip, was fast losing the control over his emotions.
"Indeed not, Wyndham-Pryce. Why don't you finish the story?", the dark mage answered, his voice carrying an indulgent tone.
Angel turned to his friend, a questioning gaze marring his features. Right now, he was lost, feeling as if he was seeing events from outside, as if he was watching a movie. It frightened him even more and as he watched Wesley lick his suddenly dry lips, those feelings intensified tenfold.
"One of them killed the other five, absorbing THEIR powers, didn't he? The Sixth of the Sixth of the Six. Six Six Six. The Number of the Beast...", Wesley whispered, his face paling to an unhealthy pallor as his voice cracked, seeing Banacek nodding in affirmation.
"Wes? What is it? What? Talk to me!", Angel fairly screamed at his pale companion.
The former Watcher turned towards the former Scourge of Europe, a haunted look on his face.
"Don't you get it, Angel? The Mark of the Beast! The last one of those... caretakers... killing his brethren and absorbing their power!"
At Angel's bewildered look, Wesley grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him, his eyes wide in fear.
"Angel! It's the Devil himself! He's playing with us! He's the one who's orchestrating all of this! Even if he only has a fraction of his true power, we're not match for him! We're all dead, already! We just don't know it yet!"
Before Angel could get a word in or process what Wesley had just said, Banacek interrupted.
"That is not entirely true."
Both men turned towards the dark mage, identical looks of fear and hope visible in their eyes.
"The Beast is not the Devil, although he is thought of as being Satan's son, imbued with his power and the authority to act in his name."
"But that isn't true, is it? Not if what you've just told us is true", Wesley interjected.
"Indeed you are correct, Wesley. You see, the Beast, having slain his comrades and usurped their powers, wanted it all. And so, he challenged the Maker. Foolish really, as the Maker is all-powerful. It was the last, grandiose battle, the Beast's armies against Heaven's legions. The Beast knew he wasn't going to be able to win, unless he could distract the Maker. And what better way to do such a thing then to corrupt those close to the Maker?"
"He corrupted Lucifer, didn't he?", Wesley said excitedly, the pieces falling into place. "He corrupted Lucifer, one of the archangels, hoping that would guarantee his victory!"
"Correct again, Wesley. Yes, the Beast indeed corrupted Lucifer, but it was all for naught. As I said, the Maker's power is absolute. The Beast was defeated, stripped of his powers and thrown in the deepest, darkest pit to be found. Lucifer was cast out of Heaven with his followers and made into the Keeper of the dark realm, of Hell, guarding the Beast until such day the Maker would forgive his transgressions and he would again take his place as the Archangel Lucifer."
"So, what happened?"
"What else, Angelus? A prophecy, as usual."
"What kind of prophecy? Come on, tell us!"
The dark mage sighed, shaking his head slightly, "I do not know. What I do know is that he escaped imprisonment and that right now, he's laying the groundwork to reclaim his powers, as was written in a book, over two millenia ago, a book written by an insane monk. A book so controversial it was stolen from the Vatican's Holy Archives by the Watcher's Council and ordered destroyed because of its inflammatory predictions."
Angel turned his attention back to Wesley as he heard the younger man hiss in surprise; if at all possible, the Englishman had turned even paler then he was moments ago.
"Wes? Are you alright?"
"The Grimoire of Alexandria...", Wesley whispered as he slowly sank down onto the floor, a look of fear, anxiety and bewilderment on his face.
"Yes, the Grimoire of Alexandria. A book of such power, that it couldn't be destroyed, not by fire nor any other means."
Angel looked between the two men, noting that their gazes were locked with each other.
"If it couldn't be destroyed then..."
"Then the Council still has it. I'm sure between you and your friend Ripper you'll be able to figure out where it is kept. In the meantime, if you want to destroy the Beast before he manages to complete whatever it is that this prophecy requires to regain his powers, I suggest you do it fast."
"Look, I don't know what you're on, Banacek, but right now, we don't know where this 'Beast' is, much less how to stop him! So if you know where and how, just tell us, will you?", Angel fairly screamed as he helped Wesley back onto his feet.
"The Beast will be at a gathering tomorrow night, at midnight, in the industrial district. The old Cyberdyne Center grounds. As for killing him, as he hasn't regained his powers yet, I'd say the old-fashioned way."
"And how do you know this?"
"Even without his powers, the Beast is still formidable. His essence calls those who seek the dark powers, like a moth to a flame. The only thing is, I'm not interested in the destruction of this world, this realm. Which is, I'm afraid, what would happen if he regains his power."
Before Angel could voice an answer, something in the corner of his eyes distracted him. Turning towards the movement, his eyes grew wide but before he could utter a warning, the warping air had reached the three men, knocking them off their feet into unconsciousness...
*******
"I don't know, Angel. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. If what your 'friend' said is true, than the Beast isn't really worried about is. He's been playing with us since the beginning; this could be just a continuation of that."
Angel didn't say a thing for several minutes as they kept walking.
"What is this book you were talking about?"
"The Grimoire of Alexandria? Like Banacek said, it was written by a mad monk. Or rather, seeing our current situation, by a supposed mad monk. I've heard stories about it, usually when we, that is, the other watchers were drunk. It's supposed to contain prophecies that, if they were come to pass, are the direct opposite of those in the Codex. Things that contradict everything that's supposed to be in all the books and scriptures in the Council's possession. In short, things so dark, so evil and destructive, it could rip apart everything we know."
"And it is supposedly somewhere inside the Council's headquarters?"
"IF the stories are true that the Council couldn't find a way to destroy the book, then it is most likely that they have it placed somewhere for safekeeping. Most likely, within the deepest bowels of the Dominion."
*******
"...within the deepest bowels of the Dominion."
"You are quite correct, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. That is exactly where it is", the Beast whispered as his fingers slipped through the image portrayed in the water of the silver bowl.
"You have done quite well, Gras'nvor."
"Thank you, My Lord. The Vampire had no idea I was not his old 'friend'. Do you think they will take the bait?"
"They will, whether they believe it to be a trap or not. They will be there. That is so predictable about the forces of Light. As Holmes would say, 'The game is afoot, my dear Watson'. The game is afoot."
*******
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer story.
By: Ghostrider
Summary: What happens when your heart is ripped apart by those you love? A slayerette's return after years of absence causes old wounds to be ripped open.
Rating: R
Author's Note: This story takes place approximately 8 years after the events in the this season's last episode. Personally, I don't like the ending, it's too convenient. So I rewrote it to what I would have wanted to see.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, the WB and UPN own the characters.
Chapter 13
His head was throbbing. Correction, it was about to explode. He should get up and kill whoever was banging those drums at this ungodly hour. That's what he should do. IF only he could get up. And the swaying... It was enough to make him nauseous.
"....."
"'eave m' 'lo-"
He tried to slap away whatever it was that was crawling all over him and get back to sleep, but for that damned POUNDING! Didn't anybody appreciate a nice rest anymore?
"W- up, ....."
"-o aw.."
No, it wasn't a drum they were playing. It was a whole friggin' rhythm section! And an industrial strength drill seemed to be drilling into his skull! How was he ever gonna get his rest? Not to mention that infernal shaking! Somebody was going to pay for this.
"Ang.., ..ap out o. it!"
"Whu?"
The shaking was getting stronger; earthquake? Was it the season? Gotta get up an' check.
Slowly the fog began to lift from his brain as he tried to wake up, the dull thumping in his brain sending bolts of pain through his body as if somebody had shoved a hot spike through his skull.
"Aaaah!"
"Angel!"
Another powerful shake, even more pain but his ears finally could make out his name being called.
"I'm up! I'm up. Just shut down the radio... stereo... just make that damn racket stop", the souled vampire groaned out as he opened his eyes. Bad mistake. The light behind the silhouette above him bored into his eyes, like hot needles, sending even more spikes of intense pain shooting through him.
"Gaaaah!"
He could feel someone lifting him into a sitting position as he prayed to whatever Gods could hear him for the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.
"Welcome back, Angel. Just take it easy for a few minutes. You got the worst of it."
Hunched over, his stomach roiling, Angel did as the voice told him, the pain and nausea slowly receding. After several minutes, he began feeling a bit better and ventured to slowly open his eyes, avoiding looking directly upwards into the light. He sighed in relief as his eyes locked onto the floor.
"Angel, are you alright?"
Wesley. It was Wesley who'd been calling him, Angel realized finally as his brain slowly began to process information again.
"Wes, why did you let me drink so much?", he asked, his voice sounding like it had been ground with broken glass.
'Certainly feels that way', he thought to himself.
"Neither of us drank anything, Angel. Don't you remember what happened?"
"If I didn't drink, then why do I feel like I've been on a bender for a month?"
Angel finally managed to raise his protesting head, looking straight into the worried eyes of Wesley Wyndham-Price. His friend didn't look all that well himself, paler then anyone who lead an active outdoor life in Southern California was supposed to be. Shifting his gaze from his friend and partner to their surroundings, Angel noticed the decor and it suddenly came all back to him.....
"We're screwed."
"Really? What was your first clue", Wesley asked deadpan.
Ignoring Wesley's attempt at sarcasm, Angel let his eyes travel their surroundings.
Rock.... No, not just rock.... Caves.....
They were in the caves underneath Sunnydale.
*******
"How long?"
"Nine hours until I woke up. Four more before you came to, Angel."
"So, it's around 1 PM."
"I'm afraid so", Wesley stated, looking at his watch.
"We've got to get out of here and warn the others", Angel said as he tried to stand up, but his body refused to cooperate and he stumbled backwards onto the hard ground. Shaking his head, Wesley reached his hand out to Angel, pulling him up to his feet. The souled vampire wavered a bit on his legs, his body still not fully healed from the punishment it had taken.
"I'm afraid things aren't as easy as we'd wish, Angel. I have absolutely no idea of where exactly we are in the caves. As I recall, they stretch out underneath most of Sunnydale."
"The air here is stale. I figure we just keep walking until we find fresh air flowing in, then keep following that until we hit an entrance."
"Ah yes, vampire smell. Good show."
Each man grabbed one of the two torches that had been 'conveniently' left hanging on the walls and began to investigate the chamber they were in. It was then they encountered their first problem. There wasn't a single entrance to the chamber.
There were four, next to each other.
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
"Rock, paper, scissors? Or do you want to flip a coin?"
*******
They had been walking for several hours now, turning from one cave into another and they still hadn't found a way out. It was both a blessing and a curse, since it was still light outside and if they did find a way out with the sun still up, it meant Angel had to stay in the relative safety of the cave. However, neither man was too happy about that prospect, not knowing the forces arrayed against them. On the other hand, the information they possessed was of vital importance.
"I don't like this."
"You've said that several times already, Wes", Angel ground out in irritation. "We've not run into any opposition, we're going roughly in the right direction and we pretty much know the enemy's next move. I'd say we're doing pretty good so far."
"Exactly my point! We've not come onto ANY oppostion! From what I remember, this place used to be a favorite hiding place among the demon population of Sunnydale. Even if we forget that, wouldn't our 'host' have made sure there were some guards left to keep us inside that chamber?"
Cursing his stupidity silently, Angel stubbornly kept his face pointed forward. Had he been on top of his game, Angel would have noticed that little piece of information right from the start. Why indeed were there no guards? Why wasn't there some kind of magical forcefield around their chamber to keep them in?
"Why not make it even easier and just kill us? We wouldn't be able to warn the others and our deaths would severely weaken the group's combat power."
"Just say it, Wesley, whoever is pulling the strings, is doing just that. We're the puppets and he the puppeteer."
"Yes, we're doing what he wants us to do. Keeping us unbalanced. Off our game. It's like we're rats in a maze."
"Do you think it was all a setup?"
Angel had stopped walking and turned to look at his friend questioningly. Both remembered what had happened the previous night....
*******
*** 0002 AM, July 15th, Angel's former Mansion, Crawford Street ***
Angel and Wesley cautiously entered the empty building that held so many dark memories. So much pain and regrets. If someone had told him a week ago, he'd be back in this place again, Angel would've called that person crazy. Yet, here he was, on his way to meet someone he hadn't seen in years. Someone who might be able to shed light on the coming events.
"I take it this friend of yours is someone from the 'Old Days'", Wesley asked in a low voice as his head turned from right to left, scanning for any signs of a trap, the curved dagger held low against his leg.
"Something like that."
"Vampire?"
"No."
"Ah."
After this sterling example of informative conversation, both men stepped into the main room of the mansion, their eyes automatically taking in their surroundings. There were several large earthen bowls, suspended from chains, hanging within tree-legged iron stands around the room; each filled with scented oils and a large, burning wick floating on the surface. The room was filled with exotic, soothing fragrances, the lights from the fires dancing on the walls and roof of the room. Under other circumstances, Wesley would be admiring the effects, thinking this setting would be well suited for a romantic evening. Now, however, it made him even more apprehensive as to their host's intentions.
"Angelus."
The voice seemed to come from all around them. Wesley visibly shuddered as the sound washed over him. Scratchy, with a slight hissing quality, it was literally dripping evil. Following Angel's lead, both men turned towards the entrance of a darkened hallway. Squinting in the flickering shadows, Wesley could make out a pair of glowing eyes, bathing their contact's head in a purplish hue. As the 'man' stepped into the large chamber, the flickering fires revealed a person dressed completely in black robes, like a Bedouïn, the only visible part of his body, being the glowing eyes. He reminded Wesley of Giles' friend, who'd played a part in the sting they'd played on Faith and Mayor Wilkins all those years ago. This man, however, gave off a more sinister aura, almost suffocating, paralyzing in it's intensity. It bothered the former Watcher that such an obviously skilled practitioner of the Dark Arts would let his aura slip. Normally, one wouldn't know that one such as him was around, so great was their control over their own being. Before he could ponder this subject further, the being spoke.
"I see you have brought a companion, Angelus. A human, no less. How the Mighty Scourge of Europe has fallen", their contact stated in a slightly bemused and disappointed tone.
"There was a time when you were a force of nature, Angelus. A time when the blood flowed wherever you went. How magnificent you were then. Alas, all that power, all that bloodlust destroyed the moment you made that single, cardinal mistake. You should have known, my old friend, never to cross the Rom."
"Cut with the reminiscing, Banacek. You said you had information. Tell us, then be gone."
"Just a minute, Angel, how do we know we can trust him", Wesley interjected, as Angel was about to square off against Banacek.
"A good question, indeed, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Do tell, Angelus."
"I don't trust you. I've never trusted you, not even when the Demon was in control."
"Very good, Angelus", Banacek continued in an almost mocking tone. "You see, I am a Dark Mage, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. To me, the pain and suffering of others is a singular pleasure. Causing it, or merely being in its presence. Your companion and his merry band were, for a time, one of my best sources of this particular pleasure."
Wesley could feel the blood leave his face when their informant told him what exactly he was. A dark mage, one of the most deadly of the ancient Elementals.
"If what you say is true, sir, then why would you help us? You said it yourself, pain and suffering is what draws you. Why not stay around and soak up all the experiences?"
"Do you believe in God, Watcher?"
Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, all Wesley could do was stare.
"Allah, Jahweh, Vishnu?"
Finally, Wesley shook himself from his stupor; clearing his throat, he answered the question.
"I.. I really never thought about it."
"With all the evil you've faced, not one moment did you spare a thought as to the existence of a Higher Power? Shame on you, Watcher", the dark mage answered sarcastically.
"What has Wesley's believe in God to do with anything", Angel interjected.
Ignoring Angel's question, Banacek instead posed another one.
"Do either of you believe in the story of creation?"
Not waiting for an answer, Banacek continued.
"Creation, according to Scripture, took six days. According to science, it took millions of years of evolution to get where we are today. They are both wrong and both right."
"Fascinating. Now tell us what we want to know, or we're out of here", Angel said, taking several steps towards the dark mage, his expression threatening.
"I see that the return of your soul hasn't destroyed your lack of patience, Angelus. Ah well, I shan't bore you any longer. However, I must give you some background. I insist."
The dark mage chuckled at Angel's impatience as he slowly walked around the room, moving his hands through the flames flickering in the oil pots.
"Time is relative, my friends. What takes over a million years here, is just the blink of an eye in the spirit realm. Scripture also has it wrong, whether deliberate or through misinterpretation."
Banacek had moved to the middle of the large room and turned to face Angel and Wesley, his hands clasped together.
"The Maker didn't take six days to built the world and then rest on the seventh. No, in six 'days', he built six identical realms. Six alternate universes, if you will. He populated them with millions of creatures of all kinds, looking on critically as they evolved, or making changes himself, like a true artist. The age of the Dinosaur, the Ice Age, countless changes he made in those six days.
But as with everything else, balance is required. Without balance, there is no natural order, without balance, excesses will occur. To that end, The Maker created gods and goddesses, demons, faeries, trolls and other mystical creatures. Odin, Mars, Zeus to name but a few.
Finally, at the dawn of the seventh day, he was finished. The last act of The Maker was to create 6 Caretakers, one for each realm. In his all-encompassing wisdom, he gave them unlimited power to do their work; to keep a balance between all things.
Things went on for millenia without any trouble. But the Caretakers grew bored, resentful. For all their power, in their minds, they were just puppets, taking care of someone else's creation. So one day, they decided to do what The Maker had done, create their own universe. And so, the The Six of the First were born. Six new realms, teeming with diverse life. And just like The Maker, the Six created Caretakers for the six new realms. Euphoric over their accomplishments, the Six held a grand feast.
But just like the Six felt like they were puppets to The Maker's grand schemes, the Six of the First saw themselves as mere dolls on a string. Especially since the Six had not given them the same power stature as they had received from The Master. The Six looked upon the Six of the First with contempt and scorn. In defiance, the Six of the First followed the same path and created their own six realms with their own Caretakers, The Six of the Second."
"Does this tale have a punchline or should I just provide my own, like maybe on your face", Angel interrupted. Banacek's eyes glowed eerily as he turned his head fractionally towards the souled vampire.
"Be quiet."
Angel opened his mouth to respond. Or rather, he tried to. The souled vampire found that he had lost all control over his bodily functions. None of his limbs moved; even his eyelids refused to blink. Wesley noticed the sudden tensing of Angel's body and stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Angel?"
Almost immediately, Wesley noticed the rapid movements of Angel's eyes, his rigid posture...
"What have you done to him", the Englishman all but screamed.
"Nothing much. Just made sure I have his undivided attention, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Now, where was I? Ah yes! May I continue?"
Wesley's gaze moved from his friend to their host, thinking of ways to counter his moves. Finally realizing that it was no use to try and fight the dark mage, Wesley conceded. If Angel couldn't take him, he sure couldn't.
"I sincerely doubt that I could stop you from prattling along, so by all means", Wesley bit back, anger and a little fear evident in his voice. "But first, could you please undo whatever it is you've done to my friend?"
"Oh very well", the dark mage sighed theatrically before motioning with his hand. Almost immediately, Angel's muscles relaxed and he was able to move again. It was only Wesley's hand on his shoulder that stopped him from going after Banacek.
"Angel, not now. We don't have time for a pointless display of testosterone."
"It wouldn't be pointless, Wes. Just want to show my appreciation, is all."
"Yes, well, I'm sure it would make you feel better, but now is not the time. So, as they say 'take a chill pill'."
Angel turned towards his friend, his eyes almost bulging out as Wesley gave him a halfhearted shrug and a wry grin. He turned back towards Banacek as the mage cleared his throat.
"As I was saying, there were now a total of 18 realms and 18 caretakers. But just like the next copy of a copy isn't as clear as the previous copy, so too were the last six realms anything as vibrant as the six first realms. Their caretakers were ridiculed by their creators for this. The Six of the First had become what they had resented in their Creators and this led to deepening anger for the Six of the Second.
With less power at their command than the Six of the First, the Six of the Second thought up a plan to take what they believed was rightfully theirs. Namely the powers of their Creators. Having become complacent, because of their stature, the Six of the First were totally unprepared when the Six of the Second attacked, leading their hordes across their realms. It was a short, yet deadly battle. In the end, the Six of the First were slain, their powers usurped by the Six of the Second. However, as a consequence, 12 realms lay destroyed, devoid of all life. It was, at best, a Phyric victory."
"Let me guess, those last six guys decided to go after the first six guys, right", Angel interjected angrily.
"That's quite good, Angelus, I take it you've heard the story before", Banacek answered, his tone condescending.
"I've heard some stories bandied about, yes."
"Some stories", Banacek grinned, the gesture malevolent. "Yes, the Six of the Second, had won the battle but with twelve realms completely destroyed, they had nowhere to go. Nowhere that is, except to the Six. The Six had witnessed this grand battle and rather than await the inevitable, decided to attack, using their first line of defense, the Gods.
Greek mythology speaks of the Twilight of the Gods. Norse mythology of Ragnarok. In whatever culture you look, mention is made of this. Many of the Gods decided to fight; those that did, died a gruesome dead. Zeus, Odin, Mars, Apollo, Ares, to name but a few. Those that didn't join battle, lost most of their powers. Luckily, none of the six remaining realms suffered great damage. Oh, there was the odd disaster, like Mount Vesuvius, but for the most part things for the people remained roughly the same. In the end, the Six of the Second met the Six on the battlefield, as they were the only ones left. It was a very uneven contest, as the former had absorbed all the power of those they had defeated. The Six were utterly destroyed."
It is said that silence can be deafening. Angel had always believed that whoever had coined the phrase was a fool. Two opposites like that could not exist together. Yet again, he was proven wrong as he stood there, in the large main room of the mansion. The silence seemed to be pressing on his eardrums, trying to squeeze his brain out of his head. The silence that was permeated with the words so recently spoken. The silence that was even now, squeezing his unbeating heart in his chest.
Angel could taste the fear in the air. He could smell it, wallow in it. As Angelus, he'd struck fear in the hearts of so many over the centuries. Even now, as Angel, he struck fear in fellow creatures of Hell and evildoers of the human variety. But for the first time in his unlife, he could smell his own fear, the stench flowing from every pour, its sickening, cloying smell nearly choking him.
"That is not the whole story, is it?"
Wesley had finally broken the silence that had descended upon them. Even so, Angel could detect the slight tremor in his voice. Wesley was scared. Angel didn't know what frightened him more, the fact that he could feel the paralyzing power of fear in his own bones, or the fact that Wesley too seemed be suffering from it. His friend, who wouldn't hesitate to step into battle against seemingly insurmountable odds, a man who always managed to mask his fear under the typically British stiff upper lip, was fast losing the control over his emotions.
"Indeed not, Wyndham-Pryce. Why don't you finish the story?", the dark mage answered, his voice carrying an indulgent tone.
Angel turned to his friend, a questioning gaze marring his features. Right now, he was lost, feeling as if he was seeing events from outside, as if he was watching a movie. It frightened him even more and as he watched Wesley lick his suddenly dry lips, those feelings intensified tenfold.
"One of them killed the other five, absorbing THEIR powers, didn't he? The Sixth of the Sixth of the Six. Six Six Six. The Number of the Beast...", Wesley whispered, his face paling to an unhealthy pallor as his voice cracked, seeing Banacek nodding in affirmation.
"Wes? What is it? What? Talk to me!", Angel fairly screamed at his pale companion.
The former Watcher turned towards the former Scourge of Europe, a haunted look on his face.
"Don't you get it, Angel? The Mark of the Beast! The last one of those... caretakers... killing his brethren and absorbing their power!"
At Angel's bewildered look, Wesley grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him, his eyes wide in fear.
"Angel! It's the Devil himself! He's playing with us! He's the one who's orchestrating all of this! Even if he only has a fraction of his true power, we're not match for him! We're all dead, already! We just don't know it yet!"
Before Angel could get a word in or process what Wesley had just said, Banacek interrupted.
"That is not entirely true."
Both men turned towards the dark mage, identical looks of fear and hope visible in their eyes.
"The Beast is not the Devil, although he is thought of as being Satan's son, imbued with his power and the authority to act in his name."
"But that isn't true, is it? Not if what you've just told us is true", Wesley interjected.
"Indeed you are correct, Wesley. You see, the Beast, having slain his comrades and usurped their powers, wanted it all. And so, he challenged the Maker. Foolish really, as the Maker is all-powerful. It was the last, grandiose battle, the Beast's armies against Heaven's legions. The Beast knew he wasn't going to be able to win, unless he could distract the Maker. And what better way to do such a thing then to corrupt those close to the Maker?"
"He corrupted Lucifer, didn't he?", Wesley said excitedly, the pieces falling into place. "He corrupted Lucifer, one of the archangels, hoping that would guarantee his victory!"
"Correct again, Wesley. Yes, the Beast indeed corrupted Lucifer, but it was all for naught. As I said, the Maker's power is absolute. The Beast was defeated, stripped of his powers and thrown in the deepest, darkest pit to be found. Lucifer was cast out of Heaven with his followers and made into the Keeper of the dark realm, of Hell, guarding the Beast until such day the Maker would forgive his transgressions and he would again take his place as the Archangel Lucifer."
"So, what happened?"
"What else, Angelus? A prophecy, as usual."
"What kind of prophecy? Come on, tell us!"
The dark mage sighed, shaking his head slightly, "I do not know. What I do know is that he escaped imprisonment and that right now, he's laying the groundwork to reclaim his powers, as was written in a book, over two millenia ago, a book written by an insane monk. A book so controversial it was stolen from the Vatican's Holy Archives by the Watcher's Council and ordered destroyed because of its inflammatory predictions."
Angel turned his attention back to Wesley as he heard the younger man hiss in surprise; if at all possible, the Englishman had turned even paler then he was moments ago.
"Wes? Are you alright?"
"The Grimoire of Alexandria...", Wesley whispered as he slowly sank down onto the floor, a look of fear, anxiety and bewilderment on his face.
"Yes, the Grimoire of Alexandria. A book of such power, that it couldn't be destroyed, not by fire nor any other means."
Angel looked between the two men, noting that their gazes were locked with each other.
"If it couldn't be destroyed then..."
"Then the Council still has it. I'm sure between you and your friend Ripper you'll be able to figure out where it is kept. In the meantime, if you want to destroy the Beast before he manages to complete whatever it is that this prophecy requires to regain his powers, I suggest you do it fast."
"Look, I don't know what you're on, Banacek, but right now, we don't know where this 'Beast' is, much less how to stop him! So if you know where and how, just tell us, will you?", Angel fairly screamed as he helped Wesley back onto his feet.
"The Beast will be at a gathering tomorrow night, at midnight, in the industrial district. The old Cyberdyne Center grounds. As for killing him, as he hasn't regained his powers yet, I'd say the old-fashioned way."
"And how do you know this?"
"Even without his powers, the Beast is still formidable. His essence calls those who seek the dark powers, like a moth to a flame. The only thing is, I'm not interested in the destruction of this world, this realm. Which is, I'm afraid, what would happen if he regains his power."
Before Angel could voice an answer, something in the corner of his eyes distracted him. Turning towards the movement, his eyes grew wide but before he could utter a warning, the warping air had reached the three men, knocking them off their feet into unconsciousness...
*******
"I don't know, Angel. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. If what your 'friend' said is true, than the Beast isn't really worried about is. He's been playing with us since the beginning; this could be just a continuation of that."
Angel didn't say a thing for several minutes as they kept walking.
"What is this book you were talking about?"
"The Grimoire of Alexandria? Like Banacek said, it was written by a mad monk. Or rather, seeing our current situation, by a supposed mad monk. I've heard stories about it, usually when we, that is, the other watchers were drunk. It's supposed to contain prophecies that, if they were come to pass, are the direct opposite of those in the Codex. Things that contradict everything that's supposed to be in all the books and scriptures in the Council's possession. In short, things so dark, so evil and destructive, it could rip apart everything we know."
"And it is supposedly somewhere inside the Council's headquarters?"
"IF the stories are true that the Council couldn't find a way to destroy the book, then it is most likely that they have it placed somewhere for safekeeping. Most likely, within the deepest bowels of the Dominion."
*******
"...within the deepest bowels of the Dominion."
"You are quite correct, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. That is exactly where it is", the Beast whispered as his fingers slipped through the image portrayed in the water of the silver bowl.
"You have done quite well, Gras'nvor."
"Thank you, My Lord. The Vampire had no idea I was not his old 'friend'. Do you think they will take the bait?"
"They will, whether they believe it to be a trap or not. They will be there. That is so predictable about the forces of Light. As Holmes would say, 'The game is afoot, my dear Watson'. The game is afoot."
*******