Part 37: Signs, Portents, and Really Weird Dreams
#
The man's name was Holland Manners and on a scale of one to ten, ten being a decent human being and one being a vicious mass murderer, he would rank himself somewhere below zero. Not that he had done much in the way of killing himself, no. In fact he could not even remember the last time he had personally ended a life. The times when he had been forced to sully his own hands that way were long past.
The uninformed looked at Wolfram & Hart, his place of employment, as a successful and wealthy company. There were some rumors about shady dealings, yes, but what company was not occasionally surrounded by such rumors? Especially those companies dealing in that so wonderfully corruptible human profession called the law.
Many years ago Holland Manners had signed a contract with Wolfram & Hart, a contract that would bestow him with many benefits and even more power, asking only very little in return. Unwavering loyalty right unto and beyond death and that little something he had never seen much use for anyway, his soul. Holland considered it a great deal, still did, and whatever regrets he might have had once had gone the way of his conscience.
Studying the reports in front of him left him with somewhat mixed feelings. Yes, things were progressing quite nicely, but some details were not as they should be. He had not been there himself, but he had read all the records of how difficult and costing it had been to lock the Huntsman away all these many centuries ago. He had not thought that the Watchers Council would have the guts to actually let him loose again, but they had. And now it seemed that it had found itself a host capable of controlling its power.
Angel. Wolfram & Hart had a thick file on this amazing creature. His name appeared in the Scrolls of Aberjan, several times actually, and a special projects division had been formed with the sole purpose of making sure that this vampire with a soul would be on their side come the day. Things seemed to have progressed nicely until someone higher up decided to send a Mhora after Angel. That had been a blunder the likes of which Holland had never seen before and he was glad that he was not the one who had to pay for it.
Now Angel was no longer a vampire, his own nature seeking to corrupt him, but a human being in whom one of the principal forces of light had taken residence. This was definitely not good. Oh, there was still a good chance their plan to draw Angel to their side could work, the Huntsman's ferocious nature held a huge potential for corruption all in itself, but it would have been a lot easier were he still a creature of darkness.
His analysts had concluded that Angel's relationship to the Slayer, Buffy Summers, was his strongest tie to the side of light. It had to be cut and cut in such a way that Angel's wrath would not be directed at Wolfram & Hart. Thankfully the plan had needed but minor modifications to make that a possibility.
Still, even though things could still work out the way they should, too many unforeseen things had happened. Angel should never have become human and certainly he should never have become the new Huntsman. The Powers That Be had interfered in their plans once to often and something needed to be done about that.
Thankfully someone capable was already on the job. Holland had been pleasantly surprised to hear that one of the senior partners themselves had chosen to manifest on Earth in order to deal with this particular problem. It was just one more sign how important this project was to them. He knew how difficult it was for the partners to take shape on this plain, especially this close to the big day.
Well, with one of the senior partners on the job things could not go wrong. Holland leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Soon he would have to go to that damn ritual. He hated wasting his time like that, but his presence was expected. Well, could not be helped. Besides, this was rather important to the plan. Essential, in fact.
Maybe he could arrive fashionably late, somewhere around the Latin part.
#
"You are not welcome here," the female Oracle said.
"Your kind is not allowed within this realm," the male added. "You are violating the rules."
The intruder looked extremely bored, inspecting her nails as the two gold- skinned beings droned on. It was a disgrace that she had to lower herself to this level, but if one wanted things to be done right ... well, there was no helping it.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked the Oracles as they finally stopped speaking. "Because, God, listening to you even one more second would really ruin what is left of this day for me, you know?"
She did not wait for an answer.
#
Wesley and Doyle would never know how incredibly lucky they were to arrive much later than they had originally intended to. The drive from Sunnydale to Los Angeles took longer than usual due to several bouts of distracting bickering between the Englishman and his Irish companion. Once in Los Angeles the discussion continued when Doyle wanted to head directly for the Oracle's chamber, while Wesley wanted to go over those parts of the scrolls they had one more time first, just so he would have all the facts straight when speaking to the Powers' representatives on Earth.
When they finally arrived at the Oracle's chamber beneath the post office they found only carnage. The usually sealed stone arch was busted open , the chamber beyond no longer awash with white light, but rather dark and stinking of death.
The Oracles themselves, or what was left of them, were on the floor, looking like so much raw meat. A large bloodstain had spread across the formerly white marble, looking almost black in the dim light.
Several bloody footprints were leading away from the site of the carnage, footprints that looked as if they had been made by high-heeled women shoes.
It took Wesley and Doyle but a short time to decide that they should return to Sunnydale as quickly as possible. There was no bickering, no discussion, and the entire drive back was spent in deadly silence.
#
When Buffy and Angel arrived back at Giles' apartment they found the entire gang deeply asleep. Xander and Anya were huddled together, as were Willow and Tara. The latter caused Buffy to frown a bit, especially seeing as her enhanced senses picked up some weird vibes from the two witches, but she was too tired to give it much thought.
Not having the heart to wake them, Buffy and Angel headed directly toward Giles' spare guestroom and tumbled onto the bed. Talking could wait. Their bodies were not that tired, but their minds more than made up for that. Too many things had happened much too quickly and they needed some time to process everything.
Buffy fell asleep certain that she would be having some really weird dreams. She did not know the half of it.
#
There were just too many books.
The entire room was overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes, all walls covered with shelves that groaned under the weight put upon them. The floor was barely visible beneath heaps of bound paper, as well as the occasional scroll. He could barely put his feet anywhere and the pages seemed to be looking at him with an accusing air.
"I will never be able to read all this," Rupert Giles muttered. "Too many books."
"That's just great, mate," a familiar voice called out to him. He quickly turned around and saw someone sitting on top of a huge stack of books, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"Ethan?"
Ethan Rayne just went on grinning, absently leafing through one of the many books.
"Prophecies, legends, spells, there is always so much of it," he said, shaking his head. "You'll never be able to make sense of it all, Ripper."
"But I have to," Giles answered, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I have to figure it out, all of it, and I don't have much time."
"Ah, yes," Ethan nodded. "End of the world coming up, I almost forgot. And you are going to be the Watcher who figures it all out. The wise and benevolent elder who puts the warriors on the correct path and saves all of creation from evil." He laughed. "Ripper, old mate, who do you think you're kidding?"
"I can do this," Giles went on, looking back and forth among the many books. "I just have to organize this somehow. The answers are in the books somewhere, I know it."
Ethan shrugged and threw the book he had been reading over his shoulder.
#
"Shouldn't we be out there?"
Willow and Xander were sitting on the floor in Xander's basement, a game of poker between them. Several bowls filled with snacks were also there and the TV was running in the background. It was muted, though, and they could both hear the sounds of battle from outside.
"We should, I think," Willow answered Xander's question. "It's just ... I don't think we can."
She looked at the cards she held in her hands. She had two pairs, queens and jacks. The queens had Tara's face, the jacks pictured Oz, and both of them seemed to look at her questioningly. The fifth card was blank. How was she supposed to do anything while this last card remained blank?
Xander frowned, trying to figure out why he was not getting up. Something was going on out there, a battle, and he knew it was important. Buffy, yes, Buffy was out there fighting. He knew that. He knew she needed their help. So why didn't they get up and help?
He was missing just one card for a straight. The king was there, carrying Giles' face. The ace had Buffy's. There was the jack with Angel's picture on it and the queen which sported Willow. The only thing missing for a straight was a ten, but instead of that he had a two, a two with his picture on it.
"Not enough," he muttered. "Not enough."
The sounds of battle outside grew louder.
#
Buffy and Angel stood on a hill and looked out across a seemingly endless desert. The sun stood almost directly above them, leaving no shadows to hide from its glare. The only vegetation in sight were several dead trees, apart from that there was nothing but sand.
"We have to be elsewhere," Buffy mumbled. "I think."
"This place seems familiar. Almost as if I've been here before."
A noise made them both turn around. Something was approaching them from behind. No, two somethings. Demons? Vampires? Both of them went into fighting mode, expecting the adrenaline boost and opening up of their senses that occurred every time Slayer and Huntsman were about to go into combat. Only nothing happened and neither of them could feel the presence of power within themselves.
Two shapes crept into sight. They seemed vaguely human, but resembled nothing so much as predators. They crouched low, almost walking on all fours, and hissed at them. They were a man and a woman, that much was apparent, and there was murder in their eyes.
"You are not worthy," a voice suddenly said. Buffy and Angel looked up and saw Jackson King standing on top of the hill, looking down at them. "They find you wanting."
The two predators attacked them.
TO BE CONCLUDED
#
The man's name was Holland Manners and on a scale of one to ten, ten being a decent human being and one being a vicious mass murderer, he would rank himself somewhere below zero. Not that he had done much in the way of killing himself, no. In fact he could not even remember the last time he had personally ended a life. The times when he had been forced to sully his own hands that way were long past.
The uninformed looked at Wolfram & Hart, his place of employment, as a successful and wealthy company. There were some rumors about shady dealings, yes, but what company was not occasionally surrounded by such rumors? Especially those companies dealing in that so wonderfully corruptible human profession called the law.
Many years ago Holland Manners had signed a contract with Wolfram & Hart, a contract that would bestow him with many benefits and even more power, asking only very little in return. Unwavering loyalty right unto and beyond death and that little something he had never seen much use for anyway, his soul. Holland considered it a great deal, still did, and whatever regrets he might have had once had gone the way of his conscience.
Studying the reports in front of him left him with somewhat mixed feelings. Yes, things were progressing quite nicely, but some details were not as they should be. He had not been there himself, but he had read all the records of how difficult and costing it had been to lock the Huntsman away all these many centuries ago. He had not thought that the Watchers Council would have the guts to actually let him loose again, but they had. And now it seemed that it had found itself a host capable of controlling its power.
Angel. Wolfram & Hart had a thick file on this amazing creature. His name appeared in the Scrolls of Aberjan, several times actually, and a special projects division had been formed with the sole purpose of making sure that this vampire with a soul would be on their side come the day. Things seemed to have progressed nicely until someone higher up decided to send a Mhora after Angel. That had been a blunder the likes of which Holland had never seen before and he was glad that he was not the one who had to pay for it.
Now Angel was no longer a vampire, his own nature seeking to corrupt him, but a human being in whom one of the principal forces of light had taken residence. This was definitely not good. Oh, there was still a good chance their plan to draw Angel to their side could work, the Huntsman's ferocious nature held a huge potential for corruption all in itself, but it would have been a lot easier were he still a creature of darkness.
His analysts had concluded that Angel's relationship to the Slayer, Buffy Summers, was his strongest tie to the side of light. It had to be cut and cut in such a way that Angel's wrath would not be directed at Wolfram & Hart. Thankfully the plan had needed but minor modifications to make that a possibility.
Still, even though things could still work out the way they should, too many unforeseen things had happened. Angel should never have become human and certainly he should never have become the new Huntsman. The Powers That Be had interfered in their plans once to often and something needed to be done about that.
Thankfully someone capable was already on the job. Holland had been pleasantly surprised to hear that one of the senior partners themselves had chosen to manifest on Earth in order to deal with this particular problem. It was just one more sign how important this project was to them. He knew how difficult it was for the partners to take shape on this plain, especially this close to the big day.
Well, with one of the senior partners on the job things could not go wrong. Holland leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Soon he would have to go to that damn ritual. He hated wasting his time like that, but his presence was expected. Well, could not be helped. Besides, this was rather important to the plan. Essential, in fact.
Maybe he could arrive fashionably late, somewhere around the Latin part.
#
"You are not welcome here," the female Oracle said.
"Your kind is not allowed within this realm," the male added. "You are violating the rules."
The intruder looked extremely bored, inspecting her nails as the two gold- skinned beings droned on. It was a disgrace that she had to lower herself to this level, but if one wanted things to be done right ... well, there was no helping it.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked the Oracles as they finally stopped speaking. "Because, God, listening to you even one more second would really ruin what is left of this day for me, you know?"
She did not wait for an answer.
#
Wesley and Doyle would never know how incredibly lucky they were to arrive much later than they had originally intended to. The drive from Sunnydale to Los Angeles took longer than usual due to several bouts of distracting bickering between the Englishman and his Irish companion. Once in Los Angeles the discussion continued when Doyle wanted to head directly for the Oracle's chamber, while Wesley wanted to go over those parts of the scrolls they had one more time first, just so he would have all the facts straight when speaking to the Powers' representatives on Earth.
When they finally arrived at the Oracle's chamber beneath the post office they found only carnage. The usually sealed stone arch was busted open , the chamber beyond no longer awash with white light, but rather dark and stinking of death.
The Oracles themselves, or what was left of them, were on the floor, looking like so much raw meat. A large bloodstain had spread across the formerly white marble, looking almost black in the dim light.
Several bloody footprints were leading away from the site of the carnage, footprints that looked as if they had been made by high-heeled women shoes.
It took Wesley and Doyle but a short time to decide that they should return to Sunnydale as quickly as possible. There was no bickering, no discussion, and the entire drive back was spent in deadly silence.
#
When Buffy and Angel arrived back at Giles' apartment they found the entire gang deeply asleep. Xander and Anya were huddled together, as were Willow and Tara. The latter caused Buffy to frown a bit, especially seeing as her enhanced senses picked up some weird vibes from the two witches, but she was too tired to give it much thought.
Not having the heart to wake them, Buffy and Angel headed directly toward Giles' spare guestroom and tumbled onto the bed. Talking could wait. Their bodies were not that tired, but their minds more than made up for that. Too many things had happened much too quickly and they needed some time to process everything.
Buffy fell asleep certain that she would be having some really weird dreams. She did not know the half of it.
#
There were just too many books.
The entire room was overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes, all walls covered with shelves that groaned under the weight put upon them. The floor was barely visible beneath heaps of bound paper, as well as the occasional scroll. He could barely put his feet anywhere and the pages seemed to be looking at him with an accusing air.
"I will never be able to read all this," Rupert Giles muttered. "Too many books."
"That's just great, mate," a familiar voice called out to him. He quickly turned around and saw someone sitting on top of a huge stack of books, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"Ethan?"
Ethan Rayne just went on grinning, absently leafing through one of the many books.
"Prophecies, legends, spells, there is always so much of it," he said, shaking his head. "You'll never be able to make sense of it all, Ripper."
"But I have to," Giles answered, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I have to figure it out, all of it, and I don't have much time."
"Ah, yes," Ethan nodded. "End of the world coming up, I almost forgot. And you are going to be the Watcher who figures it all out. The wise and benevolent elder who puts the warriors on the correct path and saves all of creation from evil." He laughed. "Ripper, old mate, who do you think you're kidding?"
"I can do this," Giles went on, looking back and forth among the many books. "I just have to organize this somehow. The answers are in the books somewhere, I know it."
Ethan shrugged and threw the book he had been reading over his shoulder.
#
"Shouldn't we be out there?"
Willow and Xander were sitting on the floor in Xander's basement, a game of poker between them. Several bowls filled with snacks were also there and the TV was running in the background. It was muted, though, and they could both hear the sounds of battle from outside.
"We should, I think," Willow answered Xander's question. "It's just ... I don't think we can."
She looked at the cards she held in her hands. She had two pairs, queens and jacks. The queens had Tara's face, the jacks pictured Oz, and both of them seemed to look at her questioningly. The fifth card was blank. How was she supposed to do anything while this last card remained blank?
Xander frowned, trying to figure out why he was not getting up. Something was going on out there, a battle, and he knew it was important. Buffy, yes, Buffy was out there fighting. He knew that. He knew she needed their help. So why didn't they get up and help?
He was missing just one card for a straight. The king was there, carrying Giles' face. The ace had Buffy's. There was the jack with Angel's picture on it and the queen which sported Willow. The only thing missing for a straight was a ten, but instead of that he had a two, a two with his picture on it.
"Not enough," he muttered. "Not enough."
The sounds of battle outside grew louder.
#
Buffy and Angel stood on a hill and looked out across a seemingly endless desert. The sun stood almost directly above them, leaving no shadows to hide from its glare. The only vegetation in sight were several dead trees, apart from that there was nothing but sand.
"We have to be elsewhere," Buffy mumbled. "I think."
"This place seems familiar. Almost as if I've been here before."
A noise made them both turn around. Something was approaching them from behind. No, two somethings. Demons? Vampires? Both of them went into fighting mode, expecting the adrenaline boost and opening up of their senses that occurred every time Slayer and Huntsman were about to go into combat. Only nothing happened and neither of them could feel the presence of power within themselves.
Two shapes crept into sight. They seemed vaguely human, but resembled nothing so much as predators. They crouched low, almost walking on all fours, and hissed at them. They were a man and a woman, that much was apparent, and there was murder in their eyes.
"You are not worthy," a voice suddenly said. Buffy and Angel looked up and saw Jackson King standing on top of the hill, looking down at them. "They find you wanting."
The two predators attacked them.
TO BE CONCLUDED