Falling Towards Apotheosis

by Banquo

Xander and Faith have returned home after the events of “Leaves of Grass” but all is not as it seems. Dark dreams and plans set into motion allude to the danger that waits beyond the horizon.

3. Chapter 3: Seraphim

Title: Falling Toward Apotheosis

Rating: R

Author: Banquo

Email: banquo@fanfiction.net

Summary: Xander and Faith have returned home after the events of "Leaves of Grass" but all is not as it seems. Dark dreams and plans set into motion allude to the danger that waits beyond the horizon.

Disclaimers: I own nothing except the story and all the characters I create in between. Buffy and all character related there in belong to Joss and Mutant enemy. While the concept of Immortality and all characters pertaining to Highlander belong to Panzer-Davis.

Archive: Go right ahead! Just email me a link where you plan on archiving my fic.

Though this story can stand on its own there are references to my first story so I strongly recommend that you read my first story "Leaves of Grass" which can be found at www.fanfiction.net search for the title and it will appear on the top of the list. Or you can go here directly to get to the story.

For all those who have contacted me about this story, thank you for all of your support and input. I really take all of your suggestions seriously when I sit down to write each chapter. For those who review, please leave your email; I really do try to respond to all feedback that I receive. Now for your reading enjoyment I present: Falling Toward Apotheosis Chapter 3: Seraphim.



.



"HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN!" Murdoch's voice booms through the room, the strength of his voice belying his age.

Quentin Travers winces at the verbal lashing he is receiving.

"I don't know sir, like I explained."

"Yes, your explanation, lets get back to that. I put you in charge of a task force to carry out an order right?"

"Well, yes." Travers answers not liking where this line of questioning is going.

"I gave you access to resources and personnel to help aid you in your task correct?"

"Yes sir you did and I am most."

"Shut up Travers! I'm not fishing for gratitude. I am merely asking how incompetent one has to be to pour valuable resources into a project and not even be there when the task is completed!"

"It's not my fault sir, as I explained."

"I don't care about your excuses Travers, yes Travers EXCUSES. All I've heard from you is excuses and your excuses have cost the Watchers some of its most powerful spell casters! And now we have not one, not two, but THREE Slayers all of which are NOT under the control of the Council, one of which is apparently a homicidal maniac. So again let me ask you HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN!"

Travers is sputtering for an answer to his superior's question when the doors to the head Watcher's private study open revealing Lauren Fletcher.

"Lauren! What are you doing here?" Murdoch says to his long time friend. "I'm in the middle of something here with Travers."

"Murdoch I was at Fountains when it happened."

Murdoch, his immediate anger at Travers momentarily diverted, turns his attention fully to Lauren. "You were there? How did you survive? All of the Watchers present were found killed."

"I was off in the distance away from the chapel when the ritual went sour."

"So you saw what happened?"

"Yes."

"Well out with it, what happened? From all of this moron's research," Murdoch says waving his hand in the direction of Travers, "this should have been an easy ritual! What happened out there?"

Lauren takes a deep breath and steadies herself before answering with one word. "Seraphim."

Murdoch pales as he slowly descends to his seat. "Are you sure?"

"No, but it is the only thing I could think that could create the amount of power I witnessed."

"I'm envious of you Lauren, you have seen what few have and lived to tell about it. Tell me Lauren, did it meet your expectations?"

Nodding her head she answers, "And then some."

"Amazing." Murdoch whispers.

Travers confused and completely lost decides now is the best time to voice his confusion. "I'm sorry to intrude on your conversation but what in the Hell are you talking about!"

"We are talking about something that only two people on the High Council know at a time. The head of the Council, myself, and the Lead Historian."

"Which is me," Lauren adds.

Travers is about to say something else but Murdoch cuts him off before he can start, "Shut your mouth Travers and listen. I am only going to tell you this because I want you to know what it is that will kill you when it comes for you."

"Murdoch, allow me to explain since you are already quite biased in the matter."

Murdoch nods allowing Ms. Fletcher to continue. "Tell me, what do you know of angels?"

"In theory they are the creation of God. They are his messengers and warriors. According to the bible Lucifer was an angel but the Archangel Michael threw him from the heavens. But the Watchers have never found any hard evidence for or against the existence of such beings."

Lauren looks at Travers and nods her head slowly absorbing the answer she just heard. "Well what if I told you that hard evidence does exist and the Watchers have known of their existence for more than a millennia?"

"I would find it hard to believe that I wouldn't have heard anything about it. Especially since."

"You are on the High Council? Yes well, not everyone on the High Council knows everything." Murdoch tells him, "Just like any group that has existed there are factions within factions and spheres of influences that are controlled by a select few."

"These beings do exist and one of them is responsible for your little project's failure," Lauren tells Travers. Walking over to the desk in the room she picks up a piece of paper and a pen and scribbles something down. She hands the paper to Travers. "Go to the archive, I'll make sure my people will allow you access to the proper resources, ask for this old Watcher Diary. It will have all the information you need to know. Now go. Murdoch and I have to talk."

Travers not liking being dismissed like a child begins to protest. "Don't."

"Leave now Travers." Murdoch tells him. Seeing Travers hesitate a moment he says more firmly, "Go."

As the door closes behind Travers Murdoch turns to Lauren and asks her, "You know what this means don't you?"

"Yes."

"May God help us all."

"Murdoch, the only indication that the ritual worked was the way she killed those Watchers. There is no doubt in my mind that she has the abilities of the Slayer. But the natural instinct to protect human life was completely missing."

"Or just suppressed. I knew I should have stopped this Lauren, but it seemed like the best course of action."

"I know it did and that is why I supported it as well."

"We have to stop her now. Did she seem like she had full control of her faculties? Do you think she has the ability to leave the country?"

"I'm not sure. What she did to those Watchers was inhuman but that has no bearing on whether or not she is in control of what she does."

"We need to find her, before anything else happens."



.



In the Summer's residence a small group holds vigil over the two oldest women of the Summer's family while trying to comfort and reassure the youngest. It had been a few hours since the incident that had left Buffy and her mother unconscious. The sun had set outside and darkness was starting to fall over the town of Sunnydale. Soon the darker aspects of the town would begin to fall out of the woodwork and the town's protector lay silent and unmoving in her bed.

Giles walks out of the kitchen and sits down on the couch with a cup of fresh tea. Willow looks at him and sees that he is a little worse for wear. Gone now was his shirt and jacket, which was burned and frayed by the onslaught earlier, replaced by one of Joyce's ex-husband's sweatshirts. How Giles knew where to find it was beyond her but she is glad he was able to change out of his torn and tattered clothes.

Willow looks over to Dawn who has been sitting quietly after finishing cleaning up. Almost immediately after the energy spike disappeared and they had moved Buffy into the other room, Dawn started to clean the room saying that her mother would freak if she saw the kind of mess that was left in the living room.

Turing back to Giles Willow asks, "How are they?"

"Buffy physically seems like she is fine but until I know what happened to her, I wont know any more about her condition. Joyce is doing fine, she has a pretty nasty bump on her head but she doesn't have a concussion at least." Giles answers before taking a sip of his tea.

Willow gets up and sits next to Giles. "And what about you? How are you doing?"

Sighing, he sets down his cup and says, "To tell the truth I've seen better days."

"I know what you mean."

"What about you? How are you taking this?"

"I'm scared."

"Buffy is going to be alright Willow, her Slayer healing is doing it's job. She'll be fine."

"That's not it, Giles. I'm scared because I don't know what the hell it was that had attacked Buffy. I'm scared that if it happens again I'll be as helpless as I was then. I'm scared because something out there was able to hurt one of my friends and I couldn't do a thing about it."

"Vampires and Demons you can see coming for you, but this," Giles pauses a second before continuing, "but this, how do you stop the unknown?"

"I don't know." Willow whispers quietly. She feels Giles' arm around her giving comfort during this difficult time. Leaning into him she smiles and says, "Thanks Giles, but I think there is someone who might need this more than me."

Giles follows her stare and sees Dawn sitting across the room hugging herself. Nodding, Giles gets up and walks over to his second surrogate daughter.

Dawn doesn't even know that he is standing next to her until he asks her, "How are you doing Dawn?"

Slightly startled she looks up and says half-heartedly, "I'm okay."

Giles frowns slightly and looks at her pointedly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure." She says with a smile. However her smile fades when she sees his continued frown.

Giles crouches down until she is almost eye-to-eye with him. "Dawn, you don't have to put up a strong front. Your mother and sister would want you to be as open with me as they would, okay? Now, how are you doing?"

"Horrible." she says quietly.

Sitting next to her, Giles tries his best to comfort the youngest Summers. "There was nothing you could do to stop what happened here Dawn. None of it was your fault."

"I know that Giles, it's just that," Dawn pauses a moment before continuing, "it's just that I've never seen Buffy like that before. I always thought that she would always have this under control, I mean it's what she does right?"

Giles sits next to her waiting for her to continue.

"She's the Slayer, the one who is supposed to protect us all from the bad things. But when I saw her there, helpless, I didn't know what to do. All of a sudden my protector needed me to protect her and I didn't know what to do." Her voice grows quiet with those last words.

"If it helps you feel any better, I didn't know what to do either." Giles tells her gently.

"But what happens the next time?" Dawn asks him, "You don't even know what it was that stopped the attack, if it happens again we wont know how to save her. Maybe next time."

"Stop that line of thought right now, young lady!" Giles tells her. "Your sister is fine and should be up and about in a few hours. No, I don't know what caused this but it was a wake up call for us to be more wary. If there is a next time, we'll be prepared."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He tells her before pulling her into a hug. "What so you say we go check on your mom?"

Visibly feeling better Dawn nods and the two get up to check on Joyce.

Tara watches as the two walk out of the room. Turning to Willow she says, "At least she's feeling better. What about you?"

"I don't know. I'm sure Buffy will be ok but what's bothering me is that whatever did this to Buffy is still out there."

"And that scares you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Tara. We threw everything we had at that thing and nothing worked! How are we supposed to fight against something that is invulnerable?"

"We don't know that it's invulnerable. We don't even know what that was. All we know is that it was some really powerful magic."

"So how do we stop it?"

"The same way we always stop things. We research, find a weak spot and then take whatever it is down."

"We have a problem though."

"What is that?"

"How do you do research on something you don't know a thing about?"



.



Buffy's eyes flutter open. Looking around the darkened room she realizes that she is not in the living room any more. She can also feel her arms being tied down, but looking down she sees that it is only a blanket. She removes the blanket and tries to get up but her body protests so much that all she can do is slump back into the bed in pain.

Downstairs, Dawn and Giles are looking after Joyce when Dawn stops suddenly.

Giles looks at her and asks, "Dawn? Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Shaking her head no, Dawn stands up excitedly and says, "Buffy's awake!"

With those two words Dawn bounds out of the room and up the stairs startling the two wiccans in the living room.

Willow questions the librarian when he appears at the foot of the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Apparently Buffy is awake," Giles answers.

"Are you sure? We didn't hear anything down here."

"Dawn is sure, but as to how she knows is a complete mystery to me."

He is hesitant to go up the stairs until Tara tells him, "Go ahead, we'll sit with Mrs. Summers until you get back."

With a small smile Giles says, "Thank you." Before he too bounds up the stairs and into Buffy's room. He is just outside of the door when he hears the two sister's banter.

"Ow! Dawn go a little easy on me okay? I'm sore all over."

"Oh! I'm sorry Buffy! It's just that I was so worried about you and when you didn't get up right away I was scared that."

"Hey none of that now. I'm the Slayer remember? There is no way that you can keep my kind down. And on top of that I'm a Summers We're a strong breed."

"I know, but that doesn't mean we can't worry."

"Oh my God! Dawn, what happened to Mom!? Last thing I saw was her coming at me to try to help but after that, I can't remember."

Giles took that as his cue to make his presence known. "She'll be fine Buffy. She has a bump on her head but other than that she's resting quite nicely."

"Giles, what about you? You look like you were hit by a lightening bolt." She says looking at the scorch marks on his arms.

"Unfortunately," He replies holding up his hands, "I was. My own lightening bolt I tried to use to disrupt the thing that had you pinned down."

"Do we know what did this to me?"

"No we don't. I won't know for sure what it was until I do some more research."

"Then how did you stop it?" There is a small silence before Buffy asks again, "How did you stop it?"

"We didn't, something else did." Giles tells her.

"Okay, do we know what it was that stopped it?"

"No."

"Do we know anything about what happened?"

"I was actually hoping you could tell us what happened to you. Buffy, this is important; the only person who has any idea what happened to you is you. What exactly do you remember?"

Buffy sits back against the bed's headboard as she thinks about what happened. "I had just returned here to meet my mom. When suddenly there was this bright light.and then, then."

"And then what Buffy?" Giles asks.

"And then there was pain." Dawn's arm quickly wraps around her sister. Buffy leans into her gratefully accepting her sister's strength and support.

"I thought I knew what pain was but this, this was something else all together." Dawn feels her sister shudder against her as she recounts her story. "The pain consumed me, every pore in my body cried for mercy, but it didn't stop. It felt like something reached down inside of me and tried to rip my soul out."

As the memories of her ordeal return to the surface Buffy begins to cry. Dawn does the only thing she can think of and holds her older sister close as she too begins to cry. Giles watches for a moment before he too walks over to the bed and lends his support to the two young women.

"There, there child. You're okay now, right?" Buffy looks up at the man who over time has become much more like a father to her than a Watcher and nods. "Do you feel up to going downstairs to check up on your mother?"

"Yeah. let's. go." She says between sniffles.

They all walk down the stairs and into the dinning room where Tara and Willow are looking after Mrs. Summers.

Willow walks over to Buffy. "Hey."

"Hey." Buffy replies. "How are you holding up?"

"Better than you were," Willow says with a smile.

"How about my mom? How is she doing?"

"She's fine, asleep, but fine. Maybe we should ask the Watchers to come up with a Slayer family medical plan." Willow says to Buffy.

"Willow, that was a very Xanderesque comment you just made. I think he would have been proud."

"I thought you'd like that one. It seems that every time something bad happens he would be able to lighten up the mood with a quick joke you know?"

Dawn cuts into the conversation as well, "It's like his presence alone was enough to lighten the mood."

Buffy and Willow smile at Dawn's comment, turning to her sister Buffy says, "You're right his presence was very." Buffy's sentence trails off.

Giles worrying that she is feeling more repercussions from her attack goes to Buffy's side.

"Buffy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that.when Dawn said that.Oh my God!" Buffy says just before she sways to the side.

"Buffy! What is it?" Willow asks grabbing onto her friend, supporting her.

"Giles, there was a flash and I felt pain. It felt so bad that I passed out somewhere in the middle but towards the end I could feel something helping me, soothing the pain, and then, everything stopped and I passed out again."

"That coincides with what we saw today," Tara tells her. "One moment you were floating in the air the next another burst of energy hit you. At first we thought that you were being attacked again but it was protecting you and suddenly everything stopped and you fell to the ground."

"But the last bit of energy, the one protecting me, it had a presence. I could feel it."

"I suspected that something had intervened in your attack, perhaps the Powers That Be." Giles begins.

"No it wasn't the Powers. It was something closer, something familiar." Buffy says cutting of her Watcher

"Then what was it?" Willow asks.

Looking directly at her friend Buffy answers, "It was Xander."

Willow looks at her friend skeptically, "Are you sure, Buffy? I mean you had just come back from the cemetery, you're not just putting the two together are you?"

"No Willow, I'm sure of it, I could tell he was there."

"But that would mean."

"That even in death Xander is able to help us when we really needed it. Like our own guardian angel." Giles says.

Nodding, Buffy moves to her mother's side along with her sister. They all sit there keeping vigil over Joyce Summers until she wakes. On the table next to the couch Buffy looks at a picture that was taken just before graduation. The picture was of her, Willow, Dawn and Xander. Xander had his arms around Willow's and her shoulders with Dawn standing in front of them. They were all smiling at the camera. His position in the picture reminds her of Giles' earlier statement. He was always their protector and now he was able to help one more time even in death.

Reaching out to touch the picture, Buffy whispers, "Thank you Xander."

Dawn leans over to her sister and says, "You know they say the dead can hear you when you talk to them."

Looking at her sister Buffy smiles. "I hope so Dawn, I hope so."



.



Thump, thump. Light flashes and the screams come. Thump, thump. The sounds of devastation and destruction fill his ears. Thump, thump. Searing heat bites at his skin. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Faster and faster his heart beats until all the images before him, all the sensory information attacks him from all angles blurring into a single mass of images and sensations until everything becomes dark again. Thump, thump.

"Welcome to my world boy."

As the words are said, Xander can feel his body being racked with pain. Screaming he falls to his knees as the sound of laughter fill his mind. The images float all around him forcing him to see all that they contain.

"Who are you?" Xander screams through the sounds and noise that only he can hear. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The voice laughs loud as the images that attack his still closed eyes redouble their efforts showing him levels of pain and destruction he had never before thought possible.

"Why I am I doing this? WHY?" The voice sounds almost appalled that he doesn't know why it is doing this to him. "You of all people have the gall to ask me WHY?"

The sounds and images around him all begin to strengthen, pressing on his consciousness. Not knowing how else to combat his unknown foe Xander reaches down as before and taps into the power of his quickening and pushes outward.

"Tut, tut. I'm disappointed in you boy, I've seen that trick before and fortunately for me I know how to deal with it." As Xander tries to push out harde,r he can feel something resisting him. At first it is a faint buzz against his brain but soon the buzz becomes a jackhammer, slamming away in his mind. The harder and harder he would try to push the harder the voice would push back.

Xander, his mind weak from the onslaught and his body drenched in sweat from his exertion, can only submit to the sounds and images that have become his world.

"Who are you?" He says weakly.

As suddenly as the sounds and images started they stop, leaving Xander deaf and blinded in a place of complete white. The only reference he has to up and down is the way he is sitting, or maybe floating, in the room. From the far reaches of the room, blackness begins to swirl, slithering from nothingness to coalesce in front of him.

"Who am I?" The form asks him. "How could you possibly forget me? Perhaps it is the form that I appear to you." Suddenly the black swirl turns into the body of the demon Master. Xander recoils in horror as he recognizes the form. "Ah, I see you know who I am now."

"You're, you're dead! I killed you!"

"Now, now my dear boy. You may have killed my vessel but I am far from dead." The form reverts back to its androgynous black mist. A tendril of smoke reaches out to Xander chilling each part of his body to the bone as it brushes up against him. "I've been alive and waiting, waiting to be released from the cage you had me imprisoned in your mind. I'm a very patient being, so I waited, biding my time until a moment like this would happen, a moment where I would be freed!"

"How?"

"I really don't understand how it all really happened but all I know is that you over exerted yourself in that last foray of yours and it allowed me the crack that I've been waiting for."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I've been in your head, young man, and let me tell you this: I do not take kindly to being trapped against my will anywhere. Now that I'm free I feel that I need to stretch my wings, so to speak, and while I'm at it I might as well wreak havoc in your life as retribution for my imprisonment."

Images of blood and destruction begin to float in Xander's vision as the voice speaks to him, "I will do horrible things to innocents, to those who you care for to all those around you. I will make your entire life crumble around you and you won't be able to do a thing about it."

"NO!" Xander yells to the voice. "I won't let you! I've stopped you before and I'll stop you again!"

"Big talk coming from the one who is on his knees. The first time you knew what you were fighting. My vessel, though a very smart individual, became complacent and overconfident in the powers that I would bring him. No, this time you don't know who my vessel is. This time rituals or portents or alignments of any kind do not bind me. I can be anyone, anywhere. I can move with a touch or even a glance. You won't know where I am, but know this: I will be the cause of your downfall, I will destroy your precious friends and the pseudo-family that you have built."

"I'll protect them! I won't let you harm any of them!" At that comment the voice's laughter booms in his ears.

"That is the beauty of my vengeance, Xander: every act I commit, every life that I take, every friend I hurt, every family member that I inflict pain upon you will see it. Every glorious moment of it you will witness until you beg with every fiber of your being for me to stop."

"No. I don't believe it, I won't believe it!" Xander tells the spirit.

"Oh you don't have to now, but you will believe it when it happens. You will believe when you watch me tear apart a human being as it begs for its pathetic life. You will watch it's life blood flow onto the ground and onto me as I cut open it's body like a piece of meat." The swirling black cloud solidifies into the form of the Master's human form and walks up to Xander grabbing his chin and forcing him to look into his eyes. "I've been in your mind, Alexander Harris. We are connected. When I want you to see, you will see it. When I want you to feel pain, you will feel it."

Stepping back away from Xander, the Master begins to change back into a black swirl and begins to dissipate once again in to the far reaches of the room. "I will be seeing you Alexander Harris and more importantly, you will be seeing me."

And with those last words Xander's world plunges into darkness again but not before he witnesses several men being torn apart by a shadow, a blur of dark motion, moving from a cloaked body to the next, tearing off limbs, shattering bones and leaving once standing human beings as lifeless piles of bloody flesh on the ground. Reaching out, he tries to help the people being torn apart by the darkness by moving between them only to be yanked back, forcing him to watch as the darkness finishes off the last person by slamming into its face, shattering bone and forcing it into the delicate gray matter killing him instantly.

The dark figure stops and survey's the damage it had done and looks around. Xander is almost positive that the figure looks directly at him before it takes off running.



.



Thump, thump. Blood begins to flow though his veins again. Thump, thump. The blood moves through his body flowing to his brain, arms, legs and finally his lungs. Once the blood reaches his lungs, they forcefully inflate, filling with air, to feed the body the oxygen it needs. It is with that intake of breath that Xander bolts upright for the first time that night, reviving from the dead.

Trying to control his breathing, Xander closes his eyes and focuses on each intake and exhalation of breath, slowing his breath and trying to force his heart beat to follow. But the stark images of death that linger in his mind make that all but impossible. As the images return in fleeting glimpses his body begins to shudder.

Falling back on to the bed, "his" bed he noted, Xander, staring at the ceiling, blinks away the last of the images. "Oh, man." He says to himself as he feels his body once again responding to his commands.

He can feel the tell tale beginnings of the buzz of a close by immortal. By the feeling of it either Adam or Cassandra or both. The door opens and in walks in Adam.

"So you're finally awake?" Adam says sarcastically.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Xander says deadpanned still staring up at the ceiling.

"How you feeling?"

"Much better than before, I assure you."

"I would hope so," Adam says sitting down in a chair in the corner of the room facing the bed. "Cassandra is tending to Faith right now in case you were wondering."

Xander sits up to look at his mentor and immediately regrets it as his head begins to swim. Lying back down he asks, "How is she?"

"She is fine. She's pretty much in the same condition that we found her in when we arrived but her physical wounds have all healed so Cassandra is waiting for her to wake up."

Laying back down on the bed Xander says, "Good. She's going to be fine, right?"

"Yes. I would have done more but I don't know what happened to her in the first place so it is pretty hard to treat someone when you don't know what's wrong. Do you mind telling me what happened down there?"

"We were attacked," Xander says simply.

"Is that so? Do you know what attacked you?"

"No, and it didn't attack me, it attacked Faith first. Whatever it was only attacked me after I tried to save her the first time."

"Was this when you used your quickening to save her?"

"Yes," Xander says tiredly. "But a lot of good it did us, she's still unconscious, I died and I have no clue what it was that attacked us." Pausing for a moment, Xander says giving as much detail as he could give to the old man, "But one thing's for sure, it was a magical attack. Whatever it was, it was aimed directly at Faith."

"Okay, that's a start," Adam says thoughtfully. "I'll let you go back to sleep. We'll talk about this more tomorrow morning."

Adam gets up and moves to the door. He is about to walk through the door when he hears Xander's voice call out to him.

"Adam?"

Turing around he faces the young man, "Yes?"

"When you die, do you see things?"

"You mean the whole life flashing before your eyes bit?"

"No I mean after you die, the time between your last and first breaths, do you ever see or hear anything?"

"No, not personally. I've studied this for a bit and I can tell you that during that time there is no brain activity whatsoever. Anything that you would see would occur right before reviving when your brain jumpstarts with the rest of your body trying to process those last conscious and unconscious thoughts all at once. The Immortal version of a near death experience so to speak. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, I just had this weird dream." Xander's sentence trails off for a moment before he continues with more a lighthearted comment, "But you're probably right. Just a bunch of excited neurons bouncing off of each other. Nothing more, nothing less. I'll see you in the morning. G'night."

"Night Xander."

As the door closes behind him, Adam wonders what that was all about while on the other side of the door, Xander wonders if the images will return if he closes his eyes to go back to sleep.



.



Travers walks down a set of stairs within the great expanse of the Watcher library. Every organization in the world has a repository of some sort, a place where accumulated knowledge of the past resides. The Watchers are no different than the rest.

Down beneath the expanse of Watcher Headquarters in England a series of caverns, once used as a hiding place from those who would invade the city, were fortified and turned into the home for the Watcher records. At first magical means were used to help preserve the records, then as the years proceeded and technology caught up with magic, technology began to supplement the magical protection put onto the archives.

Travers makes his way down one of the numerous rows of books, housed in their specially designed cases to keep moisture away from the precious pages and the words written upon them. Though the protection given to these records is impressive, they do not interest Travers. He continues down the aisle.

At the end of the aisle, there is a door that matches the forty other doors on the same wall. Travers pulls out a key that was given to him by the Watcher who was on duty at the entrance of the great library. He handed the paper that Murdoch had given to him a Watcher who took a single glance at the paper and just nodded. The Watcher pulled out the key and told him where to go.

Now he stands before the door that the Watcher directed him to, the door that Murdoch wanted him to see, the door that holds the truth that only Lauren Fletcher and Murdoch know. The doorframe is laden with runes, signs protecting all that which is behind the sanctuary of the room. Taking the key and placing it into the archaic, lock Travers gently turns the key. He can hear the lock tumblers fall into place as bolts slide into the door allowing it to be pushed open.

Inside are more cases, these more elaborate than the ones outside and filled with books. But in the center of the far wall stands a single pedestal with a book lying on top. It stands out because it is the only book in the room that sits unprotected from the elements, it is this very fact that draws him to the book. Nearing the pedestal he can feel the power reverberating around the book. Multitudes of spells have been cast on it to protect it from harm, thus allowing it to be left in the open.

Walking up to the book, Travers gently opens it and carefully turns to a page noted on the piece of paper he was given. The passage is written in Latin with a careful and deliberate script.

The first sentence is short but its impact does not reflect its size. "And thus today the Slayer has been called anew."

His interest piqued, Travers continues to read on.

"Miranda and myself had arrived in the village just after sun down, the village is nestled in between two mountains so the path was long and arduous. Rumors in the neighboring villages had drawn us here. The rumors spoke of undying creatures meeting in the town to do battle.

Normally I would have ignored such rumors had I not discovered a prophecy describing the battle of two great warriors. Neither good nor evil they will descend between the peaks in a city beyond the clouds.

Miranda being the oldest and most successful Slayer at the age of sixteen, the Council ordered her and myself to investigate.

The city beyond the clouds part was correct. On the way up the mountain the fog became so think that if it weren't for Miranda's heightened senses I would have surely tumbled down the mountain. But now, in looking back, I wish I had.

By the time we arrived in the village the sun had set. Usually when the sun sets a village virtually shuts down. Aside from the local tavern, the villagers return home to rest after a day's work. It was not so with this village. The villagers were gathering their belongings, families, anything of importance and leaving the town.

I had asked one of the passing villagers what was going on. His reply only confirmed my greatest fears.

'They are coming tonight. Their battle will destroy the village'

I asked him who was coming and his simple answer was said with fear and awe, as if God himself would reach down and smite him for even mentioning their names.

'The burning ones.' I tried to pry more information from him but he would have none of it. I tried to query more of the passing villagers but they were all too consumed with their flight from the town that they did not acknowledge Miranda or myself.

We found the local tavern and decided to wait and rest inside until the so- called burning ones came to do battle. Inside the tavern the lack of patrons and excitement was startling. The barkeep stood quietly cleaning his bar; he was perhaps the only one in the town not rushing away for safety.

'Do you own this tavern?' I had asked him.

'For the last twenty harvests, and before then my father had owned it.' He answered cryptically

'Then surely you know what is going to happen here?'

'Of course!' The tavern owner answered

'Then why are you still here while the rest of the town is scrambling away from this place like rats from a ship?'

The tavern owner smirked at me and said. 'I've lived here my whole life. I've seen everything that has happened to this village, good and bad, I will be here to watch what is coming tonight.'

'Interesting thing to say.' I said to him. I could see Miranda's look out of the corner of my eye. She thought that the man's story was curious but we needed lodging until the battle between the undying creatures tonight.

'I guess that is a good thing for us, we were hoping to have a place to stay until we continue our travels tonight.' I tell him.

It was the innkeeper this time that showed us his curious look. 'You plan on traveling tonight? Surely you know what is going to happen, the ones fleeing the village are practically screaming about the coming of the apocalypse and yet you say you are going to continue your travels tonight?'

The innkeeper was quite observant but I was able to cover quickly, 'We do not hold the sayings of a few people as the truth. Plus we have found that the cool air of the night makes it easier to travel long distances.'

The innkeeper looked as if he was about to say something else but merely shrugged. 'The first door at the top of the stairs and the one next to it are open. You two can take those rooms.' The innkeeper tells them as he continues to clean and tend his bar.

Walking up the stairs I wait until we are out of earshot to tell Miranda of our plans. 'We need to rest for tonight. If the texts are any indication of how difficult our opponents will be we will need to be in our top form.'

Miranda nodded, accepting the wisdom that I had imparted onto her, but I could tell there was something bothering her. 'What is it that bothers you?' I ask her.

'The texts say that these warriors have fought here before even the authors of the texts were even born correct?'

'Yes.'

'Then why can't we find the warrior that is on our side and help him? We will gain an ally and rid the world of a great evil right?'

I had to try to suppress my reflex to sigh. Though she was the greatest Slayer to date she still knew so little about the way the world truly worked.

'The world isn't always in terms of good and bad. Sometimes the only things differentiating one from another are a myriad of levels of evil or good. Sometimes one evil is worse than the other but to choose the lesser of the two evils still goes against all the Council and the Slayer stands for.'

She looked at me with a look of confusion. She always tried to understand and grasp all that I imparted onto her but it always took a few more lessons until she truly understood the wisdom of the Council.

'Trust me Miranda, we need to stop both of them. Leaving one alive leaves one left to possibly terrorize the world. Now go and rest, you'll need your strength for later.'

She went into her room and I went into mine where I prepared the weapons for that night's battle. At that time, I had thought that the battle would be a hard fought one.

I was wrong.

The battle was a lost cause before we even arrived at the site.

Miranda and myself emerged from our respective rooms each of us ready to face whatever evil that was going to invade this village that night.

The innkeeper was still at his station reading a book of some sort. When he heard us walking down the stairs he put his book away and asked, 'Ready to travel already?'

I looked at him and answered easily, 'Yes. How much do we owe you for the rooms?'

'Thirty. I'll give you a discount for the two rooms. Since you two are probably the only business I'm going to have around here for a long while.'

'Thank you for your generosity.' I tell him. Quickly, I put to practice the plan I had devised earlier in my room to try to pry information from the innkeeper.

'Tell me innkeeper, our travels are treacherous enough as it is and with the troubles coming to this village, I was hoping that you could tell us which part of town to avoid.'

'The north side of town, the part closest to the peak of the mountain, that is where it is said that the great battle will take place as it has before.'

Miranda looks at him and asks, 'Before?', asking the question that was in my own mind as well.

'Oh yes. It is something that has been happening here for millennia. My father said that once every generation they would come and do battle. Each time the battle would end in a stalemate. The destruction from each battle growing in proportion in every consecutive battle.'

'So this has been going on for long time?' Miranda asks.

'My grandfather told me that his grandfather told him of the great battle when he was younger and every time it is the same two warriors.'

'Why hasn't anyone tried to stop them before?' She asks him.

The short laugh that came from the innkeeper was unexpected. 'Many have tried and few have survived with their bodies or minds intact.'

'I'm sure that those stories are exaggerated as well.' I tell him.

At my words his friendly face all but disappeared leaving a cold mask in its place. 'My father was one of those who tried to stop them. He survived but at the cost of an arm and an eye, only when he had healed did he take his own life. Those that go against these warriors return in two ways, dead or almost dead. Do not take this lightly.'

The innkeeper looked away for a moment and took a deep breath, 'I apologize for my rudeness. I wish you luck on your travels.'

With those words the innkeeper left. Placing the money for the rooms on the bar top Miranda and myself left and began our walk to the north side of town.

The sun had set and with it the village's only defense against the rolling fog was gone. With the darkness, the thick patches of cold fog began to flow through the now abandoned streets and alleys in between the houses and buildings.

Slowly from the dense fog a single figure emerges. A single man, walks along the streets in the north quarter. Miranda and myself watched from the shadows as the man moved slowly through the streets.

He was walking down the street when he stopped mid-stride tilting his head in one direction as if he had heard something. Suddenly out of the shadows another figure rushes out charging at full speed towards the man.

'It's the innkeeper.' Miranda states.

Not believing her, I looked closer at the attacking figure and sure enough it was the innkeeper. In his hands a short sword of some sort raised above his head, poised to strike. As he ran the battle cry escaping his lips grew in strength and passion. The man made no movement other than to adjust his body to face the charging innkeeper.

'You unholy beast!' The innkeeper bellowed, 'You killed my father!'

Closer and closer, he quickly covered the distance between himself and the 'beast.' His sword ready to strike, he lunged into the man swinging fiercely with precision and passion. Each swing was fast and unrelenting, his prowess with a sword unquestionable.

But the innkeeper's swings were not met by flesh and bone. They were met with the cool nothingness of air. The swings of his sword causing some of the passing fog to swirl and part. Each swing the man would avoid by the narrowest of margins. The emotionless mask of his face never revealing fear or apprehension of his opponent.

The innkeeper's stamina was considerable but not even a Slayer would have been able to keep the pace he was setting up for long. Soon the ferocity of the swings began to deteriorate. Clearly the innkeeper was beginning to tire. His face a mask of desperation because he had realized that he had yet to land a single hit on his target.

It was then I swear that I heard the man laugh.

Suddenly there was a blur of movement and the man was now behind the innkeeper, a sword of his own in hand. The innkeeper slowly sagged to his knees clutching his arm. It was only when I saw his sword land a few feet away, a hand still gripping the pommel, did I see the blood running down the man's blade.

The innkeeper's battle cry had now turned into cries of pain and suffering as he cradled his now handless arm.

The man slowly walked over to the innkeeper and raised his sword. As the sword began to come down I saw another blur of motion out of the corner of my eye. To my surprise it was Miranda running to save the innkeeper.

Just as the man's sword was about to come down and kill the innkeeper Miranda was able to knock the man out of the way saving the innkeeper. Miranda rolled out of the man's reach and over to the innkeeper's fallen sword. Prying his dead hand from the pommel Miranda hefted the sword to test it's balance and brought the sword up to the ready position.

The man slowly returned to his feet and straightened himself out. Looking over at Miranda he said to her, 'I don't think that is such a wise choice mortal.'

Miranda only sneered at the man and rushed him. Swinging the sword with all the precision her engrained Slayer prowess would allow.

As the man blocked the first blow a look of surprise crept onto his face. It seems that the man had never expected such strong opposition from such a small opponent. Miranda swung again and again only to find her sword intercepted at every turn. High swing, low swing, lunge, every movement was met by a block, parry or dodge.

While she had no success in landing any strikes on her opponent she was now bleeding out of several small wounds on her arms and legs. The man was toying with her; I knew at that point that Miranda had no chance to defeat this opponent.

None whatsoever.

'Geburael! Is this how you choose to face me?' The man shouts as he and Miranda fight. 'Is this how the Divine Power does battle? With weak mortals and young women?'

To prove his further dominance over Miranda, despite her enhanced Slayer strength and speed, the man began to move even faster, landing hit after hit on her arms and legs. Finding hole after hole in her defense and exploiting each and every one of them. Nothing she could do would stop him.

It was then that I decided to step beyond my boundaries and help my young ward. Hefting a small battle-axe from my sack, and I steeled myself and threw myself into the battle.

Miranda and I had trained for hours upon hours to help ready her for her calling and as I entered the deadly foray I realized that even with the two of us confronting this warrior we were overmatched.

We fought for what seemed to be ages until an opening finally opened up in favor of Miranda and myself. I was able to deflect the warrior's sword enough to allow Miranda an opportunity to score a hit on him. A deep cut across his guard shoulder enough to slow him down for a second.

We were rewarded with a momentary respite as the warrior quickly backed away to protect his injured arm. It should have been our moment of triumph, the moment where the fates would smile down on us and we would claim victory over this formidable warrior. However the next few seconds would crush any hope I had of victory.

The warrior looked up at us and instead of apprehension, instead worry or fear, what I saw on his face was a cold smile. It was at that moment I was truly humbled at what I saw: power, pure energy mending his wound before my very eyes.

I was humbled so much to the point that I could not move, my mind and body frozen in time. During that moment the warrior, completely healed, lunges at me his sword aimed at my stomach attempting to kill me with a single lunge. I watched as the sword came ever closer to me, I could not move to avoid the killing blow nor could I move to defend myself. So I closed my eyes and awaited the cold steel's entrance into my body.

But the cold intrusion never came. Instead of my own voice crying out in pain I hear Miranda's, looking down, instead of seeing my own entrails I see hers. She threw herself in front of me, saving my own life at the cost of her own.

Blood spurted from her body as he pulled his sword out of her. Without the added support from the sword Miranda no longer had the strength to stand on her own. I quickly moved forward and caught her body before she hit the ground. Her bleeding was profuse and I knew that she would not survive this battle.

'You mortals put up a good fight.' The warrior said to us, 'Far better than I would have expected from you, especially from her.' He said pointing at Miranda who was slowly dying in my arms.

'I actually wanted to kill you first because she was a much more entertaining adversary.' Flicking the blood off of his sword the man just sighed as he saw the enraged look on my face. 'Oh well, you shouldn't trouble yourself with it much longer you'll be following her soon.'

For a second time I watched as he raised his sword poised to strike me down where I sat motionless holding the dying form of my Slayer in my arms. Just as his arm reached its apex I heard a thunderous voice call out from the fog.

'BARAQYAL!'

The sound of the voice stopped the warrior's pending strike mid swing. The warrior slowly began to turn searching for the source of the voice, but the fog would not surrender the location of the voice's bearer.

'Geburael!' Baraqyal shouted into the fog. 'Geburael! Show yourself coward! I have already killed two of the three mortals you sent before you,' Baraqyal said to the unseen Geburael. 'If I must I will kill the last one as well!'

Suddenly, as if the fog had decided to relinquish its prize, the fog parted and a figure slowly approached our position sword in hand.

'I did not send them ahead of me.' Geburael stopped next to us and kneeled down at looked over Miranda and only sighed.

'Baraqyal,' Geburael said in a low and menacing voice, 'you know our battles are not meant for mortal eyes. How could you do this?'

'They attacked me, Geburael, in any case what do I care if a few mortals die?'

Geburael looked at me with sad eyes and said, 'I'm sorry.' I nod acknowledging his apology. With that he stands and turns to face Baraqyal.

'You have fallen too far Baraqyal, I have let you live on out of my own compassion and hopes that you would bring yourself to the right path again, but my compassion has been sadly misdirected. It ends tonight, Baraqyal.'

Baraqyal looked at Geburael with a smirk. 'It ends tonight?' he says with a laugh, 'You actually plan to kill me? You don't have the heart for it.'

'Maybe not, but I have the will for it.'

With his last remark Geburael threw himself into the other warrior, sword drawn and ready. Baraqyal was only barely able to bring his own blade up to block Geburael's attack. The first strike of metal upon metal rang through my ears with deafening clarity. I looked on in awe as sparks flew from where the blades would meet at every stroke, each blow faster and more powerful than the last.

The Watchers Council has been training Slayers since the beginning, teaching and guiding her through the ages. Their speed and strength heightened to aid in her holy quest to protect mankind. The Council had seen all matters of evil, human and demon and categorized their strengths and tiers of power. Until that night I had thought the most powerful beings on the planet were the higher demons released from the depths from hell, but that night I had witnessed two beings whose power surpassed even those horrible monsters.

The two beings continued to fight across the square; their blades occasionally hitting home and drawing blood for only the briefest of moments, until their power literally crackled from their wounds, closing them immediately. Their movements surpassing anything on the planet, human, Slayer or Demon, it seemed that they would do battle until the sun rose above the great peak.

However it would not be. Geburael's battle posture changed, where it was once an even battle it was now becoming more and more obvious that the battle was one sided. Geburael's dominance in the battle was becoming evident as he began to systematically tear apart Baraqyal's defense and completely negate any attempt of offense Baraqyal could muster.

Suddenly Gerburael's blade flashed in the moonlight and he lunged at Baraqyal. From my vantage point I could see that the point of Geburael's sword protruding from the Baraqyal's back. Removing his sword Geburael's blade flashes once again before Baraqyal could fall to his knees. Baraqyal and his sword hit the ground at the same time. Looking at the sword I see that there is still a hand clutching the pommel.

Looking up and seeing Geburael's face, I realized that he had put Baraqyal through what he put Miranda and the innkeeper through, his own form of poetic justice.

Geburael rests his sword on the back of Baraqyal's neck and says to him, 'Yield and repent for all you have done.'

Baraqyal looks at me and spits on the ground before he replies to Geburael's command, 'I would rather die!'

Geburael sighs and raises his sword, 'So be it.'

Geburael's sword flashes in the light one last time and Baraqyal's body slumps to the ground while his head rolls several lengths away.

As Geburael stepped away slowly from the body and head it almost seemed as if the fog was following him, chasing him. Geburael stopped suddenly and turned, to face Miranda and myself or the fog chasing him I'm not sure, but he turned and threw his sword point down into the ground leaving it there to stand.

To my amazement, I watched on as the fog began to circle around him. He would tilt his head from side to side eyeing the fog as it circled him. Suddenly he raised his arms slightly and a wind began to fill the street forcing me to shield Miranda and my eyes. Despite the strong wind though the fog circling around, Gaburael did not disperse.

It was then I first heard the scream emitted from Geburael, as he slowly began to levitate from the ground his arms outstretched like a bird taking flight. The wind became even stronger and my body tensed as it tried to reflexively turn away but I did not. It was because of that I did not miss what happened next; lightening from the heavens struck Geburael's body as it floated in the air. Then more and more energy streaked across the sky causing the wind to blow harder and harder.

To my amazement, I saw that most of the energy came from the Baraqyal's prone body. More and more energy poured from the body, as if his head were the dam holding all the energy within it.

The storm continued to gather strength and soon shutters on the windows were banging against the walls of the buildings lining the streets. I watched on in fear as the energy merely touching the shutters and doors as it lanced up and down the street caused them to explode or burst into flames. Soon the roofs of the buildings were on fire spreading fast, the building closest to Geburael was completely consumed by flames, the heat evident on my face.

As the building collapsed to the ground I felt a slight change in the wind. The urgency and power I had felt in it before was suddenly gone, and as suddenly as it began, everything stopped. Geburael fell to the ground, the wind once strong again died down to a calm breeze as before. Looking up and down the street I saw several buildings still on fire, every window blown open, every door torn off its hinges or on the ground.

And in the middle of the street the only movement was Geburael struggling to his feet. He walked over to his sword and replaced it to where he had it before, out of sight. He turned and saw me there still holding Miranda in my arms. He looked at me for a few moments longer and started towards us. In a panic I tried to move away, trying to drag Miranda with me. The force on her body was too much though and she let out a cry of pain.

'Still yourself Watcher, or do you wish to cause your ward more pain?' He said as he kneeled beside us. He brought his hand to her wound and then with sadness in his eyes he said to Miranda, 'I can do nothing for you, but know this; you have been avenged.'

Miranda merely nodded and closed her eyes. I could feel the breath leave her as she sagged in my arms, lifeless.

Geburael stood and looked down on me and said, 'Your ward is dead.' He began to walk away when he suddenly stopped and turned to me and said, 'What you have seen here was never meant for mortal eyes. Baraqyal has paid the price for that breech of conduct. Look upon what has happened here, look upon the corpse of your Slayer, look upon me and know that what I am, what Baraqyal was, is beyond you mortal. Look upon me and pray to whatever god that you worship that you never see me or my kind again. Our kind is beyond you, your Slayer and what ever cause you believe in so fiercely. Leave now and hope that what has happened here will never be witnessed by your kind again, or the next time you may not be so lucky.'

With that he turned and walked away, the smoke and fog enveloping him, causing him to disappear from sight.

It was only later did I find an explanation for what the two beings were that did battle that night. I had been researching in the great library trying to understand what they were and how they could possibly have so much power. For nearly a weeks time I poured through the records and books and still nothing could explain what they were. Not warlocks, wizards, demons or anything I could find in the old books.

There were times where other Watchers would come down and keep me company knowing the horrible ordeal I went through, witness to the death of my Slayer and so on, but I paid them no mind. I needed to find my answers and I would not stop until I had them.

Ironically it was one of the Watchers who had come to keep me company that helped me find my answers. He didn't help me with my research; rather he left the book he was reading on the table beside me.

In a moment of frustration I pulled away from yet another dead end and accidentally picked up the book he was reading. I realized it was the bible and almost tossed it aside until I saw a word on the page. It was the only word on the page that I could see but it suddenly made sense.

Seraphim.

The burning ones, I had watched as their wounds burn with raw power and I witnessed the release of that raw power burning all it touched. That is what they were, what else could give them so much power other than God himself?

After telling all this to the Council they told me to write it all down for posterities sake and told me that my words would be archived to warn the future councils of this great power. The Council then informed me that a new Slayer has been called to take on Miranda's mantle and that I would train her as well seeing my success with the prior Slayer.

Though Geburael had warned me of his kind and their power, one can only hope that they can witness it for themselves first hand. But most of all one can only hope that if this power is called forth again that it is not directed at one because perhaps it will be as Geburael said: next time might not be so lucky."

Travers looked up from the book and realized he had been in the room for quite awhile. Turning he jumped back in surprise as he saw Murdoch's form sitting in a chair by the lone table in the room.

"I remember how I felt when I first read that passage as well." He told Travers, "Your days are numbered Travers. Hope that when the Seraphim finds you that your death will be quick." Pushing away from the table Murdoch makes his way to the door. "Find the girl Travers, it may be the only way for you to find redemption."

The door closes leaving Travers alone with his own thoughts and fears.

"Sweet God in heaven, what have I done?" He whispers to himself as he contemplates how he is going to save himself this time.



.



Faith's eyes flutter open and she immediately sits up and screams, "XANDER!"

She can feel an arm push her down and she struggles weakly against it, her strength gone from the attack.

"Shhh, child lie down, you're still weak." Cassandra's voice tells her.

Her eyes regain focus as she looks at the immortal woman. "Xander."

"Is doing fine, he's resting right now, as you should be." Cassandra scolds.

"But."

"He is fine. Now lay down." Faith knows that she couldn't resist, even if she had the strength to, acquiesce to Cassandra. "Good. Now how do you feel?"

"Like a truck ran me over," She tells her sarcastically

"Honestly?" Cassandra asks.

"Like a truck honestly ran me over." Faith replies without a hint of sarcasm.

"You'll need to rest to get your strength back."

"Don't worry, I don't plan on moving from this bed anytime soon. Trust me, I have lots of experience with being confined to a bed."

"You should be up and about by tomorrow, but until then can you tell me what happened to you and Xander?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, one minute I was training and the next, flash! I'm skewered by a bolt of energy."

"Can you remember anything else, anything at all?' Cassandra pressed.

Faith closed her eyes and began to concentrate using the exercises Cassandra had taught to her to focus her mind and Slayer powers. "The energy.it sought me out. It came after me.and."

Cassandra looked on intently as Faith pulled the memory out from her mind, "and. it came after another.it came after.Buffy, it came after Buffy."

"The other Slayer?"

"Yes, the attack was meant for me and Buffy, when the energy hit after awhile I could feel Buffy there too."

"Then why did it come after Xander?"

"It didn't, Xander came after it," Faith explained and smiled. "He saw that I was in pain and charged to my rescue. So the energy tried to fight Xander off."

"But it couldn't?"

"I'm not sure, I blacked out from the pain before the end came. The only one who knows what happened after that is Xander."

"That's enough for now Faith. Get some rest. Sleep." Faith was tired enough that Cassandra didn't have to use the voice to force her into slumber but she felt it would allow her to rest peacefully until morning.

Standing up and walking to the door Cassandra makes her way down the stairs where Methos waited.

"What did she have to say?" he asked her.

"Only that the attack was meant for her and Buffy."

"That doesn't give us much to go on."

"No it doesn't. Maybe we should call Sunnydale and see if Buffy is okay." Cassandra says.

"We don't have a good reason to suspect that she isn't, plus we would throw suspicion on ourselves knowing that she was attacked as well. We can only assume that she is okay because Faith is fine as well."

"Well what do we do? Whoever did this could try again."

"I don't think so, this was a pretty big thing to pull off and I'm suspecting it was a one time shot. But it doesn't mean that they won't try anything else. We have to find out who was behind this."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"Research," Methos answers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Sighing, Cassandra follows Methos' retreating form, "Is it just me, but have you noticed that ever since these two have gotten together we've been doing a lot of research?"

"Come to think of it, yes," Methos answers, "And if their track record is any indication I'm sure that this is going to get quite interesting."

"I was afraid of that." Cassandra answers taking the book Adam had retrieved from the bag he had packed a few hours ago when he went back to the house to pick up a few things.

Sitting across from Methos, Cassandra opened up the book and began reading. It was going to be a long night.

.

Lauren Fletcher sits at her desk fingering a small picture as she downs another shot of scotch.

"I should have never let you go love," she says as she pours the rest of the scotch into her glass.

"But I'm going to find you, I promise. So many have died already, I didn't mean for them to die, I swear. It's just that I had to find you, and now that she's out there she'll lead me right to you."

She finishes the scotch and places the glass and the picture on her desk before passing out. The flames from the nearby fireplace reflect off of the glass in the frame, despite that the picture is still clear.

In the frame is a picture of Lauren and Jacob Fletcher, they are both smiling and happy in their youth, and in her arms is a small baby. This picture is the exact same as the portrait hanging above the fireplace, except in the portrait the baby that is in the picture is not there.