Disclaimer: I own the name of the Coven, but I own none of its members, its villains, or their allies

Feedback: Very much on the 'must-have' list

Sean Malloy-1: Sorry it took so long

Samyo: Why don't you try and stop me?

Vampyr Moon: Yeah, that would be a good sight, wouldn't it? However, you'll just have to wait and see who the bad guy is…

Devil: Nobody from Hellboy will be appearing, but Illyria will be shacking up with one of the Coven eventually, yes…

The Coven of Reformed Supernaturals

"So, this is what they've got passing as the bad guy's secret base these days?" Hellboy asked, looking around at the large stone corridor they'd been walking through ever since they'd parted ways with the other members of the Coven. "I mean, this guy really didn't have much imagination; stone, metal doors, and the occasional hole revealing fire?"

He sighed. "It's kinda pathetic, really."

"Don't underestimate this guy, Hellboy," Leo said, looking over at the demon. Hellboy had taken the lead shortly after they'd started walking, based on his instinctive assumption that, in the event of an attack, he'd be best equipped to handle anything powerful that tried to take them down. "We've vanquished him before- in an apparently very decisive manner, I might add- and he still managed to come back to give us this situation we've got at the moment."

He sighed. "Believe me, this guy mat very well be one of the most powerful forces in the world that isn't a god of some make or description."

Angel looked over at Leo curiously. "Really?" he said. "This guy's that good?"

"Pretty much," Leo said, sighing as he looked back at Angel. "He's not quite indestructible, but he's definitely close enough; we couldn't develop anything that could stop him when we first fought him."

Hellboy turned around to say something, but Leo raised a finger to stop him. "Trust me; we've sorted that problem out now." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small phial and showed it to Angel and Hellboy. "A power-stripping potion. It's been developed to target our foe's healing abilities; if one of us can get it down his throat, it should limit his healing powers long enough for us to kill him by normal means."

"Meaning what, precisely?" Hellboy asked, looking back at Leo. "Broken neck, crushed skull, taking a massive pummelling all over, what?"

"The first two would be best," Leo said, as he put the phial back in his pocket. "The third would work, but there's no guarantee his healing wouldn't active in the course of the fight; the first two are far faster."

"Right then," Angel said, nodding briefly as he took that detail in. "Well, we'll certainly bear that in mind when we consult our strategy-"

Hellboy suddenly stuck out both arms, stopping Angel and Leo in their tracks. Before either of them could speak, he'd pressed them up against the wall, and was looking nervously at the corridor in front of them.

As the vampire, demon and Whitelighter watched, two large hound-like demons with what appeared to be the hair of Medusa around their necks, walked past the entrance to the corridor they were currently in, followed by a tall demon with ram-like horns and almost flesh-coloured scales.

"A Fyarl?" Angel said, looking at the ram-headed demon.

Hellboy swore as he looked at the hound-like creatures. "Sammaels…" he muttered under his breath, as they vanished from their view.

"That's bad, I take it?" Angel asked, looking up at the demon.

"They're practically impossible to kill," Hellboy explained, as he lowered his arms and freed Angel and Leo. "I tackled quite a few a while back; the only way to take 'em out is to burn 'em- internal or external, makes no odds either way- otherwise they'll just keep coming at ya."

"Great…" Leo sighed, as he stared up at the ceiling, scratching his neck as though he was wearing an uncomfortable suit (Then again, maybe that was what it felt like; who was to say what shape-shifting was like?) "I wonder how the others are doing?"

"Damnit!" Blade whispered, as he once again forced Belthazor and Illyria back into the side of the corridors they were currently navigating, only just avoiding the small division of Mohra demons that were passing by. It wasn't that much- only about five of the samurai-like demons- but, given the necessity of a sneak attack right now, and taking into account his ignorance of the full extent of his associate's abilities, Blade didn't feel like trying his luck against them. Besides, even amateurs in this fame knew that taking out patrols created a time limit in your operations; he couldn't risk that right now.

As the Mohra vanished, he moved away from the wall and glanced back at Belthazor. "Is this normal for these guys?" he asked. "So many of them operating in one place, I mean?"

Belthazor shook his head. "No, not really," the red-skinned demon replied. "Traditionally, demons normally treat each other like white people treated the other races in the 1700s; there's traditionally a 'class' system in most cases." He shrugged. "Half-breeds like me are normally near the bottom no matter what the company we're in, unless we've proven ourselves in some way, but the 'magical' and 'physical' demons constantly bicker amongst themselves about who's better; it's rare that the two of them interact, especially on a scale like this."

"Indeed," Illyria put in, nodding in agreement as the three of them continued to walk. "I myself was used to this in my time; back then, I commanded armies of demons, and was one of the greatest of the Old Ones, even among others-"

Blade interrupted. "Any chance we could use your rep with these guys to make some of them shut up?"

Illyria shook her head. "No, half-breed; that would not work," she said, as they entered a similar room to the one that they had arrived in; the main differences were that this one was slightly smaller, and lacked the large table in the centre. In fact, with its large chairs and bookcases, it almost looked like a library…

Blade sighed. "Great," he muttered, drawing his sword and slumping down into a chaise. "I don't know what's worse; being stuck in an enemy base, or being stuck in the base with no idea where to even go."

"Well, it's nobody's fault, is it?" Belthazor said, as he followed his friend's example and sat down in another chair, while Illyria stood beside a bookcase and stared out in front of her, apparently indifferent to the conversations of her teammates. "I mean, really, how could any of us-"

He looked up, and froze at something he saw in front of him.

"Phoebe?" he whispered, half under his breath, as he shimmered slightly and turned back into the human form of Cole Turner, his eyes constantly locked on a point just to Blade's left.

Instantly, Blade leapt to his feet, looking in the direction of Cole's glance, desperate to see what Cole was looking at and why he hadn't seen it earlier…

But there was nothing there.

"What?" he said, looking curiously back at Cole. "What are you talking about; there's nobody there."

"No… it's Phoebe…" Cole whispered, sounding almost horrified at the sight he appeared to be seeing. "She's under attack… something's hurting her…"

He tried to move one hand, but suddenly froze as though he'd encountered an obstacle. He stared down at his hands in horror, and then looked up desperately at Blade.

"What are you waiting for; cut them!" he yelled, waving his left hand at something on his right wrist that didn't seem to be there. "You're the one with the sword; cut these bloody things already!"

Illyria walked over to stand beside Blade. "What is the assassin talking about, half-breed?" she asked curiously. "Can you see what he claims is there?"

Blade shook his head. "Believe me, I'm just as confused as you are, Illyria," he said, as he slid his sword back into its scabbard and turned away from Cole, trying to block out his heartfelt pleas for aid; until he better understood what was going on here, he wasn't going to try anything that could make them worse, and if that meant ignoring a desperate plea for help…

He sighed.

He'd do it.

He glanced around the room, trying to see anything that might be causing Cole's sudden panic attack…

Illyria drew in a sharp breath.

"Wesley?" she whispered in horror, as though unable to believe what she was seeing.

"What?" Blade asked, looking back at the blue-skinned ex-goddess. "Who's Wes- oh, no," he groaned, as he saw her looking blankly at the wall behind him; evidently, whatever had gotten at Cole had 'infected' her too.

Sighing, he turned away from her, drew his sword, and stared around the room. He didn't know what he could do now, but he was fairly sure he couldn't do Illyria any good right now; he'd just have to find out what was causing this mess and try and stop it at the source.

"All right; who's in here?" he asked, looking around him, sniffing now and again in case he'd missed something. "I'm warning you; I'm edgy, I'm pissed off, and I am fucking tired of people messing with my associates, even if I've only known them for a few days."

"And yet you killed me when you'd know me for all those months…" a voice said from behind him.

Blade spun around sharply…

And stared in shock at the man standing there, a joint between his lips, a dark green jacket over a mock B.P.R.D T-shirt, and floppy black hair that could never be even no matter how hard the man tried.

In fact, take away the mutilated stump where one arm should be, and he'd look just like Blade normally remembered him.

"Scud?" he whispered in horror.

"Yeah, Blade; it's me," Blade's deceased partner said to him, taking the joint out of his lips and smirking at the Daywalker. "Surprised you even remember me, to be honest; didn't think I meant that much to you?"

He indicated the stump. "After all, you did this, remember?"

Blade growled as he stared at Scud.

"You sold me out to the Cabinet, you fucking bastard," he replied. "You gave them access to my DNA, knowing what they were going to create; you fed Damaskinos information throughout the hunt; you fucking sold out the human race, Scud! What the hell was I supposed to do; pat you on the back, congratulate you on your excellent acting skills, and let you go free! After that!"

Scud shrugged. "It would have been the human thing to do," he said. "After all, take away the vampires and what was I? Just a junkie who'd never be taken seriously by anybody."

His face hardened as he looked back at Blade. "You claim to be better than the vampires? You're just like the rest of them."

"No; he's worse than us," another voice said, from off to Blade's right. "At least we actually admit that we're doing this because we're not human; he's leaving the bodies of people he claims to care for in his path, and he still claims to be human."

Turning to face the voice, Blade could only swallow in horror at the tall, beautiful black woman walking towards him.

Vanessa Brooks.

His mother.

Staked at his own hand to destroy Deacon Frost and save the world from the would-be God of Blood, almost three years ago.

"Mother…" he whispered in horror. "But… but I had to save you…"

"By killing me?" Vanessa asked, looking harshly at him. "Your friend had developed a cure for the vampire condition; you could have just stunned me and cured me later."

"I had no choice!" Blade yelled at her. "If I didn't take you out then, Frost would have become unstoppable! It was you, or the fucking world! I had to pick the world!"

"Hardly all that human, is it?" Scud asked, looking harshly at Blade. "I always thought a true human- a true hero- tried to find a way to save everyone, not just the majority."

"No…" Blade whispered, as he looked between the two of them. "I had to… I had to…"

"You had to be the vampire…" a voice said from somewhere else. "It's what you were born to be… it's what you'll always be… You can't escape it… you can't flee it…You'll always, at heart, be nothing more than a murdering-"

Blade snapped.

Swinging his right fist up by the elbow, Blade grinned with glee as he felt and heard the crunch of a nose beneath the back of his hand, following it up with a elbow jab in what he hoped was this thing's chest, before spinning around to punch his new foe in the nose once again.

Stepping back, he quickly glanced over this new adversary. It was a man, fairly tall, with thick grey hair and a slightly lined faced, dressed in a simple black suit. His nose was covered in bloodstains where Blade had hit him, but otherwise he seemed perfectly calm and relaxed, smiling casually at Blade as the Daywalker faced him.

"Impressive," the man said, looking at Blade as the hybrid unsheathed his sword, ready for combat. "I wasn't expecting you to be that tough."

"I'm always full of surprises," Blade said dismissively, staring back at the man. "Since you're here, I'll assume you're a demon; care to expand on that for me?"

"Naturally," the man replied, grinning at Blade as he spread out his arms, palms upwards, as though he were announcing the start of a show at the theatre. "I am Barbas, the Demon of Fear."

"Ah," Blade said, nodding slightly. "So, that's why they're so shaken?" he said, indicating Cole and Illyria, still frozen in horror by whatever it was they were seeing. "You're making them experience their greatest fears, aren't you?"

"Indeed," Barbas smiled. "Rather predictable, really; trapped and unable to move or help as the person they love dies in front of them." He shrugged. "It's really too easy for me."

Blade, growling under his breath, raised his sword, pointing it directly at Barbas's neck as he twisted it slightly, looking like he was just itching for an excuse to dig it into Barbas's throat.

"Let them go," he said simply. "Otherwise this goes forward another two inches."

Barbas chuckled. "You think that scares me?" he said, looking down at the sword.

Then, before even Blade could react, Barbas reached up, grabbed the sword, stepped slightly to the side so it was no longer pointing at his throat, yanked Blade forward, and then punched him in the face, knocking Blade back with a surprisingly powerful force for someone of his size.

As Blade hit the ground, Barbas looked down at him and smiled.

"I am Fear, Daywalker," he said.

Blade didn't bother to reply. Instead, he reached into his coat, pulled out a silver boomerang-like weapon, and threw it directly at Barbas. The demon of fear tried to dive to one side, but even he wasn't fast enough to avoid it slicing a long thin line on his left arm.

"GAH!" he roared, clutching at the injury as Blade leapt back onto his feet, grabbing the 'boomerang' as it flew back into his hands.

Blade looked at his opponent, and shook his head mockingly.

"I've fought people who thought they could drive me made with fear before, Barbas," he said, as he put the 'boomerang' back into his coat and picked up his sword, shifting into a combat stance as he did so. "Their main advantage over me was that they played on psychological fears rather than hitting me with it directly, so I couldn't throw them back as easily.

He chuckled as he looked at Barbas. "Your problem is that you're too direct; those guys were real experts at getting at my weak spots."

He allowed a small smile to grace his face- one of the few genuine smiles he'd ever given since his discovery about his true heritage. "They played on my fears in a psychological manner rather than just telling them to me. You? You're too direct to be truly terrifying; I know what's coming."

He shifted into a combat stance, and glared at Barbas behind his glasses. "Let me demonstrate."

Instantly, Blade had leapt forward, slashing away at Barbas with his sword. Despite Barbas's flesh being no stronger than the average human's in defending him from physical attacks, his enhanced strength and speed, as per most demons, was still enough to allow him to deflect the majority of Blade's blows; those that did land on him were most caused by luck rather than any real skill on the Daywalker's part.

Blade, realising his current failure, decided to change tactics; before Barbas could realise what he was doing, Blade had swung his sword-arm back and lashed out with a powerful kick at Barbas's legs, striking the demon hard in one knee. As the demon staggered from the shock, Blade followed the kick up with a punch to Barbas's face, striking him on his already tender nose, before throwing his sword off to one side, grabbing Barbas's head with both hands, and head-butting him before throwing him off to one side.

Spinning around, Blade ducked down, grabbed his sword, turned back to face Barbas…

And froze in horror at the sight in front of him.

"Whistler?" he said, horrified at the sight in front of him.

It was indeed his old mentor. The long hair, the neatly-trimmed beard, the slight scars all over from past adventures, the brace on his right leg that he'd worn ever since the deaths of his wife and daughters…

It was unmistakably Whistler.

The only difference was that this Whistler had a vampire bite on his neck and sharp fangs visible over his lips.

"No…" Blade said, staring at the figure in front of him. "Not you… please, not you…"

"Yes, 'son'," Whistler said mockingly, looking at Blade with almost pure evil in his eyes; Blade hadn't seen that level of hatred in a foe's eyes since he staked Deacon Frost. "Where were you when this happened, I ask you? Away."

He coughed slightly, and then looked back up at Blade. "You were always away. You spend so much time just trying to be the hero that you forget to make sure the little people are all right; it never occurs to you that I'm not as tough as you are."

He indicated his fangs. "You were so busy running off to be a hero on a larger scale, you didn't even leave me any means to defend myself. The vampires found me… attacked me… destroyed our base…"

He chuckled. "And this time, you weren't there to 'kill' me."

Looking over at Blade, he shook his head mockingly at his adopted son. "Not that it would have mattered much anyway; you failed to take me out the first time this happened."

Spreading his arms out wide, he smiled at Blade. "Go on then; hit me, if you can."

Blade did nothing. He just stared at Whistler in dumb shock, unable to think of anything to do.

He couldn't stake Whistler again; he just couldn't. Once had been hard enough, but a second time…?

No.

He'd rather kill himself than…

Wait a minute… Blade thought to himself, as he stared at the vampire in front of him. How could Whistler get here on his own?

Then it clicked.

Barbas.

Blade didn't hesitate this time; before the demon could react, he gripped his sword hilt hard and thrust forward, ramming the blade right into Whistler's heart.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he roared, as Whistler's familiar form vanished, to be revealed by the impaled form of Barbas.

Looking up at Blade, blood leaking out of one corner of his mouth, Barbas chuckled slightly.

"A valiant… if foolish… effort… Blade," he said weakly. "I cannot… be killed… by mortal means…"

"How about this?" a voice said from behind them.

Blade grinned, yanked his sword out of Barbas's chest, and ducked down to the ground…

Just in time for Belthazor's energy ball to strike Barbas in the chest and cause him to suddenly burst into flames.

As the fire vanished, Blade grinned and turned around to look back at Illyria and Belthazor, now freed from whatever illusions Barbas had trapped them in. He'd noticed them start moving again after he'd staked Barbas, but hadn't wanted to draw attention to it until they were ready to strike.

"You two OK?" he asked them.

Illyria nodded. "I am well, hybrid," she said, one corner of her mouth turning up slightly as she spoke.

"Same here, Blade," Belthazor put in, looking over at the Daywalker with a smile on his face. "Good job there; I've never seen anyone stand up to Barbas that… fast."

He raised a curious eyebrow at Blade. "How'd you do that?"

Blade shrugged. "I've already been subjugated to some nutcase trying to convince me I'm little more than a beast," he said dismissively. "Anything after that's a waste of time, as far as I'm concerned."

Looking back at the burnt patch that was all that was left of Barbas' presence, he slid his sword back into its sheath and looked back at the other two. "Let's get going; the others are probably waiting for us."