Summary: When an unforeseen evil once again threatens to destroy the world,
Buffy and the gang, along with some unexpected help, join together to
release a reluctant champion from the clutches of hell. But will he be the
prophesized savior or will he destroy them all?
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Eight
We are Watchers. Buffy felt as though someone had pulled the plug on her emotions as all the anger seeped out to be replaced by confusion. Her mind reeled in mental summersaults in a futile attempt to keep up. How could they possibly be Watchers? She'd met Watchers and they had a tendency of being stuffy middle-aged British men with a disturbing affinity for tweed. By a stretch of her imagination she could probably believe that there were black Watchers, maybe even women Watchers. And who knew, the council might even keep non-tweed wearing Watchers on the sidelines just to keep things interesting. But demon Watchers? That was pushing things a bit too far. She would bet her life that the council had a strict policy against something like that. Then again, she could have betted her life that she was the only Slayer in her generation. "Huh?" She finally managed to utter. Over all she was quite proud of her reaction.
The elders watched her carefully, assessing her emotions and reactions, "did you know that nothing in this world has true immortality?" The dark vampire asked.
She stared at him, "try signaling before taking sharp conversational turns," she said acidly. "You lost me."
A shadow of a smile flickered across his pale face and was gone before Buffy could even be sure it was there in the first place. His blue eyes, however, glimmered with humor, "point taken. However, if you bear with me for a bit I'm sure things will become clearer." Yeah, I doubt that, Buffy thought. If anything she had never felt so confused in her life. "Nothing is truly immortal," he repeated, "not man, not the earth, not even demons, although they claim to be. What happens to a body whose demon dies, Slayer? What happens to all the power suffused in its once living cells?" She shook her head wordlessly, a terrible suspicion crawling through her bewildered brain. The dark elder crossed the room with feline grace, not quite invading Buffy's personal space, but way too close for comfort. "Does it die?" He hissed, "does it become a walking, soulless corpse? A ghoul? Or does it get its soul back and live happily ever after?"
Cold sweat began to drip down Buffy's spine, her throat clenched with dry fear as she stared at the elder with wide-eyed horror. "Gerrico!" The cry sounded like a command. The dark elder immediately tensed as the pale woman strode over with a warrior's gate. "Stop it, you're scaring the child," she said more softly.
Gerrico nodded, "I apologize," he said smoothly. "I wanted you to be aware of the questions we have been trying to answer over time." So much time, he left unsaid.
"Your demon's died?" The Slayer asked with wonder, searching Gerrico's face for an answer. He nodded. "Your soul, is it..."
"Not as far as I can tell," he replied gruffly turning away from her toward the fireplace.
She shook her head, this day was just too shock filled for her fragile state of mind. Confusion always linked its way back to anger in her mind, and although her reason knew it was stupid, her mouth already formed a verbal assault. "So your demon dies and you're thinking what to do with all the time you have left and come up with Watcher?" Her body tensed awaiting a violent reaction at her distrust, "I don't think so."
Gerrico smiled, "it wasn't quite that simple. But first you must consider; is a demon incapable of love? Is a man with a soul instantly devoid of evil? Where is the line drawn between a soul and a mind?" Buffy swallowed hard thinking of Spike's tenderness towards Drusilla and human abominations she had the misfortune to encounter. "Nothing is completely black or white, Slayer. We live in a world of gray and it is that world we ache to preserve."
"But Watchers?"
A look passed between Gerrico and the pale woman, one of hurtful memories and absolute trust. "Go ahead, Gammina," Gerrico conceded. "You tell it better anyway."
Gammina nodded and as she moved away from the fire Buffy noticed that her pale hair was a near white, drawing a veil of age over her otherwise youthful features. "A long time after our demons died we wandered, searching for a purpose. Most died along the way, unable to live without the powerful emotions and cruel reason that the demon had to offer." Buffy sensed rather then heard the faint rush of longing in Gammina's voice. "Few joined us, the idea of a lonely life terrifying them into instant trust. In time we became a family of sorts, avoiding both vampires and mankind, for we truly belonged to neither."
Gammina's pale features gleamed in the firelight, her beauty magnified with golden shadows. Buffy pushed down a pang of jealousy, she was beautiful and would remain so for the rest of her life. "It was pure chance that Anna stumbled along our way, beaten and dying, a little girl whose family had been killed by vampires."
"And you saved her," Buffy stated firmly, starting to understand where this was going.
Gerrico nodded, "and you can't help wondering why. How can a soulless being feel compassion? Why would a former demon help save a child of a race he once slaughtered?" His voice was tinged with unfathomable sadness, an old loss. "The answer, like most things is simpler than it appears. Life, in all its forms, is a precious thing. Especially to ones such as ourselves."
Buffy nodded, willing to accept. "And so we helped her," Gammina went on as though Gerrico's interruption had never occurred. "And we watched as wounds she had no chance of surviving healed quickly, as her body grew stronger than it should have."
"She was a Slayer," Buffy said softly, her own protective instincts awakened for a child Slayer that had long since died.
"She was a Slayer," Gammina confirmed. Gerrico turned away from them unwilling or unable to listen to the rest of the story. "They were nothing more than a myth back then, a story used to scare fledgling vampires at the break of dawn. But there were female children whose blood was infused with power, and there were vampire hunters who set out to find those children believing that drinking from them would make them strong." Gammina shook her head sadly, "We had always believed that that was what happened to Anna and her family. How the child managed to survive is still a mystery."
"They died quickly back then, some never survived the first week after they were called." Gerrico said, suppressed sorrow sliding off his voice. "Some never even realized they had been called before they died."
Buffy suppressed a shudder, thinking how easily that could have happened to her, had the Watcher's council never approached her. "She hated vampires with a vengeance, every one of them a direct reminder to those who had murdered her family. Yet she stayed with us after she healed, despite her knowing what we were, what we used to be," a soft smile played upon Gammina's delicate lips. "She was a true creature of contradiction. We did what we could for her, we taught her to fight, to kill, and to become the woman of power she was destined to be. We researched for her, becoming the first Watchers in history." Ironic much? Buffy thought looking at the former demons. "She became the most formidable Slayer in history, the demons she slew never standing a chance against a force such as her. She died shortly after her first grandchild was born, her family all around her."
Gerrico turned to stare at the flames, his blue eyes lost in memories. He loved her, Buffy realized with a flash of insight. "How long ago was this?" She asked.
"Over a millennia ago," Gammina replied softly. She glanced over at the hurting elder with compassion in her eyes, "her death pains him still."
They stood in respectful silence for several moments while Buffy's mind churned over the implications of a Slayer raised by former demons. Then a single frightening thought banished away all others. "Does Giles know?" She demanded, her voice sounding shrill in the hushed room.
Gammina shook her head, "very few of the council know of our existence. At first Anna's daughters and their families became the first human Watchers, despite her wishes," her eyes gentled at the memory. "They were quite possibly as stubborn as she was. Later, as the bloodline dwindled, we found it necessary to pull apart from the council, remaining in contact with few of its high-ranking members." She shook her head, her white-blonde hair gleaming brightly, "the irony of fighting demons while led by ones such as ourselves was too great for some to accept."
"So you've remained in contact from afar," Buffy said, trying not to think about Giles and what this information would do to him. "Helping only when you found it necessary, which would of course, explain what you're doing in a camp full of vampires with their demons firmly intact."
"It was the lesser of two evils," Gerrico said dangerously, his eyes flashing blue fire. Be careful of this one, Buffy's mind demanded. "This way we also gained a place in vampire society, guiding their actions as well as the council's in preparation for this day."
"You knew this day was coming?" Buffy accused.
Gerrico nodded, "Angelus' name was written in the skies long before he had even been born. It has always been his destiny to free the Evil One, destroying her is a different matter altogether."
"He must choose to destroy her," Gammina chimed in, drawing Buffy's attention away from the elder's hypnotic blue eyes. "Of his own free will. But he must also have the power to do it and that can come only of Cirta herself."
"At the present his will is fragile, worn away by grief and trauma. She aches to empower him, to corrupt him, to make him her own. She must be allowed to do so, it is the only way he will be able to gain the power he needs for her destruction."
Buffy's will seemed to crumble away to dust under the force of the elder's gazes, "I can't," she whispered.
"But he will grow stronger," Gerrico boomed on regardless of her small protest. "His love for you will sustain him, bringing death to us all. That is why he must believe in your unlove for him, he must fall into Cirta's embrace while he is at his weakest."
"I can't," her voice couldn't even carry across the room.
"You must betray him or the world will become what it once was and all will be lost."
"I can't!" Her cry echoed through the room stunning them all into momentary silence.
"But you will," Gammina stated firmly, coldly, all traces of her former compassion evaporated as though it had never existed. "You are the Slayer. It is not WHAT you are, it is WHO you are. That choice was made long ago. You are defined by it as easily as it is defined by you. This betrayal is a part of that choice that you have made as you condemned your lover to hell."
She shook her head wildly, blindly, golden locks flailing about her pale face. She needed direction, she needed to talk to Giles. The thought of her Watcher brought cold fear into her heart. He gave his adult life to the council, finding out that it was led by demons from the start could destroy him, "Giles, my Watcher," she started.
"Telling your Watcher of this is your choice to make," Gerrico said indifferently. "Keep in mind, however, that he too is needed to guide us through these times."
"I need time to think about this," she gasped, struggling to control her jumbled thoughts.
Gammina nodded, compassion returning to her eyes, erasing all traces of her former callousness. "Choose quickly, Slayer. Time is slipping away for all of us. Someone will be waiting outside to take you back to Sunnydale."
Buffy nodded, realizing she was dismissed. With her shoulders slumped and her spirit crushed she made her way out the room.
**************
Angel paced the mansion restlessly. His impatient body moved with feline grace as he crossed the dimly lit room for the umpteenth time that evening. Thoughts raced through his feverish mind, fragments of memory and illusion as he tried to dismiss what his body demanded, what his mind cried out for, what his soul ached.
The taste of Spike's blood was still on his lips, tantalizing him, seducing him all the more. He hadn't even thought of taking his childe's blood, but the feel of Spike's mouth on his neck, the pressure of Spike's body against his own and the sight of his smooth, pale neck just begging to be plundered was more then he could handle. And, of course, there were the memories. It wasn't the first time they had done something like that, although the last time was lost in ancient memory.
He continued pacing, his body moving with deadly grace as he tried to shrug away temptation. He didn't want Spike's blood, he'd had enough of that. He wanted someone else's. Someone living.
"You cannot dismiss what you are!" The voice sounded in the confines of his mind. He froze, his foot stopping in mid pace giving him the appearance of a startled ballet dancer. "You are a demon, take pride in that!"
Angel snarled, his shock won over by rage at the intrusion into his mind. "Who are you?" He demanded, his face slipping into that of a demon.
The voice sounded amused, though no less commanding, "you know me Angelus!" It boomed, "I was the earth shuddering at the day of your birth and I was the sky weeping at the sight of your death. I watched you walk the earth and writhe in hell. I am yours as you are mine!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial as his eyes sought out a physical threat. His fists clenched as his body tensed, a soft deadly growl oozed out of his throat promising a painful death to the one who dared to do this.
"I dare, Angelus!" The voice cried out with ecstasy. "You are mine and I dare! I dare to grant you power!" The voice rose to an unbearable crescendo. "I dare to give you the world!" Angel dropped to his knees, his eyes and mouth clenched tightly shut, his hands clasped against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the deafening roar from his mind. "And all I want in return is you!"
Blood began to drip through his fingers, his eyes felt as though they would burst. "No!" He grated through lips wounded by his own fangs. He had no reason to object other than for objection's sake. He would not submit to anyone like this, the demon in him refused it as well as the man.
He could feel a flicker of annoyance at his renunciation, "I gave you life!" The voice cried out, "And now I give you power!"
He could feel his blood begin to boil as power coursed its way through his veins. His elbows connected with the floor effectively curling him up into a defensive shell as an incessant fire burned through his body. "CAN YOU FEEL IT?" The voice rose higher into the realms of insanity as Angel screamed out his agony. "CAN YOU FEEL THE POWER?"
The sky engulfed him, he could feel it tearing into him, demanding him even as the earth pulled him back down, claiming him as its own. He was torn, caught in a tug of war between two divine entities that could rip him to shreds. He shrieked with fear, a wounded animal unable to control his reactions. "YOU HAVE THE POWER. COMMAND THEM AND THEY SHALL BE YOURS!"
"Enough!" He cried out. Thunder roared furiously and the ground shook, but the tug of war on his mind stopped. A slow, feral smile spread across his pallid features. Tentatively he reached out his mind towards the heavens and laughed as thunder crashed about him in reward. Somewhere in the distance windows shattered and car alarms wailed. He reached towards the earth and felt it shudder with expectant lust under his touch.
With a cry that would have sent a brave man crashing fearfully to his knees he took them both at once. Power flowed through him with a force that would have torn a lesser man apart. His skin glowed as sky and earth submitted to his will, allowing him to do with them as he pleased. With a wild snarl he ran out the mansion into the sudden downpour of the Sunnydale night.
The hunter roamed the dark streets of the Sunnydale night, his golden, predatory eyes glimmering in the harsh electric lights. Hard rain cooled his feverish body, the violent downpour embracing him with an ethereal veil of silvery illusion.
The hunter moved with deadly grace, rain sliding off him as though it was nonexistent. His senses were attuned with the night, as befitting a creature of darkness such as he, searching, aching for a victim.
His body slid into a crouch as a familiar scent hit his senses, his fingers curling into lethal claws. He recognized that scent for what it was; weakness and fear, a human knowing it was threatened on the most primal of senses, a sentient mind regressing instinctively into prey. A snarl escaped the hunter's taut lips, a vibrant eagerness sizzling through his body at the prospect of attacking, of giving chase, of the first lethal lunge that would end a life at his hands.
He started to run, his eagerness for the kill, the taste of warm blood overcoming caution. A harsh electric light caught his golden eyes, exposing the animalistic frenzy hidden within the hunter's soul. He passed a corner and froze, his face lifting slightly, as he tasted the night air. There was another hunter out this night, a challenging snarl escaped his lips at the thought of his prey being snatched away from him.
The consenting growl soothed away the tension in his hard body. An almost soft smile played across the hunter's lips. He knew this other hunter and was gladdened for he would not need to hunt alone this night.
They moved as one, although they could not see each other in the rain, silent predators hunting a weakened prey. Between the two of them there would be no chase this night, but that was also for the best, as the demand for the taste of blood grew fiercer in the dark hunter's heightened awareness.
Through the silvery veil of rain he could see his prey, old and defeated yet living nonetheless. The hunters lunged as one, an unspoken thought guiding their actions, moving them like choreographed dancers in the complex ballet of life and death.
They attacked from either side, their victim moaned once with denial before succumbing to the hunters' superior strength. Locked firmly by the two predators, pressed against them from either side as the rain slithered down their bodies, he understood in a primitive part of his mind that he was already lost. To an outside observer they would look in the distance like a single body undulating madly in their bloody, deadly orgy. The two hunters latched on to their victim's throat, pale hair mingling lecherously with dark as a human life played the buffer in their wicked passions.
Their dying prey snapped his eyes open to look death in the face. In a single moment of clarity as the blood drained from his body through twin wounds he looked upon the face of his destruction and cried out with awe at the golden, animalistic eyes that stared back. In that moment all the legends and myths of his childhood came floating back and he wept as he became a believer.
None of that mattered to the hunter as the life-blood of another filled his mouth and coursed through his veins. It was stale and tepid, the blood of an old man, but it was filled with the sweet compensation of life and terror. And the long forgotten closeness of his brother to the hunt was worth the imperfect prey. He could feel the strong pulse weakening under his ministrations, fluttering slower before coming to a dead halt.
Only then did the lifeless corpse drop to the ground in a discarded heap of wasted life. The hunters gazed at each other, the hard rain plastering their hair to their heads, their clothes to their bodies. It cleaned the blood smeared across their faces, wiped away all evidence of a crime. There was still ferocious exultation in the golden, demonic eyes, an unnatural ecstasy of a life taken for the simple pleasure of another.
White lightning blazed fiercely above their heads, to be followed moments later by crashing thunder. The pale hunter blinked, blinded momentarily by nature's pyrotechnics, then frowned irritably as he looked upon the horrified face of his former brother to the hunt.
"Oh my God," Angel whispered, his sickened human eyes locked unto the lifeless corpse at his feet. He took an involuntary step back, his head shaking in futile attempt to deny what he had done. "Oh my God!"
Spike shook his head with disgust, his face slipping back into his human mask as he watched his revolted sire. "There is no God here!" He hissed through clenched teeth.
"No!" Angel cried, his feet moving back, instinctively seeking escape. He tripped over a pile of garbage and fell with a crash on the wet refuse, still unable to take his eyes off the murdered victim.
"Yes!" Spike growled. "This is what you are, accept that!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial, violently forcing himself to look into the face of his angered childe. The rain weakened into a soft drizzle, bouncing happily off the vampires. "I can't accept it." He looked back at the lifeless body, his face contorted with nausea, "not this!"
"You're still as pathetic as you used to be!" Spike accused watching the play of emotions across his sire's face. "Just get out of here, you old poof!"
"What about...?" Angel nudged his head towards their victim.
"We were never here," Spike instructed. "The Slayer will stake my ass for this if she finds out."
"Buffy..." Another wave of panic rushed through Angel's expressive features.
Spike rolled his eyes, "tell her what you want, mate. As for me, I was never here." He walked away muttering in disgruntlement as the telltale sounds of retching echoed in his sharp ears.
**************
Buffy stared listlessly out the car window watching the rain, her head banging slightly against the glass at every bump in the road. Her driver had turned out to be a tight-lipped middle-aged vampire that kept a wary distance from her by keeping the glass between the front seat and the back firmly shut.
More than anything in the world she ached to tell Giles about what she had learned. She wanted him to listen carefully as he poured her some hot tea from that thermos he always carried around, and fed her those moldy biscuits he liked so much. Crumpets, she mentally corrected herself, smiling softly at the thought of the indignant expression on his imagined face at her crude error. Most of all she wanted him to open up one of his musty old tomes and find a solution to her problems, preferably one that allowed her to beat the crap out of a certain Evil One, a.k.a. Cirta.
But she couldn't tell him anything, the thought of the hurt she would see in his intelligent gray eyes cut her to the quick. Was it a betrayal to deny someone information that would hurt them? She mused, chewing thoughtfully on a lock of golden hair. The problem, well one of them anyway, was that not telling Giles immediately excluded telling anyone else. Xander was too prejudiced against vampires to even consider trusting the elders, and Willow, while open minded, would blanch at the thought of taking such a tremendous risk as betraying Angel.
She shook her head firmly, betraying Angel was not even an option. She had already made that decision. The question was could she really trust the elders. Her mouth chewed her hair enthusiastically as she considered that idea. She was forcefully pulled out of her reverie by a particularly nasty bump in the road that sent her nose banging against the cold car window. She frowned as she rubbed her nose, glaring at the offending window for a moment before realizing they were in midtown Sunnydale.
As she got her bearings a slow smile spread across her face, the answer to most of her questions was right under her nose, so to speak. "Stop here!" The car skidded to a stop on screeching tires, the driver eager to let her out of the car and hopefully his life.
Buffy glanced at the sky as she stepped out of the car straight into a puddle, deliberately ignoring the way the driver pushed the pedal to the metal as soon as she banged the car door shut. Dawn was still a good hour away, Willie will not be a happy camper. With that thought in mind she deliberately walked into Willie's bar.
Willie glanced up indifferently as she walked inside, the drink he was pouring neatly slipped from his hands to spill on his foot as his brain registered the sight of her. "Slayer!" The little man cried with mock enthusiasm, "would you look at that, it's the Slayer!"
Buffy glanced around as most of the bar's more questionable occupants shuffled out the dimly lit place. "Looks like I'm Miss Popularity tonight," she deadpanned.
The short bartender was not amused, "I thought we'd agreed you'd stay away during business hours, kid," he said irritably.
"This is important!"
"So is keeping my business running on the off-chance the world keeps on turning tomorrow!" She opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but he held his hand up signaling her to wait till the last of his demonic customers filed out the bar.
"Aren't you ever worried one of them will turn on you?" She asked with real interest as her eyes locked to the retreating back of a particularly nasty looking demon.
He shrugged, "even baddies need a place to do their drinking, kid," he replied. "A place where everybody knows your name," his eyes took on a slightly dreamy look.
"And they're always glad you came," she snickered. I wonder if anyone ever shouts out 'Norm' in here, she thought. "Do you know what's been going on?" She inquired when the bar finally emptied out.
Willie shook his head, "didn't really try to find out. All I know is it's something really bad that's got the scary things shaking." The little man shook his head ruefully, "when the scary things get scared you know things are really getting scary." He frowned, trying to make sense of his own twisted logic, "so to speak," he finally added lamely.
Buffy nodded, "yeah, I know all about that." She gave him a hard look, "believe me, it's better not knowing about this one. I need to ask you about something else, though. The elders, tell me what you know about them."
Surprised eyebrows lifted as Willie considered her question, "the vampire elders are in this?" He asked with a shudder. "Now there's a group of people I wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley at night."
"Why not?"
"This is Sunnydale," he reminded her. "And besides," he said blandly, "I'm not that fond of dark allies." He smiled as she grimaced, "maybe it's better not to be in the know sometimes, especially if people that powerful are involved," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know much about them," he admitted, "they're kind of an aloof bunch, tend to stay away from the common trash that comes in here. I know they're well respected, though. And feared too," he added as an afterthought. "I think most vampires would rather kiss the break of dawn then face off with one of those guys."
People, Buffy corrected mentally, there are also women in that 'aloof bunch'. "Do they have a lot of control?" She asked.
The small man nodded enthusiastically, "the story goes that they once forced an entire renegade clan to stake themselves." He paused as Buffy whistled respectfully through her teeth. "In the sun," he added dryly. "You don't get much opposition after a story like that." Buffy fidgeted, aching to ask the question she really wanted an answer to. Willie watched her for several sympathetic moments, "go ahead, kid. I'm not gonna tell anybody." He shrugged at her skeptical look, "hey, we all want to live," he explained.
Buffy sighed with resignation, "can they be trusted?" She finally asked.
The little bartender seemed genuinely surprised, "with that much power at their fingertips, what reason would they have to lie?" He asked.
She thought about that, "manipulation?" She suggested.
His hand waved dismissively, "manipulation's for the weak," he replied. "With that much power you can just take what you want. No fuss no muss."
Buffy frowned, yet more things she had to think about, "thanks Willie," she muttered as she turned to leave. "Sorry about the customers," she tossed as an afterthought.
"Hey, kid!" He called as she reached the door, "I heard you got Angel out of hell. How is he?"
Buffy froze, she hadn't expected the little snitch to know about that. This was bad, this was very bad, it meant Angel might not be as safe as she thought he was if the wrong people knew he had returned. Despite her fears she saw real concern in Willie's face. "I don't know," she replied truthfully.
The little man nodded in sympathy, "good luck, kid," he muttered as the petite blonde Slayer left his bar.
The rain had slowed into a tickling drizzle leaving feather-light kisses on her skin. It was only then that her mind registered the obvious, "since when does it rain in Sunnydale in the fall?" She asked out loud. Shaking her head with wonder she made her way to school through the early morning light.
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Eight
We are Watchers. Buffy felt as though someone had pulled the plug on her emotions as all the anger seeped out to be replaced by confusion. Her mind reeled in mental summersaults in a futile attempt to keep up. How could they possibly be Watchers? She'd met Watchers and they had a tendency of being stuffy middle-aged British men with a disturbing affinity for tweed. By a stretch of her imagination she could probably believe that there were black Watchers, maybe even women Watchers. And who knew, the council might even keep non-tweed wearing Watchers on the sidelines just to keep things interesting. But demon Watchers? That was pushing things a bit too far. She would bet her life that the council had a strict policy against something like that. Then again, she could have betted her life that she was the only Slayer in her generation. "Huh?" She finally managed to utter. Over all she was quite proud of her reaction.
The elders watched her carefully, assessing her emotions and reactions, "did you know that nothing in this world has true immortality?" The dark vampire asked.
She stared at him, "try signaling before taking sharp conversational turns," she said acidly. "You lost me."
A shadow of a smile flickered across his pale face and was gone before Buffy could even be sure it was there in the first place. His blue eyes, however, glimmered with humor, "point taken. However, if you bear with me for a bit I'm sure things will become clearer." Yeah, I doubt that, Buffy thought. If anything she had never felt so confused in her life. "Nothing is truly immortal," he repeated, "not man, not the earth, not even demons, although they claim to be. What happens to a body whose demon dies, Slayer? What happens to all the power suffused in its once living cells?" She shook her head wordlessly, a terrible suspicion crawling through her bewildered brain. The dark elder crossed the room with feline grace, not quite invading Buffy's personal space, but way too close for comfort. "Does it die?" He hissed, "does it become a walking, soulless corpse? A ghoul? Or does it get its soul back and live happily ever after?"
Cold sweat began to drip down Buffy's spine, her throat clenched with dry fear as she stared at the elder with wide-eyed horror. "Gerrico!" The cry sounded like a command. The dark elder immediately tensed as the pale woman strode over with a warrior's gate. "Stop it, you're scaring the child," she said more softly.
Gerrico nodded, "I apologize," he said smoothly. "I wanted you to be aware of the questions we have been trying to answer over time." So much time, he left unsaid.
"Your demon's died?" The Slayer asked with wonder, searching Gerrico's face for an answer. He nodded. "Your soul, is it..."
"Not as far as I can tell," he replied gruffly turning away from her toward the fireplace.
She shook her head, this day was just too shock filled for her fragile state of mind. Confusion always linked its way back to anger in her mind, and although her reason knew it was stupid, her mouth already formed a verbal assault. "So your demon dies and you're thinking what to do with all the time you have left and come up with Watcher?" Her body tensed awaiting a violent reaction at her distrust, "I don't think so."
Gerrico smiled, "it wasn't quite that simple. But first you must consider; is a demon incapable of love? Is a man with a soul instantly devoid of evil? Where is the line drawn between a soul and a mind?" Buffy swallowed hard thinking of Spike's tenderness towards Drusilla and human abominations she had the misfortune to encounter. "Nothing is completely black or white, Slayer. We live in a world of gray and it is that world we ache to preserve."
"But Watchers?"
A look passed between Gerrico and the pale woman, one of hurtful memories and absolute trust. "Go ahead, Gammina," Gerrico conceded. "You tell it better anyway."
Gammina nodded and as she moved away from the fire Buffy noticed that her pale hair was a near white, drawing a veil of age over her otherwise youthful features. "A long time after our demons died we wandered, searching for a purpose. Most died along the way, unable to live without the powerful emotions and cruel reason that the demon had to offer." Buffy sensed rather then heard the faint rush of longing in Gammina's voice. "Few joined us, the idea of a lonely life terrifying them into instant trust. In time we became a family of sorts, avoiding both vampires and mankind, for we truly belonged to neither."
Gammina's pale features gleamed in the firelight, her beauty magnified with golden shadows. Buffy pushed down a pang of jealousy, she was beautiful and would remain so for the rest of her life. "It was pure chance that Anna stumbled along our way, beaten and dying, a little girl whose family had been killed by vampires."
"And you saved her," Buffy stated firmly, starting to understand where this was going.
Gerrico nodded, "and you can't help wondering why. How can a soulless being feel compassion? Why would a former demon help save a child of a race he once slaughtered?" His voice was tinged with unfathomable sadness, an old loss. "The answer, like most things is simpler than it appears. Life, in all its forms, is a precious thing. Especially to ones such as ourselves."
Buffy nodded, willing to accept. "And so we helped her," Gammina went on as though Gerrico's interruption had never occurred. "And we watched as wounds she had no chance of surviving healed quickly, as her body grew stronger than it should have."
"She was a Slayer," Buffy said softly, her own protective instincts awakened for a child Slayer that had long since died.
"She was a Slayer," Gammina confirmed. Gerrico turned away from them unwilling or unable to listen to the rest of the story. "They were nothing more than a myth back then, a story used to scare fledgling vampires at the break of dawn. But there were female children whose blood was infused with power, and there were vampire hunters who set out to find those children believing that drinking from them would make them strong." Gammina shook her head sadly, "We had always believed that that was what happened to Anna and her family. How the child managed to survive is still a mystery."
"They died quickly back then, some never survived the first week after they were called." Gerrico said, suppressed sorrow sliding off his voice. "Some never even realized they had been called before they died."
Buffy suppressed a shudder, thinking how easily that could have happened to her, had the Watcher's council never approached her. "She hated vampires with a vengeance, every one of them a direct reminder to those who had murdered her family. Yet she stayed with us after she healed, despite her knowing what we were, what we used to be," a soft smile played upon Gammina's delicate lips. "She was a true creature of contradiction. We did what we could for her, we taught her to fight, to kill, and to become the woman of power she was destined to be. We researched for her, becoming the first Watchers in history." Ironic much? Buffy thought looking at the former demons. "She became the most formidable Slayer in history, the demons she slew never standing a chance against a force such as her. She died shortly after her first grandchild was born, her family all around her."
Gerrico turned to stare at the flames, his blue eyes lost in memories. He loved her, Buffy realized with a flash of insight. "How long ago was this?" She asked.
"Over a millennia ago," Gammina replied softly. She glanced over at the hurting elder with compassion in her eyes, "her death pains him still."
They stood in respectful silence for several moments while Buffy's mind churned over the implications of a Slayer raised by former demons. Then a single frightening thought banished away all others. "Does Giles know?" She demanded, her voice sounding shrill in the hushed room.
Gammina shook her head, "very few of the council know of our existence. At first Anna's daughters and their families became the first human Watchers, despite her wishes," her eyes gentled at the memory. "They were quite possibly as stubborn as she was. Later, as the bloodline dwindled, we found it necessary to pull apart from the council, remaining in contact with few of its high-ranking members." She shook her head, her white-blonde hair gleaming brightly, "the irony of fighting demons while led by ones such as ourselves was too great for some to accept."
"So you've remained in contact from afar," Buffy said, trying not to think about Giles and what this information would do to him. "Helping only when you found it necessary, which would of course, explain what you're doing in a camp full of vampires with their demons firmly intact."
"It was the lesser of two evils," Gerrico said dangerously, his eyes flashing blue fire. Be careful of this one, Buffy's mind demanded. "This way we also gained a place in vampire society, guiding their actions as well as the council's in preparation for this day."
"You knew this day was coming?" Buffy accused.
Gerrico nodded, "Angelus' name was written in the skies long before he had even been born. It has always been his destiny to free the Evil One, destroying her is a different matter altogether."
"He must choose to destroy her," Gammina chimed in, drawing Buffy's attention away from the elder's hypnotic blue eyes. "Of his own free will. But he must also have the power to do it and that can come only of Cirta herself."
"At the present his will is fragile, worn away by grief and trauma. She aches to empower him, to corrupt him, to make him her own. She must be allowed to do so, it is the only way he will be able to gain the power he needs for her destruction."
Buffy's will seemed to crumble away to dust under the force of the elder's gazes, "I can't," she whispered.
"But he will grow stronger," Gerrico boomed on regardless of her small protest. "His love for you will sustain him, bringing death to us all. That is why he must believe in your unlove for him, he must fall into Cirta's embrace while he is at his weakest."
"I can't," her voice couldn't even carry across the room.
"You must betray him or the world will become what it once was and all will be lost."
"I can't!" Her cry echoed through the room stunning them all into momentary silence.
"But you will," Gammina stated firmly, coldly, all traces of her former compassion evaporated as though it had never existed. "You are the Slayer. It is not WHAT you are, it is WHO you are. That choice was made long ago. You are defined by it as easily as it is defined by you. This betrayal is a part of that choice that you have made as you condemned your lover to hell."
She shook her head wildly, blindly, golden locks flailing about her pale face. She needed direction, she needed to talk to Giles. The thought of her Watcher brought cold fear into her heart. He gave his adult life to the council, finding out that it was led by demons from the start could destroy him, "Giles, my Watcher," she started.
"Telling your Watcher of this is your choice to make," Gerrico said indifferently. "Keep in mind, however, that he too is needed to guide us through these times."
"I need time to think about this," she gasped, struggling to control her jumbled thoughts.
Gammina nodded, compassion returning to her eyes, erasing all traces of her former callousness. "Choose quickly, Slayer. Time is slipping away for all of us. Someone will be waiting outside to take you back to Sunnydale."
Buffy nodded, realizing she was dismissed. With her shoulders slumped and her spirit crushed she made her way out the room.
**************
Angel paced the mansion restlessly. His impatient body moved with feline grace as he crossed the dimly lit room for the umpteenth time that evening. Thoughts raced through his feverish mind, fragments of memory and illusion as he tried to dismiss what his body demanded, what his mind cried out for, what his soul ached.
The taste of Spike's blood was still on his lips, tantalizing him, seducing him all the more. He hadn't even thought of taking his childe's blood, but the feel of Spike's mouth on his neck, the pressure of Spike's body against his own and the sight of his smooth, pale neck just begging to be plundered was more then he could handle. And, of course, there were the memories. It wasn't the first time they had done something like that, although the last time was lost in ancient memory.
He continued pacing, his body moving with deadly grace as he tried to shrug away temptation. He didn't want Spike's blood, he'd had enough of that. He wanted someone else's. Someone living.
"You cannot dismiss what you are!" The voice sounded in the confines of his mind. He froze, his foot stopping in mid pace giving him the appearance of a startled ballet dancer. "You are a demon, take pride in that!"
Angel snarled, his shock won over by rage at the intrusion into his mind. "Who are you?" He demanded, his face slipping into that of a demon.
The voice sounded amused, though no less commanding, "you know me Angelus!" It boomed, "I was the earth shuddering at the day of your birth and I was the sky weeping at the sight of your death. I watched you walk the earth and writhe in hell. I am yours as you are mine!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial as his eyes sought out a physical threat. His fists clenched as his body tensed, a soft deadly growl oozed out of his throat promising a painful death to the one who dared to do this.
"I dare, Angelus!" The voice cried out with ecstasy. "You are mine and I dare! I dare to grant you power!" The voice rose to an unbearable crescendo. "I dare to give you the world!" Angel dropped to his knees, his eyes and mouth clenched tightly shut, his hands clasped against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the deafening roar from his mind. "And all I want in return is you!"
Blood began to drip through his fingers, his eyes felt as though they would burst. "No!" He grated through lips wounded by his own fangs. He had no reason to object other than for objection's sake. He would not submit to anyone like this, the demon in him refused it as well as the man.
He could feel a flicker of annoyance at his renunciation, "I gave you life!" The voice cried out, "And now I give you power!"
He could feel his blood begin to boil as power coursed its way through his veins. His elbows connected with the floor effectively curling him up into a defensive shell as an incessant fire burned through his body. "CAN YOU FEEL IT?" The voice rose higher into the realms of insanity as Angel screamed out his agony. "CAN YOU FEEL THE POWER?"
The sky engulfed him, he could feel it tearing into him, demanding him even as the earth pulled him back down, claiming him as its own. He was torn, caught in a tug of war between two divine entities that could rip him to shreds. He shrieked with fear, a wounded animal unable to control his reactions. "YOU HAVE THE POWER. COMMAND THEM AND THEY SHALL BE YOURS!"
"Enough!" He cried out. Thunder roared furiously and the ground shook, but the tug of war on his mind stopped. A slow, feral smile spread across his pallid features. Tentatively he reached out his mind towards the heavens and laughed as thunder crashed about him in reward. Somewhere in the distance windows shattered and car alarms wailed. He reached towards the earth and felt it shudder with expectant lust under his touch.
With a cry that would have sent a brave man crashing fearfully to his knees he took them both at once. Power flowed through him with a force that would have torn a lesser man apart. His skin glowed as sky and earth submitted to his will, allowing him to do with them as he pleased. With a wild snarl he ran out the mansion into the sudden downpour of the Sunnydale night.
The hunter roamed the dark streets of the Sunnydale night, his golden, predatory eyes glimmering in the harsh electric lights. Hard rain cooled his feverish body, the violent downpour embracing him with an ethereal veil of silvery illusion.
The hunter moved with deadly grace, rain sliding off him as though it was nonexistent. His senses were attuned with the night, as befitting a creature of darkness such as he, searching, aching for a victim.
His body slid into a crouch as a familiar scent hit his senses, his fingers curling into lethal claws. He recognized that scent for what it was; weakness and fear, a human knowing it was threatened on the most primal of senses, a sentient mind regressing instinctively into prey. A snarl escaped the hunter's taut lips, a vibrant eagerness sizzling through his body at the prospect of attacking, of giving chase, of the first lethal lunge that would end a life at his hands.
He started to run, his eagerness for the kill, the taste of warm blood overcoming caution. A harsh electric light caught his golden eyes, exposing the animalistic frenzy hidden within the hunter's soul. He passed a corner and froze, his face lifting slightly, as he tasted the night air. There was another hunter out this night, a challenging snarl escaped his lips at the thought of his prey being snatched away from him.
The consenting growl soothed away the tension in his hard body. An almost soft smile played across the hunter's lips. He knew this other hunter and was gladdened for he would not need to hunt alone this night.
They moved as one, although they could not see each other in the rain, silent predators hunting a weakened prey. Between the two of them there would be no chase this night, but that was also for the best, as the demand for the taste of blood grew fiercer in the dark hunter's heightened awareness.
Through the silvery veil of rain he could see his prey, old and defeated yet living nonetheless. The hunters lunged as one, an unspoken thought guiding their actions, moving them like choreographed dancers in the complex ballet of life and death.
They attacked from either side, their victim moaned once with denial before succumbing to the hunters' superior strength. Locked firmly by the two predators, pressed against them from either side as the rain slithered down their bodies, he understood in a primitive part of his mind that he was already lost. To an outside observer they would look in the distance like a single body undulating madly in their bloody, deadly orgy. The two hunters latched on to their victim's throat, pale hair mingling lecherously with dark as a human life played the buffer in their wicked passions.
Their dying prey snapped his eyes open to look death in the face. In a single moment of clarity as the blood drained from his body through twin wounds he looked upon the face of his destruction and cried out with awe at the golden, animalistic eyes that stared back. In that moment all the legends and myths of his childhood came floating back and he wept as he became a believer.
None of that mattered to the hunter as the life-blood of another filled his mouth and coursed through his veins. It was stale and tepid, the blood of an old man, but it was filled with the sweet compensation of life and terror. And the long forgotten closeness of his brother to the hunt was worth the imperfect prey. He could feel the strong pulse weakening under his ministrations, fluttering slower before coming to a dead halt.
Only then did the lifeless corpse drop to the ground in a discarded heap of wasted life. The hunters gazed at each other, the hard rain plastering their hair to their heads, their clothes to their bodies. It cleaned the blood smeared across their faces, wiped away all evidence of a crime. There was still ferocious exultation in the golden, demonic eyes, an unnatural ecstasy of a life taken for the simple pleasure of another.
White lightning blazed fiercely above their heads, to be followed moments later by crashing thunder. The pale hunter blinked, blinded momentarily by nature's pyrotechnics, then frowned irritably as he looked upon the horrified face of his former brother to the hunt.
"Oh my God," Angel whispered, his sickened human eyes locked unto the lifeless corpse at his feet. He took an involuntary step back, his head shaking in futile attempt to deny what he had done. "Oh my God!"
Spike shook his head with disgust, his face slipping back into his human mask as he watched his revolted sire. "There is no God here!" He hissed through clenched teeth.
"No!" Angel cried, his feet moving back, instinctively seeking escape. He tripped over a pile of garbage and fell with a crash on the wet refuse, still unable to take his eyes off the murdered victim.
"Yes!" Spike growled. "This is what you are, accept that!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial, violently forcing himself to look into the face of his angered childe. The rain weakened into a soft drizzle, bouncing happily off the vampires. "I can't accept it." He looked back at the lifeless body, his face contorted with nausea, "not this!"
"You're still as pathetic as you used to be!" Spike accused watching the play of emotions across his sire's face. "Just get out of here, you old poof!"
"What about...?" Angel nudged his head towards their victim.
"We were never here," Spike instructed. "The Slayer will stake my ass for this if she finds out."
"Buffy..." Another wave of panic rushed through Angel's expressive features.
Spike rolled his eyes, "tell her what you want, mate. As for me, I was never here." He walked away muttering in disgruntlement as the telltale sounds of retching echoed in his sharp ears.
**************
Buffy stared listlessly out the car window watching the rain, her head banging slightly against the glass at every bump in the road. Her driver had turned out to be a tight-lipped middle-aged vampire that kept a wary distance from her by keeping the glass between the front seat and the back firmly shut.
More than anything in the world she ached to tell Giles about what she had learned. She wanted him to listen carefully as he poured her some hot tea from that thermos he always carried around, and fed her those moldy biscuits he liked so much. Crumpets, she mentally corrected herself, smiling softly at the thought of the indignant expression on his imagined face at her crude error. Most of all she wanted him to open up one of his musty old tomes and find a solution to her problems, preferably one that allowed her to beat the crap out of a certain Evil One, a.k.a. Cirta.
But she couldn't tell him anything, the thought of the hurt she would see in his intelligent gray eyes cut her to the quick. Was it a betrayal to deny someone information that would hurt them? She mused, chewing thoughtfully on a lock of golden hair. The problem, well one of them anyway, was that not telling Giles immediately excluded telling anyone else. Xander was too prejudiced against vampires to even consider trusting the elders, and Willow, while open minded, would blanch at the thought of taking such a tremendous risk as betraying Angel.
She shook her head firmly, betraying Angel was not even an option. She had already made that decision. The question was could she really trust the elders. Her mouth chewed her hair enthusiastically as she considered that idea. She was forcefully pulled out of her reverie by a particularly nasty bump in the road that sent her nose banging against the cold car window. She frowned as she rubbed her nose, glaring at the offending window for a moment before realizing they were in midtown Sunnydale.
As she got her bearings a slow smile spread across her face, the answer to most of her questions was right under her nose, so to speak. "Stop here!" The car skidded to a stop on screeching tires, the driver eager to let her out of the car and hopefully his life.
Buffy glanced at the sky as she stepped out of the car straight into a puddle, deliberately ignoring the way the driver pushed the pedal to the metal as soon as she banged the car door shut. Dawn was still a good hour away, Willie will not be a happy camper. With that thought in mind she deliberately walked into Willie's bar.
Willie glanced up indifferently as she walked inside, the drink he was pouring neatly slipped from his hands to spill on his foot as his brain registered the sight of her. "Slayer!" The little man cried with mock enthusiasm, "would you look at that, it's the Slayer!"
Buffy glanced around as most of the bar's more questionable occupants shuffled out the dimly lit place. "Looks like I'm Miss Popularity tonight," she deadpanned.
The short bartender was not amused, "I thought we'd agreed you'd stay away during business hours, kid," he said irritably.
"This is important!"
"So is keeping my business running on the off-chance the world keeps on turning tomorrow!" She opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but he held his hand up signaling her to wait till the last of his demonic customers filed out the bar.
"Aren't you ever worried one of them will turn on you?" She asked with real interest as her eyes locked to the retreating back of a particularly nasty looking demon.
He shrugged, "even baddies need a place to do their drinking, kid," he replied. "A place where everybody knows your name," his eyes took on a slightly dreamy look.
"And they're always glad you came," she snickered. I wonder if anyone ever shouts out 'Norm' in here, she thought. "Do you know what's been going on?" She inquired when the bar finally emptied out.
Willie shook his head, "didn't really try to find out. All I know is it's something really bad that's got the scary things shaking." The little man shook his head ruefully, "when the scary things get scared you know things are really getting scary." He frowned, trying to make sense of his own twisted logic, "so to speak," he finally added lamely.
Buffy nodded, "yeah, I know all about that." She gave him a hard look, "believe me, it's better not knowing about this one. I need to ask you about something else, though. The elders, tell me what you know about them."
Surprised eyebrows lifted as Willie considered her question, "the vampire elders are in this?" He asked with a shudder. "Now there's a group of people I wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley at night."
"Why not?"
"This is Sunnydale," he reminded her. "And besides," he said blandly, "I'm not that fond of dark allies." He smiled as she grimaced, "maybe it's better not to be in the know sometimes, especially if people that powerful are involved," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know much about them," he admitted, "they're kind of an aloof bunch, tend to stay away from the common trash that comes in here. I know they're well respected, though. And feared too," he added as an afterthought. "I think most vampires would rather kiss the break of dawn then face off with one of those guys."
People, Buffy corrected mentally, there are also women in that 'aloof bunch'. "Do they have a lot of control?" She asked.
The small man nodded enthusiastically, "the story goes that they once forced an entire renegade clan to stake themselves." He paused as Buffy whistled respectfully through her teeth. "In the sun," he added dryly. "You don't get much opposition after a story like that." Buffy fidgeted, aching to ask the question she really wanted an answer to. Willie watched her for several sympathetic moments, "go ahead, kid. I'm not gonna tell anybody." He shrugged at her skeptical look, "hey, we all want to live," he explained.
Buffy sighed with resignation, "can they be trusted?" She finally asked.
The little bartender seemed genuinely surprised, "with that much power at their fingertips, what reason would they have to lie?" He asked.
She thought about that, "manipulation?" She suggested.
His hand waved dismissively, "manipulation's for the weak," he replied. "With that much power you can just take what you want. No fuss no muss."
Buffy frowned, yet more things she had to think about, "thanks Willie," she muttered as she turned to leave. "Sorry about the customers," she tossed as an afterthought.
"Hey, kid!" He called as she reached the door, "I heard you got Angel out of hell. How is he?"
Buffy froze, she hadn't expected the little snitch to know about that. This was bad, this was very bad, it meant Angel might not be as safe as she thought he was if the wrong people knew he had returned. Despite her fears she saw real concern in Willie's face. "I don't know," she replied truthfully.
The little man nodded in sympathy, "good luck, kid," he muttered as the petite blonde Slayer left his bar.
The rain had slowed into a tickling drizzle leaving feather-light kisses on her skin. It was only then that her mind registered the obvious, "since when does it rain in Sunnydale in the fall?" She asked out loud. Shaking her head with wonder she made her way to school through the early morning light.