Title: The Pain Series
Author: Casualattitude
Disclaimer: It's not mine- you know the rest.
Classification: Buffy spin off
Rating: PG-13/R Violent but not sexual.
Feedback: please - even if you don't like it.
Email: casualattitude@hotmail.com
Distribution: Anywhere, anyone, anytime, just let me know.
Note : This is volume 2 of The Pain Series. If I keep going each volume will hopefully be one large story in itself. I recommend you read Volume One first - it explains a few things, including where one major character ended up. The story will attempt to meld parts of the actual Buffy and Angel stories as closely as possible, but obviously this is an alternative universe.
Summary: Life is not always sweetness and light, sometimes it's just the opposite.
********************************************
Chapter One
One Month Earlier
The tunnel was dark as he strode through it briskly, only the faint dots of light high up on the walls hinting at the security system that protected those at the far end from unwanted interruption.
Despite the sound absorbing panels that lined the tunnel from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and despite the silent pacing as he passed the sensors, Xander was well aware that there could be no surprising the man he was heading to see. The monitoring system would have picked him up before he even got close, no matter how good his approach might be.
The only man he knew that might possess the skills to break the security and monitoring devices that protected the chamber ahead, was the man that had devised the system in the first place.
He reached the end of the corridor, only his familiarity of the place stopping him short of the unseen barrier that lay at the end, its black steelwork merging with the darkness around it. Placing his hand against an area of the barrier no different from any other, he felt the pressure sensors merging with his palm, knowing rather than feeling the tendrils penetrating his flesh, verifying his identify down to the level of his DNA.
'Code-words please'
'Five Seven Twelve Davis Tactic Beta Seven Liverpool Nine Czech Return Sixty-three,' he replied.
'Acknowledged. Access granted.'
As the system processed both his voice print and the access codes, it was also registering his body language, billions of calculations being performed in seconds to assess his posture and threat language.
Such a system was unique, far exceeding any other in the world, but to the man on the other side, it could never be enough. With the threats of the world outside, with the activities he and his sometime companions were engaged in, the concept of too much security was a misnomer.
Xander passed through the barrier as it slid open just enough to let him through before sliding back silently on its magnetic hinges, stepping into the small chamber that lay on the other side.
As the door sealed behind him, the small circular chamber in which he stood filled with light, scanning him from head to toe and back again as he stood there, motionless. Symbols flashed around the walls - crosses, holy words, and a series of symbols, meaningless to most people, even to most involved in the demonic underworld.
'Code symbols please'
Scanning the walls of the chamber, his eyes following the symbols as they shifted around, slowly swirling around each other, he reached out, pressing his hands against one, then another, then another of the symbols in a sequence known only to a select few.
The system paused.
'Please repeat'
Again he repeated the sequence, this time adding one final symbol, the repetition one final test designed to confuse anyone attempting unauthorized access, a remnant of more primitive systems of the past, kept now as much for nostalgia's sake as for a final test.
Finally the lights dimmed, the symbols fading back into the walls as one side of the chamber appeared to melt into the floor, allowing him to pass through to the area beyond.
****************
Even as he paced forward slowly, Xander was aware at all times of the weaponry that followed his every move. His own limited assistance in developing the defenses meant that he at least knew the limitations of what was considered permissible actions within the room around him, enough to prevent the defenses once again sparking to life.
The room was lit only by the large screen that filled an entire wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, side wall to side wall.
Three still figures sat there, facing the screen, their backs to Xander, giving no sign that they had recognized his entrance.
Reaching them, Xander pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down, not speaking as the closest thing he could come to calling a friend sat in silence with the unfamiliar pair.
The screen showed the view from a mountainside, looking out over the small town that lay below, the Pacific ocean gleaming in the distance, the beach and pier just visible. The sun was setting over the ocean, turning it into a shimmering vista of golden hues as the dying light reflected off the water.
As the sun retreated over the horizon, the group sat there in silence, the scene in front of them still beautiful after all the times they had witnessed it as the light faded, the room turning darker as it did so.
Oz spoke up softly, addressing the man now seated beside him.
'I took her there the first time I told her that I loved her. We sat there, watched the sun go down, kissed. Good times. Of all the times I recall with her, this is the one I'll never let go.'
As the sun set on the screen in front of them, Oz was no longer watching, his eyes locked on the gently smiling image of Willow that filled the small unit by his side. His eyes reflected the dying light as the sunset he had watched every night for as long as he could remember ended.
The lighter he held in his left hand sparked to life, the flame flaring up, igniting the wick of the small candle that lay next to the screen. As the sun set against the wall, sending the room into darkness, the only light left was that of the candle, illuminating the image by its side, Willow's scent filling the air.
'Bye Will. I'll see you tomorrow.....'
****************
The small group sat there as the candle burned down, sitting there in the darkness as the flame flickered until at last it died, sending the room into complete darkness, the one ritual that was performed every night coming to an end.
As darkness finally filled the room, the bleep of another computer interrupted the quiet, signaling the start of another day.
With that bleep the room sparked to life, wall panels lighting up, the light chasing away the darkness, exposing the equipment that filled the chamber. All around were screens, wires and chips. Short wave pulse generators and fiber optic cables could be seen all around the edges of the floor and walls, the old wire cables long since outdated.
The value of the equipment in the chamber was beyond estimation. So much of it was custom designed, custom made, that the function of most of it could not even be guessed at. Like the security system, many sections were so far beyond what could be found outside this chamber that they were almost beyond price.
Had Oz been a normal person, had the events of his life not turned him into what he had become, he could have been rich beyond imagination. Any one of the items in the room would have made him a rich man on the outside, could have been sold for enough to make him comfortable for life.
But what use is money if you no longer care for the things it can buy, what use are riches when almost anything you want can be taken, stolen or made.
As the room lit up, Oz span around to face the man sitting nearby, his chair rotating on the spot. With the increased lighting filling the room, Oz could now be seen clearly for the first time.
****************
His face was unmarked, only the suggestion of an everlasting sadness that lurked at the back of his eyes hinting at the hidden depths that lay beneath the calm expression. The expression that rarely left his face. He still appeared the man Xander had met all those years ago, looking like he could walk into the Dingo with his guitar, ready to jam badly.
His hair this time around was dark red, clashing terribly with his multi- colored t-shirt, dark stubble covering his jaw as usual. The muscles evident in his upper body were the most immediately noticeable difference to his younger self, the time spent lifting himself in and out of the chair causing his once lean body to fill out markedly.
It was only as his chair moved that one of the reasons for that sadness became apparent.
The wheelchair on which he sat was a matt black, the titanium frame dull and lifeless. The muscles evident in his legs would not have given any sign of his injuries, the electro-therapy treatments maintaining some muscle tone despite the now years he had been forced to spend without walking.
Werewolves are difficult to kill, even if the traditional stories of silver being the only way to slay one are not strictly true. After all, if you chop one up into small pieces or throw one into a volcano, it's not too likely that it's going to piece itself together and walk away.
Even with the accelerated healing that comes with anthro-morphic abilities, even with all that, certain injuries cannot be healed so easily. After all that had passed, Oz knew everything about what his body could and could not do, what it could and could not recover from.
He knew all about that.
****************
The other two in the room appeared to ignore Xander, only an almost un- noticeable flicker of their eyes giving an indication of their unease in his presence, most of their attention drawn to the smaller screens in front of them, their fingers flying over the touch-pads, data flashing across the screens. Neither made any attempt to speak to him, or even to the man who's chamber they were working in, and Xander in turn ignored them.
Xander faced Oz, motionless. In all the time he had know the man in the chair, he had always been the talkative one, but for the first time, he found himself without the words.
'Well?'
Oz broke the silence in his usual fashion, one word followed by silence, a silence that continued as Xander failed to respond.
Oz merely studied him, as usual merely waiting for a response.
The minutes passed.
Another man would have given up, would have broken the silence, would have at least repeated the question, but this being Oz, the silence simply stretched out. He knew Xander would respond at some point, after all, if he had nothing to say, he wouldn't have come here.
Xander still didn't reply but after a time, a time that caused even Oz to begin to wonder, the stillness between them was broken.
'Clink.'
The sound of the small computing unit hitting the table between them was what had broken the silence. The same unit that Xander had carried through the carnage at the Project's compound a month earlier, bounced off the metallic surface, skipping across it towards Oz.
It lay there between the two, unmoving, as Oz stared at it, Xander turning his gaze back to the large screen in front of them. The top of the unit was still streaked with blood, the same blood that had splattered it in the midst of the battle through which it had came.
'This is..?'
'I found a site.'
Oz lifted his eyes from the unit, locking with Xander's own for the first time.
'The Project.'
A statement of fact rather than a question, knowing that if Xander had found what he was truly seeking, he would not be coming here alone.
'Yes.'
For the first time in a long time, Oz was silent for a reason other than choice. For what he had been seeking for so many years to be lying in front of him, just inches away, was enough to stun even him for a moment.
'Was there...?'
The question didn't need to be asked. Xander knew what he wanted to know without having to hear the words.
'No. I went through the whole site, but there was no-one else. The only ones I saw outside of the demons were the scientists and the soldiers.'
'Elsewhere?'
'That's what you can find out. I downloaded their entire mainframe, but the security on it couldn't be broken.'
'Naturally'
'If you can break it, you'll have them all. Maybe you can stop them taking any more....'
Once again Oz lapsed into silence, the possibilities that the information offered him when he decrypted it running through his mind. If Xander has managed to copy the entire mainframe then the amount of information that this small unit held could change his life, could change others lives. The years he had spent searching for a way to punish them for what they had done...
Those who had taken his friends.
Those who had crippled him.
Those who had killed Willow.
And with that thought, the sense of satisfaction, even joy that had sparked in him, died away. For even if Xander had taken out one of the sites, even if he had killed all inside, even if they took out all the sites, ended the experiments, it would still not bring back all those that had been taken, could not bring back Willow.
Oz knew that a part of him had never moved on, had never let go of the past. What the chip represented meant a lot, but until he knew that the man responsible for the two worst events of his life was dead, he knew he could never let go of the past, no matter how much he tried.
Xander watched him, watched his changing expressions. After all this time, he could read more from Oz's face than just about anyone else, and certainly more than his words would indicate, and when he saw his expression cloud over again, he knew the reason.
'Clink.'
Once more, he placed an object on the table between them, a replica of the chip he and others had carried for years.
Xander didn't say anything, waiting for Oz to realize what it was that this meant. He didn't have to wait long. As soon as Oz saw the chip, he froze, unmoving as he stared at it.
'We don't need this anymore.'
Another minute passed in silence as Oz sat there, until he looked back up at Xander, a strange expression on his face.
'Riley.?'
Again, words appeared unnecessary, Xander merely tapping the chip with one finger.
'Yes'
With that flat words, the lack of expression on Xander's face backing up the emotionless tone, Oz appeared to crumple in his chair, shrinking even as Xander watched.
The weight that he had carried for so long, the pain, the anguish, and at the back of it all, the never ending, all consuming rage, could not simply be let go. When two words can change your life, when two words can be the answer to a twisted dream carried deep inside you, wrapped in hatred, it takes longer to absorb than it takes to hear.
'Leave.....'
The soft whisper was all Oz could manage as his mind closed in on itself, a part of it finding it difficult to take in, almost reluctant to let go of his pain.
The pair who had continued worked throughout the almost wordless conversation ceased what they were doing instantly, and without a word left the chamber through an almost invisible exit in one wall. Despite the fact that neither had met Xander in the past, there had been no attempt at an introduction or conversation the whole time they were present, nor did they make an sign of goodbye as they left, as much strangers to Xander as when he had arrived.
Xander reacted in the same manner, not trying to argue, not objecting to his dismissal. He simply stood up and made his exit back through the entrance through which he had arrived.
As he passed the now crumpled form, he paused only long enough to place his hand on Oz's shoulder for a moment, before moving on without a word.
The doorway was opening before if even before he reached it, the room darkening behind him on Oz's command and the last word he heard as he left the chamber was the same word he had spoken to Oz when he found him again all those years before.
'Willow...'
***************** One Week Earlier
It was nearly a month before Xander saw Oz again, before word reached him in its usual indirect fashion. Both knew of ways to contact the other in an emergency, but were equally aware of the dangers of doing so, of attracting the attention of the many enemies that both had created over the years. Attempts in the past by outsiders to break the communication link, to fool one or other of them, had been met with such a response that no-one or thing had tried again, so
The single code word was enough to tell Xander to return as soon as possible, the code word just short of the emergency code - that code would be used for only 2 possible events, one that would mean destruction on a apocalyptic scale, the other that would his search was successful.
Both knew which was more likely.
~ ~ ~ ~
The entrance through the passage was the same, only the code changed with the time and his entrance to the chamber was unhindered.
As he entered the chamber once more, the change in Oz was immediately apparent.
He had blue hair.
But aside from the color change, it was his demeanor that had changed. Still tied to his wheelchair, the deep sadness that had always seem to pervade through Oz had lifted. Although it was still there, the effects of their previous meeting were apparent, as if a heavy load had been lightened.
His body language too had changed. For the first time in years it reflected the strength that his upper body showed, that his mind had once displayed and now seemed to again. Had one seen him for the first time it would have seemed impossible for him to look any different, that the calmness and quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him was his natural state.
It wasn't the first time Xander had seen him, and he knew well that a man's natural state was what circumstances dictated. People had once said he had a natural state.
Smiles
Joviality
Laid back.
It was a long time since anyone he met had seen that natural state. Most of those who saw him would never believe it.
But not matter what state, natural or otherwise, that Oz appeared to be in, the signs of tension, almost apprehension, were evident in the slight tightness of his shoulders, in the strain that marked the lines around his eyes in sharp relief to the calm features that filled the rest of his face.
The two men who had been in the chamber upon Xander's last visit were still there, almost surprising him with their presence, it having been a long time since he had seen anyone save the werewolf more than once in the hall. The fact that they still didn't speak to him came as no surprise though, his reputation proving a hindrance to normal conversation with those who knew of him.
"You called?," he called out as he entered, for a moment startling Oz with the brief flash of humor, of the boy he had once known.
'One of the tribe found something...something you need to see....,' he called out softly, tilting his head towards the smaller of the two still working in the background. 'It's....not good..'
His brief flash of humor disappearing almost as if it had never been, Xander merely strode across the room, his rubber soled boots not making a sound as he moved to the console.
'What is it?
'Keeshan - ....,' Oz spoke quietly, for the first time addressing one of the pair who had now paused in their work, their own tension evident in their postures.
'We intercepted this signal across an open band in New York. There was no encryption evident, the transmission appeared clean, if a little boring. It was a continuous feed, covering the accelerated development of an insect hive, from beginning to....well, whenever it was deemed to finish.'
'And....?' came the interruption.
'There was something...wrong. I came across the feed by accident, when channel hopping, wasn't really paying attention, it was late, and something....wasn't quite right. I still don't know what it was - when I came here the next day and studied it again I couldn't see anything wrong. Even when we ran it through the systems there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, but for some reason I kept going, and after letting the computers work at it for a couple of days on downtime....well, I found something.'
'Yes?'
'It's...not pleasant. We still don't know who it is, but we've traced the signal. At first we thought it was just, well, human, but there was a back image that flashed up for a while, and I....we....the Tamarish contacted you.'
'Tamarish?,' queried Xander.
'A title, nothing more....,' muttered Oz quietly before continuing. 'Xander....you need to see this.'
'Well show me then, and stop talking about it for gods sake..,' Xander interrupted again.
'Run it. And Xander, you need to plan what to do - no charging off like last time.'
'PLAY IT !!' shouted Xander, for the first time raising his voice, the tension that had risen in the room finally getting too him.
Keeshan touched the key, her small hands trembling slightly as she did so and the large screen that filled the wall at the far end of the chamber sparked to life.
When Xander had last seen the screen it had been filled with the dying sunset, the ocean, the waves. The image this time was not so perfect, was not so peaceful, and it was the broken voice that impacted first, even as his eyes made out the image as it shifted focus...
*********************
"He'll come for me...."
The critically injured woman whispered in the darkness, more to herself than to the creatures that surrounded her, that moved in the shadows that seemed to fill the room..
"He'll come for me...."
The chains that bound her to the wall had cut deeply into her wrists, the rust that flaked from the cuffs mixing with the dried blood that coated her arms. The flesh around the cuffs could be seen even in the murk, the signs of disease evident to anyone who cared
"He'll come for me...."
The pus that had oozed from the wounds over the previous weeks had ceased a couple of days earlier, the wounds now streaked with deep, dark purple and black lines of infection, running along the line of her veins, streaking along her arms and legs.
"He'll come for me...."
They had stopped feeding from her over a week ago. The blood that ran through her body, the blood that held such power within it, had been contaminated to such an extent by now that even those who had fed on her in the past now rejected the opportunity.
"He'll come for me...."
The stench of her surroundings had caused her to heave when they first had brought her here, splattering what had remained of her clothes with her own vomit. That smell had long since faded into the background, her ability to make out one stench from another simply overloading her olfactory senses.
"He'll come for me...."
The rags that covered her back were stiff as she moved slightly. The deep cuts that lay below the fabric had bled continuously for days, a slow steady seep that had drained her body of energy. Had she been anyone else, the blood loss and shock would have killed her long ago, but the energy contained within her blood stream had kept her alive despite what had happened.
"He'll come for me...."
Whether this was a blessing or a curse was a matter of opinion, but for those who watched her, and the even wider audience that had followed her progress, her continued survival simply meant further opportunities for pleasure and wagers.
"He'll come for me...."
Her eyes hadn't opened in hours, the swelling around her left eye, forcing it closed only contrasted against the empty socket that lay along side it. They had taken her right eye on the first day of her capture, taunting her as they scooped it out. Had it not been for their desire that she be able to witness what was happening to her, she knew they would have taken the other long ago.
"He'll come for me...."
Early in the ordeal she had prayed for the first time since she was a little girl.
For rescue.
For escape.
For survival..
As time had moved on, so had her prayers, shifting from words of hope to a prayer for the opposite.
For an end to her suffering.
For a relief from the pain.
For death.
Her prayers had gone unanswered, her screams unheeded. She knew she was beyond help now, that there was nothing that could be done to save her, and as her tormented mind began to fracture, as the walls of sanity that her will had managed to maintain begun to crumble under the torture had, all other thoughts had gradually ceased to exist, forced out as her mind became able to sustain only one thought.
Only the one thought, over and over again, sometimes spoken, whispering from her cracked and bloodied lips, sometimes silent, running through her mind like a revolving sign, but always there, almost blocking out the pain, almost overriding what was happening to her, almost drowning out the sounds around her.
Almost.
'He'll come for me.....'
Even in her current state, a part of her knew that she was almost beyond help, that even her powers of healing and recovery could not save her life without magical assistance. Her conscious mind could no longer summon the clarity of function to realize this, but the part of the mind that cannot be fooled, that merely observes the world from deep inside knew this, knew she was merely delaying the inevitable.
Even the distant part of the mind can cling to the same idea as the conscious area, can focus on the same idea.
But as the front of the dying woman's brain repeated the words over and over again, the hind part, the deep part, the dark part, added to itself just a few words more.
"He'll come for me...."
'And he'll kill you all...'
***************
The signal cut out, the sound died, leaving only a black screen as the group sat there in silence for a moment before Xander spoke.
'The address.....?' he growled.
'Xander, we..,' Oz tried to calm him.
It was like stopping an inferno with a cup of water.
'You saw the mole! YOU SAW IT !!! You know what that means... you know who she is!! I made a promise, how many times have I made that promise Oz ? HOW MANY TIMES?'
'Xander, you need to ....'
'You saw it Oz, you know who it is, you know why she's there..'
'And you know as well. She may be too far gone. She may be dead. We lost the signal 2 days ago and haven't found it since - and you know we should have done.'
The logic was inescapable, and as fast as Xander's outburst has begun it was broken, as fast as his rage had risen it was cooled. For a second or two it even silenced him. But logic can only calm a rage - it can't end it entirely.
'You've never met her and the odds on her still living are tiny Xander. You know it and I know it.'
'You think I care about her? You think the girl is the only person to suffer like that? You think I haven't...it doesn't matter, and you know it. You know what we have to do, what I have to do and you know why. It's why you called me here. You saw the same pictures, you saw the same things, and you know what I have to do..'
Keeshan spoke up for the first time without being addressed, her inbuilt desire for knowledge, part of the reason she was here in the first place, overwhelming her natural reserve, overwhelming even her apprehension of the scarred figure beside her.
'I don't understand. Who is she? What did you mean about the mole? The Tamarish is right, she's probably dead already. You're...well...you. If you've never met her before, why do you care?,' she questioned, puzzlement showing in her tone, the images of the screen appearing to have no effect on her emotions.
'I don't care for her,' Xander replied. 'I care because that mole on her shoulder, the fact that she was still alive in that condition and the demons that showed in the clip can mean only one thing. That girl is a Slayer.'
He spoke the last sentence as if his words were enough, as if the mere act of saying them had answered all of Keeshan's questions, as if they had a layer of meaning that went beyond mere language, and to the man, to the werewolf, in the wheelchair, they did.
Lacking the knowledge that Oz carried, lacking the familiarity needed to interpret the response, Keeshan could only ask again,
'But why do you need to do anything? And why does the Tamarish need to help you?'
Oz's eyes met Xander's, a sad twitch of his lips his only response to the question.
'Oz helps because of I do,' Xander replied.
'And you - why do you care, why do you help?,' she continued.
Xander made eye contact with her for the first time, a deep sadness now pouring from his eyes, the rage that had flared only moments earlier now gone, an icy resolve beginning to take its place.
....
..
.
..
'I made a commitment. A commitment I can't break, that I can't avoid, that I can't forget..
'I made a promise....'
****************************************************
Live or die ? Still to be decided....
Well, there you go - the first chapter of volume 2. Sorry it took so long. The chapters are probably only going to be half the size of volume 1 - very difficult to write 10k words at a time. If you read volume 1 then you pretty much can see where the next chapter's going - maybe I'll bring back couple of people from the beginning since they seemed to be popular. Still not addressed Oz's background, and unfortunately that might not come for a bit. This volume will hopefully cover my version of the Glory canon (albeit tweaking with timelines a bit) before going my own way. Since I lost all my wonderful (and very unexpected) reviews from volume 1 (no bitterness towards ffnet there at all), I require feedback even more.. Ideas much appreciated.
Oh - must give honorable mention to a few people. For volume 1 - Lori Bush, AprilDuchess, Rob Clarke, Obi and a few others I forget. For this volume, Sherif and Theo in particular.
Author: Casualattitude
Disclaimer: It's not mine- you know the rest.
Classification: Buffy spin off
Rating: PG-13/R Violent but not sexual.
Feedback: please - even if you don't like it.
Email: casualattitude@hotmail.com
Distribution: Anywhere, anyone, anytime, just let me know.
Note : This is volume 2 of The Pain Series. If I keep going each volume will hopefully be one large story in itself. I recommend you read Volume One first - it explains a few things, including where one major character ended up. The story will attempt to meld parts of the actual Buffy and Angel stories as closely as possible, but obviously this is an alternative universe.
Summary: Life is not always sweetness and light, sometimes it's just the opposite.
********************************************
Chapter One
One Month Earlier
The tunnel was dark as he strode through it briskly, only the faint dots of light high up on the walls hinting at the security system that protected those at the far end from unwanted interruption.
Despite the sound absorbing panels that lined the tunnel from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, and despite the silent pacing as he passed the sensors, Xander was well aware that there could be no surprising the man he was heading to see. The monitoring system would have picked him up before he even got close, no matter how good his approach might be.
The only man he knew that might possess the skills to break the security and monitoring devices that protected the chamber ahead, was the man that had devised the system in the first place.
He reached the end of the corridor, only his familiarity of the place stopping him short of the unseen barrier that lay at the end, its black steelwork merging with the darkness around it. Placing his hand against an area of the barrier no different from any other, he felt the pressure sensors merging with his palm, knowing rather than feeling the tendrils penetrating his flesh, verifying his identify down to the level of his DNA.
'Code-words please'
'Five Seven Twelve Davis Tactic Beta Seven Liverpool Nine Czech Return Sixty-three,' he replied.
'Acknowledged. Access granted.'
As the system processed both his voice print and the access codes, it was also registering his body language, billions of calculations being performed in seconds to assess his posture and threat language.
Such a system was unique, far exceeding any other in the world, but to the man on the other side, it could never be enough. With the threats of the world outside, with the activities he and his sometime companions were engaged in, the concept of too much security was a misnomer.
Xander passed through the barrier as it slid open just enough to let him through before sliding back silently on its magnetic hinges, stepping into the small chamber that lay on the other side.
As the door sealed behind him, the small circular chamber in which he stood filled with light, scanning him from head to toe and back again as he stood there, motionless. Symbols flashed around the walls - crosses, holy words, and a series of symbols, meaningless to most people, even to most involved in the demonic underworld.
'Code symbols please'
Scanning the walls of the chamber, his eyes following the symbols as they shifted around, slowly swirling around each other, he reached out, pressing his hands against one, then another, then another of the symbols in a sequence known only to a select few.
The system paused.
'Please repeat'
Again he repeated the sequence, this time adding one final symbol, the repetition one final test designed to confuse anyone attempting unauthorized access, a remnant of more primitive systems of the past, kept now as much for nostalgia's sake as for a final test.
Finally the lights dimmed, the symbols fading back into the walls as one side of the chamber appeared to melt into the floor, allowing him to pass through to the area beyond.
****************
Even as he paced forward slowly, Xander was aware at all times of the weaponry that followed his every move. His own limited assistance in developing the defenses meant that he at least knew the limitations of what was considered permissible actions within the room around him, enough to prevent the defenses once again sparking to life.
The room was lit only by the large screen that filled an entire wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, side wall to side wall.
Three still figures sat there, facing the screen, their backs to Xander, giving no sign that they had recognized his entrance.
Reaching them, Xander pulled out a chair, and quietly sat down, not speaking as the closest thing he could come to calling a friend sat in silence with the unfamiliar pair.
The screen showed the view from a mountainside, looking out over the small town that lay below, the Pacific ocean gleaming in the distance, the beach and pier just visible. The sun was setting over the ocean, turning it into a shimmering vista of golden hues as the dying light reflected off the water.
As the sun retreated over the horizon, the group sat there in silence, the scene in front of them still beautiful after all the times they had witnessed it as the light faded, the room turning darker as it did so.
Oz spoke up softly, addressing the man now seated beside him.
'I took her there the first time I told her that I loved her. We sat there, watched the sun go down, kissed. Good times. Of all the times I recall with her, this is the one I'll never let go.'
As the sun set on the screen in front of them, Oz was no longer watching, his eyes locked on the gently smiling image of Willow that filled the small unit by his side. His eyes reflected the dying light as the sunset he had watched every night for as long as he could remember ended.
The lighter he held in his left hand sparked to life, the flame flaring up, igniting the wick of the small candle that lay next to the screen. As the sun set against the wall, sending the room into darkness, the only light left was that of the candle, illuminating the image by its side, Willow's scent filling the air.
'Bye Will. I'll see you tomorrow.....'
****************
The small group sat there as the candle burned down, sitting there in the darkness as the flame flickered until at last it died, sending the room into complete darkness, the one ritual that was performed every night coming to an end.
As darkness finally filled the room, the bleep of another computer interrupted the quiet, signaling the start of another day.
With that bleep the room sparked to life, wall panels lighting up, the light chasing away the darkness, exposing the equipment that filled the chamber. All around were screens, wires and chips. Short wave pulse generators and fiber optic cables could be seen all around the edges of the floor and walls, the old wire cables long since outdated.
The value of the equipment in the chamber was beyond estimation. So much of it was custom designed, custom made, that the function of most of it could not even be guessed at. Like the security system, many sections were so far beyond what could be found outside this chamber that they were almost beyond price.
Had Oz been a normal person, had the events of his life not turned him into what he had become, he could have been rich beyond imagination. Any one of the items in the room would have made him a rich man on the outside, could have been sold for enough to make him comfortable for life.
But what use is money if you no longer care for the things it can buy, what use are riches when almost anything you want can be taken, stolen or made.
As the room lit up, Oz span around to face the man sitting nearby, his chair rotating on the spot. With the increased lighting filling the room, Oz could now be seen clearly for the first time.
****************
His face was unmarked, only the suggestion of an everlasting sadness that lurked at the back of his eyes hinting at the hidden depths that lay beneath the calm expression. The expression that rarely left his face. He still appeared the man Xander had met all those years ago, looking like he could walk into the Dingo with his guitar, ready to jam badly.
His hair this time around was dark red, clashing terribly with his multi- colored t-shirt, dark stubble covering his jaw as usual. The muscles evident in his upper body were the most immediately noticeable difference to his younger self, the time spent lifting himself in and out of the chair causing his once lean body to fill out markedly.
It was only as his chair moved that one of the reasons for that sadness became apparent.
The wheelchair on which he sat was a matt black, the titanium frame dull and lifeless. The muscles evident in his legs would not have given any sign of his injuries, the electro-therapy treatments maintaining some muscle tone despite the now years he had been forced to spend without walking.
Werewolves are difficult to kill, even if the traditional stories of silver being the only way to slay one are not strictly true. After all, if you chop one up into small pieces or throw one into a volcano, it's not too likely that it's going to piece itself together and walk away.
Even with the accelerated healing that comes with anthro-morphic abilities, even with all that, certain injuries cannot be healed so easily. After all that had passed, Oz knew everything about what his body could and could not do, what it could and could not recover from.
He knew all about that.
****************
The other two in the room appeared to ignore Xander, only an almost un- noticeable flicker of their eyes giving an indication of their unease in his presence, most of their attention drawn to the smaller screens in front of them, their fingers flying over the touch-pads, data flashing across the screens. Neither made any attempt to speak to him, or even to the man who's chamber they were working in, and Xander in turn ignored them.
Xander faced Oz, motionless. In all the time he had know the man in the chair, he had always been the talkative one, but for the first time, he found himself without the words.
'Well?'
Oz broke the silence in his usual fashion, one word followed by silence, a silence that continued as Xander failed to respond.
Oz merely studied him, as usual merely waiting for a response.
The minutes passed.
Another man would have given up, would have broken the silence, would have at least repeated the question, but this being Oz, the silence simply stretched out. He knew Xander would respond at some point, after all, if he had nothing to say, he wouldn't have come here.
Xander still didn't reply but after a time, a time that caused even Oz to begin to wonder, the stillness between them was broken.
'Clink.'
The sound of the small computing unit hitting the table between them was what had broken the silence. The same unit that Xander had carried through the carnage at the Project's compound a month earlier, bounced off the metallic surface, skipping across it towards Oz.
It lay there between the two, unmoving, as Oz stared at it, Xander turning his gaze back to the large screen in front of them. The top of the unit was still streaked with blood, the same blood that had splattered it in the midst of the battle through which it had came.
'This is..?'
'I found a site.'
Oz lifted his eyes from the unit, locking with Xander's own for the first time.
'The Project.'
A statement of fact rather than a question, knowing that if Xander had found what he was truly seeking, he would not be coming here alone.
'Yes.'
For the first time in a long time, Oz was silent for a reason other than choice. For what he had been seeking for so many years to be lying in front of him, just inches away, was enough to stun even him for a moment.
'Was there...?'
The question didn't need to be asked. Xander knew what he wanted to know without having to hear the words.
'No. I went through the whole site, but there was no-one else. The only ones I saw outside of the demons were the scientists and the soldiers.'
'Elsewhere?'
'That's what you can find out. I downloaded their entire mainframe, but the security on it couldn't be broken.'
'Naturally'
'If you can break it, you'll have them all. Maybe you can stop them taking any more....'
Once again Oz lapsed into silence, the possibilities that the information offered him when he decrypted it running through his mind. If Xander has managed to copy the entire mainframe then the amount of information that this small unit held could change his life, could change others lives. The years he had spent searching for a way to punish them for what they had done...
Those who had taken his friends.
Those who had crippled him.
Those who had killed Willow.
And with that thought, the sense of satisfaction, even joy that had sparked in him, died away. For even if Xander had taken out one of the sites, even if he had killed all inside, even if they took out all the sites, ended the experiments, it would still not bring back all those that had been taken, could not bring back Willow.
Oz knew that a part of him had never moved on, had never let go of the past. What the chip represented meant a lot, but until he knew that the man responsible for the two worst events of his life was dead, he knew he could never let go of the past, no matter how much he tried.
Xander watched him, watched his changing expressions. After all this time, he could read more from Oz's face than just about anyone else, and certainly more than his words would indicate, and when he saw his expression cloud over again, he knew the reason.
'Clink.'
Once more, he placed an object on the table between them, a replica of the chip he and others had carried for years.
Xander didn't say anything, waiting for Oz to realize what it was that this meant. He didn't have to wait long. As soon as Oz saw the chip, he froze, unmoving as he stared at it.
'We don't need this anymore.'
Another minute passed in silence as Oz sat there, until he looked back up at Xander, a strange expression on his face.
'Riley.?'
Again, words appeared unnecessary, Xander merely tapping the chip with one finger.
'Yes'
With that flat words, the lack of expression on Xander's face backing up the emotionless tone, Oz appeared to crumple in his chair, shrinking even as Xander watched.
The weight that he had carried for so long, the pain, the anguish, and at the back of it all, the never ending, all consuming rage, could not simply be let go. When two words can change your life, when two words can be the answer to a twisted dream carried deep inside you, wrapped in hatred, it takes longer to absorb than it takes to hear.
'Leave.....'
The soft whisper was all Oz could manage as his mind closed in on itself, a part of it finding it difficult to take in, almost reluctant to let go of his pain.
The pair who had continued worked throughout the almost wordless conversation ceased what they were doing instantly, and without a word left the chamber through an almost invisible exit in one wall. Despite the fact that neither had met Xander in the past, there had been no attempt at an introduction or conversation the whole time they were present, nor did they make an sign of goodbye as they left, as much strangers to Xander as when he had arrived.
Xander reacted in the same manner, not trying to argue, not objecting to his dismissal. He simply stood up and made his exit back through the entrance through which he had arrived.
As he passed the now crumpled form, he paused only long enough to place his hand on Oz's shoulder for a moment, before moving on without a word.
The doorway was opening before if even before he reached it, the room darkening behind him on Oz's command and the last word he heard as he left the chamber was the same word he had spoken to Oz when he found him again all those years before.
'Willow...'
***************** One Week Earlier
It was nearly a month before Xander saw Oz again, before word reached him in its usual indirect fashion. Both knew of ways to contact the other in an emergency, but were equally aware of the dangers of doing so, of attracting the attention of the many enemies that both had created over the years. Attempts in the past by outsiders to break the communication link, to fool one or other of them, had been met with such a response that no-one or thing had tried again, so
The single code word was enough to tell Xander to return as soon as possible, the code word just short of the emergency code - that code would be used for only 2 possible events, one that would mean destruction on a apocalyptic scale, the other that would his search was successful.
Both knew which was more likely.
~ ~ ~ ~
The entrance through the passage was the same, only the code changed with the time and his entrance to the chamber was unhindered.
As he entered the chamber once more, the change in Oz was immediately apparent.
He had blue hair.
But aside from the color change, it was his demeanor that had changed. Still tied to his wheelchair, the deep sadness that had always seem to pervade through Oz had lifted. Although it was still there, the effects of their previous meeting were apparent, as if a heavy load had been lightened.
His body language too had changed. For the first time in years it reflected the strength that his upper body showed, that his mind had once displayed and now seemed to again. Had one seen him for the first time it would have seemed impossible for him to look any different, that the calmness and quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him was his natural state.
It wasn't the first time Xander had seen him, and he knew well that a man's natural state was what circumstances dictated. People had once said he had a natural state.
Smiles
Joviality
Laid back.
It was a long time since anyone he met had seen that natural state. Most of those who saw him would never believe it.
But not matter what state, natural or otherwise, that Oz appeared to be in, the signs of tension, almost apprehension, were evident in the slight tightness of his shoulders, in the strain that marked the lines around his eyes in sharp relief to the calm features that filled the rest of his face.
The two men who had been in the chamber upon Xander's last visit were still there, almost surprising him with their presence, it having been a long time since he had seen anyone save the werewolf more than once in the hall. The fact that they still didn't speak to him came as no surprise though, his reputation proving a hindrance to normal conversation with those who knew of him.
"You called?," he called out as he entered, for a moment startling Oz with the brief flash of humor, of the boy he had once known.
'One of the tribe found something...something you need to see....,' he called out softly, tilting his head towards the smaller of the two still working in the background. 'It's....not good..'
His brief flash of humor disappearing almost as if it had never been, Xander merely strode across the room, his rubber soled boots not making a sound as he moved to the console.
'What is it?
'Keeshan - ....,' Oz spoke quietly, for the first time addressing one of the pair who had now paused in their work, their own tension evident in their postures.
'We intercepted this signal across an open band in New York. There was no encryption evident, the transmission appeared clean, if a little boring. It was a continuous feed, covering the accelerated development of an insect hive, from beginning to....well, whenever it was deemed to finish.'
'And....?' came the interruption.
'There was something...wrong. I came across the feed by accident, when channel hopping, wasn't really paying attention, it was late, and something....wasn't quite right. I still don't know what it was - when I came here the next day and studied it again I couldn't see anything wrong. Even when we ran it through the systems there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, but for some reason I kept going, and after letting the computers work at it for a couple of days on downtime....well, I found something.'
'Yes?'
'It's...not pleasant. We still don't know who it is, but we've traced the signal. At first we thought it was just, well, human, but there was a back image that flashed up for a while, and I....we....the Tamarish contacted you.'
'Tamarish?,' queried Xander.
'A title, nothing more....,' muttered Oz quietly before continuing. 'Xander....you need to see this.'
'Well show me then, and stop talking about it for gods sake..,' Xander interrupted again.
'Run it. And Xander, you need to plan what to do - no charging off like last time.'
'PLAY IT !!' shouted Xander, for the first time raising his voice, the tension that had risen in the room finally getting too him.
Keeshan touched the key, her small hands trembling slightly as she did so and the large screen that filled the wall at the far end of the chamber sparked to life.
When Xander had last seen the screen it had been filled with the dying sunset, the ocean, the waves. The image this time was not so perfect, was not so peaceful, and it was the broken voice that impacted first, even as his eyes made out the image as it shifted focus...
*********************
"He'll come for me...."
The critically injured woman whispered in the darkness, more to herself than to the creatures that surrounded her, that moved in the shadows that seemed to fill the room..
"He'll come for me...."
The chains that bound her to the wall had cut deeply into her wrists, the rust that flaked from the cuffs mixing with the dried blood that coated her arms. The flesh around the cuffs could be seen even in the murk, the signs of disease evident to anyone who cared
"He'll come for me...."
The pus that had oozed from the wounds over the previous weeks had ceased a couple of days earlier, the wounds now streaked with deep, dark purple and black lines of infection, running along the line of her veins, streaking along her arms and legs.
"He'll come for me...."
They had stopped feeding from her over a week ago. The blood that ran through her body, the blood that held such power within it, had been contaminated to such an extent by now that even those who had fed on her in the past now rejected the opportunity.
"He'll come for me...."
The stench of her surroundings had caused her to heave when they first had brought her here, splattering what had remained of her clothes with her own vomit. That smell had long since faded into the background, her ability to make out one stench from another simply overloading her olfactory senses.
"He'll come for me...."
The rags that covered her back were stiff as she moved slightly. The deep cuts that lay below the fabric had bled continuously for days, a slow steady seep that had drained her body of energy. Had she been anyone else, the blood loss and shock would have killed her long ago, but the energy contained within her blood stream had kept her alive despite what had happened.
"He'll come for me...."
Whether this was a blessing or a curse was a matter of opinion, but for those who watched her, and the even wider audience that had followed her progress, her continued survival simply meant further opportunities for pleasure and wagers.
"He'll come for me...."
Her eyes hadn't opened in hours, the swelling around her left eye, forcing it closed only contrasted against the empty socket that lay along side it. They had taken her right eye on the first day of her capture, taunting her as they scooped it out. Had it not been for their desire that she be able to witness what was happening to her, she knew they would have taken the other long ago.
"He'll come for me...."
Early in the ordeal she had prayed for the first time since she was a little girl.
For rescue.
For escape.
For survival..
As time had moved on, so had her prayers, shifting from words of hope to a prayer for the opposite.
For an end to her suffering.
For a relief from the pain.
For death.
Her prayers had gone unanswered, her screams unheeded. She knew she was beyond help now, that there was nothing that could be done to save her, and as her tormented mind began to fracture, as the walls of sanity that her will had managed to maintain begun to crumble under the torture had, all other thoughts had gradually ceased to exist, forced out as her mind became able to sustain only one thought.
Only the one thought, over and over again, sometimes spoken, whispering from her cracked and bloodied lips, sometimes silent, running through her mind like a revolving sign, but always there, almost blocking out the pain, almost overriding what was happening to her, almost drowning out the sounds around her.
Almost.
'He'll come for me.....'
Even in her current state, a part of her knew that she was almost beyond help, that even her powers of healing and recovery could not save her life without magical assistance. Her conscious mind could no longer summon the clarity of function to realize this, but the part of the mind that cannot be fooled, that merely observes the world from deep inside knew this, knew she was merely delaying the inevitable.
Even the distant part of the mind can cling to the same idea as the conscious area, can focus on the same idea.
But as the front of the dying woman's brain repeated the words over and over again, the hind part, the deep part, the dark part, added to itself just a few words more.
"He'll come for me...."
'And he'll kill you all...'
***************
The signal cut out, the sound died, leaving only a black screen as the group sat there in silence for a moment before Xander spoke.
'The address.....?' he growled.
'Xander, we..,' Oz tried to calm him.
It was like stopping an inferno with a cup of water.
'You saw the mole! YOU SAW IT !!! You know what that means... you know who she is!! I made a promise, how many times have I made that promise Oz ? HOW MANY TIMES?'
'Xander, you need to ....'
'You saw it Oz, you know who it is, you know why she's there..'
'And you know as well. She may be too far gone. She may be dead. We lost the signal 2 days ago and haven't found it since - and you know we should have done.'
The logic was inescapable, and as fast as Xander's outburst has begun it was broken, as fast as his rage had risen it was cooled. For a second or two it even silenced him. But logic can only calm a rage - it can't end it entirely.
'You've never met her and the odds on her still living are tiny Xander. You know it and I know it.'
'You think I care about her? You think the girl is the only person to suffer like that? You think I haven't...it doesn't matter, and you know it. You know what we have to do, what I have to do and you know why. It's why you called me here. You saw the same pictures, you saw the same things, and you know what I have to do..'
Keeshan spoke up for the first time without being addressed, her inbuilt desire for knowledge, part of the reason she was here in the first place, overwhelming her natural reserve, overwhelming even her apprehension of the scarred figure beside her.
'I don't understand. Who is she? What did you mean about the mole? The Tamarish is right, she's probably dead already. You're...well...you. If you've never met her before, why do you care?,' she questioned, puzzlement showing in her tone, the images of the screen appearing to have no effect on her emotions.
'I don't care for her,' Xander replied. 'I care because that mole on her shoulder, the fact that she was still alive in that condition and the demons that showed in the clip can mean only one thing. That girl is a Slayer.'
He spoke the last sentence as if his words were enough, as if the mere act of saying them had answered all of Keeshan's questions, as if they had a layer of meaning that went beyond mere language, and to the man, to the werewolf, in the wheelchair, they did.
Lacking the knowledge that Oz carried, lacking the familiarity needed to interpret the response, Keeshan could only ask again,
'But why do you need to do anything? And why does the Tamarish need to help you?'
Oz's eyes met Xander's, a sad twitch of his lips his only response to the question.
'Oz helps because of I do,' Xander replied.
'And you - why do you care, why do you help?,' she continued.
Xander made eye contact with her for the first time, a deep sadness now pouring from his eyes, the rage that had flared only moments earlier now gone, an icy resolve beginning to take its place.
....
..
.
..
'I made a commitment. A commitment I can't break, that I can't avoid, that I can't forget..
'I made a promise....'
****************************************************
Live or die ? Still to be decided....
Well, there you go - the first chapter of volume 2. Sorry it took so long. The chapters are probably only going to be half the size of volume 1 - very difficult to write 10k words at a time. If you read volume 1 then you pretty much can see where the next chapter's going - maybe I'll bring back couple of people from the beginning since they seemed to be popular. Still not addressed Oz's background, and unfortunately that might not come for a bit. This volume will hopefully cover my version of the Glory canon (albeit tweaking with timelines a bit) before going my own way. Since I lost all my wonderful (and very unexpected) reviews from volume 1 (no bitterness towards ffnet there at all), I require feedback even more.. Ideas much appreciated.
Oh - must give honorable mention to a few people. For volume 1 - Lori Bush, AprilDuchess, Rob Clarke, Obi and a few others I forget. For this volume, Sherif and Theo in particular.