Chapter 1
Metal beasts and vampires
"So, spill," Buffy flounced down onto the sofa opposite the one where Constantine was seated, sated from the meal and, for the moment, content enough to be forthcoming. Constantine sat next to Willow and Dawn, Spike continued to sit by himself; Giles sat next to Buffy and on the last single-seat Anya sat on Xander's lap.
"You don't have beer?" Constantine asked hopefully. "Pint of Guinness or two would be a help, luv."
"You've used my shower and eaten my food… "
"Yeah, yeah. Then we'd hold a pow-wow next and… " Constantine grinned when everyone stared at him. "Right. Ask your questions then, luv."
"Why were you coming out of the Hellmouth?" Buffy asked.
"Well, I had to get home somehow, and since I was already in Hell… "
"You were in Hell why?" Buffy cut in.
"Summat took half my soul, I chased him over half a continent, 'e ran to Hell and pulled me in along with me friends," Constantine counted off the events on his fingers as though he were just remembering things to do. "We walked around, solved some stupid puzzles, and ran into the old administration – the First of the Fallen. 'e doesn't like me… "
"Understatement," Spike muttered from his seat.
"So 'e threatened to kill me – then 'e'd get my soul," Constantine continued, ignoring the vampire. "Turned out that he'd put me in the bit of Hell where things could be killed, so I did him in, chose Hell a new ruler, who then agreed to get me back home through one of the Hellmouths. That should be it." He smirked at the others. "Now, about that beer…"
"There's no beer in the house," Buffy told him, still struggling, like the others, to absorb the enormity of events that he had described with such flippancy.
"You killed the First of the Fallen?" Giles managed to choke out, at last. "What… how?"
"Bit of luck and a gifted sword, mate."
"Wait, who's this First of the Fallen?" Xander got in before Giles opened his mouth again. He looked confused. "Is he Lucifer?"
"Far from it," Anya corrected. "Actually he was – that's what he says anyway – in Hell long before the Morningstar fell from Heaven, though he's usually only ruled his own Plane and doesn't usually walk abroad – not until lately. He calls himself the King of Hell, but all the Demon Princes do. Some of them probably have even deluded themselves to think that they are the sole rulers of Hell. Usually the rest don't bother with them."
"Never let it be said that all Ahn can do is run the Magic Box," Xander grinned.
"I can run other things too," Anya wiggled on Xander's lap.
"Not now, Ahn," Xander said quickly. "Remember what I said about doing private things in public?"
"So there is a Lucifer, and with him other Demon Princes?" Buffy asked, in part trying to head off where she could see the Xander-Anya interaction was going.
"There are many Planes of Hell, and a Demon Prince rules one each… usually." Willow spoke up brightly. "They usually try to fight with each other, but the balance of power doesn't often tip, since each Prince is very strong on his – or her – home Plane. Lucifer rules…"
"Lucifer, luv, is no longer a Prince of Hell," Constantine offered, wishing that he could smoke. Buffy had made it clear what would happen if he did, and Constantine wasn't particularly sure it was anatomically possible, but didn't want to chance it. "'e quit. Got the King of Dreams at that time – grim bloke called Morpheus - to rip off his wings, now runs a nightclub in LA."
"LA!" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Oh no! What's this nightclub called?"
"Relax, luv," Spike spoke up, oddly annoyed at her sudden burst of concern over one who had abandoned her. "You don't need to tell Peaches 'bout this. 'e'd just run off and try to take on the Devil – a fight 'e definitely won't win." Spike seemed to be cheered by this prospect. "On the other hand, just tell him. The nightclub's name is 'Lux'. Nice place. The Morningstar's a great pianist. Also tell him to try and look under the mask of the waitress." Spike smirked at this point, and from Constantine there was a short-lived, sly grin.
Buffy stared at Spike, then snorted, leaning back into the sofa. "I'd tell him later. So this First of the Fallen replaced Lucifer, then?"
"Lucifer gave the key to his Plane to Morpheus." Constantine corrected. "There was a bit of a bother when a lot of things wanted to get their hands on it, but eventually Morpheus gave the key to two Angels – Remiel and Duma. They're currently running his Plane, and the other Princes can't complain because the key did pass to them and was not taken by force."
"You say you changed the… the administration on the Plane of the First of the Fallen. Who did you turn it to?" Giles adjusted his glasses, a sign that he was waiting for a straight answer and wouldn't stand for any other.
"No one you'd know," Constantine smirked, and Giles' expression grew long-suffering. Irritating the Watcher was nearly as amusing as irritating the vampire.
"Well yes, if not we wouldn't ask you," Giles countered, allowing pique to enter his voice.
"Passed it to summat by the name of Jarlaxle – from the world I came from. Smart. Was a mercenary leader. 'e can take it," Constantine said brusquely.
"But will he be a threat… "
"I'd think the first few years 'e'd be more interested in tryin' to keep order on his Plane and work out his relationships with the other Princes," Constantine said dismissively. "'e won't be spendin' his energy spreadin' havoc on other worlds. 'ere, 'e's fair game to any angels who want to try and take out an inexperienced Demon Prince."
"So, nothing's going to go wrong and spoil our Christmas?" Xander asked, sounding relieved.
"This is the Hellmouth, Xander," Buffy reminded him.
"Oh, right."
"Now, what're you going to do with the Constantine?" Spike growled from his seat. "'e's dangerous company, Slayer."
Constantine glanced at the vampire. "Oy, did I say I was stayin'? Just need a place to kip down for the night, then I'd be out of your hair."
"Will's in the spare room," Buffy said thoughtfully – she couldn't bear to refer to it as her late mother's room - "So unless you don't mind sleeping on the couch…"
"Couch is fine," Constantine agreed.
"Slayer…" Spike's voice took in a small note of panic as he glanced at Dawn.
"It might not be very wise," Giles agreed reluctantly with the vampire.
"Giles, I'm the Slayer," Buffy said patiently. "I've probably got more enemies than he does, and I've probably never even met most of them. I'm 'dangerous company' as well. The motels are full for Christmas, it's getting late, Xander and Anya probably want privacy… that leaves your place. And if anything goes after him there and tries to spread it around, you'd have less of a chance than me and Will here."
"There's my place," Spike offered with a smirk.
"It's a crypt," Buffy pointed out coolly. "And you sleep on a tomb. I think he'd be better here."
"Thanks, luv," Constantine said, mildly surprised that they were so quick to trust even when it was rather obvious that he'd left out a lot of his narrative, including Meri, and had been terse with the replies that he had offered.
"Oh, and what was the person you were callin' to?" Spike said suddenly, as if offhandedly. "In the poof's mansion. You said 'Meri', and then you caught fire."
"Meri's a friend of mine," Constantine replied just as offhandedly. Inside his mind, there was another bird-like chuckle. "Phoenix. Appears when I call for her."
"And where's the panther?" Spike probed, unwilling to give up. The vampire was obviously greatly annoyed that he, Constantine, a stranger, had been accepted into the Summers household so quickly – if even only for a night. Constantine understood that – though he was neither moved nor bothered by it.
"Panther's another friend, also comes when I ask," Constantine replied. "Mostly it tries to mother me. Lives in the Dreamin', where the King of Dreams is."
"Can we go now?" Anya burst in suddenly, losing patience with the word games. "Xander and I have…"
"Ahn… " Xander interrupted quickly.
"Yeah, and I want to open presents!" Dawn bounced excitedly.
**
After the Scooby Gang had exchanged presents – though Buffy had accepted Spike's gift of a bracelet with reluctance, most left – Giles promising to come over in the morning with more questions, Xander and Anya hurrying off back to Xander's basement to do some 'catching up'. Willow was rather quiet, and kept glancing at Constantine thoughtfully, but she went upstairs first, ostensibly to go to bed.
"You're sure about this, Slayer?" Spike lingered at the doorway and jerked his head in Constantine's direction, making a last-ditch appeal at Buffy.
Buffy didn't even look at him as she cleaned up in the kitchen. "Goodnight, Spike."
At this cool dismissal, Spike opened his mouth as if to make some remark, but settled for glaring at Constantine and then retreating into the darkness. Constantine busied himself with piling cushions on the sofa he was to sleep on, though Meri reported that the vampire was still lurking outside the house.
Dawn gave him a spare comforter, then watched him put it on the table. "Can you do some magic?" She burst out suddenly. "Like now?"
Constantine glanced at her. "Yeah." On some sudden impulse to show off, he petitioned the presence in his mind. : Something harmless, Meri? 'tis Christmas, innit? :
: You should try growing up sometime, JC. Hold out your palm and blow on it, like those crackpot magicians do in your world. :
: Are you calling me a crackpot magician, luv? :
: I don't need to – you are one. :
Constantine winked at Dawn and did so. Translucent, luminous blue butterflies sprang into being, singing with the whispers of their wings, fluttering with in a butterfly's awkward dance around her whilst she laughed at the beauty of it, then twirling above her and dissolving into specks of silvery dust that vanished when they touched her.
"That was great!" Dawn clapped her hands happily. "Do it again!"
"Dawnie…" Buffy warned from the kitchen – though the Slayer was also grinning, and her eyes shone, as if washed in tears. "That was beautiful. It's been a while since I've seen anything so beautiful…" her voice trailed off, and the grin turned into a smile.
Constantine was also vaguely surprised, though he made the point of thanking the phoenix. He certainly hadn't been expecting butterflies. "Me Christmas present to you two."
"Can you make birds too?" Dawn asked, nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. "Starlings? Doves? Hawks and eagles?"
From the stairs, hidden by shadow, Willow watched as Constantine conjured one marvelous illusion after another, her fingers clenching, and a tremulous smile on her face. Magic could be beautiful! Why was everyone so frightened of hers even though she'd made some mistakes?
She resolved to sneak down later and talk to Constantine. Maybe… maybe he could teach her how to stop making the mistakes. If she could control her talent, she could make beautiful things for her friends too…
**
Nalfein fled, deciding to keep off the strange roads where the metal beasts roared and rushed around at great speeds. He had injured or possibly killed the one that had tried to trample over him, but it had been a near thing, and his eyes still hurt from the bright light of from the creature's own orbs. Half-blinded, he stumbled over a dark field, disoriented and dazed, until he came to a walled-in area with a high metal gate, where he paused to try and recover.
He had a feeling that he had to find shelter, and quickly, for he had not much of an idea how long more night would cloak the land in comfortable darkness. Shelter was necessary, and the spell that would enable him to see in the daylight still needed perfecting.
Behind the gates were several stones shaped by tools that lay at intervals on the ground – tombstones, Nalfein surmised. He had heard of this human custom – unlike that of the drow elves, who put their dead in crypts. There were squat stone buildings beyond the tombstones – possibly the human version of crypts, and Nalfein grimaced at the prospect of taking shelter there.
Still, it was unlikely that he would be disturbed in the crypts, unless he happened on one where undead were on guard, and there was a chance that it would be dark enough to shelter him from the sun when it rose. Nalfein pushed at the gate, but it was locked. With a sigh, he decided it wasn't worth the effort breaking it – and besides, humans might notice and investigate. Using his innate ability at levitation, he floated himself and his things above the gate and landed neatly on the other side, where, after he had walked for a while, he was, to his irritation, promptly attacked by vampires.
**
Willow waited until everyone else had gone to bed, then walked quietly down to the living room where Constantine was sprawled on the sofa, comforter tucked up to his shoulder, snoring. There was a blue glow emanating from in front of him, and as Willow watched in astonishment, it coalesced into a tall, lithely built woman that looked as though she were in her mid-twenties. Her features were flawless – inhumanly so, Willow thought in panic – long hair that brushed full breasts were dark in hue, with blue highlights. Blue, almond-shaped eyes seemed amused as they settled on her, and glossy lips curved into a smile that seemed benevolent, at least. The woman had two feathers that seemed made of flame in her hair – the same feathers the phoenix had – and she was dressed in an ankle-length blue dress that hugged her figure to the hips then flowed down in soft silky waves. Her skin was fair, with an impossible complexion of cream milk, and as she curtsied to Willow, she moved with an impossible grace.
"Who… who are you?" Willow stammered.
The woman sat down on Constantine's sofa and grinned. "Who do you think I am, Willow Rosenberg?"
"The blue phoenix… Meri?"
Meri nodded graciously. "Meridian, to be exact, but you can call me Meri."
"How come you're…" Willow gestured at Constantine, who still seemed to be sleeping peacefully. It was quite a startling transformation – the sardonic, hard set he always seemed to have on his face, the don't-fuck-with-me expression was gone, and he looked serene, tranquil, even.
Meri looked down at him, and her expression was affectionate as she reached out and stroked his cheek. Constantine murmured something in his sleep, and her hand stilled for a moment, then moved up to touch his hair. "I'm not particularly sure either. Technically this isn't allowed – that I can move free from my host – but I suppose the rules change when the world is different. I'm still tied to him – but I found that I could manifest independently. It's quite curious."
"But why not a bird?" Willow sat down on one of the sofas.
Meri grinned. "In my true size, I could consume the house and not notice it. Your houses are made for the comfort of human-shaped creatures. Now, as to you – you have questions, do you not?"
"Yes… but I was going to ask him," Willow admitted. "And he's sleeping, see?"
"You could ask me," Meri suggested. "I'd probably know what he would say."
"Uh." Willow realized that voicing her questions seemed a lot harder now. "Can you stop using magic?" Immediately, she flushed slightly at the awkward question, but the phoenix had already begun to answer.
"Once you start using it? No," Meri smiled. "To use magic is a choice, and once you make it, you cannot unmake it. After that the question is not 'How can I stop', but 'What do I use it for'."
"So I can't stop using it… "
"No, but you can control how you use it," Meri said. "Some use magic as they would use a drug – to get the 'high' in it – those are the self-destructive ones, because if you use magic as you would abuse a drug, it would consume you, you would die – or worse. Some use magic as a tool – they have no particular joy in it, but they use it like you would use your hands, to get things done. Some also use it because they delight in having a power that others do not possess."
"How does he use it?" Willow asked, not liking the sound of the first option, as it sounded extremely familiar.
"John Constantine? It is hard to say at any one point," Meri admitted. "I would think he uses it mainly for survival – his survival, usually, since he has a lot of enemies. Though sometimes he uses it as a means to a necessary end. He usually never uses it just for the sake of using magic – he has learnt the folly of that a long time ago, the hard way."
Willow flinched slightly, and looked down at her hands. "But… "
"His way might not be yours," Meri interrupted. "Certainly it may not be the perfect way, for his magic has had a price that he will continue to pay for the rest of his life, and because of it he has come to grief many times. Magic will also have its price for you – but what it is you will have to find out yourself. I would suggest you seek a trusted mentor, or many mentors. You should not venture on magic's road without guidance."
"But who can I ask? Constantine?"
Meri grinned. "If you would ask him to be your mentor, you should not follow his path, for it ultimately leads to self-destruction, I would think. All the Constantines who chose magic are this way – save one, but she was different, and I think it is already too late for this one to find her road, that led to inner peace. Still, the last child he was a mentor for is still doing rather well – stupid, but doing well."
"So do I ask him?" Willow asked hopefully. "Because I could ask Giles, but I don't think he really would know how."
"No," Meri agreed, "To the Watcher, magic is just a tool of a last resort. I doubt it is that way to you. I will not advise you on who to ask – ask Constantine tomorrow yourself."
"What about now?"
"He'd be more likely to be helpful when he's rested and eaten breakfast," Meri grinned. "If you want, you could even try bribing him with beer. But tell him nothing about my being able to do this, okay?"
The phoenix glanced at her sleeping host, and the tips of her mouth curled up, though it seemed that it was an expression of sorrow – an old sorrow, the short glimpse of it still making Willow's throat clench suddenly in nameless empathy, though the witch hardly knew why.
Willow agreed with some effort, then they bid each other good night and she went up the stairs.
When she looked down once, Meri was dancing to some unheard tune, with flowing elegance around the living room, at times passing through the furniture unheeding like a wraith. The expression on her face was melancholy, or regretful – though because of what, Willow could not begin to guess, and was not sure she wanted to know.
**
Nalfein discovered a relatively large crypt that was vampire-free, and did not seem to have been used for a while, and lacked all the grotesque sculptures he'd seen in other crypts. The crafts of men were crude compared to dark elven carvings, and he found them quite offensive to look upon. Relieved, he made his way into it, and found that there were crumbling stone stairs that led to a lower level where he could shelter out of the sun and polish up the spells he would need in peace.
Peace had been strangely lacking ever since he'd come onto this world. First the metal beast, then the eight vampires which he systematically destroyed, not wanting them to spread the news of his presence, then when he was looking around the crypts he'd gotten attacked by some strange, slimy demon who'd objected violently when he walked into his crypt. It wasn't even like he wanted that crypt – the slime was just about everywhere. The irritating demon hadn't shown up on Nalfein's infravision – some sort of natural protection, he supposed - it was hardly his fault.
Nalfein didn't even want to think about the next crypt that he had tried to enter – the pack of components had nearly been ripped at, there. Vampires, it seemed, made nests of their own in this area – and Nalfein decided that the crypts of the cemetery would only be a temporary solace, with such neighbors. His consolation was that only few things could actually kill vampires – so he'd taken out his frustrations on the vampire nest. They were still in the land of the living – or unliving, if one would have it – though they no doubt wished they were not, by now. The mage's mouth curled into a vicious smile at this thought. Blood-flow and violence were quite comforting to behold – or to cause, and what was more comforting was that for once he had not consecrated the killings to the Goddess, and had felt or seen no censure. Perhaps Lloth's hold on him here was truly gone.
Nalfein went down the stone stairs lightly and looked around keenly. Though there were a few more stone tombs in here, the mage left them alone and put down the components neatly in one corner, then proceeded to ward the place against intrusion, tracing out symbols on the stairs and murmuring words of power.
Behind him, one of the lids of stone moved a crack.
