Chapter Four: A Lycanthrope in a Cage

Control had been lost during the last full moon. A tranquilizer dart had been fired and that was lucky to have been all that was fired.

In the damp, dark place in the basement of a body - builder's house something furry bashed against the cage bars, bellowing in rage. Its claws scrapped against the dirt floor and jaws clamped down over metal. Yellow eyes swirled in their sockets, trying to see everything that may pose a threat. Drool dripped to the ground to be covered in kicked up dirt moments later. Snarling was all that one would hear if down there, other than the banging.

The full moon was out. It was shining its bright light down upon the abandoned streets of Los Angeles just as it was the thinning traffic in Chautauqua County up in New York. The time was near midnight. Just another six to seven hours until sun rise and the Lycanthrope trapped in the tough cage in the basement of a body - builder's house would expose itself for who it really was.

Who was the body - builder? Toby Manlilker. He was a hunter, had been for nearly two decades ever since his fifteenth birthday when his mother had been ravaged by a Lycanthrope (which is much more commonly known as a werewolf). Toby had a loaded tranquilizer gun aimed at the most common part of the cage that the Lycanthrope he had captured bashed into.

Something had told Toby not to kill this one like he had so many others. What was strange was that while Toby didn't know it, he had been travelling down to a little town that went by the name of Sunnydale not so many years ago to kill this very one.

Toby took a long drag of the cigarette that he had in his mouth and then crushed it out in the black ash tray on the night stand beside the red chair that looked quite a lot like the chair Morpheus from "The Matrix" had sat in while explaining what the Matrix was to a bewildered Neo. He watched the cigarette send out one last puff of smoke that spread out in the air to disappear.

The dingy basement, which was full of barbells, weights, and exercise mats, was lit up by a single, powerful bulb in the center of it all. The light exposed everything with terrific accuracy and brilliance. Toby could even make out the few blood coated furs from where his dart had struck the Lycantrhope.

He didn't know why he hadn't already killed and skinned this one. It was a big one, it would make him a lot of money. So why was it still living?

Toby rubbed his hand over his lip. It came away wet. Damn. He had thought the bleeding had stopped. This werewolf had slashed his lip wide open before being tranquilized. That was another reason that the peculiar survival of this creature confused Mr. Manlilker.

"What is so special about you?" he asked the thing. It stopped its charge to the gate and looked at him. For a moment Toby thought it was going to give him an answer in an English accent. Just for a moment though. Then it charged at him screaming and slamming into the inner side of the cage. "Doesn't seem like there's much special about you at all. No. So, what is with my urge to kill you? Or, lack there of?"

Suddenly a strange name was whispered into his ear from a disembodied voice. Even the Lycanthrope stopped its thrashing and listened to the strange, ethereal voice. "Jarlkarlones," it said. And then it was gone and the Lycanthrope started its thrashing again as if nothing had happened.

Toby's aimed tranquilizer gun started shaking, a very rare thing to ever happen with Toby. He was a professional gun man, which was why he had bagged so many werewolves before. Now it was shaking and he had no control over it. His entire body was shaking. The voice must've been a hallucination of his, of course. That's all. Yet, hadn't the Lycanthrope heard it, too?

"I must be losing my damn mind. Letting you live. Hearing voices talking gibberish. What the hell is a Jarlkarlone, anyway? Shit. Going insane isn't good." He should know. He had been placed in an asylum back when he was fifteen after his mother had been slaughtered. Insanity wasn't an easy road to go down at all.

Suddenly a window upstairs shattered. Toby jumped and dropped his tranq gun. It fell to the dirt floor as Toby got to his aging feet. He didn't look that old, but, boy, did he feel old!

Footsteps followed the shatter. They were coming down the stairs to the first floor just above him. Toby looked around for his tranq gun and damn near tripped over it. He yanked it up and aimed it at the stair case as foot steps trailed into the living room just above him and then into the kitchen.

Just behind the door above they stopped. He heard a man speaking and suddenly he smiled. He was so wired he had thought it was some strange sort of creature

(Jarlkarlone)

coming after him. What a relief! A man he could handle. A Jarlkarlone (whatever the hell that is) he didn't think his mind could take.

Then the door at the top of the stairs was blown outward, breaking into two pieces which both slammed into the dirt on the floor, spraying up clouds which hindered Toby's sight.

"What the--!?" Toby started, then quieted as rapid descent could be heard on the stairs. It was amazing so much dirt had been kicked up by the door fragments. It was surreal really. The dirt seemed more like sand than anything.

Then the cage behind him blasted open. Not from the werewolf, no. It had just blasted open. All of the bars bent outward violently. However, they looked like they had been made that way. Not like they had been forced into the shape they were in.

"Holy shit!" Toby exclaimed as the Lycanthrope plundered out of it and charged at him. He aimed and shot it in the nose. It yelped out in pain and then rolled to a stop at Toby's feet. Good God it was big! Twelve feet tall at least! He was surprised it hadn't slammed its head into the ceiling in its charge.

But, it had only been six or seven when he had tranquilized it the first time and thrown it in the cage. It had grown six or five feet and he hadn't even noticed until now!

Suddenly Toby realized he himself was taller. "What's going on!?" he exclaimed to the decreasing cloud. Then the disembodied voice began speaking again. This time Toby couldn't make out what it was saying. He didn't care either. It was scaring the living hell out of him.

Then the voices stopped and the dirt that seemed more like sand settled and the feeling that he was taller diminished. Toby looked at the Lycanthrope's cage and saw that the bars were all good and dandy, that is, other than in the parts that the Lycanthrope had bashed against. No violently torn open bars at all.

The werewolf was out though. It was sleeping like a baby at his feet. It wasn't more than seven feet tall now. The door was intact at the top of the stairs. Everything seemed alright and OK and just dandy. Toby suspected he really was going insane.

"How in the hell did you get out of there?" Toby asked the unconscious werewolf at his feet.

"Ah, I let 'im out mate," said an voice with an Australian accent from behind him. Toby gasped and spun around with his tranquilizer gun up and at the ready.

It was aimed at a man that looked a bit like that guy on the "Crocodile Hunter" show. Steve Irwin was his name? Just a bit. A hardly noticeable resemblance. The rest of him looked like a cross between Steven Seagal and Edward Norton. He had beard stubble and a mustache that looked a few days old. His overgrown, blonde hair was hanging down over his insane - looking light blue eyes. Hell, let's throw in a little Crispin Glover to complete the image.

"Think you could lower that weapon, eh?" the man said. Now he sounded more Canadian. How could he have ever thought he sounded Australian, or looked like Steve Irwin for that matter. He looked like Anthony Hopkins, Steven Seagal, and Brad Pitt all mixed in together. Perhaps Johnny Depp, too. "Makes me a bit nervous." Now he sounded English and looked like someone that Toby had never seen before. That's because Toby had never seen Rupert Giles or Whyndom Price.

"Who are you?" Toby asked, his weapon not wavering. he squinted one of his eyes. Now the man looked like Keanu Reeves and Toby Maguire.

"The Man in the Black Suit," the man replied, then laughed. "Just messing with you. That's the title of a Stephen King story. My name's Richard. My friends call me Dick."

Richard, who now, unknown to Toby, looked like a cross between Angel and Xander, offered his hand to shake. Toby stood his ground. The gun wasn't lowered. Richard sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he spoke in a voice that sounded like Eminem.

"I could run up to you and snap your neck before a single thought crossed your mind. I have powers that you don't and am not willing to put them to use. Now lower the gun and let's have a talk."

Toby reluctantly lowered his gun.

"Besides," Richard said in a voice similar to Orlando Bloom's. "Tranquilizer darts won't have any affect on me. You'd just be wasting ammo."

"What was all of that about?"

"All of what?" Now he sounded like Spike.

"The door! A-A-And the cage... and the clo--!"

"Oh! That! Well, you funny little man, that, as you so eloquently put it, was just to freak the hell out of you and to make you ask questions." Richard looked like Jerry Springer and was sounding now like a drunk version of our beloved William the Bloody. "I just did it to make your adrenaline pump like hell. I work in mysterious ways like that."

"You dick," Toby muttered.

"Did you not get the memo? That's what my friends call me! You aren't a friend you dolt. You're an acquaintance. Big difference between a friend and an acquaintance."

"Why are you here?"

"Just about to get to that," Richard replied in Buffy's voice. He now looked like a cross between Andrew and Willow. "Ever heard of Prophecy B - 5 - 74? No? Thought you would've. Anyway. B - 5 - 74 clearly states that a werewolf, or Lycanthrope if you will, puts a stop to an agent of the Apocalypse. Apocalypse 666 to be exact. Everything has numbers nowadays. Apocalypse 666 is the final prophecized apocalypse. Of course, it it's stopped then of course others will take place. They won't have prophecies about them, though. That'll cause some major problems for other Slayers. Don't suppose you know what a Slayer is? Of course you don't."

Toby took a step back as Richard, who now looked like Toby Manlilker, took a step forward. Richard was drinking tea from a shot glass with an umbrella in it. He took a sip and smiled. "Great taste. Want some?" Richard offered the glass and Toby shook his head 'no'. "You sure? It tastes really nifty." Richard's voice now sounded like Toby's. A man studying Toby's picture for an eternity couldn't tell the difference between the two.

"Get back to story Dick," Toby demanded.

"You aren't my friend. To you, my name's Richard. Repeat after me. Rich - ard."

"Bast - ard."

"Cute. Now, where was I? Oh yes. A Lycanthrope is supposed to stop an agent of Apocalypse 666. Since it's supposedly the Final Apocalypse, people decided to referr to the devil's number as 666. There's some trivia for you. So, this is that Lycanthrope. We're not certain if he's to stop Apocalypse 666 or just to delay it, but he does one or the other. By 'we' I mean the ex-Powers That Be. We aren't so strong, which means we can't take physical form, but we are still quite strong. And there's a problem there. I can't take a physical form. The thing you see is just a glamour.

"I change into different visions of people continuously because I just don't like to do things the simple way. Speaking of, time to change."

Richard then turned into a cross between Arnold Schwarzenegger (a.k.a. Governor Schwarzenegger) and George Costanza from "Seinfeld". His voice sounded like Ben Stiller's Derek Zoolander voice. "I believe there is more to life than looking extremely good-looking." He then laughed hysterically. "Ever seen that movie? LOVE that movie!"

"What movie?"

"Well, "Zoolander" you dumbass." This last bit he said with a lisp. When he spoke again it was Ben Stiller's voice once again. "This Lycan-whatey's name is Oz." Then his voice sounded like Willow's. "My old fling. But then I turned lesbian and mostly forgot all about him." Richard laughed and then his voice sounded like Toby's again. "His name is Oz and he used to live in Sunnydale. He was friends with a big group of demon - hunters who were commonly called the Scooby gang. They included the Slayer Buffy, her Watcher Rupert Giles, the wicca Willow, who, by the way, tried to destroy the world once, and Alexander Harris, who now only has one eye.

"The group has expanded a bit to include an on - again, off - again vengeance demon Anya, the other Watcher who died a day or two ago Whyndom Price a.k.a Wesley or Wes, Andrew Wells, who used to be evil but now isn't, and a bunch of others. It's hard to keep track of them all you know.

"So Oz here is a savior or delayor. Either way he's necessary for the upcoming war. No, scratch that. The war that is already here. Demons amok in the big L.A. Do you not watch the news? Not that it's on the news. And since I can't go into physical form I need you to take Oz down to the Big Apple for me. Or is that New York City that they call the Big Apple? Ah, who cares? Take him to Los Angeles. No hesitation. Leave everything here. Actually, take your wallet and buy a gun."

"I'm not going to Los Angeles," Toby stated. He started lifting the gun again. With blinding speed Richard ran within two inches from Toby's face and tore the tranq gun from his hand. He then threw it across the room. "I thought you weren't physical!"

"Heh, heh. I'm not. I didn't do that. I made you think I was when it was really you who was doing that."

"I just threw my own gun away? That's lunacy!"

"Look for yourself."

Suddenly Richard was back drinking tea and Toby's arm was still in the position it had been after chucking the gun away. "How the hell did you make me do that?"

"I've got some tricks up my sleeves. Now, if you don't go to L.A. I'll kill you, err... make you kill yourself and think I'm doing it, and then get someone else to take Oz to L.A."

Toby considered this for a second or two before agreeing to take Oz to L.A.

"Okay. Now go you funny little man! Go!"

Toby looked at the Lycanthrope Oz and back up at Richard. "No way will I be able to lug that thing up the stairs on my own."

Then Richard sounded and looked like Brad Pitt from the movie "Fight Club". "Sure you will. You just need a little help. You get the orange juice concentrate and I'll get the gasoline. We'll mix it all together and blow him out of here!"

"What?!"

"A joke Raymond. Just a joke. You might want to move out of that crappy basement apartment thingy and try and become a veterinarian soon or I'm gonna kill you. A joke Toby! Watch more movies. Then you need to get a haircut and get a real job because this whole Hunter thing really isn't working out for you. Team work Toby. I can make him seem as light as a feather to you if you pick him up. Now do it. If you hesitate I'll kill you. I love threatening you with that."

Toby reluctanly, without hesitation of course, bent his knees and lifted Oz with his legs. What do you know? He WAS as light as a feather.

"See? What'd I tell you? Now take him upstairs or I'll cut off your balls."

Toby hurried upstairs, trying to convince himself that he was insane and that this was all a dream or a hallucination. Richard's laughter followed him out to his truck. Toby opened the tail gate, holding Oz with one hand miraculously, and then threw Oz into the back. He then ran into the driver's seat and started the truck.

Then Richard appeared in front of the truck, still looking like Brad Pitt. "Watch out for anything that looks weird Toby. If you see a Jarlkarlone you steer right clear of it. You got that? Don't ask me what one looks like. You'll know when you see it. Even the demons that look more menacing than it you'll know aren't a Jarlkarlone. Just get on and get now!" Richard was suddenly Granny from the "Looney Tunes" cartoons and had a broom in one hand poised to bat at Sylvester the cat.

Richard put the pedal to the metal as it is said and the truck took off with a better than average acceleration. He melded in with the traffic on Falconer Street and road it all the way down past the central school until the highway came up. He turned into the highway and drove off. When Oz awoke in the morning somewhere near Los Angeles he quickly covered himself up with a bit of tarp in one corner of the truck's back. He then wondered where the hell he was going, and why he had lost control of his wolf form the night before.

Meanwhile...

"How come you never told me that Spike was alive Andrew?" Buffy demanded after getting alone with Andrew. She had found out from Spike that Andrew and him had met twice after Spike's incineration at Sunnydale.

"Well, be-because I don't know."

"Why not?" Anger was swelling in her. She didn't know why she was so angry with Andrew, but she was.

"I-I-I was s-scared that maybe you'd leave after you found out. I didn't want you to leave because then Dawn would leave and I wouldn't know where to go... I just wanted us all to be together. You two are the closest thing I've ever had to a family. Well, besides my actual family. But my brother was a psycho with wolves so it obviously wasn't a great family."

Andrew then looked at his feet as he trailed off and started shifting weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry Buffy."

Buffy sighed. "It's alright. Sorry I got so angry. I'm just a little shell - shocked now that he's still alive and I thought he was dead and moved on to that ass Immortal."

"Heh, heh."

Buffy looked at him confused. "What's so funny?"

"You called him an 'ass'. Never thought I'd hear you call the Immortal that. I just thought it was funny and... I'll shut up now."

Buffy shook her head and turned around. They were in a small military tent that Andrew was using as a house. She walked through the flap and looked around at all of the soldiers running around. Some were very young. She wondered if they'd stand much of a chance against the next wave of demons. Against the Senior Partners.

Giles had said they stood a good chance, but the look in his eyes told a different, not so happy tale. Apparently the Senior Partners were just as bad, if not worse, than the First. That was definitely enough to stock the odds against them, even if they did have several Slayers and an army of soldiers trained to kill demons. Not to mention the most powerful witch the world has seen in a long time. Then there was the one - eyed man who was great at slaughtering demons, especially now that he wanted to avenge Anya's death. This didn't exclude Dawn, who had grown to be one hell of a good fighter. Despite all of that, they didn't stand a great chance. And Buffy was used to not standing much of a chance. It was old news.

Not far away Bob and Drusilla settled into an empty apartment building that still had most of the owners' possessions inside.

That was the night that the first Jarlkarlone set foot upon the Earth. Not just for that incident. It was the first Jarlkarlone EVER to set foot on Earth. And it was ready to shed a lot of blood.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Hey, MorbidMan here. I don't have word count on the program I'm using, but I think this is a very long chapter. I hope you like it. I want to bring all of the surviving "Buffy" and "Angel" main characters into this fic, and mention all of the non-surviving main characters.

Since I got a couple of people finding the name Bob humorous, I decided to throw a Dick in there as well. Alright, I'm tired. I'll see you all next chapter. Thanks for reading and please review. Good night.

Oh, and by the way, Chautauqua County is in New York State. It is composed of Chautauqua, Jamestown (the birthplace of Lucielle Ball from "I Love Lucy" and Roger Tory Peterson a nature-nut), and Falconer. They aren't big cities like the Big Apple a.k.a New York City. I live in Chautauqua County so I should know. Good night.

"The question, Raymond, is 'What did you want to be'!" - Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt's character) "Fight Club"