From : Chihuahua
Date : 17th April 2003
Disclaimer : I don't own any of the TRA:JQ characters and neither do I own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No money is made out of this fic. Don't sue me as I'm not sure I can afford Ally McBeal.
Category : A, JJ-HR, DBN-HR, F, E, JQ/Buffy Crossover
Rating : Parental guidance is advised.
Author's note : This takes place after Season 2 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is my account on what happens and is based fully on my own creativity.
Archiver's Permission: Granted to those who want it. Just inform me on where it can be found.
CHAPTER 7: RESOLUTIONS"Hey, you ready?" Jonny asked, checking his bootlaces to make sure that they were battle-fast. He slipped a stake into its usual place, tucked in his waistband and another strapped to his leg.
Buffy gave him a wry smile. "Let's not forget my seniority here," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She tied it up in a tight ponytail smoothed it once and looked over. "Let's kick ass!"
"Or get ours kicked," Jonny grumbled. He held the door open for the other Slayer. He wasn't exactly happy about having to patrol as he had been working three shifts straight with only a short break in between at a small deli.
It had been three days since he had last encountered Jessie, and though he had tried many times to find her, his attempts had been futile. He had taken out his frustration relentlessly on any vampire he met, thrashing them mercilessly before finishing them off.
Buffy looked over at her partner, trying to fathom his deepest thoughts. She was curious about his behavior the last couple of nights. His slaying had been erratic, less then disciplined. Okay, who was she to judge discipline, but he seemed to relish in the kill. Slaying was part of the Slayer job citation, but she had never really taken any pleasure in dusting the undead. Jonny's violent thrashing was rather disturbing. Even more so since she did not sense any true violence in the guy. It was almost a needy frustration that drove him on each night.
Jessie, she guessed correctly. She must have been some chick. A fighter too. Buffy grimaced. She wasn't one to step down from a challenge, but that chick could just be the one to break the Slayer's number one cardinal rule: Do not die.
Already she heard the heavy clash of trash cans as another vampire was presumably being slammed about. She was right of course…
***
ASHQELON
Daerian's eyes fluttered open, taking in the gloomy light of his surroundings. Shadows lurked everywhere, encasing him in a deep blanket of darkness. Suddenly, a shadow shifted to his right.
"Why did you drink?" a calm voice demanded. Antius stepped forth, the shadows seemingly falling off him as he approached.
"Why'd you think?" Daerian asked, a knowing smirk on his face. He felt the hunger begin to build up as his bloodlust grew.
His Watcher simply gazed back in silence. His ex-Watcher. The man had no more authority on his life. Looking around, he realized that he was still in the villa, his own blood crusted around and on him. They hadn't even removed him from the spot he had died on. Rage built up inside him.
"What were you promised? Immortality? Power?" Antius said. "We both know that that's nothing but lies. Immortality and power at what cause? Damnation!"
Daerian smiled, his white teeth flashing in the dark. Already he felt the temptation to morph, to allow the true face of the demon that now resided in him to show. How he felt like showing Antius what it was that he was truly missing in life. He grinned again, enjoying the revulsion on Antius' face, knowing that he must have changed already.
"Dear friend, what it offered was much more precious than immortality," he rasped.
Antius shuddered involuntarily at the demonic face that masked the true beauty of the boy's face. "What then did it offer?"
"Freedom!"
Daerian's word reverberated in the emptiness, its sheer power hitting Antius as the older man looked sadly at the shell that had once been his charge.
"Speechless old man?" Daerian laughed wildly, readjusting his soiled toga. "There's a first time to everything." Don't you want to know the feeling of absolute freedom?"
There was no response. Antius understood the sheer magnitude of his doom now. He would not run, could not run. There was no way he could escape a force so powerful, so lethal. His only chance was to strike now.
With a skilled hand, he drew a stake from his satchel and leapt in for the kill. Antius was a seasoned Watcher, probably the best, having trained Slayers-in-waiting and Slayers, but he was no match for a Slayer. Even as his stake plunged down, he saw Daerian shift his weight onto his hands as he rolled back over the table. The stake struck hard, but missed its target.
Daerian had been fast, but now he was faster. He threw himself over the table, and with a single strike disarmed his former Watcher. He smiled in satisfaction as he saw the pain on Antius' face, the old man clutching his broken wrist. Whipping out with a crescent kick, he floored the man, giving only a second's break before hurling the man savagely against a wall. The resounding crack of the man's skull brought new vigor to Daerian.
"Never thought that it would end like this, huh, Antius?" Daerian taunted. He threw back his head and howled as he saw blood pouring down Antius' head. He walked towards the crumpled heap on the floor and picked him up with no apparent difficulty.
"Kill me," Antius' whisper barely cleared his lips when Daerian head butted him savagely. He wiped the smear of hot blood off his cheek and licked it.
"You see Antius, this slaying matter is a lot more complicated than you could ever understand. I'm the Destined, the one person to be able to stand up against the forces of darkness.
"But you see, I'm also a slave, meaning that I will continue to serve a world that will never appreciate the work I do each night to keep them safe. I'm bound by duty to serve a world of ignorant and selfish people! And the best part… I will die before my duty leaves my shoulders! And my son will take over! Another slave, another Destined One!
"On top of that, my mother is dying and I have no way to save her. And because I am the Destined, I have to skip work some nights to slay the undead, leaving me with no money to help her. This, this immortality gives me the power to be free. Free from society. Free from the constraints of time. FREE from duty!" Daerian's voice echoed, his emotions thrown into a blender.
"You want me to kill you fast, old friend?" Daerian asked, his face reverting back to its once mortal beauty. "To spare you the pain and humiliation? Well, you will get no mercy, you pompous old bag. Drown in your own blood and suffer your humiliation!" With that he kicked Antius a last time in the head, and marched out into the darkness.
He did not need to walk far as Prumiva stood in the immense courtyard, her loveliness pristine as the moon above. At her feet lay the still form of a boy, probably in his preteens. She was flanked by several of her surviving slave boys.
"He's still alive, warm." Her voice was even more alluring than he had remembered. She gazed in satisfaction as Daerian picked the boy up and drained him as a baby suckled from its mother. "There's a good boy. Drink, and be strong!"
***
MAINE
Benton closed the journal of Antius, his mind troubled by the fate of the man's charge. The old man had survived the brutal attack. During his recuperation at the Watchers' Council headquarters that was based in Athens then, he had written a very detailed account of his charge and the progress that they had made before the tragedy.
God, Jonny… Benton trailed off, refusing to continue his train of thought. For his sanity, he could not continue.
Sighing with resolve, Benton picked up a second book that lay on the table, its spine cracked with age and the pages yellowed and warped. It was the same book he had taken away from Hadji that night. Benton leafed through the book rapidly, ignoring the crackling sounds of delicate parchment, until he came to the desired page.
Looking at it once more, he was still astounded as to how much the image of a handsome young blond man could look so much like Jonny. Or was it the other way around?
Aefriol…
Benton read the text next to the picture again, regarding the fourth and youngest Guardian of Light. During a great war against evil, he had lost his older brother and twin sisters to the battle, having barely escaped.
Aefriol was the Guardian of Air. His brother, Ajelle was the Guardian of Water while his sisters, Terra and Pirreli were the Guardians of Earth and Fire respectively. Each was blessed with superior strength and agility that surpassed any mortal to aid them in their battles.
Three had perished in a great battle, slain by a demon onslaught of unimaginable numbers. All over, portals to Hell dimensions had opened, allowing access to unspeakable horrors; abominations that had disappeared from the face of Earth eons ago.
***
Ajelle looked at the horizon, a deep frown furrowing his brow. His azure eyes flashed once at the oncoming darkness, and a deep sense of foreboding washed over him. The lapis lazuli stone set in white gold that rested on his forehead felt hot for once.
"Darkness is falling," he said, turning around to face his brother. Ajelle's long braid swished a little in the wind, dark as a raven. His robes billowed in the breeze, seemingly flowing like an endless pool of water.
Aefriol sensed his brother's troubled mind, and was somewhat disturbed by it. Ajelle was far by the most experienced fighter of them all, striking a balance between strength and agility. "What do you see?" he asked, uncharacteristically timidly.
Ajelle regarded his fair-haired brother. "Trouble lurks in the darkness."
Pirelli self-consciously touched the hilts of her twin swords. "What's different about the darkness tonight? It's the same every night."
Ajelle smiled, a sad smile. "Tonight will be different." Thunder rumbled just then, punctuating the gloom of his words. "It has begun…"
"What has begun?" Terra asked as she smoothed the hem of her brown robes. Standing next to Pirelli, they were identical except for the color of their hair and robes. Pirelli's hair was a cascading lava flow, luxuriant and her robes were the color of sunset. Terra had hair the color of the richest earth.
"The invasion. They are coming."
Aefriol swung his sword in broad arc, decapitating his foe. The strange demon's head rolled off the cliff as its body slumped onto the ground, black blood pouring out of the open wound. The glowing blister which it had leapt out from pulsated with energy, its lumen a churning mass of swirls. Five more had appeared all around, each one spewing demons of endless variety. His sword plunged into the heart of another as he kicked another off the cliff, hearing it's piercing screech until it hit the rocks below.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Pirelli hacking her way through a mob of vampires with her twin swords. Each blade was broad and short but lethal when in her hands. Dust seemed to swirl around her as she cut off heads and limbs. Next to her, Terra rammed the butt of her bladed staff into a vampire's chest, shattering his ribs and squashing his heart. The vampire was dusted as Terra swung the staff around, the bladed end catching a Mora demon's throat, ripping it open.
"Ajelle! There are so many… too many!" Aefriol yelled, his slender blade causing massive damage with each swing and thrust. He parried a blow from a demon with tusks growing out of its limbs and returned with a devastating blow of his own. His robe was already soiled from the blood of the different demons he had slain that night, and a long cut down his face was oozing red blood.
Ajelle seemed not to hear the call as he whirled around, his mighty broadsword glinting in the night as he cut down numerous foes. "There'll be more. We must go…" He began to back off from the cliffs, slashing path through. He saw his sisters doing the same, but Aefriol remained firm, killing demon after demon in a steady rhythm.
"Aefriol, this way!" he hollered, his voice nearly drowned out by the din of battle. All around, shrieks of pain rang out and the stench of death and blood saturated the air. Aefriol began to hack his way back towards his siblings.
"What now?" Terra asked.
"We retreat." Ajelle's answer was flat, with no emotion. Even then, he was busy clearing a way.
"We cannot just leave like that!" Pirelli protested.
"We cannot win. Not now and not here. They have the advantage of numbers," Aefriol cried, slamming an elbow into a lizard-faced demons chest. He heard the creature's bones- if it had bones- crack.
"Move!"
"AJELLE!" the scream rang out like a bell, piercing the night, ripping through the battle. Aefriol whirled around, his sword dragging down diagonally the body of a demon. He saw Pirelli, her eyes wild from anger. Not just anger, grief flowed along with her tears.
Then he saw it. His brother stood there, still alive from his fatal wound. A huge spear protruded through his chest. And then he fell.
Aefriol roared as his brother lat unmoving on the ground, skewered like a wild boar. His attacks became more savage, swift and punishing as he slayed every foe that approached. He could see both his sisters doing the same, their grief driving them on. Lightning flashed above, cutting the sky into a million ragged pieces. Thunder roared as the earth shook.
Pirelli was next, her body mangled by the shearing claws of a demon that looked like a cross between a werewolf and succubus. The demon left her in a wake of her own blood, but it did not live to do any more damage as Terra hacked at it wildly. Her composure lost in her tears as she reduced it to a bloody pulp and grit.
Her intent was clear, she would destroy them all, or die trying. Somehow, she knew that she would die. Her robes were torn, blood spattered everywhere. Her arms ached from the exertion and she bled from a hundred small wounds. Still she went on, her bladed staff whipping wildly in deadly circles, mangling, decapitating and wounding anything that came close enough for her to maim.
The attack was swift, so swift that she never even saw it coming. The wash of excruciating pain came late; the spike had already punched through her back, extending from her stomach. A second later, a second spike punched through her chest, piercing her lungs.
Terra choked out a cry, not able to do more than croak.
Then Aefriol was there, his sword whipping powerfully. He cut through flesh and bone with some effort, robbing the demon of its limb. The spike remained in his sister as he chopped off the spike on the other arm. The demon roared, its fetid breath not stalling Aefriol as he ducked in for the kill. This sword punched through the demon's throat, cutting off the roar. Aefriol savagely twisted the hilt, making sure to rip the insides of its throat. Releasing the grip for a moment, he pulled out a dagger he always kept in a sheath at his waist and plunged it into the demon's chest, carving out its heart.
His throat burned and he realized that he had been screaming all the while. He didn't stop, not a pause. Tear tracks cut through the stains of destruction that lay heavily upon him. In that night alone, he lost his hope, reality exposed to him in the harshest light of all: lost.
Lightning continued to blaze through the dark heavens as he cut his way through more demons and abominations.
Rain fell, cleansing drops of coolness after the bloodshed. The ground reeked of death, evidence of violence and gore littered the land. Blood mixed with the earth, giving it a ruddy red hue. Gristle and hacked flesh floated in the puddles.
Aefriol dragged himself towards a village. He was severely injured as blood dripped off him in a staccato rhythm. He would die, he knew it. He welcomed it, although he was ashamed of his desire. Weariness bogged him down, making each step a sheer intolerable agony.
Not being able to take anymore, he collapsed onto the ground, the sudden shock dulled by his sorrow.
He felt gentle but firm hands lifting him up, carrying him to a shaded area under the trees. He looked and saw a young man, probably in his late teens. Premonition hit him hard, and he knew that this boy would be the birth of a legacy.
He clutched the boy's hand. "Trust me," he said, his voice surprisingly strong. He drew his dagger and held the boy's hand firm as he cut a shallow wound into the boy's palm.
Surprised, the boy tried to pull back, a pained gasp escaping his lips.
Aefriol pressed his own already cut hand over the boy's palm. Instantly, he felt a connection, as if two souls were intertwined. He could feel, sense, hear the boy's pulse and his mind opened up to the boy. Imaged of the past, memories, skills and gifts were transferred in that moment.
Aefriol felt himself fade out of existence as more of him passed on to the boy. And then he was gone. The wound on the boy's hand was healed.
So the Destined was born…
SAN FRANCISCO
Jonny jammed two stakes simultaneously into two vampires, dusting them as his kick snapped the kneecap of another. To his side, he heard the soft whoosh and he realized that Buffy was beside him now, matching his rhythm as she staked vamp after vamp.
"You notice the sudden influx of vamp population all of a sudden?" he asked, ducking a wild blow and countering with a hard shove.
"You mean as in our nightly slayings are doing nothing to reduce their numbers?" she said, breaking the arm of a vamp before staking it from behind. Her stake punched the ribcage and pierced its heart.
"Yeah."
"Weird, huh?"
"It's almost as if someone's out on a mission to breed as many newborns as possible." He cursed under his breath as he took a hard kick to his head, and another to his back. Jonny went down sprawling. Twisting his body, he barely avoided a hard stomp. Shifting his weight onto his hands, he whipped his legs around, the fist arc hitting the vampire in the face whilst the second leg swept her off her feet. She was dusted.
Jonny pulled himself up and looked around. They were all gone… probably a few got lucky and scrammed. "How many tonight?"
"I dusted six. You?" She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder.
"Five, I think."
"Eleven vamps in one sitting… that's got to be some kinda record." Buffy cocked her head to the side as she studied him. "What gives?"
He looked back blankly. "What's that supposed to mean?" he enquired warily.
"What's up with you?" she demanded. "You've been totally schizo this past few nights."
"I have not…" he protested.
She cut him off, "You've been totally reckless… erratic. You're irresponsible, headstrong…"
"So what!" he yelled, bringing a moment of silence. "You have no idea how I feel right now! You have no clue, so don't stand there preaching!"
You think you're the only one who's been burned?" she screamed, fists balled up. "You think you're the only one who's been betrayed?"
"This is different. Your asshole…"
"Angel was NOT an asshole!"
"Fine… Angel, stupid name though, tried to end the world! This is different!"
"How?" she yelled. "How is this different? You love her, I loved him. I had to kill him, I stepped up to the task, and I killed him. I killed him. I…" her voice trembled with emotion. Her tears glistened in the dim light.
"I don't know. I don't know. I just can't kill…"
"If you won't, I will!" she threatened.
Jonny glared at her. "You will get through me first."
"If you won't kill her, someone's got to." Her voice was steely now, her pretty face harsh with defiance. "You do not have the luxury of choosing which vampire you will kill. Soul or no soul, she must be slain if she is evil."
"Jessie is not evil!"
"How'd you know that?"
"How'd you know that Angel was good?" he shot back.
"He saved me, many times." Her tone was sad again, as if reminiscing.
"And you repaid him with a stake?" he asked, sarcastically.
"It was a sword. I had no choice. I am the Slayer. I had to protect the world… even at that cost."
"Well, he had no soul then…"
"He HAD a soul!"
"I thought you said he lost it…"
"It was returned to him… too late, but it was back. There was a moment in which I saw him again."
Jonny looked down, avoiding her eyes. "I'm sorry." And he meant it.
"Do you have any idea how hard it was to do what it was I did?" she said.
There was an ample pause. "No… not yet." When he finally met her eyes again, she saw his hardened resolve.
***
"Race! Race! Race, where are you God damn it!" Benton yelled. He strode down the hallway, sticking his head into each open door.
"What is it, Benton?" Estella said, peering out of a door.
Benton smiled when he realized that it wasn't the door of the guest room he had placed her in. "Do you know where is, Estella?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle again.
Estella smiled. "He went out, the lighthouse or something like that."
"Thank you." He walked away. Then he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and Estella. I'm glad that you've made yourself at home." He gave her a wink and walked away.
Outside, the sun was bright. Birdsong rose sonorously and the air smelt fresh. Benton headed for the lighthouse. The gray stone monument jutted out suddenly on the cliff. It had been there since the early nineteenth century and had fallen into a state of disrepair over the centuries. When he had purchased the land, he had repaired it. The Government had given them permission to use it, so long as he kept it working.
Benton smiled wistfully. Once, the lighthouse had been the hub of activity. The three kids were constantly running to it to try out the latest computer games or just get into some kind of mischief. The heavy metal door swung open easily and he went up the steps. The place lacked the warmth is used to have.
"Race. Race, are you up here?" Benton called as he plodded up the stairs.
"Yeah, I'm up here. In the computer room."
Benton entered the room. Race was there, in front of the large plasma screen watching something. No, not something, they were video files of something.
"Jessie's old files," Race said. "I decided to see if she had any files saved up here on Jonny's progress. Evidently she did and they weren't even hidden, at least not squirreled away. They were just there in plain sight. Guess she never thought that any of us would check the files."
"So, that's…"
"Jonny, yes. A you can see, you've got some kid." Race stepped back a little to allow Benton to watch the screen fully.
"These are simulations, right?" Benton questioned, as he saw Jonny deliver a lightning fast kick to the head of a dark figure, before snapping his elbow into the solar plexus of another. His movements were fluid, effortless as he disabled foe after foe and reduced each to dust.
Race nodded. "They turned this place into a training ground. My guess is they used the holographic projector to simulate all the action.
Benton nodded, never taking his eyes off the screen. The simulation had ended and Jessie stepped into view. She handed Jonny a bottle of water and tossed him a towel. Jonny toweled off his bare torso and handed back the bottle after taking a long swig.
"Ready?" Jessie's voice came out, soft and shrill through the speakers.
Jonny flashed her a thumbs-up. Another simulation began, this one more punishing than the last as there was an added hazard of uneven terrain.
"There are nearly fifty of these video files," Race reported.
Benton nodded, somewhat numbly. He couldn't help feeling a sense of awe. And pride. The same pride he had felt when Jonny had played at his first junior league game.
"What did you want with me, doc?" Race raised an eyebrow.
"I want in, Race."
"In on what?" Race shook his head, not understanding.
"I want in on this Slayer business."
"No can do, Benton. Too risky. Corbin will have my ass…"
"Let him try. This is my son we're talking about! I want to be involved!"
"It's not an option, doc," Race tired persuading but he stopped when he saw Benton waving his protest away imperiously.
"Do you not understand, Race. I AM in on this, regardless of anything."
Race understood. He saw the iron will in the other man's eyes. He nodded. "In secret," he added.
"Of course."
To be continued…
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