1753 - Rome, Italy

For ten years, I have searched for Marcus. Eanfrith had ordered me not to, and for six years I obeyed her command. By then, the pain of being cut off from my brother became unbearable. Searching for him lessens the pain somewhat, because it gives me purpose. Purpose I have been missing since Marcus was lost to me.

I have found him and I am deeply troubled by the knowledge how far he has fallen. He is employed as a mercenary for a demon congregation. Never would I have thought that my brother would have swayed from the just path. It is understandable though, his destiny as a Battlebrand has caused him so much pain that he wishes to shield himself from that. I understand his decision, but that does in no way mean I will resign to it. Thus, I keep an eye on him from a distance. I hope against all hope that one day I will be able to burst through the dark walls that hide his heart from me. However, this is not the right time. For immortals, time travels faster and wounds of the soul heal slower. The loss of Aidan is still too fresh and he will not be able to hear my words for what they are.

For sixteen years, I have not returned to Galway. The village is burdened with memories that are too hard to bear. Although I miss Liam, I have not been able to force myself to visit. From time to time a message arrives from Galway, informing me of new developments and reminding me of my failure as a protector to both my brother and the village. In a vain attempt to put some distance between those memories and myself, I have travelled onto the mainland. Italy is as crowded with evil as any country, and I make myself useful by ridding innocents of demon infestations.

This is where horrible tidings reach me.

Galway has fallen prey to a mass murderer, destroying the families I knew so well. I almost do not dare to read further, afraid that the letter will tell me that Liam is no longer alive. It does, albeit his fate is even worse than I had feared. Liam has become a vampire, and is solely responsible for the murder of his friends and family. He now goes by the name of Angelus.

My faith wavers. I have lost the three souls most dear to me to evil. I am alone. Must I continue to fight? The desire to give up my struggle and join my brother overwhelms me. But will I be able to deny my conscience? Will I be capable of committing vile acts against the innocents I swore to protect? Can I defy my nature to indulge in my longing to join forces with my brother?

I do not know. For the first time in my eternal life, I cry bitter tears. I weep for the loss of the innocent children Aidan and Liam were and I weep because of the emptiness that surrounds me since I estranged Marcus.

1898 - Paris, France

I think about the ghastly events in Galway every day of my eternal life. Each time I consider what I could have done differently. Perhaps I could have acted more rashly, more like Marcus. I should not have hesitated and should have left those asking for my protection to fend for themselves. I should have rushed to my brother's aid, thus taking the villains by surprise. Maybe I could have saved the child before death claimed it. Before darkness claimed Marcus. Guilt eats at me for placing my brother above the child I too loved. But the child is at peace, and the loss of my brother to evil is still gnawing on me. He is alive, but with every day that passes he is further beyond my reach. Still, I have to believe that we shall meet again and I shall be able to reach inside his heart.

Now and then, I can't help but wonder if our decision was ultimately the right one. How many men have died because of Marcus' reversion to darkness? How many men could we have saved if Marcus had only fought for good instead of evil? Does that number balance the number of people that would have been murdered in Galway, if we had chosen for the child to live? There is no way to find out. I have to live with the knowledge that another decision could have saved Aidan's life, could have kept Marcus from reverting and could ultimately have shielded Liam from a fate worse than death, thereby also protecting the hundreds of lives Liam has taken and is yet to take as a vampire.

My reputation as truth-sayer precedes me everywhere I go. Because of my inability to lie, demons and men alike find I am trustworthy and so they confide in me. In the years I have spent in Paris, I have acquired a circle around me consisting of confidants. Some of them men of questionable virtue, some of them demons; all of them aware of the fact that I am able to shred them in mere seconds. As long as they do not turn on me, they are under my protection. I realize this truce casts a slur upon my purpose, the pureness of it tainted by cooperation with evil creatures, but this circle allows me to keep an eye on Marcus and the vampire Angelus.

Through them, I receive word of an exceptional event in Rumania. One of my confidants is adamant that Angelus has been cursed with a soul. It appears that he had been feeding on a Gypsy girl, which did not please the elders of her clan. A spell was cast to return Angelus' soul to him. I am both elated and saddened. I am filled with joy because this signifies the return of Liam to this world, but I feel sorrow because Liam will be subject to so much suffering. He will relive the torment Angelus inflicted on his victims and the faces of those Angelus killed will haunt him forever.

I long to speak to Liam and offer him comfort, but I know it is too soon for us to meet. Liam will not yet be able to truly accept the return of his conscience and will try to adjust his soul to the evil ways of his breed. His soul cannot allow this and as a consequence he will be driven to the brink of insanity by the horrific deeds his evil counterpart committed.

I must wait.

1935 - New York City, America

I have travelled to the New World to seek out Liam. The time has come for me to try and offer my help in accepting his new destiny. I am not a wise man, but I carry the wisdom of others.

I find him in an alley. He is filthy and reeks of death, the way vampires do when starving. It is clear that he has not fed on a human being since he has been ensouled. Liam is startled by my sudden appearance and I can see he thinks I am but a figment of his emaciated brain.

"Liam," I speak up.

He narrows his eyes and grates, "Angel." I do not understand him.

"Liam," I repeat, pleadingly. Watching him closely, I see him curl his lips in a feral growl. I know he will attack even before the thought enters his mind. Easily sidestepping his lunge I lash out with my left arm and he crashes to the ground. I pick him up by the lapels of his jacket and keep him at an arm's length, suspended in the air. As a boy, he had great respect for Marcus and myself and I see this respect slowly returning to his eyes.

"You will listen to me, Liam," I tell him, as though I were talking to the child he once was. "You will come with me and you will listen." He nods and I release him from my hold.

Without further delays, we reach my accommodations. Liam seats himself in the wooden chair opposite the bed. I set to pacing in front of him, considering adequate ways to broach my views on his situation. Reaching a decision, I halt and face him.

I tell him about Marcus and how Marcus lost sight of his mission. I speak of my desire to once again join forces with my brother, even though that would mean reverting to darkness. But most of all, I speak of honour, pureness and purpose, the three things Marcus embodied before his ordeal.

Liam is defiant, I can tell. Years of remembering Angelus' vile acts and wandering in dark alleys have affected his judgement, and he is not certain of the truth behind my words.

"Heard that before. Not the first one trying to get me to fight for good," he croaks, voicing my suspicions.

"Surely, my words must carry more weight for you than those of others," I admonish him. "Do you not remember your youth?"

"Yeah, great hero you were, walking out on me," Liam whispers, thinking my hearing is not sensitive enough to overhear him. He is wrong.

"Leaving Galway pained me more than I can tell you, Liam. I could not stay, not without Marcus," I attempt to make him understand.

"Liar," he spits out. I lose my patience. This boy knows what I am and still he does not believe my words.

"I am a Battlebrand, boy. Truth-sayer and demon bane. Lies do not leave my mouth," I lower my voice threateningly. I see understanding dawning on Liam's face. His defiance ebbs away and his shoulders sag. Forcefully, I refrain myself from putting a consoling hand on his back. This is something he has to come to terms with on his own. After a while he looks up at me.

"I can't change anything. It's all pre-destined. It's no use, we can never beat them all," he speaks in a soft voice. Ainel's words come rushing back to me.

"Hear me, Liam. Your soul was returned to you, a miracle that has never before occurred. You have a new destiny, just as Marcus and I had so many centuries ago. Evil will always be present, but it is our purpose to fight it." Speaking Marcus' name to someone who knew him stings me, but I continue. "It is all written in stone, and our acts do not change the order of things. Therefore, nothing matters save for our actions. Do you understand, boy?"

Liam is silent for a while. He lifts his head up at me and I see the child he once was in his eyes. He looks lost and full of sorrow and I regret that I cannot offer him anything but my advice. "Do you, Liam?" I softly ask.

"I do," he chokes the words out. "But I'm not Liam anymore. I'm a vampire. Liam is dead. My name is Angel."

The words shock me but I understand his reasoning. Although he will always be Liam to me, I give in to him. "Angel," I nod.

We talk for hours afterwards. I am certain he has been pointed towards his destiny and he will waste no time in commencing down the right path. For the first time in years, I feel a spark of hope, and I am joyful I was able to play a part in this.

I go back to England a changed man. I am done being the vanguard of fighting evil. I have been replaced. Another purpose awaits me. These are not my times. I feel I have lived too long and I do not fit into this world anymore. I have never felt more out of place, and I welcome my new destiny.

2003 - Cotswolds, England

I have been Guardian of the Deeper Well for nearly seventy years now and I have not seen Marcus or heard from him since he left Galway. I have kept a watchful eye on his endeavours however, but two months ago Marcus seemed to have vanished from this Earth and I have not been able to find him ever since. I can feel he is not dead, but I fear he is forever lost to our cause. Yet not a day passes that I do not think of him. My thoughts run in circles. I cannot leave the Well; it cannot remain unguarded while I seek out my brother.

The Well is where the Old Ones lie. Old Ones are Demons, pure. They walked the Earth before humankind. Each and every one of them still has acolytes somewhere on this Earth. My absence would not go unnoticed and I would be robbed of my charges. This would cause the world to be overrun with demons, slaughtering mankind and enslaving those who survive. I cannot let that happen, even though my heart aches more than ever to find Marcus and convince him of the error of his ways.

I believe it was pre-destined that the sarcophagus of one of my charges, Illyria, escaped from the Well. I do not know how it was able to disappear, but it has. I worry about this and it consumes my thoughts. This is something I welcome, for it keeps my mind occupied and I do not think of Marcus. Seeing as Illyria will cause many problems as soon as it is released from its prison, I expect visitors shortly.

By now I have grown wary of questions, for a lie is sometimes far more preferable than the truth I am forced to tell. Because of this, I do not look forward to having company, although mine is a solitary life. I know that Illyria's escape will prompt questions I am not able to answer. Nor do I desire to explain to my visitors that Illyria cannot be drawn back to the Deeper Well without sacrificing thousands of others. I fear for the world, but I know she is quite harmless. Her armies have faded eons upon eons ago.

It is not surprising to hear my guards charging intruders. I make my way over to the entrance of the Well, and it is surprising to see the identity of my visitors. It is Angel, and the vampire accompanying him is William the Bloody, also known as Spike. I have heard about the vampire's quest to gain his soul and I admire the strength he has shown, for I know the trials he faced were complicated and torturous. A vampire choosing to fight for good and seeking out his soul is a true champion indeed.

I emerge from the gateway guarded by the tree and I hear Angel speak.

"Is that all? We haven't even started!" Angel boasts. I suppress a woeful smile at the sight. He is very much like my brother.

"I would say that's enough," I make my presence known.

Angel looks at me in surprise. "Drogyn."

"Angel," I greet him.

"You're the keeper of the well," Angel states the obvious.

I nod. "Have been for decades."

"Well, who in the bloody-" Spike begins. Because of my assessment of Spike, it is startling to find out he has a bold and insolent personality. It irks me to no end.

"Do not ask me a question. If you ever ask me a single question, I will kill you outright. Do not think for a moment that I cannot," I interrupt him angrily. I regret losing my temper for a moment until I hear Angel speak again.

"He can. He would," Angel tells Spike, pride evident in his voice. I tilt my head to observe Angel. He has come to terms with his destiny and once again accepts me as an elder. My hearts swells at the sight of the man that he has become. I ignore Spike's comment and come to the point.

"You're here about Illyria," I assume.

Upon Angel's affirmation, I invite the two men into the Well. "Walk in."

Spike does not relent. "But how-"

"I just said to you, not one moment ago, do not ask," I once again interrupt the impudent blonde vampire. I walk over to the entrance of the Deeper Well. Behind me, I hear them engage in muffled conversation.

"Seriously. He doesn't like questions," Angel explains.

Spike insists on a further explanation, as I knew he would. "Why the bloody hell not?"

I rely on Angel to unfold what bothers me so, and he does not disappoint me. "He can't lie."

I lead the way into the Deeper Well, holding a torch. Angel and Spike follow in my wake.

Longing to find out how the man I became reacquainted with sixty-eight years ago had fared, I attempt to make conversation. "I would never have thought you would end up here, Angel," I start.

"I could say the same," Angel replies, his face an unreadable mask. I can tell he does not want to elaborate, so I refrain from asking further questions.

"So, you two know each other," Spike interferes. I glare at him for his interruption; he misunderstands me. He quickly adds, "That was a statement. I already know that you do."

"I'll tell you as much as I can. The Old Ones were demons pure. They warred as we would breathe; endlessly. The greater ones were interred, for death was not always their end. Illyria was feared and beloved as few are. It was laid to death in the very depths of the Well, until it disappeared a month ago," I tell them.

"Someone took it from under your nose a month ago, and you didn't miss it 'til now? That makes you quite the crap jailer, doesn't it," Spike remarks insolently. I do not appreciate his insult and I narrow my eyes at him. Once again, he misunderstands and clarifies, "Also a statement."

Spike is wearisome. I turn to Angel. "Your friend likes to talk."

"So much, he's even right sometimes. The man I remember couldn't be stolen from so easily," Angel replies curtly. I am slightly happy he remembers me as someone difficult to overtake, for this indicates he is reverting to be more and more like Liam. However, he is wrong in his assumption.

"The tomb was not stolen. It disappeared. I believe it was pre-destined to as part of Illyria's escape plan. And as for my not noticing, well, my charges are not few," I explain and show them what being the Guardian of the Deeper Well actually comprises.

Understanding dawns on Spike's features. "Bloody hell," he softly utters.

"How far does this go down?" Angel wonders.

"All the way. All the way through the Earth," I reply evenly.

Angel tries to grasp this and gathering his thoughts, he summarizes, "So, the coffin disappeared, teleported, but it was brought to us."

"Illyria was a great power; so great that, after millions of years dead, somewhere on this Earth it still has acolytes." Suddenly a suspicion grates at me. I am not certain that Angel understands the direness of his situation, so I continue. "It's been freed. The demon's essence."

"Yeah, it's been freed. Why do you think we're here?" Spike asks rhetorically. Upon my glance in his direction he goes into a tirade, which I find mildly amusing. "And what's your favorite color? What's your favorite song? Who's the goalkeeper for Manchester United? And how many fingers am I holdin' up? You wanna kill me? Try. But I don't have time for your quirks."

I grudgingly admit to myself that the vampire is right and that time is of the essence. Refusing to address Spike, I turn to Angel. "The power to draw back Illyria lies in there. It requires a champion who has travelled from where it lies to where it belongs."

"You got two of those right here," Angel answers curtly.

I sigh. This is a sorrowful task but I have to convey to them that there is no possible solution to their predicament. "But I did not know it was free. If we bring the sarcophagus back to the well, it will draw Illyria out of your friend... and into every single person between here and there. It will become the mystical equivalent of airborne. It will claw into every soul in its path to keep from being trapped. Entire cities, tens maybe hundreds of thousands will die in agony if you save her."

The pain etched on their faces is truly heartbreaking. I dearly wish I could have been the bearer of better tidings. I feel I have betrayed Liam yet again by denying him the chance to save his friend.

"No," Angel utters, walking to the edge of the bridge to peer down into the Well.

At the same time, Spike sounds out, "That's madness."

I agree with him. There is just one more difficult task ahead of me; I have to grant Angel and Spike the opportunity to make the choice themselves. This is not a choice I can make for them, however hard this will be for them to bear. I trust Angel will choose according to his purpose. "This is a place of madness. I shall prepare the spell. Your choice."

I leave the inner chamber of the Well and retreat to my quarters where I busy myself with gathering supplies. It does not take long for Angel to follow me there. His expression tells me he desperately longs to choose his friend over thousands of others, but knows he can't.

"We're leaving," he announces. "Thanks, Drogyn."

I do not know why I deserve gratitude, for I was the one supposed to be guarding those interred in the Well, instead of allowing Illyria to escape and infect an innocent woman. Even so, I nod and say goodbye. After a moment's hesitation, I walk over to him and offer him my deepest sympathy. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes but he does not allow them.

"Goodbye Drogyn."

After Angel and Spike leave, I sit in my quarters and reflect on my very long life. To me, the mistakes I have made along the way stand out. In no way do the lives of innocents I have saved negate them. I am ashamed and do not feel worthy of my eternal life and the existence as Battlebrand I have been granted. My thoughts persistently travel back to Marcus.

It is now that I reach a decision. My life without Marcus has not been that of a hero. To truly find purpose in the fight against evil I need my brother as an ally. I do not function properly without him. It is time I admit this. My existence has been filled with doubts and faltering faith since he was lost to me.

It is time to find Marcus.