Title: The Dust of Time

Rating: PG-13.

Author: Mizzy (mizzy_2k@yahoo.co.uk or castle_ebgb@yahoo.co.uk)

Summary: Will struggles with his conscience, while struggling with the Darkest threat he's come up against so far - his own family's memories. Will/Bran Slash.

Disclaimer: "The Dark is Rising Sequence" does not belong to me, it belongs to Susan Cooper, the amazing Goddess that she is. This is written by a fan, for the fans, and no money has exchanged hands what-so-ever.

Author's Notes: There've been a few alterations in the previous chapter, none too obvious.

-----

"When as a child I laughed and wept, Time crept.

When as a youth I waxed more bold, Time strolled.

When I became a full-grown man, Time RAN.

When older still I daily grew, Time FLEW.

Soon I shall find, in passing on, Time gone."

Poem from the front of the clock case in the North Transept of Chester Cathedral, attributed to H. Twells (1823-1900).

----------

[Part Two] - "Past and Presence."

----------

December 21st 2003

----------

Will had grown more or less used to having less people around him as time went on, and had begun to wonder if that was because they would have left anyway, or if his nature pushed them away. Actually having people who wanted to be close to him was a rather novel concept for the last of the Old Ones, and he took a while to adjust to the happy blur of colours, sounds and activities going on around him. He could barely bring himself to acknowledge that everyone was there for him, let alone actively acknowledge the fact that Max, Stephen, Barbara and his father were conspicuously absent.

When it started to snow, however - icy, light flakes that danced through the air to settle in sparse patches on the ground - Will noticed and was suitably antsy and unapproachable until mid-morning when it settled to a three inch depth and then stopped.

Bran and the Drews - probably having been told to keep Will occupied and keep his mind off things - noticed his preoccupation with the snow, and had been fairly disappointed to find Will off in some kind of world of his own while the snow feel and carpeted the world with a cold white glow.

"I always used to wish for snow on my birthday," Will mused softly, as he moved his gaze from the window to the monopoly board set up on the carpet. Barney had found the battered game in the cupboard, so old as to have "patent pending" stamped on the middle of the board, and Jane had set it up to try and snap Will out of his seeming melancholy.

"Used to?" Bran looked up from studying the property card he was holding to blink at Will curiously.

Simon took the dice from Bran, promptly rolling a double four which landed him in jail. "Why did you stop?" said Simon, after Will didn't respond.

Will blinked, startled at the question. "Hm? Oh, I got my wish once. On my eleventh birthday…" He trailed off, and the four waited expectantly for the rest of the sentence. When it became apparent that there wasn't anything else coming, Bran sighed exasperatedly.

"Will?" Bran said, looking at Will with a curious and annoyed frown on his face. "You know, I heard finishing sentences was a lost art for you English, but I didn't know it was this bad."

Will arched one eyebrow slowly, and Bran flushed under Will's quiet scrutiny. "I did finish my sentence."

"Hmph," Bran snorted in disbelief. "You do that an awful lot. Start a story, and leave it nowhere near finished."

"He's right," Jane said, absently taking money from Barney and handing him another hotel, which he plonked down ceremoniously on Mayfair.

"What is this?" Will said quietly, sounding a little hurt and betrayed. "Are you trying to tell me I'm not leading my life right?" His tone was laced with a hurt sarcasm, and the look on his face was a curious cross of disquiet and regret.

"No, we're telling you to stop feeling so sorry for yourself," Simon said, his eyes flashing with a determined anger and concern. The atmosphere settled to a wary tension, and everyone seemed to be watching Will.

Will looked as if he was going to make a retaliatory comment, and then he relaxed. The intent expression on his face instantly melted away into a weak smile. "Sorry. It's just -- I don't think I like birthdays all that much."

"Don't like growing older, hey?" Bran said, looking studiously over the top of his glasses at the money in his hands. "I don't blame you."

"I guess that's why," said Will, but the expression on his face lacked conviction and none of them believed his words. "Is it my turn?" With a dubious frown, Will looked up at

Barney solemnly handed Will the dice. Will rolled the dice, and landed on Mayfair.

"That'll be all your money and property please," Barney said, wishing that Will's mood hadn't broken the happy atmosphere.

"Great person to have 'round on your birthday, you are," Bran commented, his singsong Welsh accent sounding even more melodic in its sarcasm.

"There's just too many damn people in this family!"

All five around the board looked up at the two intruding voices. Will rolled his eyes as he realised it was James and Mary, pottering around with a pile of pretty coloured paper, presumably for more paper chains.

"James, mind your manners. We have guests, and it's Will's birthday."

James flushed at Mary's reprimand. "Sorry. But there are!"

Barney smothered a giggle with his hand which seemed to somehow enhance the sound. He immediately looked apologetic and flushed a bright red. "Ma always thought three were enough. Wonder what she'd think of three girls and six boys!"

"There were seven," Will said, so gently it was almost as if he hadn't spoken.

"Aye," Mary said, sharing a sad glance with Will as she flounced over with the gained grace granted her after overcoming the trials of adolescence. "Our Will is the seventh son of a seventh son. Da was one too. Well," she corrected, "he was a seventh son."

"Oooh, Will, you didn't say you were psychic," Bran teased. "All that time I thought you were off with the Talwyth Teg and you really were."

Jane glanced curiously at Will. The youth seemed to be faking a smile rather than being genuinely amused. Will's gaze moved suddenly to hers and Jane felt heat rush up her neck, burning her ears. Furious at being caught staring, Jane moved her gaze swiftly away to Bran's. "Talwyth Teg?"

"Little people," Bran said. "Fairies."

Jane took the opportunity to roll the dice, and also landed on Mayfair. With a surreptitious wink at her, Simon took the dice and threw it before Barney could fine her the same amount he'd crippled Will with. Mary shared a giggle with Jane before leaving the room, dragging a protesting James with her.

"You thought I was off with the fairies?" Will looked back at the game and scrunched his nose up. "Thanks a lot."

Bran just smiled sunnily. "You're welcome, bach."

-----

He knew something was up when Jane disappeared. Simon and Barney and Bran (who all seemed to be in on whatever it was now) were trying very hard to distract him with a rather raucous game of Snakes and Ladders, and were tenuously succeeding because Bran kept brushing Will's hand with his own. Anyone would be distracted by that, he reasoned with himself as he felt himself blush when Bran knocked his elbow, and furiously refused to analyse it in further detail. He'd been doing a lot of that recently, after all, and was getting quite good at it.

Simply asking where she could be wasn't exactly a very subtle approach, and the Old Ones were nothing if not subtle, so Will bided his time, letting them plan their little surprise. He'd sort of rumbled their first surprise by hearing them arrive, so he resolved to not inquire about this other surprise.

Finally it was Barney who asked where Jane was. Will was surprised for a second, but then figured that Barney, as the youngest, would be subject to the same prejudices as he; namely, that the youngest boy would be the one most likely to blurt out secrets.

"I haven't seen her for ages," Simon said, a little too simply for Will's tastes. Simon's face didn't even flicker as Will looked him up and down shrewdly. Simon would make a hell of a poker player in the future, if he could overcome the pompous side of his nature.

Bran frowned. "Well, if a sheep goes missing, and the dogs can't find her, we pretend we are the sheep for a while, and see where we might have gone."

"So I have to pretend I'm Jane?" Barney frowned. "Oh dear."

Will sniggered into his sleeve, and Barney turned his pensive frown into a scowl directed at Will. "Are you mocking me with your age, oh, old one?"

Will's insides turned momentarily cold before he realised that Barney was trying to make mockery of Will's status as an eighteen year old, and cursed the Gift that Barney had. Barney was still a Seer, he still Saw things beyond his own knowledge despite whatever the Light or the Dark could throw at him. Blinding a Seer was impossible, unless there simply was nothing further to be Seen. "Ha, ha," Will said flatly. "How much longer do I have to pretend that I haven't noticed everyone disappearing?"

Simon blinked with shock, and Will tried not to feel smug that he'd rumbled their plan. However, Will was still too close to the world of men not to feel a little giddy at scoring a point in the one-upmanship game the two still played, whether consciously or unconsciously. Bran, however, remained cheerfully oblique.

"Don't know what you're on about, old chap," Bran said, mimicking a posh English accent and not quite managing it. "But whatever the question was, I'm sure ten more minutes should cover it."

"Ten more minutes of Bran kicking your arse at this game," Barney supplied helpfully.

"He is not kicking my arse," Will responded promptly, with a hurt look, and the game continued almost as if it hadn't been broken.

-----

It was some time later. Will looked at the barn, and back at Bran, and made a disbelieving cluck in the back of his throat. Bran flatly stared back, elbowing Will in the side and using Will's surprise to yank off the black fleece. Will scowled and folded his arms across his chest, his cheeks reddened from the forceful wind (or so he liked to believe) and returned Bran's quiet glare.

"This is ridiculous," Will said softly, looking from Bran to Barney to Simon and then back to Bran. Bran implacably threw Will's fleece over to Barney, who caught it, preventing Will from slinging it on again. He sighed. "So," he said, a little too loudly. "Jane's fallen down in here, has she?"

"Act surprised," Bran hissed, his narrowed glance tinged with amusement as he elbowed Will once more in the side and pushed him at the door. Will shot an accusatory glance at Bran.

"I managed to act surprised when James said Jane had fallen over and hurt herself and needed the first aid kit, didn't I?" Will shot back, annoyed.

"That was only because someone jabbed you in the side, and you know it," Bran responded. "Eh, misery guts, we're here. Look all shocked."

"Don't jab me again, and I will," Will said, yanking his red jumper down again and flicking a longing glance in the direction of the black fleece that Barney was dutifully carrying.

"Me? You're blaming me?" Bran's face was the picture of innocence.

"Aye, I am, and don't you forget it either."

Bran wrinkled his nose. "Get in with you."

"Yes, sir!"

Will hefted the first aid tin up onto his left arm, and he elbowed the door open with his right hand. "Hallo?"

The dark barn stared back at him. Will squinted uneasily at it and wondered irrationally if he should stare back. Dark areas had that kind of effect on him nowadays. Darkness and shadows had a presence to them he had never noticed as a child, and was now too wary of.

"SURPRISE!!!!!!!"

The lights flickered on a good five seconds before the shout, and Will quickly stared into the bright lamps overhead. The lights blinded him for a good ten seconds, making his pained expression resemble a surprised one. He hadn't even needed the third jab in his ribs, this time from an overly helpful Barney.

The barn was decorated lavishly, with banners and streamers and balloons coating the walls in their bright gaiety, with every possible colours sparkling and streaming around the room. Fairy lights were strung over the beams, and a table laden with an impressive array of buffet food literally lined one wall. A table piled high with gifts was next to the door, underneath a banner saying "Happy 18th birthday Will!"

"Happy birthday, Will," Mrs. Stanton said, rushing forwards and embracing her son, his father leaning slightly into the hug for a brief moment, his deep voice echoing the sentiment.

"We thought you'd like a party," Stephen said, his voice coming from the right. He looked at Will for a long moment. "Unless you think you're too old for a party, and we can cancel it…"

"You could not!" Will protested, almost fully human again, just for a single moment.

-----

"Too old for a party, my arse," Will muttered, cheerfully despondent as he sat happily in a sea of clothes and books and stationery and carefully folded wrapping paper. Music blared in the background, while a sea of relatives spun around on a makeshift dance floor. He cringed at seeing Mary attempting to swing dance with the stiff and formal Simon Drew. Will turned back to Bran, whose expression was a queer mix of amusement and confusion.

Bran flashed him a low and dirty look. "That's the third time you've mentioned your arse tonight."

"Quite a saggy old arse it is too," Will responded readily, brightly lifting up a small plastic cup full of cherryade and mock-toasting the Welsh teenager with it.

"And that makes it four."

"Ah, so a Morgan like you can actually count. Thrilling, thrilling." Will snorted into his cherryade when Bran muttered something that sounded vaguely like 'care de' something. He missed the last syllables, but was fairly sure that it was some kind of curse.

"This Morgan like me can count in two languages, which is more can be said for you English," Bran said, almost prissily as he folded his hands over one knee, perched as he was on the edge of a plastic chair.

"Sure you can. Welsh and Bad English."

"You're looking for a tanning, aren't you?" Bran smoothed his blue trousers down and shrugged. "Want me to take you over my knee and spank you?"

Will choked on the mouthful of cherryade he'd just swigged, and the too-bright liquid spurted out of his nose, making his vision swim for a second. "Eh- I'll just- Um- Postpone that invitation, if you don't mind."

"Right you are," Bran said jovially, the English colloquialism sounding thick with Bran's sing-song accent.

Will watched as Bran stood up a little too quickly, tossing Will an amiable glance and ambling away without another word. Will got the sinking feeling he might have to tone down the side of himself 'too close to the world of man', if this ridiculous behaviour around Bran continued. He had another two years of Uni left. Why Bran had chosen the same course and Uni as him was a fact that was still eluding Will, and he still had a faint feeling that meeting Bran and Jane at the same Uni and on the same course was due to more than a little contrivance on one absent Merriman Lyon's part. The Dark still had its lingering effects on the world. It stood to perfectly good reason that the Light's effects would continue to affect the world too.

Whatever the reason, the fact remained that two years of Uni with Bran stretched ahead of him, and he had to be careful with this newly realised (but not new, Will's stomach unhappily reminded him) feeling.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Will looked up, shaken out of his thoughts by the sombre female voice. "They're only worth one penny?"

Jane smothered a high-pitched giggle with the back of her hand, sitting gingerly down on a chair, hitching her knee-length tartan skirt so it didn't get caught in the chair legs. "Okay. A million pounds for all your thoughts."

"Better." Will smiled faintly, a ghost of a smile. "I was just thinking how everyone was having fun, and I'm the sad gooseberry sat out on the side playing with my toys." He punctuated this statement

"Wallflower."

"Eh?" Will scratched his head. "Did you really fall over and hit your head in doing so? 'Cause I just thought you said wallflower."

"I did. Your age is showing itself, Master Stanton. Wallflower is the current hip and trendy name for gooseberry."

"Eh," Will said again, grunting as Jane laughed. "At least I didn't say goosegog."

"Very valid point." Jane fixed him with a sombre look. "Nice way of avoiding the subject, though."

"Oh. My loneliness or my thoughts?"

"Either."

"Well, I was also kind of wondering how come you and Bran and I all managed to pick the same course and uni. I've always been nuts about anthropology, if you remember-"

"Yes, Will Stanton, I remember Cornwall." Jane pulled a small face at Will, and Will stuck his tongue out back at her.

"And anyone would be insane not to want to get out of Buckinghamshire…"

"Of course," Jane said, her voice light. "Everyone knows that."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Me? Mock? How dare you suggest such a thing!"

"Ha, ha. So how did you decide what to put down on your UCAS form?"

Jane gave a small shrug. "Guess it was Gumerry's influence. The last thing he bought me before he secluded himself god knows where to do more of his ruddy research was a set of books, and they really got me interested in Anthropology… As for the uni…" She shrugged again. "I'm sure I heard someone somewhere say that Exeter was really good for Anthro- you know what? I really thing it may have been Gumerry too. How strange!"

"Very strange," Will agreed, his suspicions more than confirmed. "Not regretting your choice, though?"

"Well, mum's been going on a bit at home about how she doesn't think Anthropology is very applicable to the working world. She'd be happier if I'd made a definite career choice, I'm sure, but- Eh, what is this, anyway?"

Will blinked as Jane's eyes narrowed. The Drew girl pushed a pile of presents to one side, and pulled out a large unopened box. "An unopened present! How strange! You must have missed it under the mess of the other presents."

Jane pushed the large box over the table to Will. Will took it, and something within him thrilled. His stomach seemed suddenly empty. Will let one finger trace over the innocent-seeming box. He couldn't sense any trace of magic at all.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Will looked up, his mouth hanging partly open, and clamped his lips together. There was no good reason that he could use to explain not opening it, except for "gosh, I really don't want to open this because it was given to me by a witch girl who - because I'm an old one and can do magic - wants me dead because I wouldn't send her back into the past like she asked" and Will really didn't want to have to even think of the repercussions of saying that. Instead, he let his hands fall to the openings. Untying the bright ribbons, Will took his time opening the box. Sliding the lid up and off, Jane peered over his shoulder as he sifted through the tissue paper. Laying the flimsy coloured paper aside, he stared at the contents within.

A single cloth drawstring pouch, a single glove and a small envelope.

Will lifted up the envelope first, suddenly unnerved by the weird collection of items.

"Weird," Jane murmured. "Who'd you get this lot off?"

"Huh?" Will looked up, almost startled by her presence. He shook his head as if to shake away a heavy cloud of suspicion. "Um, Maggie Barnes. She used to have this huge thing for Max. She always was a bit… gone in the head, if you get what I mean."

"Ah," Jane replied, obviously at a loss of what to say. "Aren't you going to open the card?"

"Maybe later," Will commented, surreptitiously sliding it into his pocket. "Right now I'm going out to dance, if you'd care to join me."

Jane happily got to her feet, holding out her hands. "Yeah, who needs two feet anyway," she joked.

Will glared and dragged the laughing girl out onto the floor.

-----

Stephen excused himself after finishing a third dance with his mother, and headed over to the tables to sit down. Picking up a glass of the non-alcoholic punch on the drinks table, he sat down and watched the merry making. Mary was still embarrassing herself with the uptight older Drew boy, his mother and father were dancing together and looking perfect, the twins were hand jiving in the corner while Max looked on in amusement. Barney Drew was dancing with one of the prettier cousins, the girls dancing with their uncles, and James was haunting the food table. Will was dancing with the Drew girl, for the second time.

That was the dance arrangement he was most interested in. He watched Will and Jane dance, Will's steps polished as if they were rehearsed except for the small adjustments in the pattern he made to accommodate Jane's mistakes. She looked happy as they span around the floor, Will merely looked amused at something entirely different.

Leaning back in the chair, Stephen let his thoughts wander. Jane probably has a crush on him, Stephen thought languidly, watching his youngest sibling. Unreciprocated from what I know of Will, though. Poor girl. Perhaps I'd better warn her. He resisted the urge to laugh out loud at his own thoughts. Will was eighteen, old enough to make his own mistakes, but still Stephen found it hard to let go. Harder even than any of his other brothers and sisters. Something about Will brought out his protective instincts.

Stephen let his gaze drift back to the dance floor, watching Will from his vantage point. Will seemed entirely preoccupied now, his body moving through the steps on his own. Stephen let his gaze flicker to the corner, where Bran Davies stood. Stephen blinked and looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. Bran was watching Will and Jane with an emotion akin to jealousy on his pale face. Letting his gaze flicker up again, Stephen watched, his mouth dry, as Will's gaze flickered up and met Bran's own. Instantly Will looked away, his eyes suddenly intensely focussed on nothing, and Bran looked away too. The Welsh boy looked flustered, his arms folded as his amber gaze swept the floor rapidly. Thinking, then, Stephen realised. Thinking about my brother.

The thought unnerved him, and Stephen looked back across to Will. A frown and a small blush decorated his brother's face. Interesting, but what could it mean…? A hundred noticed looks and touches and encounters between the two that Stephen had seen locked together in his mind into one complete jigsaw puzzle. He laughed out loud at the realisation. It wasn't just their teenage hormones being teenage hormones. This was a full-on, reciprocated, unacknowledged, probably un-talked about, crush. The unease Stephen felt at the small attraction between them he'd noticed yesterday eased a little. He looked across to his parents again. They would probably be a little shocked that their youngest boy played for a different team, as the cliché went, but they'd get over it. Homophobes the Stantons weren't. Strange, yes. But deranged, no.

-----

Will ran towards the house, full pelt. There weren't any toilets in the barn, so this was the perfect excuse. He only hoped James was finished already so he could have a small bit of peace. He met James as he entered the door, and his brother gave him a knowing look and the keys to the door. Will muttered his thanks, as if he was desperate for the toilet, and legged it inside as fast as he could.

Putting the toilet seat down, Will sat down on the cool porcelain surface and pulled the envelope out from his pocket. He didn't move to turn on the light switch; the pale moonlight filtering through the small window gave him light enough to see. He held onto the envelope for a long moment, distracted slightly by the telltale crossed circle burn on his left arm. Hoping he'd hitched his sleeve up on his run to the house, Will covered his burn and turned his attention fully on the envelope.

Will realised his hands were shaking, and he forced them to still. His taut fingers hovered at the opening before he ripped open the envelope. A single card fluttered out. He picked it up from the floor and lifted it up to the moonlight.

"A hint and a help, from the hindrance."

Will's brow furrowed as he stared at it, uncomprehendingly. Maggie herself must be the hindrance, but of the small pouch and the glove, which was the help and which was the hint? And could he really trust for either of these to be genuine?

Yes, whispered his Gramarye knowledge. Even agents of the Dark are honest, when they want something from you that desperately. Twisting honesty to an evil use is their favourite technique.

Will pocketed the envelope, and lifted the toilet seat back up again. Unbolting the toilet, Will headed outside and locked the door again. Running back up the hill, he headed into the barn and towards the table with the box. No one else was sat there, and Will managed to pull out the glove and pouch before the room trembled before him.

His skin prickled at the sensation, and Will looked around in horror. No one else had reacted at all to the trembling. He stepped backwards, mouth dropped open, and was faintly aware that Stephen was suddenly at his side; clutching his elbow.

"Will, what's wrong? What's wrong, Will?"

Will barely heard the words. His scalp prickled, his magic blared, and everything warned at once the end is nigh.

But it can't, Will screamed back silently against the threatening doom, the end is nowhere near.

As if his words were the answer, his magical awareness stopped vying for his attention. Stunned, Will twisted in Stephen's grasp to stare up at his brother.

"Will, are you all right?"

Will swallowed hard at the question. "Y-yeah, fine. Someone walked over my grave, is all."

"Hm." Stephen pursed his lips together. "I don't think I believe you."

Will stared back wordlessly, and then couldn't say anymore. The floor trembled, this time physically. The music stopped and frightened shrieks filled the air as everything went totally and completely dark. Will took the opportunity to outstretch himself, and feel. Something Dark was surrounding the barn, but it was impossible, the Dark had been driven back, it had been pushed out of time, and-

"NOTHING'S IMPOSSIBLE, OLD ONE. YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THIS."

The lights flickered back on. Lining the hall was an army of dark robed figures, all with cowls and hoods covering their faces. The words thudded painfully through the air. The figures stepped forwards in unison, and everyone else present huddled together. Will moved as Stephen herded him towards the others.

"Who are you and what do you want!" Roger Stanton's voice rang out firmly.

"WE ARE INEVITABLE." One of the cowled figures stepped forwards and threw off his hood.

"Mr. Mitohin!" Alice Stanton gasped in recognition.

"Mitohin. What the hell's going on?"

Stephen winced as his father stepped forwards, and out of the corner of his eye saw Bran step up to flank Will's other side silently. He inclined his head to look at Bran, who gave him a fierce look in return. Stephen almost reeled from the intensity of Bran's protective glance, and then settled. He and Bran were both set on keeping Will safe, then.

"I've come for the Old One," Mr. Mitohin intoned, his voice low but so crystal clear it cut through the air, tearing it into ribbons.

"Speak English, man," Roger returned, his voice edgy as he realised he had no control over the situation. Stephen watched as his father and uncles started surrounding the girls of the party.

"YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, OLD ONE. SURRENDER, OR WE KILL ALL YOUR FAMILY." Mitohin's voice was even lower than before, more the timbre of the Dark Rider he embodied while on his steed.

Stephen felt Will tense slightly under his grip, but he didn't let go. Will looked up to stare helplessly at Stephen, and Stephen stared flatly back.

"ADVANCE, DARK!" Mitohin commanded. The shrouded figures stepped forwards and held up one arm each. Stephen couldn't look away as dark energy coursed through the air towards him, the smell of it burning on the air. His eyelids flickered, as if to protect his eyes, and then light blazed forwards, surrounding them and blocking out the black-robed men. Stephen looked down to Will, trying to ascertain whether this light was due to him, certainty starting to course through his blood that this was the case despite the lack of evidence from Will. His brother was looking straight at Mitohin with hatred, that much was for sure, but so was every other male in the group, and many of the females too.

"SO, YOU CAN TAKE HALF OUR POWER, WATCHMAN OF THE LIGHT. BUT CAN YOU TAKE ALL OF IT?"

Stephen watched in horror as the figures lifted up their other arms, the word watchman filtering through his brain. The darkness intensified against the light barrier. Will strained in his arms, and Stephen held on for dear life, but it wasn't enough. Will slumped in his arms, and instantly Bran was right there too, helping hold Will up so that the others would not notice that Will could barely stand on his own. His face was strained as if he had no energy left at all. The light barrier flickered and fell dead. Mitohin lifted up one hand, and the Dark attacks stopped too.

Mitohin's voice changed again, to that of the posh man they'd known before. "Couldn't cope, could you watcher? All alone, and you can't cope. I could kill any of your family, and you'd be powerless to stop me. For example, I remember your sister Mary was quite pretty. Still is, from what I see. A pity she will die, then." Mitohin lifted up his arm. Black energy lanced through the air. Roger Stanton pelted forwards, but too late. His eyes widened in horror as the energy crackled through the air towards his youngest daughter.

"NO!"

Will went taut again, and a white barrier surrounded Mary, protecting the shocked girl. His eyes, the colour of metal, stared at Mitohin in fury. Mitohin just sneered, then stumbled forwards a step. Stephen watched in amazement as Maggie Barnes stood where Mitohin had just been, cheery face plastered with a desperate expression, fear of the repercussions of her actions plain on her face.

"THE POUCH CONTAINS YOUR HELP, WATCHER!" Maggie managed to shriek, before Mitohin turned and brought his arm down across her face. The harsh slap filled the air as Maggie slumped to the ground, unconscious. Stephen and Bran looked to Will, who managed to hold out his hand containing the pouch and glove before unconsciousness claimed him also. The glove and pouch dropped to the floor and Bran hurriedly dropped to his feet to pick them up while Stephen helped keep Will upright.

Mitohin opened his mouth to command an order, then froze as he saw Bran with the pouch. That hesitation was enough for Bran, as the Welsh albino opened the pouch, dug his fingers into whatever was its contents, and flung his hand forwards. Stephen saw what looked like fine sand swirl outwards from Bran's fingers and heard Mitohin's scream of rage before a heavy pulsing feeling started in his brain, thudding painfully. In his hazed state, Stephen felt Will slip from his grasp, but didn't care, as darkness completely engulfed him and he remembered nothing more.

-----

To be continued…

-----

Trivia:

*** "Morgan like you." *** This is an English insult used against the Welsh to describe a Welshman. Similarly, an insult in Wales is to be called "English."

***Mizzy*** Lancashire dialect word for mist. ^^;;

***UCAS*** University and College Admission Service. It's the company students go through to apply to universities in Britain. Most annoying thing about it? The form is incomprehensible, the instructions long and bizarre, and the application fee £15. That's about the same cost as you can get the whole DIR sequence for in Waterstones.

***bach*** You should know this one. Literally it means "little" or "small", but usually used as a term of endearment or suchlike. Here's the trivia part - a toilet in Welsh is "tŷ bach", or, literally, "small house."

***My hen laid an egg in the top of the tree*** The first line in the Welsh national anthem, according to thousands of Welsh children throughout the country. Of course it's actually "Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi", but trust me when I say that it sounds reeealllly close to the original.