Title: Chaos on
the Hellmouth
Author name: Kunglou
Author email:
AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry Potter had
fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and
raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually
existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell
mouth.
Disclaimer: I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter and claim no rights to the copyrighted material. I am making no money off this story.
Author notes: Massively AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5
If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the first two pieces for this piece to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.
Ch5 – Angels and Snakes
"'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes."
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Lance Jackson swept into the rapidly setup field boardroom eagerly. It had been three days since he had been attacked and the residents of the Whitehouse massacred in a seemingly flawlessly executed plan and FINALLY he and the rest of the surviving members of the executive branch of his government were about to get some answers.
Select members of the armed forces were also present to facilitate rapid deployment of troops if that were necessary. In fact, their location was camouflaged within one of many field exercises being conducted around the country. No fly zones had been established and their satellites were continuously scanning homeland for signs of emerging threats. Full connectivity to the battle network along with real time access to the multiple groups still working on gaining some answers had also been fitted into the large tent that housed the boardroom.
Relatively few knew of their location, and it was hoped that their misdirection and heightened threat alert of DEFCON 2 would deter any further attacks. The only reason that he hadn't ordered DEFCON 1 was the lack of answers, who had attacked them, what was there capability for retaliation and what was their motivation. He had run on a policy of relative isolation and until he knew more he would not change that. In fact he had personally withdrawn the last of his troops from Europe and the Middle East. It was not a decision he would lightly reverse.
Forensics had finished running samples, the techie's had finished analyzing and the agencies had gotten their heads together to chew some fat and establish some probable threat ratings. He was sure that they would continue to spend weeks or even months sifting through previously ignored chatter hoping to find answers but for now, they had some answers for him.
'THREE DAYS,' Lance growled to himself as he thought about the pandering and goose stepping he had had to engage in to deal with the countries media outlets ever increasing and ridiculous conspiracy theories in response to what information HAD leaked. What was even worse, some of their theories hit entirely too close to the mark and when combined with the military exercises he had ordered in the Pacific and Gulf and he had been facing a diplomatic storm.
China and the EU had taken the rumors of an attack as a sign of weakness and were days away from starting a trade war which the US could not afford and the Middle East had raised oil prices leading to pressure that just gave him a headache to think about. If things were not resolved soon then all the economic ground he had made over his term would be lost.
Worse, his primary advisor, the one he had relied on even more than the rest of his pea brained staff, was dead and for the foreseeable future the Hill would be distracted by the power vacuum resulting from the overnight massacre three nights before. He would turn the country of those responsible into a slag pit when he found out who was responsible he thought with a frustrated snarl.
Absently nodding at the chief of staffs and the various heads of agencies that sat around the large oak table alongside his surviving cabinet, now the most powerful people in the country until the power vacuum created by the devastating attack was filled, he demanded answers. Oh there were a few trusted senators, but as far as possible, he was trying to keep information contained until he knew more and could add some spin to the flow of information.
"Tell me you have FINALY got something ladies and gentlemen." He growled out allowing his frustration to leak through. It was a risk having such a gathering, but the secrecy of the location and the attendees along with the massive build up of defensive military spending and capability should have reduced the risk of a secondary strike to almost zero. It did not pass his notice however that a strike on the Whitehouse should not have been possible either.
Still, the alternative had been a video linkup and with the ease that the attackers had breached the Whitehouse's electronic defenses it was deemed prudent to meet face to face, no records and with all precautions taken to ensure the safety of the delegation.
"Before we start though I want to know exactly what happened. By now I imagine you have managed to fill in some holes in the timeline. Let's eliminate some of the rumors that have been emerging from the Hill and deconstruct events a little shall we?" he asked leaning back in his chair and capturing the rest of the attendees in his glare as he waited for some answers.
An elderly man with a strong limp and a gruff exterior and firmly entrenched scowl lines stood up in response to the Presidents question. Clearly expecting the question and having come prepared for it, he dragged himself to a plasma screen on the far wall that held an image of the floor plan of the Whitehouse and surrounding grounds and turned to address the rest of the room. President Jackson frowned at the man trying to remember his name, Bob something, he had known that the agencies had brought someone in to coordinate their efforts but he would not have expected one of their own to address him at this particular gathering.
Shrugging internally, he settled in to hear the man's presentation, he had heard good things about the man, from what little he HAD heard, and if he got himself some answers he did not especially care who delivered them.
"Mr. President. Your security detail failed. Your countries electronic and technological advantage was bypassed. Your guards' superior training was ground to nothing under seemingly overwhelming force and your assumed intelligence high ground was reduced to meaningless digital chatter. The pond scum responsible for this is probably laughing at us even now - laughing and planning where next and when to strike. I have no doubt that they will; it is just a matter of time."
Bob Daily, Lance suddenly remembered, mentally placing the man. Never afraid to pull his punches, verbal or otherwise, even to his superiors. It is what stymied his career and made him so cynically blunt, only his effectiveness allowed him to get so far and placed him in the hot seat now, he was simply the best man for the job. There could be no room for niceties now. Watching his intelligence and military heads squirm he waved for the man to continue.
The grief and panic that had seized him in the hours immediately after the attack had long been replaced by a strong desire for revenge, revenge and a strong sign to show that even though they had withdrawn from the world stage they still were not someone you wanted to mess with.
Throughout his presidency, he and Dave had done everything they could to build their nation into the superpower they knew it deserved to be. To be attacked after so much had been achieved, to have their technological and economic strengths laid low so easily was the worst kind of kick in the guts.
Yes, he definitely wanted revenge but for now he would be satisfied with answers.
"At 0102 this morning the Whitehouse's security and power systems started maintenance routines and powered down. Now, normally the redundancies would kick in to replace the operation of the primary systems but according to the system logs, the redundancies continued reading a green light from the primaries through the duration of the attack."
Bobs gruff growl rang out amongst the quiet and attentive crowd. Everyone wanted answers, and they wanted to know where they could go from here.
"Even with a combination of administrative passwords, which we have confirmed the attacker entered, this should have been impossible. A password, I would like to remind you, which would have been held be separate people for security reasons. "
"How the HELL did they get administrative access to our systems?" The president interrupted in surprise and no small amount of anger, half rising from his seat at the suggestion that the attack had come from one of their own.
"We are…..uncertain. The system permissions seem to go in circles and the techies are still going through the electronics looking for electronic backdoors in the hardware but with all the key systems manufactured at home that is unlikely."
"The original holders of the old passwords were part of the body count so we cannot rule out there involvement either."
Lance sat back down in his chair and flicked a flat gaze around the table, "you don't know?"
"No, Mr. President." Bob replied with a deepening scowl.
Shaking his head at his deepening dread he waved for the man to continue.
"It was at that time when a small group entered the grounds in this area." Lance watched as a fairly large area of the Whitehouse grounds lit up followed by a sequence of red X's.
"We know this because of the systematic way in which he worked through the grounds. No other signs of entry could be found. As you know, you were the only one left alive from the attack." Bob's voice had become gruffer and filled with grief as he detailed the attack and he could tell that lack of answers deeply unsettled the man. With all the resources they continued to poor into the investigation they were still left with more questions than answers.
Unanswered questions and a large death toll.
Lance stared uncomfortably at the trail of blinking X's that trailed the floor plans of the symbol of America's democracy and power. He had a feeling that the news was only going to get worse.
"Your security detail was made up of the best armed and trained people we had, cutting edge weaponry, veterans of multiple conflicts. They were GOOD. But what we think was a small group of well trained men wielding only small bladed weaponry cut through them like a scythe through wheat. A seemingly impossible scenario, certainly it should not have been possible without raising more of an alarm. Worse, men unknown to panic even in the most desperate situations showed signs of hysteria and poorly coordinated action in the defense of the Whitehouse and the inhabitants at the time. I have no doubt that this group left you alive as a sign of their superiority and ability to strike even the most well defended targets unhindered."
Lance pondered Bob's assessment as this time the military heads shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It should have taken a small army with heavy weapons support to successfully assault the Whitehouse's defenses like that, in the time it had taken, even with power and electronic surveillance disabled.
"It was like we were invaded by a bunch of fucking ghosts," Bob growled out as pictures of the massacre flashed on the screen. "In fact the only break we got was a small blood spatter pattern where we think one of our guys managed to wing one of the bastard's. DNA profiling, gene profiling, even hormone analysis revealed. NOTHING."
Some scientific graphs appeared on the screen, "Male, Human. Somehow any further identifying information was scrubbed before we could collect it. Even the labs are unsure how in the time before the military arrived."
"By 0200 it was all over, a strike force was onsite, the airspace was locked down and investigators were called in. We don't even know how they left the scene; we had the grounds locked down TIGHT. It was like they just walked out through our people or vanished into thin fuckin air. I doubt anyone will be able to spin this disaster as anything other than a FUBAR, Mr. President. We are still reviewing chatter but we doubt we will find anything useful."
Lance couldn't help but agree. An attack of this magnitude on home soil would be devastating to America's image around the world once the magnitude of the attack was known. It was only a matter of time before it got out too; too many civilians had died for anything less than full disclosure.
"So, what do we know? Who has the capability to do what they just did?" Lance bit out at the table trying unsuccessfully to contain his rage and frustration with the situation. "I just listened to a report on how an enemy had managed to plan a major attack on our soil, execute it flawlessly and escape under our noses without leaving any identifying information. WHAT INFORMATION DO WE HAVE?"
"The … agghh … signature burnt into the presidential desk." Lance Jackson turned his glare onto a small group of senators, intelligence officers and generals that had bunched up at the end of the table timidly behind Senator Kinsey as he spoke out. "We may know what it is referring to. Although the source is being debated."
"Well…" Lance, gestured at the plasma screen with a glower wondering why they had not said anything sooner. They had had three days to co-ordinate all their information sharing. More than enough time in his books.
He liked Senator Kinsey, even though his now dead advisor Dave had not, the man held a political ruthlessness that rivaled his own and throughout the course of the investigation so far he had wondered if any of the black projects the senator had access too would bring any answers. Everything seemed connected in there line of business, particularly when they reached the heights that they had.
Nodding in thanks to the gruff investigator, he watched thoughtfully as Bob dragged himself to his chair just as large crack filled the tent. It was only a jet breaking the sound barrier but the nervousness of the room caused everyone to jump or flinch in their chair. If the attackers had vanished into thin air, what was stopping them from appearing FROM thin air? It was an unspoken question keeping them all on edge.
"We… Mr. President… we have been less than honest." The aged senator admitted uncertainly, speaking for the group, as he shambled towards the screen and inserted a small memory card. Lance was unsure how much of it was an act, after all, Kinsey was a consummate politician.
"Certain programs were being investigated and evaluated in the interests of national security. Once they were fully evaluated we were going to completely disclose them to you, along with their significance."
Lance grunted in skepticism, wondering if that was true, it was certainly not what he would have done and he had a feeling that the only reason he was finding about them now was the recent attack on American soil.
"We believe one of them may be the source of this attack. Believe us when we say that had we known of the full threat they possessed we would have notified you immediately."
President Jackson's glower darkened as he considered the senator and the rest of the group that shifted uncomfortably at the man's words. He was familiar with the man's habit of becoming involved in black projects of doubtful legality but he had allowed limited oversight on the condition that anything truly significant was brought to his attention. There was also the fact that his projects occasionally yielded some very valuable gems and he had played his hand in that sandbox himself when he was younger. So he had some sympathy, it was almost a prerequisite for anyone who hoped to be president.
Some of the other people in the group sitting behind Kinsey however genuinely surprised him and he thought it far more likely that they had gotten in too deep to fast before realizing it. Not that he would go any easier on them if indeed one of their projects had resulted in this attack. Limited accountability was just that, Limited.
The rest of the table also looked decidedly unhappy, after all, he was not the only one to know of the senator's reputation, just one of the few that didn't mind so much.
The senator sighed unhappily as he brought up a picture a small American town, "this is Sunnydale California. A few years back we became aware of some statistical anomalies that were unique to the town and which went back as far as we have recorded data, to the Spanish settlers in fact. Abnormally high death rates for suspect reasons, unparallel political and judicial corruption and suspicious migration data, in this day and age, unheard off."
"On further investigation we became aware of the cause, a hostile sub-culture of semi- intelligent beings that viewed humanity as little more than cattle and frequently feed on the blood of Sunnydale's citizens were responsible."
Lance frowned as another picture replaced the ones of Sunnydale. It depicted a man of middle age with severe facial deformities and elongated incisors and yellowed iris's. Though interesting, it still not tell him why Kinsey had become interested and why they had not just treated it as a law enforcement issue.
"They believe themselves to be vampires and we had intended to set up a base to capture and study the validity of these claims. We know that there subculture involves an alternative history where their demonic masters ruled earth and reduced humanity to the cattle, a food source, they believe we are and that their members display advanced physical capabilities that held enormous military applications."
Lance nodded in understanding. That was the link – of course.
"Our plans were at least a year, perhaps two, away from completion and we had no idea, despite the infiltration of this cult into the local government and the judiciary, that they had anywhere near the capabilities to pull off an attack like this. Needless to say our plans have been accelerated and a full report will be made available to you on our progress Mr. President."
Lance frowned at the grumbling amongst the cabinet. He could understand the skepticism behind this vampire cult, but in his experience anything that Kinsey thought worth his time inevitably yielded dividends, both good and bad at times. He suspected there was far more behind this cult than just a bunch of doped up loonies with surprising clout.
Another picture flashed up on the screen, this time of the calling card that had been left on the presidential desk of the oval office.
"The combination of the depiction of Cerberus, the monstrous three-headed dog with a snake for a tail who according to mythology guarded the gate to hell and the reference to 'the world is older than you know and it's history far darker' are very pointed signs that this cult is involved. It is well known for using the different world mythologies to further indoctrinate its members."
By now the majority of the people in the room wore expressions of either skepticism or anger. Lance Jackson held an expression that combined the two, 'why' he asked himself 'was I just hearing about this now?' He wasn't as skeptical as some of the other in the room because he knew Senator Kinsey too well, critical information was being left out and he WOULD have it. However now was not the time and he was interested in what other project he had not known about that may have been responsible for the attack.
Senator Kinsey cleared his throat before displaying a picture of a large metal ring bordered by strange symbols. "There is another group that uses mythology to disguise their actions however that have me concerned. Some of you might recognize the Stargate. Originally discovered in 1928 we were unable, until recently, to identify its purpose.
"What you may not be aware off is that last year an archeologist by the name of Daniel Jackson determined that it was cable of creating a wormhole to a similar device on another planet allowing for instantaneous travel to another planet. An expedition lead by Jack O'Neil went through the Stargate, discovered evidence of technologically advanced and hostile alien life on the other side and nuked them."
With the look of barely constrained distaste, Kinsey started handing out O'Neils profile and mission report.
"Despite attempting a large number of other combinations the gate would not establish a wormhole anywhere else and the gate was put into storage. What I did not find out about until after the attack on the Whitehouse," Lance watched in amusement as Senator Kinsey glared at another Senator with in the group at the end of the table. It seemed that Kinsey's fingers were not the only fingers dappling in assorted pies. "Was that it had been reactivated, members of our armed forces kidnapped and Jack O'Neil is once again leading a mission through the gate in rescue."
Before Lance could respond to the Senators nervously delivered summary of two black ops projects that had the potential to have massively blown up in all their faces, he was interrupted by a derogatory snort from Bob Daily. "Is that it?" he asked with a derisive sneer.
"We are beaten in our own game and it is either aliens or some sort of demon from under the bed. No wonder we are in so much trouble. I still reckon it could be the Russians, ever since the end of the cold war they have been looking for global relevance and don't get me started about China's delusions of grandeur."
In response the entire table started to irrupt in recriminations and counter recriminations. The Military was blaming intelligence, intelligence was blaming the techies and the techies were blaming intelligence and the military.
And he still did not know who he could bomb into a slag pit. "Aliens and demons indeed." Lance shook his head, a private meeting with Kinsey's little group would definitely be in the cards and soon.
"Enough," He roared as a chair went flying into a wall, a clear demonstration how much stress and tension had eroded the delegates self control. "Kinsey, I want to review all your information personally. Make sure ALL the chief of staffs are there. If you're a correct, we are facing a potentially deadly war on two fronts. A war in which we lack even the barest intelligence and IF O'Neil returns, I WANT to meet him with all priority."
"This council will meet again in three days, we will decide a best course of action then. Now what do we tell the public before someone leaks the story of the century?"
Buffy almost bounced towards the Sunnydale school library, almost eager to resume her slayer duties, in a drastic contrast to the dread and hysterical fear she had been feeling just days before. 'Oh' she thought with a pleased grin 'the dread and fear is still there, but more than covered by hope and confidence.' For the first time for months she felt that things were looking up and not headed into the abyss of despair.
For the first time in weeks she was not focused on her near death experiences, a slayer's short lifespan, or the seemingly overwhelming odds she faced on a nightly basis, instead she was lost in the afterglow of the night before.
Buffy smiled as she recalled the romantic evening she had shared with her boyfriend on the ice rink, after Angel had discovered her love for the sport, and the demon attack that followed had not in anyway diminish the night. 'In fact,' she thought as her smile widened, 'it went a long way to restore my lost confidence and provided the perfect opportunity for her to deepen her relationship with her boyfriend by taking it do the next level.'
'Not even the disappointment of finding him gone in the morning could dampen my mood this morning,' Buffy thought as she brush passed the 'Closed for Stock take' sign and flounced into the library.
"Hey guys," She announced to the group ignoring the extraordinary spread of archaic weaponry across the libraries tables and her Watchers worried frown. She was far too lost in last night's afterglow to be too concerned.
Xander was in the corner furthest from the door as usual these days, nose stuck in a book and she couldn't help notice that he had buffed up some - nice. Willow was chatting excitingly to Miss Calendar, and that had surprised her big time when she had found out about the Techno-pagan, and Giles well…
"Thank god you alright Buffy, we have a VERY big problem and the sooner you're out of town the better. Somewhere easily defended, a castle would be nice."
"Yeah, good morning to you too Giles," she drawled as she shoved some weapons to the side and bounced onto the table. "If you're worried about a big ugly human looking demon wearing a bronze ring like this one," she started flicking him the ring she took of the demons body for Giles to identify later, "don't. I bagged him last night, he won't be troubling anyone."
"Oh and thanks for the big vote of confidence by the way," she snarked sarcastically.
"Yes, well," Giles muttered fumbling with the bronze ring and slightly taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, "this merely confirms how much trouble we are in. This ring signifies that a member of the Order of Teraka is in town. A relatively lowly placed member but still very dangerous."
"Eh he wasn't that bad," Buffy muttered looking around at all the weaponry and the very animated conversation between the two witches before catching a knowing look from Xander, Weird.
"I am afraid Buffy, that he is, or rather his team is. The Order of Teraka is an assassin's guild that dates back to Solomon and if they have ever failed to get their target it has not been recorded. They never send a single member to do a job, a team of three is far more common. What is worse, it appears that we have two teams operating in Sunnydale." Giles slumped into a chair and the concern lines on his face deepened. "Thank god the lesser team is targeting you and not the more deadly one, I don't want to know who they are targeting either – a silver level team is unheard of and I am not looking for trouble."
"I still say that if they are anything like the first guy, why should I worry." In her mind she could see Angel helping her take down the assassin with ease.
"Because last night a slayer was found gutted like a pig, isn't that right watcher."
"Wha…" Buffy startled, glancing up at the book stacks were Angel immerged with his vamperic face fully exposed and a cigarette stuck in the corner of his smirking lips.
The conversation between Willow and Miss Calendar had halted and the computer teacher's face had paled significantly, an expression of fear etched deep. Xander just looked on curiously before burying himself back into his books.
"Angel?" She asked hesitantly.
"Didn't your watcher tell ya sweet cheeks?" He asked, puffing his cigarette with vigor and shaking his head mockingly, "you died. The master killed you long enough for another to be called. Sure Xander resuscitated you but," his smirk widened "no longer one girl in all the world for you, you must be so disappointed."
"Council must have sent the Slayer here for a reason, a Slayer that would have been trained from birth. Would have been an interesting fight." Shrugging his shoulders dismissively he flicked his cigarette stub onto the carpeted floor and ground the smoldering tobacco into a large burn mark.
"So here is this Slayer, trained from birth in the arts of combat and demonology and they find her gutted like a pig with nothing but a silver ring of the order to show what happened to her. Didn't even look like she put up much of a fight."
Buffy starred in horror at her boyfriend as his yellow eyes mockingly stripped the hope and confidence that had slowly been built over the night, leaving behind a renewed sense of fear and crushing despair. 'Why?' she cried pitifully internally. 'Why?'
"Angelus." Although Jenny Calendar whispered it, the name echoed around the stock filled library. "How?"
"Ah," Angelus continued, leaping over the railing and onto the first floor of the library bringing himself that much closer to the Scoobies. Jenny paled further and Giles face was filled with horror and recognition.
"Well that you can thank the Slayer for, she was so…sweet." His biting laughter roared across the library at his own joke and causing Buffy to flinch and close in on herself where she sat.
"Awwww, I think I broke her." The vampire drawled out mockingly as he caressed the face of the young Slayer, "or at least someone did."
He straightened and captured the group in a horrific, toothy grin. "My demon didn't recognize the subtle manipulations while he was still oppressed by Angel's soul but now it is free he can smell a wonderfully played game and I am impressed. A slayer isn't easy to crush and demoralize so completely, masterful."
"I would ask them to join me but I really don't need the competition."
"Besides, one can only wonder who was behind it?" He quickly flicked a glance in Xander's direction before dismissing the boy as he turned a page in the book he was reading. Perhaps the watcher then?
By now Giles had started to reach for a weapon, Willow and Jenny were chanting in the corner and Xander… Buffy was surprised to notice he was still flickering through a book unconcerned. Almost instinctively she moved from the table and closer to his side, since he had saved her life she had felt safer when he was close and as uncertain as she was it was almost reflective.
"It would be so easy to take you all out here and have a party in your blood and entrails. With your slayer as broken and conflicted as she is and your spare already gutted like a pig, Jenny – don't even pretend that you have the power or training your ancestors did, and Giles, please, let Ripper out to play – Otherwise I fear this will not be so fun, at least for you."
The atmosphere in the library became distinctively menacing as Angelus crouched to attack only to be interrupted as Xander noisily closed the book he was reading. The vampire stared in surprise at the unconcerned expression on the teens face and seemed to hesitate and then, just as suddenly seemed to change his mind.
"Eh – but where is the fun in that. I would much rather see the order take you apart. It'll be like sport. I'll see you around sweet cheeks."
Angelus's mocking laughter followed Buffy for a long time and haunted her sleep for far longer.
"So what was that about a dead Slayer?" Xander questioned.
'Who would have thought that a little bloodshed would have provoked such a response,' Harry thought with amusement as he monitored multiple streams of intercepted data, real time, detailing both the US military and investigative response to his attack. The mental display of projected military strength, courtesy of an analysis of the US fielding multiple war games across the globe, was impressive for such a technologically backward country, in such a under developed world.
'Oh yeah, I did. Just like kicking over an anthill,' he chuckled darkly in the Sunnydale school library, turning the page of one of the few tombs he had not read yet. While most of the library had been scanned and catalogued, a decided to savor the last few tombs by reading them the old fashioned way.
It had been three days since he had attacked the Whitehouse and left a gift in the Oval Office, a nice little sign of what was to come and perhaps a warning of the unknown. Despite hording his strength, it had almost proven too much for his unenhanced, fragile body to pull off, particularly after facing down the assassin and Slayer moments before his assault on the muggle centre of Government. It had been a challenge, and he loved a challenge, still it had almost proven too much.
One of the guards had even managed to fight off his aura of power, which he had pumped out during the attack, long enough to wing him with his primitive projectile weaponry. It was embarrassing and it clearly demonstrated how weak he still was. It had been a long time since he had lacked the power to completely overwhelm a muggle installation of any kind and not still have power to spare, much less been vulnerable to such primitive weaponry.
Still he had been successful beyond his initial expectations and behind the veneer that he had maintained since his arrival, disguised as a weak, talentless mortal teenaged muggle, he had monitored the supposed superpower's response. Their operational capability, their response time and perhaps most importantly any conclusion they may have drawn from such a decisive and unexpected attack.
Or rather CSE browsing all the open networks of interconnected electronics around the world and streaming both raw data and analyzed for his viewing, combined with all the other priority projects he had his integrated AI doing, and he had found the hard way that he was not the only one suffering from a massive capability reduction.
Turning another page of his book, not at all bothered by the fact that it was written in a dead, demonic language, he considered the results of his strike and what he had learnt from their response.
After three days of monitoring the battle space at different locations, of operations within and outside of their national boarders, he felt he had a fairly good understanding of their operational and technological capability - if he ever came into direct conflict with their military that understanding was important. Even better, some of their rivals had started conducting their own military operations, in response to the US heightened readiness level, allowing him to get some data on alternative military structures.
Unsurprisingly, monitoring the media channels provided the most entertainment, and no small amount of nostalgia from his childhood and previous life. Conspiracy theories were spinning out faster than they could find experts to support them, the Russians where blamed, fingers were pointed at the Chinese, God had struck the center of the infidels in a global call of arms, it was aliens. Even better, according to some reports he had found floating around in their systems, some of there surviving government agreed with them.
He had even heard rumors of a meeting taking place at the highest levels of the military, government and intelligence agencies and he would have loved to be a fly on the wall at that meeting, but THAT had been low on his priority list. His assault on the Whitehouse had shown that he still had a long way to go before he could even think about matching his former capabilities and forced him to slow some of his plans down and alter others.
Which lead him back to his old routine of intelligence gathering and laying the foundations for future plan's. The expansion of his primary base of operation was on schedule, the power grid of fusion generators was only months away and his slow corruption of the Slayer was going as well as could be expected considering the framework he had to work with.
Construction of automated cybernetic construction modules were progressing as fast as he could clear more space within his base, what he really needed now was legitimacy and man power. Those things he lacked, and it was a problem that continued to haunt him.
Turning the Slayer would be nice but even trained she was only one more foot soldier – a powerful one no doubt, but singular. His study into demons had proven how untamed they were and he lacked the power, for the immediate future, to take authority or legitimacy by force. Anyway he preferred subtly over brute strength, it was far more reliable in the longer term.
Still, as productive as his automotive bases made him, and as intelligent his electronics and CSE were, he could not fight a war himself, even with magic - particularly with the resources of a single world. And any worlds he captured would remain merely lines on a map unless he could adequately defend them and stationary defenses were in his opinion glorified targets.
No, sometimes there were little alternatives to boots on the ground. Preferably magical, well defended boots. And until he regained a little of his former power he was just as susceptible to a 5 megaton nuke as your average American citizen.
Turning another page he glanced over at the other occupants of the library. Giles was busy stocking up on his weaponry as if preparing for a twelfth century war with a frown etched deep into his face and a jittery shake in his movements - with the current combat doctrine of the council he may as well be stuck in the twelfth century Hrry thought suppressing a derisive snort. Giles had been like that since the Council had asked him for information on a missing slayer just before the morgue had asked him to identify the body of said Slayer.
He had been in a bit of a hurry on the night he had killed the girl, and not in the best of moods after having just taken down an assassin, so he hadn't really paid attention to the state of the body, not that he would have cared anyway. Leaving the ring of the assassin on the body was merely an after thought but Giles had come back pale, shaken and had started preparing for war. Not that the older watcher had told the others the reason yet.
Harry shook his head, it was almost like he cared for the girl, and that behavior just did not match to his own experiences or the history he had read of the councils dealing with their foot soldier in the constant war against the supernatural. Then there was the fact that the Order of Teraka held a fearsome reputation, but really, with appropriate precautions he doubted that they were that big of a threat.
He had already found and taken down the second of the silver ringed team assigned to kill him. The third was just a matter of time, his surveillance of Sunnydale was almost complete.
Jenny Calendar, 'or Jana,' he thought with a smirk, recalling the conversation that his surveillance had picked up, was having an animated conversation with Willow about magic. 'Magic,' Harry thought dismissively 'they wouldn't know magic if it struck out and granted them all magical cores and the little he did now relied more on the whim of more powerful beings than an understanding of magics themselves.'
'Not that I know much more about the magics in this universe, my magic works much the same as it always has but the structure of magic that others use is subtly different, perhaps in response to the squibs merely channeling the power of others.' He thought with a small edge of frustration, he had invested almost as much wasted time in trying to determine how magic different in this new reality as he had trying to open the Hell Mouth in a controlled manner.
Harry turned his attention back to his book, his behavior and change in personality since Halloween was rarely questioned now, and the group's suspicions no longer touched their surface thoughts. It seemed they had deadlier priorities to concern themselves with. Not even the recent attack on their government seemed to have had much of an impact on their private war with demons and the supernatural.
What was a small change in eye color or the increased focus of a harmless friend compared to mass murder and apocalypses? Considering his long term plans, it underscored how reactive rather than proactive the group were, not that he was complaining. His plans progressed unhindered and undetected.
The sound of the library doors slamming open and Buffy flouncing in caused him to brush her surface thoughts in surprise. The slayer had been morose for days, the fear and depression of her role had weighed her down and allowed him to take an increasingly important subconscious role as a support and trust pillar. This rapid reversal bore investigation, if it was sustained it would disrupt his plans for the girl. Oh, there was the other Slayer, but Buffy was here and already entrapped in his machinations.
Harry barely retrained his amused grin as he sorted through her passion and sex filled surface thoughts not bothering to probe deeper. Such intimacy combined with the hormones that flooded her body at her age would just make her more emotionally unstable, particularly when her boyfriend of the moment was currently a walking copse, not exactly a pillar of stability. In fact, the reversal in behavior could spectacularly backfire leading to an acceleration of his plans.
The council would be furious when they learnt that they had lost control of one of their most important weopons.
Catching her glance as she entered the library with a knowing look he went back to his book. Giles's clear relief at seeing his Slayer safe confused him however; perhaps the man's feelings were genuine – strange. Even more of a surprise was that she was able to take down an assassin of Teraka, though that was later explained when he saw the bronze glint instead of the silver he was expecting. CSE would never have let him hear the end of it if his performance had been overshadowed by a girl he had been gradually breaking, a girl who despite her supernatural enhancements held no tactical or strategic abilities and even less skill.
When he felt Buffy's paramour arrive, he almost ignored the slight change in the Vampires aura instead allowing himself a brief curious look and relying on a more subtle but thorough magical probe. When the demon opened his mouth, he only confirmed the results of his probe. Somehow, whatever sliver of humanity the manipulative cretin held had disappeared and the demonic possessor of his corpse had completely taken over.
"…slayer was found gutted like a pig…" Harry barely paid attention to the repertoire going on between the demon and the self styled Scoobie gang. Oh mentally he cheered the casual way in which the demon tore down the fragile emotional defenses they held and revealed secrets with relish, rubbing their faces in their helplessness. But he was far more interested in the difference in the vampire's aura and trying to correlate the effect to his own magic so he might figure out how to replicate the effect and eventually understand how the different structure of magic may work.
He still had not been able to open the Hell Mouth in a controlled and repeatable manner, and an understanding of this new magical system might be the breakthrough he needed. Indeed, if he could somehow replicate portions of the changes in order to tame the demonic lusts for blood and destruction, he would have found an important solution to his man power problems.
He had seen some very strong and very cunning demons that if harnessed appropriately would prove ideal foot soldiers, perhaps even lieutenants within his army.
"Angelus." Harry almost laughed derisively at hearing the name whispered with such fear and repulsion. Sure the vampire may have been an integral part of the Scourge of Europe and thus responsible for hundreds if not thousands of deaths, some hideously gruesome, but he did not hold a candle to Voldemort in inspiring fear, or for that matter himself. His name was whispered among the stars with both fear and awe. Only his own people had respected him, they after all did not need to fear him unless they were playing some insidious role in an insurrection against the empire.
'Heh,' Harry thought with vicious amusement, 'now that he is indistinguishable from any other demon, my kid gloves can disappear without needlessly upsetting the group's dynamic and revealing my role in recent events before I am ready.'
Allowing CSE full authority for whatever scans she felt was necessary, he monitored the silvery cloud of sensor nanites that filled the library, engulfing the vampire and embedding themselves under the vampire's skin. The information flow was immediate and Harry could almost see the answer to his problems.
"…or at least someone did." It took all of his will power not to snap a deadly glare in the vampires direction and order his immediate destruction. The sensor stream would be interrupted but Angelus's painful death as he was SLOWLY sent back to hell in atomic sized pieces would be worth it if he avoided a resurgence of the suspicions of his personality change that he had already painstakingly laid to rest.
The moment passed quickly however when he felt the demons eye's dismiss him, as caught up in the illusion that he had weaved as the rest of the pitiful town. Even better, the temporary change in the slayers outlook had been stripped away quickly and completely. When she moved closer to him, unconsciously seeking protection he could not have been more pleased with his well laid plans and CSE sensor drones continued transmitting data.
Snapping his book closed, he looked up and faced the demons gaze unafraid as he crouched down to attack. 'As far as demons went – Angelus barely rated the bottom of a very long list.'
The demons survival instincts apparently kicked in and he scurried away as quickly as he had appeared, leaving a very rattled group. Both Jana and the Watcher were pale and clearly going through everything they had heard about the master vampire while Willow and possible the Slayer also were loudly, at least to his well developed mind, wondering how the hell they had ducked certain death, again in Buffy's case.
Sometimes he wondered why muggles couldn't have more discipline over their surface thoughts; it would provide him with less of a headache.
"So what was that about a dead Slayer?" he quipped trying to steer the direction of the groups thoughts towards an avenue that would avoid exposing any secrets that he was unprepared to reveal while at the same time shape the path that the group would follow into the future. As traumatized as they seemed, he doubted they would even notice.
Before the rest of the group could organize their thoughts further and take the open ended comment and run with it, the Library doors once again banged open leading the adults to grab the nearest weapon in readiness, Harry didn't bother and Buffy merely flinched and moved closer to where he sat.
"Xander Lavelle Harris, how dear you move out and not leave your forwarding address to your best friend." Cordelia Chase's voice echoed in the quiet library as she stumbled to a halt at the sight of the weapon bearing group and the arms that filled the table.
"Obviously, I wasn't talking about me – mental check, hello." She snarked, not in the least intimidated but the question was obvious on her face.
Harry just shook his head sadly, once again reminded that as disguised as he was, sometimes his costume followed him home.
"Bloody Slayer," Spike raged, "Nancy boy of a Keeper." Stalking back and forth in his undecorated crypt, as far from the high school as he could manage, he glanced fondly at his undead lover Drusilla as she absently played with her dolls on a bed he had managed to drag through the stone doorway.
"If I can't make balloon animals from the entrails of the slayer and her friends and gift you a bath in their blood soon, I am gonna have to forget the Hell Mouth and look for a softer target." Spikes bloodthirsty raging was only interrupted as he breathed in deeply from the fag he had at his lips.
"Don't worry my darling Spikey," Drusilla drawled in a sing song voice. Not even looking up from her dolls she managed to calm the raging vampire down, "I am gonna have a PARTY for my birthday."
"Of course you are pet, of course you are. And it's gonna be the bloodiest party this century, just you wait. It'll make the days in Europe seem like a warm up in comparison," Spike's British accent barely slipped as he thought about the Order of Teraka assassins that he had sent after the blond bint of a slayer – unsuccessfully so far. He had never heard of them failing so he wasn't too worried, but this mysterious Keeper kept him up at nights.
He had heard rumors that he had managed to slip a silver ringed team of Teraka assassins, and his demonic body count was raising steadily as ever more powerful demons decided to make a name for itself. Despite that, whoever or whatever it was had manged to stay bellow the Slayers radar.
No, Hell Mouth or not, Sunnydale was rapidly becoming a town to avoid unless you had some serious mojo to back yourself up, and if his latest ploy failed he may have to disappear for a while.
"Spike, you disappoint me. Your taste in décor has seriously slipped," Spike allowed his vamperic face to slip as he crouched ready for an attack. He had taken down two Slayers in his time and anyone crazy enough to attack him in his own crypt while Drusilla was with him was asking for a messy death.
"No slave girls, no torture victims, no Balloon animals and most surprising of all, no minions. How far you have fallen since those good days of Europe," Spike glanced over at Drusilla, no help there, she was still playing with her dolls. Sometimes he wondered what went through her head, anyone who remembered his days in Europe was dangerous. 'Oh yeah,' he thought with sarcasm 'not much, Good old Angelus made quite sure she was quite mad before turning her.'
"Daddy, your home." Spike straightened in surprise as Drusilla rushed the dark figure.
"Angelus?" Spike questioned uncertainly with no small amount of jealousy as the figure kissed Drusilla deeply.
"What can I say," the figure said steeping into the light and proving that he was indeed who he said he was "I am back, couldn't miss Dru's birthday party after all."
"We shall see." To his credit, the vampire did not even flinch as a blue demon with multiple horns strode undeclared from a darkened corner. "Spike tells me you were cursed with the stink of humanity, if that is so, you made a mistake coming here."
"The Judge," Angelus breathed in excitement "a demon brought forth to rid the Earth of the plague of humanity. Sure, way before my time. Still… do your thing demon." He announced not even flinching as the blue demon approached and lay a hand on his chest.
"That tickles," Angelus commented as he lit up a cigarette. "But I brought my own gift to your party my dear." He announced whistling loudly.
"May I present Acathla and let us party as we have not done before."
Spike watched as a pack of five fledging vampires moved a stone mummy into the crypt. He had head of Acathla, a demon that came to suck the world into Hell as opposed to just burning merely separating the righteous from the wicked.
"Ooohh daddy, Mrs Edith says you bring the best gifts to the party." Drusilla announced, clapping her hands merrily.
Spike couldn't help but agree, with two powerful demons – once they could awaken him, a reunited Scouge of Europe and the additional minions Angelus had brought in, Sunnydale would run bright red with the blood of innocents and he would get to make some Balloon animals to gift his lover with.
In the back of his mind though, he couldn't help but plan for the worst. An exit for himself and Drusilla. Anyone who underestimated a Slayer usually ended up dead and he had no idea what this keeper was capable of.