the Passion of Angels and Demons

by The Drowned World

As ancient myths rise with incredible power, Xander and Angelus find themselves at the center of a passion that may yet explode and burn the entire world to cinders...Chapter XXV, Part II now available; Chapter XXVI coming soon.

22. XIX, Part II: Hecate

A/N: Back again! I'm SO sorry that I haven't been able to post this chapter online as fast as I promised, but I got a job since the last time that I posted and it's been hectic to say the least as I shot through training (because I of course got stuck with douche bags who don't know how to lift a finger to work!). Not to mention National Novel Writing Month, having to maintain my new Live Journal (more on that in a minute), getting into a writing contest, school, family drama, money drama, Christmas money drama, MORE family drama…These last months have been really sucky, actually.

And my matrilineal grandfather died.

To top all of this, my hours at work have been getting cut like hell lately, and Christmas? Lousy time of year to be broke. My new boss is an überbitch and…well, the shit keeps rolling into a big ball.

So, after all of this, it's taken me a little bit to post this, but I'm sorry and here it is. So if you'd like to keep up with my news my new Live Journal, look up pfenix-goddess . livejournal . com – only without the spaces, of course. I should be updating that too.

ALSO: I'VE GOT TWO OTHER ONE-SHOTS POSTED ALONG WITH THIS TO GIVE YOU GUYS A SORT OF CHRISTMAS/WHATEVER MAJOR HOLIDAY YOU CELEBRATE (INCLUDING NO HOLIDAY FOR YOU ATHEISTS OUT THERE) GIFT! THEY WILL BE POSTED BY THE END OF THIS WEEK!

Also, in case anyone's interested, I'm slowly but surely adding this story, chapter by chapter, to the excellent Xander-centric fanfiction website I Need a Parrot, under my new penname Pfenix_Goddess. I'm not sure if I'm going to change my penname on FanFiction, but it might happen.

These bolded subcategories of information might help you in the reading process. And I will respond to my reviewers.

888!!!!!~~~SPECIAL NOTE – As many of you will have noticed during the course of this story, the word "Wiccan" pops up several times. Here's what I will say about this so that you understand my usage.

In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow's religion is constantly in question. Through seasons two (you don't speak about it in season one) to five, I believe, Willow maintains herself to be Jewish. After the fifth season she is heard to say things like "Oh my Goddess" several times; and it can be assumed that she has switched her religion due to the fact that practicing witchcraft in Jewish terms is a Hell-worthy offense and is punishable by death. However, she is very much a "Show-Witch" for lack of a better term; she is the kind of "Wiccan" that Charmed and The Craft depict. In the show itself she is referred to as "a Wicca," which is not a term at all – unless you study etymology.

"Wicca" has been studied extensively and can be traced back to several variations of wicca or wittan that mean "wise (person)" or wicce, which is an old form of "witch." I use the term "Wiccan" as a blanket term for "Witch" in this story, as Avalon was formed so far back that they watched Old English come up and adopted the language for themselves. You can assume in this story that the religion Wicca came from a human practitioner who learned from an actual Witch at some point or another.

I would like to point out that religiously I will not state my own religion in this sense, and whether I agree or disagree with certain beliefs' teachings, I will always try my hardest to pay all religions equal respect: Wicca, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Catholicism, Paganism…the list goes on and on. Please keep in mind that this is a FICTIONAL story and no offense should be taken by any of these religions.

Notes on Pronunciation

Stoírm = Stoy-erm

Adia = A dee uh

Alia = Ah LEE uh

Aleo = Ah LEE oh

Rakia = Rah kee uh

Ferro = pronounced like "Pharaoh"

Neithal = Nigh-tall

Tíanna = Tee ah na

Bënnu = Bay new

Tiocfaidh ár lá = chuck-hee awr law

Hecate = Heck uh Tay

Notes on the Language – The snatches of "Atlantean," so to speak, that you will hear and the other odd words that you will/have encountered throughout this story have been bastardized from both Scottish and Irish Gaelic. It's a beautiful and completely incomprehensible language that has a set of rules so weird that if you haven't been born listening to it it's insanely hard to learn. Therefore I took some of it and made rough translations. I was inspired to do this from three things: how weird and different the language itself is; the proximity of that language to the supposed location of Avalon itself in British/Arthurian lore; and how sexy David Boreanaz is when speaking in his Irish accent while playing Liam/Angelus.

Inspiration for Parts of This Chapter – I reread Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire after he published A Lion Among Men, the third in the series, and if you have not read these books yet, I highly advise it. I haven't taken direct inspiration from it, but a large part of that original novel is a meditation, if you will, on the nature of good and evil, and how they originate and the delineation of the two. That debate is very large in philosophical and metaphysical circles, both fields that I love to study in, so some of that has crept into here.

Pimpage – I cannot stress enough that philosophy is a wonderful field to pursue for yourself to stimulate thinking and questions on the nature of Life and Humanity. In Buffy the Vampire Slayer's academic field, there are many books published on the subject, as well as internet archives and paper studies. Look this up on Google or your preferred search engine – I guarantee that you will walk away with something to think about, at the very least.

Also, in case anyone hasn't figured this out yet, I am a huge fan of P!nk or Pink, whatever. I first got started with M!ssundaztood, and then went back and listened to Can't Take Me Home, and Try This. I'm Not Dead has been her most fantastic album to date, I believe, and I think that it should appeal to many different people. However, her newest album, Funhouse, just came out. I already have it, and I must say that it is a wonderful album, just about as good as I'm Not Dead. "So What," her first single, has already become a smash hit all over the world. Standouts from the album include "Sober" and "Crystal Ball" among others. "Ave Mary A" is in my opinion her best song to date. I highly recommend this album to all of Pink's fans and also to just about everyone else.

Tribute – I dedicate this to my reviewers, first off (you guys are the reason why I write). Also, this is dedicated to the cast of Buffy and Angel – no matter how much of a genius Joss Whedon is, and how much he has brought to our world by introducing these shows, a director is nothing without his actors. David Boreanaz is a fabulous character actor, and most people don't know that he did a huge amount of Angelus' lines on improv: once Whedon and Co. realized how much of a natural character actor he was, they just let him run with it. Nicholas Brendon played our favorite Xander and managed to make him believable, likeable, and understandable even at his most petty and angry moments.

And all the other actors, who did amazing jobs – thank you, so much.

Reviewer Responses – If you didn't review, I'd advise skipping over this section.

Kage Mirai – Thanks for all the faithful reviews. I'm sorry that I've left a gap in the updates again but here's your next part, even longer than the part before it. I hope you enjoy.

Roswell26 – Thanks! Here's the next bit.

Dark-Sky-of-Avalon – I'm glad you thought it was worth the wait, and I hope you enjoy this one. It was really hard to write because there's just so much damn information in there! Gah! But this is the end of the huge history lesson, so from here on in the chapters should be a bit smaller but should be coming out quicker.

Stealth – Thanks!

Emeralden Rapley – I can't give away whether Xander stays good or not because that would ruin the first part of this saga, so there you go. Drusilla is definitely going to be sticking around, though, so don't worry about that! I don't know how much of this I could ever adapt into one of my original fictions but it's definitely worth thinking about.

Jimmny Cricket – I appreciate the honesty. The big thing for me with Xander is that he always did have a potential for darkness in him – what led him to lie to Buffy about Angel at the end of season two? Ultimately it can be argued that he knew she'd be killed if she tried to stall, but how much of that decision was pure teenage jealousy and venom? What I'm going to explore in this story is the fine line that he walks through the entire series from light and dark.

Bored is my Favorite Word – Thanks for the praise! Here's the next part!

Failing Dreams – Here's the next part.

Unkown P3 – Thank you so much for lifting my day up with your review. Sorry I made you wait this long for the next part, but here it is!

Nawie – Thanks for taking the time to review. I do try to preplan these chapters, so they take longer. Especially these last two…sigh. They're life-devouring, but definitely worth it.

Scoubilouy – Here it is! And good luck with your dog! And props that you could read this whole thing in one sitting!

Carmodee Star – Thanks for your review and I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long!

Isabella Skye – Here is the next part!

Note on the Title of this Chapter: Hecate (also spelled Hekate) is one of the most ancient of Greek goddesses. She is a mystery; transcendant from the Olympians and also more powerful than a Titan, Hecate is the ultimate goddess. She is the embodiment of the Wiccan Goddess and is often considered the Queen of Witches. Her prominence in the witchcraft myths and facts was so strong that she is the Queen of the Weird Sisters in Shakespeare's immortal "Macbeth." She is the triple goddess, with three faces -- one of youth, one of mother, one of crone. She is the guardian of the crossroads and is present when you must choose your own path. She is out of the hands of the Fates and is one of the few gods who can cross between Olympus, the human realm and the Underworld.

I chose her because she is the Queen of Witches, because she is the Goddess of crossroads, and so she is imminent in all parts of this chapter and indeed the next.

And so, without further ado, let me present this old line from our favorite campy season one episodes:

In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness – she is the Slayer…

Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

Chapter XIX, Part II

Hecate

No one mourns the wicked!

No one cries "They won't return!"

No one lays a lily on their grave…

And goodness knows, the wicked's lives are lonely

Goodness knows, the wicked die alone…

"Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?"

"No One Mourns the Wicked" (From Wicked; written by Stephen Schwartz)

"Surely there is a handful of nursery märchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The devil was out walking one day and met a child…'

"To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her—is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?"

—From Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire

XIV. The Witch Child

Xander, as he came to be called, served as the final wedge to Jessica and Tony's marriage, for it was clear from a very early age that Xander was not Tony's child. Xander did bear some resemblance to Jessica, but at his early age, the boy was clearly the child of the Stoírm – not that Jessica or Tony knew that. Tony simply maintained deep down that Jessica had whored herself around during the dark times that neither of them spoke of, while Jessica simply fell to silence and alcoholism. Though she did not consciously remember the dream the Stoírm sent to her, she still carried a sense of guilt, of shame, just as with Father Thomas, though she did not truly remember that either.

It was a very strained childhood, for Xander was by necessity kept away from other children, for the most part. He was…eerie, to behold. His skin was pale as snow, hair darker than ebony, lips red as blood. He was formed to a sort of childlike perfection that instead of alluring was off-putting. He was tall for his age, statuesque. His eyes were nearly black, and they could pierce through you with a glare. He was a very pre-possessed child, precocious not in smarts but in attitude. He held himself as an adult, as a very regal adult, and regarded the world with a sense of scorn that he could not explain even to himself. How much conscious control over his burgeoning powers at his youngest we do not know.

Jessica and Tony lost the larger house they had gained in Tony's promotion, for they were spending large amounts of money on child therapists in an effort to bring Xander out of his shell – to no effect, however. Jessica fell more and more into drinking, and Tony became much more inclined to follow her. All three Harrises avoided each other, and it would have perhaps gone on like this for much longer had we not intervened when Xander was seven years old.

The Harris family refers to this incident in their minds merely as 'the incident.' Tony's cousin, Jack Allan, had come to visit as part of his therapy. His therapist had suggested reconnecting with family – Jack was fresh off of parole. He was a thief, a liar, and a molester, though the Harris family didn't know that much, they just knew that he'd gotten in trouble with the law. Tony, looking forward to escaping his increasing family troubles by spending time with a fellow male Harris relative, had welcomed the visit with open arms.

Xander and Jessica, however, were much more reticent. Both possessed of intuitive powers, however repressed or latent or strong as they may or may not have been at the time, both were aware that having this particular member of the family in the house was not the best idea. It could not be helped, however, because Xander had been suspended from school for fighting, and so was forced to stay home. Jessica had had to take a job in order to help pay the bills, so there was no one home but Jack and Xander…

I refuse to go into details here of what occurred, but I see by your expressions that you gathered the rest. I must warn you that Xander himself has no memory of this, so you may at least comfort yourselves that he couldn't have told you even if he had wanted to. In any case, Jack did not manage to finish his intentions. The increasing flashes of rage that Xander had been exhibiting the months before his suspension, the powers that were growing even faster than Xander himself was…Things of this nature have a tendency to come to a head, and the trauma of what his…relative attempted…Xander snapped, and unleashed a torrent of power that destroyed half the woods behind his house and utterly incinerated Jack where he stood.

It was concluded that Jack Allan had run away from the Harris home to escape his parole and in an effort to avoid jail. Both the Harrises refused to help the police look for him. They could guess, in light of the record that had been made available to them after the incident, what Jack had been attempting, and were once again united. Tony seemed to have finally accepted Xander as his, at least in some small way, and that united the two. They determined to find Xander help through less obvious outlets…and that is where I and some very important players come into the story.

XV. The Gathering

My name is Marie-Claire Christiene, and I have been the Lady of the Lake since I turned fifteen years old. I was only twenty-five when this all occurred, and…naïve…I believe that now. But in any case, I had been the Lady for ten years, during a time of peace on Avalon. Avalon, I feel, has become slightly detached from reality – it is the insulation that may have allowed these events to come to pass. In any case, I had never had to deal with an actual emergency before, and as I've said, I was quite young. But the ripple of power that Xander unleashed, more than a thousand times stronger than that which originated in Jessica in the chapel those years ago, finally convinced us that we must travel to Sunnydale, California, and see what was happening. I left the Lord of the Isle, who was busy installing my counterpart, Mathu, in charge and made haste toward the Hellmouth.

Upon arrival I was greeted by an ally of Avalon, whose name was Tomas Calendar – or at least that is the name that I knew him by. His traditional Gypsy name he kept hidden, as is their way. This part of the story is a grief-filled tale, for you knew this man, and you know his niece, Jenny. They are…were both part of the Kalderash tribe, the tribe of Gypsies who cursed your Angelus with his soul all those years ago. The Gypsy magic users are notorious for their grudges, their service to vengeance, and their delivery of their curses. Something was soon to happen in the future that would affect Angel's life forever, something that would drive the tortured vampire to seek redemption. This lessening of his pain was to be avoided at all costs, so the Elder Lady of the Kalderash decreed that Jenny should move to watch over the Hellmouth, where Angelus would eventually stay.

If you think that their vengeance was unfair, Slayer, ask Angelus what actually happened – how many died for his appetite. He and his Sire, Darla, raped and tortured the princess of the tribe over and over until the girl died, broken, and upon delivery of her body, Angelus thought it great fun to hunt down the girl's immediate family and beat them to death in the presence of their daughter's corpse. After the curse was instilled, Darla, Spike and Drusilla travelled to the Kalderash camp and attempted to have the curse removed. When they were unsuccessful, Darla laid waste to half the camp in her rage. I assure you, the curse was well-deserved.

In any case, as with all groups of major magic users, Avalon acts as a sort of police force, so that any one group or coven does not abuse their sacred power by attempting to use it to force their will over groups of humans, or impact humanity in any great way. It is our belief that magic must not interfere in the will of humanity in any great way, or we will have committed nothing else but psychic slavery or rape. Any Wiccan found guilty of casting a love spell on a specific individual is stripped of any and all power and cast out of our society, with no exception.

The Kalderash were no exception, and so they sent Jenny to us that we might train her in using her powers. When we sent her back, it was with the understanding that Jenny would be our emissary to the Kalderash. Therefore, when we heard that the Kalderash would also be in Sunnydale, we sought them out for aid. It was me, Tomas and Jenny who entered into the Harris household years ago, we who first met Xander, and we who first suspected what he was.

XVI. The Witch Child (Continued)

The Avalon coven culls its students from the most powerfully talented, and we are used to having to deal with parents who may be…unsympathetic with their child's needs. We present ourselves as a boarding school with interests in children of unique characteristics, a non-profit organization. It was decided that the best way to broach this…unusual situation was with the usual approach – by sending the Harris house an advertisement of our establishment. Of, course, the Lady of the Lake rarely ventures out of Avalon, but this was hardly a normal case.

Now, understand that during this first meeting that we still had no inkling exactly who Alexander Harris was; Avalon had lost track of the Bënnu line over the centuries, and the threat of the Stoírm had faded to a distant memory on the peaceful isle. All that we knew was that an extremely powerful magical force had risen in Sunnydale, linked somehow to this family. We knew that it was potentially dangerous – from the death of Father Thomas, for instance – but we did not know what the implications of the awakening magic in this family line could mean for the world.

So, we had nothing to truly expect when we pulled into that quiet street that fateful day. I remember it so well – the smells, the sounds, the sights…and the feeling of pure power that crawled through my veins like broken glass. I knew at once that it was my most important mission to convince Alexander's parents to allow us to take him to Avalon. We set into the house to do just that.

"So, the place looks nice!" Jessica Harris says, too loudly, too brightly. She sounds as if she is trying to break the stony silence that has settled as soon as Tony and Tomas laid eyes on each other. Jenny had chosen a creaky rocking chair near a window, farther back from myself, who had taken point on the chair closest to the Harrises. Tomas is standing in a corner, watching the proceedings. We make the both of them uncomfortable, I understand. Jessica has more than an inkling of who we are, but magic makes her uncomfortable. There is a story there, I sense, but do not understand.

"Yeah, nice enough to cost whatever the rest of the fuckin' shrinks have cost," Tony grumbles quietly. "You never actually explained in your letter how you found out about Xander," he continues aloud, ignoring the glares that Jessica is shooting him frantically from his other side. "What do you want with him anyway?" His aura washes over me like oil, and it is an uncomfortable experience. I sense great pain in him, a happiness that he once had but has been washed away. Opening myself to this aura is not a good idea, however; once again I am assailed with that horrible feeling of…sensation, of power that emanates from upstairs. I close the connection.

"We have received recommendations from Xander's elementary school," I say instead, lying. "Alexander appears a perfect candidate for our program — and, if money is an object, you should know that we are a non-profit organization dedicated to the education of special children. This won't cost you a cent, should you agree." I fight to keep my tone smooth and even; I must sound like a teacher, like a counselor. Absolute care must be taken here, for if I do not convince the parents, I will not be able to complete my mission, which is unacceptable.

"Non-profit?" Tony asks with a sneer, clearly thinking of something recent. "What, you some kinda pedo shit?"

I can feel my own shock and disgust appearing on my face at the man's crude words, at the horrifying meaning behind them. I had not been prepped to deal with an accusation like this, and for once I am speechless. The realm of the God and the Goddess deals with all forms of love, especially physical love, with utmost respect and strict laws. To imply that any who followed the Old Religion would assault a child in such a way, a violation of trust and of our ways of life, is anathema to me and everything I stand for. I must take a moment to compose myself. Tomas' lip curls to the point that it might have been hurting his face, and opens his mouth to blast the man. This proves unnecessary; at the question, Jessica Harris turns and soundly punches her husband in the back of the head.

"What the fuck, woman?" he demands with a small cry of pain. I feel my estimation of the woman raise another few notches.

"Shut up, Tone – we need this," she whispered, glaring at him with a fierce anger. I can sense a turmoil brewing behind that anger and I know that Jessica is more than she appears – perhaps the cause of the disturbance in the church eight years ago? Before I can do more than speculate, a voice sounds, making me jump in surprise. I was so focused on my own thoughts and on blocking out the unpleasant aura contained in the house I hadn't heard anyone come down the stairs.

"Mom?"

Everyone in the living room freezes and we turn as one to regard the small figure by the stairs. I had to force myself to not recoil.

The boy looks nothing like either one of his parents, save perhaps a resemblance to Jessica. There is something alien, different…demonic, something regal and angry and ancient and new all at once. The boy is pale as snow with unnaturally red lips, like the vampires of common mythology. His hair is ebony dark. He holds himself with an uncanny grace, a poise that belies both his age and his appearance. It is eerie – but his eyes…they are a strange dark color, with a darkness in their depths that burns with some smoldering power. They are doll's eyes and make my skin crawl.

"Xander, honey, what are you doing down here?" Jessica asks quietly. She isn't quite looking at her son – she's afraid of him, I realize, shocked…but not too shocked. The boy's abnormal nature was apparent even from spending one minute in the room with him. The boy rubs his head with a grimace of pain, and says "My head is hurting again."

I try then to penetrate that mind while its defenses are down, and have to fight back a yelp of pain. It's like encountering a running current, like touching a live wire. Lightning shields his consciousness better than any spell or telepathic ability; I haven't the fortitude or desire to try again. I can't penetrate his mind. I shoot the thought into Jenny and Tomas' minds. I can feel their confusion, so I elaborate: There is some kind of force field, like an electric current, around his mind. It hurts when you try to read him.

The High Priestess of the Holy Isle can't read the thoughts of a seven year old boy? Jenny can't help but think while I linger in her mind, and I fight down the disappointment in myself…and the fear. It is uncanny that this boy should be able to defend his own mind so, and yet I feel that he is not aware that he is shielding his mind from telepathic invasion – more like it is his own body's natural defenses, whatever they may be. No matter the pain, however, I have been able to get a brush of his aura, and it is not what I am expecting. Yes, the darkness is there. But I sense that it isn't only darkness in the boy's eyes, for underneath the almost alien coldness in Xander's gaze, there is a sweet light and a childish innocence and naïveté still struggling to the surface. I feel a swell of pity.

"Who are they?" the boy asks presently, pointing at us. He goes towards his mother, instinctively looking for comfort.

"They're here to talk to us about a school," Mrs. Harris says gently, but still not quite looking Xander in the eye. I could feel a surge of happiness in Xander; his mother's avoidance tactics were all too obvious, and the way that she turned away from his touch was apparent. Clearly the boy had picked up on it, and for longer than he should have.

"I already go to school," he says quietly, his voice somehow managing a mix of confusion, hurt, and surly anger all at once.

"Well, this is a different school," Tony Harris snaps, not even trying to be subtle about not looking at his only son.

"So now you're trying to send me away?" Xander snarls back, his eyes lighting up with the anger of an animal who has been hurt and is ready to lash back. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"It's not like that, Alexander," I try to explain in my most genteel voice.

"I didn't ask you," Xander cuts me off coldly, glaring.

"Xander!" Jessica gasps, annoyed, and opens her mouth to continue when I decide that the best strategy now would be to perhaps grab the dragon by the horns, so to speak.

"It would perhaps be better if we were permitted to speak to Xander alone," I suggest, using my voice of power, of command that I must use while deliberating on affairs of the Isle. The tone of my voice brooks absolutely no argument, and I can see Xander's surprise that his parents listen to me so regularly. I turn to face him, my posture saying "I too know things that you do not. I am not what you think I am." Xander glances back at me, thinking things through.

"Who are you?" he asks finally, some of the icy regality leaking from his demeanor. He looks a little scared, a little confused as he sags onto the couch. Looking closer, I am surprised to note that the dark of his eyes was lightening to a lovely chocolaty color. It's as if that which is so obviously other in his gaze has backed away, leaving the little boy he appeared to be free to take control once more. I smile at him charmingly, and I see him bite back a smile of his own. I decide that I like this Xander.

"Xander, I'd like to take you to a place for special people, just like you," I say, appearing happy with the idea. He looks happy with it too.

"I'm special?" Xander asks slowly, as if only now considering the idea. He smiles then, and it is like the Sun coming out after a day of angry rain; I've never seen such boundless happiness on one face. "I always knew there was something different about me. That's what makes my mom so angry," he continues with the bluntness of a child. It seems that as more and more of his inner child is allowed to peek through, equal amounts of his strange…persona, so to speak, is dissolving away.

"Yes – but you see, we can teach you about that. We can help you," I say, trying to reassure him. There is a strange, motherly feeling about me that emerges now, wanting to comfort the child. However, I am not as in charge of the situation as I first thought. Quick as children are quick, his brows snap together angrily and his entire face darkens with anger.

"Help me?" Xander asks scornfully, his eyes suddenly darkening. "I'm not a freak, you know! I'm a kid and I don't need any more of my mom's stupid shrinks!" It is at this moment that Xander's temper seems to flair in a curious way. As his voice rises, the sky darkens with angry black clouds. I freeze in shock as thunder booms in time with the boy's voice. His emotions are affecting the weather! What manner of being is locked within this child that could possibly affect this…godlike…I will not think it.

"That's enough of that now," I say flatly. He has clearly never been disciplined before, out of fear. I call upon the Goddess, praying that his control over his powers is as clearly out of control as it seems. It is, thankfully, and with a few well-chosen incantations in my mind I am able to entreat the weather to return to its normal patterns…I try not to show how much of my energy the trick costs me. I must not show weakness to Xander now, who is staring at me in open-mouthed wonder.

"How'd you do that?" he asks quietly, awe-struck...thankful, that someone has stopped it.

"You'll know when you come with us," I say with a smirk. Here is the tricky part, I am aware – if I can bind Xander into a sort of contract, then we both know that there will be nothing that his parents can do to stop it from occurring. However, he must think that he made this decision on his own or the plans that are beginning to form in my head will never be brought to fruition, and I cannot allow that – not after what I've seen.

After a painstakingly long moment, Xander smiles. It is not quite the sweet, happy smile of before, but one of equal light and dark. Xander is agreeing for his own reasons, but it is enough that I have him of his own free will. I pray that I will not regret abusing the fact that he is a child to accomplish this…contract, but I know that I cannot allow emotion or guilt to cloud the issue – I know what I must do…

XVII. From Ancient Grudge Break to New Mutiny

I had planned to stay in Sunnydale for one week, during which I would appropriate the boy and take him to Avalon. Though the surge in power was obviously of unusual increment, at that period in time we still believed Alexander Harris to be a powerful Witch in need of training. Though the touch of demon's blood was apparent when I first met him, I still could do nothing but believe that he was perhaps half or quarter demon, descended from one of the more powerfully magical demonic bloodlines. I had not been trained, had not learned the other possibilities, for the story of Atlantis to me was just that: a story. I knew of the origins of Avalon, but I had never had the inclination to read the entire story in our archives for myself.

You must understand that all of the past events of which I have spoken happened more than thousands of years ago; it was the common mindset of Avalon that our founder's story did not have large import to our lives. It is a mistake that has cost us, yes, but the peacefulness of the times had lulled us into a sense of complacency.

When Tony and Jessica Harris signed the form of temporary guardianship over to me, I still did not believe anything to be wrong. Tomas and Jenny were touring Sunnydale in an attempt to find that which had distressed their Elder, and I had one of my guards with me, out by the car. It was a very beautiful, sunny day – I remember the weather, particularly, for it helped to drop my guard. My mission had been accomplished, the Sun was shining, warm and beautiful, and a gentle breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass. I could almost feel myself transported back to Avalon, and had a strong desire to return home.

You understand why it was such a faux pas to drop my guard, no? Exactly: the Tiocfaidh ár lá, who were not particularly keen on allowing their prophesied Harbinger of Armageddon to go to train with a powerful good witch. I do not believe that they knew exactly who I was, else they might have gone about their attack in a more insidious manner…in any case, the one they had appointed the Guardian to watch over Alexander caught wind of what the boy's parents were signing and instantly alerted the rest of the group.

As soon as the document was signed, I was nearly pushed out of the door. I still can't exactly blame Jessica in particular for her haste; all she wanted was for her son to learn control, to fix what she perceived to be the problem so that they could perhaps have some semblance of a normal life. Whatever the matter, Alexander was waiting at the bottom of the staircase with a suitcase ready to be loaded into the car, and the document was in my pocket. The boy's school had already been called to say that Mr. Harris would be finishing out at least the semester at a special needs school, and there was no other business to take care of.

I led the boy out of the house and as soon as my feet hit the Earth I felt a flash of intuition, much like your girl here. I too threw up my strongest shield spell around myself and Alexander, and the Sleeping Spell blew past us and knocked out Tony and Jessica where they stood. I desperately threw out my consciousness to see my attackers, for their was more than one caster behind the spell. All but one were blocked to me, and the one that was not blocked was a consciousness so cold, so icy, that attempting to breach the defenses could suck the very marrow from your bones. I shielded myself in turn, and turned to see my guard on the ground, dead, a blade in her back.

I choked in horror at the casual murder of a dear friend – I had not seen death yet, so young myself, save for the passing of my predecessor, who faded into the Light of the Goddess in her sleep. This was something unnatural and horrible, and I choked back bile and tears as I saw six men, dressed head to toe in black, step from the surrounding bushes and trees. They were very highly trained; the five spread out in a V behind the man who took point, weapons drawn and Shield Spells already humming. The leader stopped five feet from me, and looked me in the eye.

He was very tall, at least six and a half feet, if not more. His skin was icy pale, and his hair a metallic platinum blonde, cut short. On a lean, well-muscled chest he wore a leather vest carved with arcane symbols of protection and death for his enemies. His legs were clad in black leather, with heavy boots. The ancient script continued on his leggings. He had a strange, three-pronged instrument hanging from a loop on his pants, but his hands were free. His expression said that besides magic he needed no weapon to kill me. It was his eyes that were horrifying, though; this man was a true human and had no demon blood in him, and yet they glowed an eerie, swirling garnet that recalled powerful demons. His eyes alone sent terror skittering down my spine. I swept Alexander behind me and he clutched my hand, though whether in fear or excitement I could not tell.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to make my voice strong.

"No one you need ever know," he said coldly, sneering. He had a deep voice that would have been hypnotic, even seductive, were it not toned with an arrogant sneer and a deep-seated violence. His aura washed over me like murderous ice. "Here are your options, Witch – leave the boy with us and run as fast as you can, or stay here and join your friend in death."

"What is the boy to you?" I asked, surprised. These men were not after me at all; did not even know who I was! It was Alexander they were after!

"Shut up!" he snarled, spittle spraying from his mouth. "There are no questions! Leave the boy with us or die like your worthless friend!" He spat on her body and snarled a curse to her spirit that I will not utter here. It was this, I think, more than anything, that roused me to action. I am a Frenchwoman, and I am more than aware that when angered, I act accordingly. My rage rose within me, but that rage was tempered with control. I allowed myself to know nothing but that when this was over, I would stand victorious over all of them.

"Xander, close your eyes and stay behind me," I commanded the boy. He did not protest; he did not hear me. He was staring with a fixed intensity at the man who was leading the attack. Their eyes met and Xander froze. The man ignored me and beckoned imperiously, and I was astounded when Xander's right foot took an involuntary step toward the man. Xander shook, slightly, and would not move his left foot.

"It is no matter, My Prince," the man said quietly, respect dripping from his voice. I stopped in shock. Prince?! I thought. "You will come to us soon enough."

"Not if I can help it," I snarled, and called upon the full might of the Goddess as I reached into the power of the Earth and released the spell. The Earth shook in rage as a great pit burst into being between me and the man, and from it great thorny vines shot into being everywhere. Before any of the group had time to react, three of its men had been entangled and screamed in pain as the thorns sliced through whatever magical protections they had placed around themselves. They screamed even louder when the vines retracted, dragging all three of them into the Earth and the pit closed with a resounding slam, leaving no trace that it had ever existed. The leader's face was frozen in shock, his angry red eyes wide.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded of me.

"I am the Lady of the Lake, Mistress of Avalon and High Priestess of the Moon Coven," I answered, regally indifferent. "And I say unto you that whoever you are, you should not have come here this day. Take another step and see what miseries the Goddess will unleash on you!" I had imagined many different responses to my dare – anger, fear, response to the taunting with an uncoordinated attack. What I received shocked me further.

"Avalon?" the man whispered. He was shaking – not in fear, no, in uncontrollable rage. "AVALON?!" he screamed. He spit again, cursed again. "You think we are afraid of you?! Go then, when we are finished torturing you, and tell your accursed Isle to stop interfering in places that don't concern you, as you should have done since your accursed creator breathed your foul stench into existence!"

His curse hit me like a freight train; I flew backwards and crashed into the house. My shield absorbed much of the impact to my back, for which I was grateful: at the rate I was flying I would surely have been paralyzed had I struck the house full force. The sheer power behind his attack was stunning, and frightening. I knew how I had come to possess as much power as I had – the Lady of the Lake passes her power onto her successor and so on and so forth, an unending lineage of power that I could access in moments of great need. For this much power to be contained within one group would mean that that group would have to be nearly as old as Avalon itself.

This might not be a fight that I can win alone, I realized. Either way, I could not let my terror overcome my reason. I had already managed to kill three, cutting their forces off by half. If I could manage to overcome two, then I would possibly be able to take the leader on one by one. I stood to say the spell, but then my heart sank as I understood that I had underestimated how many belonged to this group. Four more came at a run out of the woods behind the house, while another two jumped off the roof. In greater numbers, the rage that they felt at my identity, at who had sent me, would grant them more power. I was fighting for my life. They were fighting to eradicate that which they hated.

"Grab the Chosen One!" the leader screamed to his men. No! I thought desperately, and lunged for Alexander. But it was too late; there were too many curses being hurled at me to count. I had one weapon that I could use, but there was no chance of my survival. I would have to merely kill as many of the bastards that I could while I could, and hope that Avalon would be able to investigate my demise to find out who these sons of bitches were. I reached into a pocket I had never had to reach into before and took out a black crystal.

"Negato no qunam lunae, lessius para ebon regina et nostrus regino, alara fîatum!" I yelled, and broke the crystal. The drain on my power was…I cannot describe it. My nose began to bleed and I collapsed for a moment, my head spinning with utter disorientation. I had to fight through it, though; I had been warned that were I ever in position to use this most desperate weapon, I needed to be able to fight through the nausea to either fight or run.

The crystal is known as La Encanta Mortÿo, or the Death of Enchantment. It is an ancient power that we do not know how it originated, save that with a simple spell and the breaking of the crystal, it was kill all magical powers with a mile of itself. Those magic users that it is used on can eventually gain their magic back, but it is a most desperate weapon. I was dizzy with the inability to use that sixth sense my magic provided. My world was less bright, less pure, and more confusing. However, I knew that this had been coming. My enemies did not, and their eyes were wide with horror, and they staggered this way and that without any direction.

I staggered toward my fallen friend and grabbed the large knife that hung from her waist. I…do not wish to tell of the fight that followed. The men, no matter how evil, cruel they may have been, were at such a disadvantage that I killed five before any of them managed to get their bearings. There were others…there was so much blood on my hands by the end of that day. In any case, they were all quite strong, and no matter how much of a surprise I had launched on them, there were still four standing, guarding the leader, by the time I was wrestled to my knees.

I screamed, struggled. I was forced to watch as they grabbed Alexander. The boy looked so young then, so small and scared and helpless. The blood of the men carrying him washed onto him, making his pale skin look infinitely more macabre. They tried to be gentle, reinforcing the idea that there was something about this child that they regarded as infinitely precious, infinitely important. No matter how he cried and turned and twisted, inexorably they marched him to the leader. He knelt down to Alexander's level and gently as any father wiped the tears from the boy's face. There was no regal aura to the boy now, no freakish otherness. He was only a child, small, alone, and defenseless against this demonic, soulless wretch.

"Alexander," the man breathed. His entire face had changed from the sneering murderer of mere minutes before. How had time flown so fast? Now he looked awed, empowered by the presence of the boy before him. "My Prince – our Prince…so many years we have waited for you!" I struggled, trying to reach him, but I was viciously backhanded by one of my captors. "Alexander…you must do this thing, you must lead us in this," the leader pleaded, oblivious to us. His eyes were glowing with a snakelike intensity, boring into the boy's face, mesmerizing him. Alexander nodded softly, his eyes huge.

The leader reached into a soft pocket in his vest and withdrew a ceremonial athame, carved with evil symbols. This athame had not known the touch of true magic; it had been fed on blood, created to wield darkness and to kill, not to create. Alexander shrank from it. "Be not afraid…this most ancient of weapons is yours alone to wield." The leader held it out to him temptingly, and Alexander slowly reached for it. "Good.

"Now, kill her."

I froze, stunned. This was why I was still alive, then; to baptize Alexander in my blood, to lead him down the path of the men and whatever horrific schemes they held in their heads for the boy's future. Alexander took a halting step towards me, the blade raised. I could see that strangeness within him rise to the forefront. There was a hunger within him at the same time that there was horror. There was Light battling Dark within this boy, a desperate fight for his soul that I could only sense dimly was important to the entire world, to existence itself. Who was this boy?

My only chance was to convince him that this was wrong, that he had a choice. There was a potential for such light within him, I could tell. "Alexander, you have a choice in this," I said calmly, not letting anything betray my calm. "You can feel it within you, feel the light. You know this is wrong. You know what the importance of life is."

"SILENCE!" the leader roared, his eyes popping. I was backhanded again, and Alexander flinched as I moaned in pain. There was a whirlwind going on behind the boy's eyes, the battle within him reaching fever pitch. "Xander, no," I whispered over and over again at the same time as the leader screamed "Do it! Do it! Feel it within you, feel it rising, fulfill your destiny!" The two mantras swirled around the boy's head and he screamed in rage and frustration.

The sky overhead decided the matter for us, for it echoed the scream.

Tornado-dark clouds swirled overhead in dizzying speed, appearing out of nowhere, as a heavy wind whipped icy-cold rain over us, drenching us in seconds. This I could not understand; what power could this boy have within him that he could overcome the effects of the crystal?

"He rises! HE RISES! Tiocfaidh ár lá!!!" the leader screamed, ecstasy on his face as thunder rolled around us. But Alexander had had enough; the athame clattered to the ground as he screamed and clutched his head, dropping to his knees. Thunder boomed loud as a shotgun over our heads and lightning streaked toward the ground, radiating through the ground and then shooting back up in four very specific spots. The four men it touched burned to death instantly, their heads still thrown up in devotion, unholy ecstasy on their face as they died.

The leader ran toward the prostrate boy, screaming in his mania. I reacted, throwing myself forward and slamming the back of my fist down on a very specific nerve ending on the back of the man's neck. He slumped forward, unconscious. I grabbed Xander and ran to the car, throwing the man into the trunk as quickly as possible, trying to ignore my protesting muscles at the heaviness of my captive. I then tenderly loaded my dead friend's body into the backseat, threw Xander's belongings into his seat, loaded the boy in, and streaked away from that cursed street as fast as I could.

The rain followed us, a match for the tears on the unconscious boy's face.

XVIII. Revelations and Interrogations

That night I stopped in a hotel in a small town about twenty miles north of Sunnydale. I checked into a ratty hotel where it seemed likely that…noise would not be discouraged by the oily little man at the front desk. I asked for a room with two beds. Onto one bed I deposited Xander, who was still asleep. The unconscious leader of the cult that had attacked us and dumped into a hard wooden chair and bound him magically, then cast another Sleeping Spell over his prone form that would keep him sedated. I cast the same spell over the boy, so that he would not wake up during what was sure to be a long night.

I contacted Avalon and called for the Lord of the Isle's ceremonies to be interrupted. That I would even demand this went against thousands of years of Avalon's history, and so they would know that it was horribly important, what I had to say. The Lord left Mathu in a cave on a Spiritual Journeying so that he could confer with me. After hearing a hurried account of my story, he absconded from the Isle with the Master and Mistress of the Guard, our most powerful warriors – these two that you see behind me, in the early years of their duty, in point of fact.

A powerful Wiccan has his own ways of travelling, which I will not betray here. So it was that at three o'clock the next morning there was a hard knock on the hotel door. Opening it, I felt instant relief, felt some of the previous day's horrors begin to melt away. The previous Lord – his name was Shiloh – was a wise and powerful man, and had been the Lord of Avalon since he was twenty-four. On the night that this occurred he had reached his seventieth year, and had lost none of his fire or vigor.

He was swathed in black robes of mourning and power combined, and his face was hard. He would not waste time with comforting me – and I did not want him to; this was far too important. He was carrying a heavy old tome with him that had been transcribed from the ancient, crumbling scrolls of our library. I did not recognize this one, for it was one of the very few that is kept under lock and key, so valuable that its secrets should never be divulged unless there were a situation like this one.

"Where is he?" he asked, his voice angrier than I had ever heard it. I directed him to our captive, but he brushed me aside and strode to the sleeping boy. "So, you are back then…our ancient foe," he whispered, and I could feel my eyes widening with shock. The Lord truly knew what was going on, then – knew for sure what I had only begun to suspect about Alexander Harris. I was angry at not knowing, but also clinging to a childish urge to allow him to handle it. I was not sure then, in fact I am still not sure now, that I wanted to know whatever terrible knowledge could have spawned the man-thing that attacked us.

"He is over here," I said flatly, feigning ignorance and pointing to my captive. The Lord startled out of his reverie and gave me a very piercing look. I met his gaze head-on. No matter my misgivings, I had been chosen as the Lady of the Lake, and if I was to lead our great Coven during this time of turmoil, I had a right and a need to know what was going on and what I would have to do about it.

"Yes," he said after a moment, and I realized that I saw approval in his eyes. I let my ego be bolstered by that, if nothing else. "I assume that you have kept him unconscious?" I nodded tersely. "Very good…you should strengthen the spell for a moment," he advised the Guard. While they began to carry out his instruction, he turned to me. "Sit down," he said. I remember a sense of ancient sadness in his voice, a quiet sort of defeat in his eyes. I did as he asked without comment, and he seated himself across from me.

"My Lord, what in the name of the Holy One is going on?" I asked finally, after a moment.

"It is a sad thing that you do not know, an oversight that your Mistress committed," he said after a moment. Before I could rush to my Lady's defense, he sighed expansively. "And my name is Shiloh, Marie-Claire. You are the Lady of the Lake now, and unfortunately now more than ever you must act as such."

The chastisement stung, but it was nothing more than I needed. I didn't know what was going on, and if I did not then most of my Coven did not, and that made this thing a weakness. I could not afford to be weak.

"I cannot blame my once-partner, however. It has been so long…years turn into decades, which turn into centuries, which turn into millennia and then eons and…longer than any human has a right to remember, I suppose. And of what we are about to speak tonight, we have grown complacent, had no reason to think of it. Perhaps she truly hoped it gone forever, as we all did…" He sounded so tired, as if this knowledge had lain across his shoulders heavy as Atlas' burden.

He straightened, as if irritated with his own weakness. With an old gesture and a whispered word, the door and windows made an odd squelching noise as they sealed themselves more solid than titanium. There was another whisper as he blocked any from eavesdropping on this conversation. I kept my silence during this strange ritual. Even the Rites of Passage from one Lady of the Lake to the next had not been conducted in this much secrecy.

"Now, you must understand that what I speak of tonight is an evil so old, so powerful, so bent on the destruction of all humankind that I fear even to speak of it aloud without these shielding spells lest it hear and come to us. It is a force from the primordial times of our Earth, only preceded by the First Evil – perhaps created by the First Evil; we do not know, nor will we ever know. What matters is that it exists, and it is the greatest threat to humanity that may ever exist. It has been Avalon's sacred duty since the dawn of our existence to fight this evil in any incarnation it may try to force through the Void into our world…"

This was how he began his story – the story that you now know. For over an hour he spoke, telling me the story of Ferro and Atlantis and the creation of Avalon, though he spoke of things that I did not know – Rakia and Necrom, Pandora and the Elemental demon-kings. He traced for me Daniel Bënnu's bloodline throughout history – as far as we could follow it, at that point. He told me everything that he knew, and then he was silent, and drank water while I sat still and attempted to absorb everything of which he spoke.

"But, Shiloh…" I began hesitantly after a long silence. "I do not understand…this story is indeed horrible; terrifying, even. But what does this have to do with the Harris child? And the cult that attacked us, what of them? None of this makes sense!"

"It does make sense, in its own way, actually – what we need is this one last puzzle piece to finally see the full picture." He gestured toward their captive. "What I am sure of, however, is that Jessica Harris, née Benew, gave birth to Alexander Harris: the last descendant of the Stoírm and Rakia's accursed union all those years ago."

"What?!" I gasped. "How could we not have known this? How could we not have stopped this?" I demanded after a moment. "If the Stoírm poses the danger that you say, how could we ever have become the merest instant complacent enough to not watch its progeny and ensure that they posed no threat?"

He did not take offense at the impertinence of my questions; instead he agreed. "As I've said, Marie-Claire, it has been an oversight that we have been making for centuries now. It was the same reasoning that your predecessor made with you. What happened on Atlantis and the adventures that occurred subsequently from that happened so long ago that we reasoned they surely had nothing to do with our future. We have become so arrogant of our powers that our own Lady of the Lake was nearly murdered by a rogue coven we know absolutely nothing about because of it!" I shuddered at the memory of the previous afternoon. "We have become so blind in our assuredness that we alone are the most powerful of Wiccans that we merely assumed our Binding Spell would maintain throughout the ages! This is the curse of power, Marie-Claire, and mark that you learn this lesson well – there is no such thing as absolute power, and any creature on this Earth that appears to have it will in turn be corrupted by it by the curse of humanity."

His words rang through my head like a curse; I will always remember that admonishment and I have used it as a testimony to live my own life by to this day. Does not the old adage maintain that 'power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely?'

"But we have a chance now, to act as we must act to acquire that information which we shall need in order to decide what must be done about the Harris child – and indeed what threat he may pose should he fall out of our hands.

"Henry," he said coldly, before I could say a word, to the lead male guard. "Wake our guest, please – oh, and ensure that you stop any suicide attempts. We cannot allow this chance at vital information to slip through our fingers." He said this last part so off-handedly that it gave me pause. Was not all life valuable? Were we not taught to genuflect to God and Goddess before we were forced to take said life? But then I thought of my battle yesterday. No such prayers had passed my lips for my victims in that desperate fight, had they? I was filled with doubt and confusion. I was coming face to face with the consequences of youthful idealism, you understand, and I was learning that growing up was a colder, more heartless process than I had previously envisioned.

The man moaned as he started to come around, the multiple spells wearing on his mind and body. He stretched uncomfortably as the ropes chafed at his skin. It took a few moments, a few blinks of those unnerving jeweled eyes before he seemed to get a sense of where he was…and who he was with. He lifted his demonic eyes and glared with pure venomous hatred at me and Shiloh. I tried very hard to not let my intimidation show on my face. Aside from physical features, just the feel of his aura, the feel of him, was enough to make me want to recoil and wretch in a corner. Shiloh, on the other hand, refused to be cowed.

"We have a few questions for you," he said flatly. "Answer us truthfully and your death will be quick and painless. Lie or waste our time, or attempt to escape, and you will be sealed in the Death Oak for the rest of your life." The man attempted to hide his blanch. I had to, as well. The Death Oak is the most grievous, brutal of all Druidic punishments. The prisoner is put into a sort of paralysis where all that can be moved is eyes and mind. It is extremely uncomfortable. However, after this, they are dragged to the Cursed Grove, and taken to one of the oak trees there – oak being the most powerful of natural prisons. The tree is enchanted to open to its very heart, and there the prisoner is held for the rest of their lives. Because of the sap of the tree and the energy it draws from the earth, it is not unheard of for prisoners to still be alive after forty years before finally dying.

The man had more mettle, apparently, for after a moment he spat "I will betray nothing, Druid."

"Not even for the life of this one?" Shiloh asked slyly. I turned, stunned, to see one of the guards suddenly standing over Xander's sleeping form, a long, sharp, three-pronged dagger clutched aloft in his hand. Our prisoner yelled, an ejaculation of terror, but my sharp gasp also echoed through the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I demanded, starting towards the guard. A twitch of fingers from Shiloh and I could not move, could not speak. I was bound to the spot on the floor where I stood, helpless to hinder what was happening.

"So, I see there is a form of collateral, yes?" Shiloh asked coldly. The old man strode over to the prisoner, who was straining desperately against his magical bonds. He grabbed the man by the hand and forced his head back, the back of his neck resting against the chair, forcing his throat to constrict. "You will tell me everything I want to know or I will kill the whelp you seem to have so much energy focused upon."

"You would not hurt an innocent, Wiccan!" the man gasped, shocked. His face was starting to turn purple. "It is forbidden!"

"You can feel the dark magic emanating from the boy just as I can. If only part of him is innocent, if the part of him that is…not so innocent is the part that drove the death of one of my coven and the attempted murder of the Lady of the Lake, I'm sure that no one on Avalon would protest his death," Shiloh responded calmly. Despite his unflappable expression his eyes blazed fire and death. I stood horrified, unable to move.

"Ask your questions," the man mumbled after an eternity, sobbing as Shiloh released him and he could breathe again.

"For every wrong answer, you will be hurt," Shiloh said coldly. Henry, the guard standing over the prisoner, extracted from a small pouch a very small knife that was glistening with potion. It was similar to the mixture called Hell-Fire; every time it comes into contact with blood it administers a burning sensation. It is an ancient weapon of torture, and one that I had never thought to see in my entire life.

I will not tell you of the torture that was inflicted on the man, no matter how evil he was. He was still human, and I still do not like to think of it. It is my firm belief that it could have been handled differently. However, we were all afraid, and we had a right to be…as it turns out…however, I will simply tell you, as close as I can, the man's words, his story, and what impact they had on this narrative.

XIX. Tiocfaidh ár lá

We are an order as old as time, as old as your accursed coven. We were created by the Old Ones themselves and stand as guardians of their Earth until we can bring about that great Armageddon that is their plan and reign underneath them as overlords, as we have been promised. We do not fear pain for we cannot feel it. We have the strength of our sublime masters, and the magicks of the hellish core of the Earth at our disposal. We are power, and power is what we serve.

It is in the nature of humanity to be beasts, neither good nor evil, and it was through the evil of goodness that we were cursed with conscience and with guilt, with weak emotions that make us even more foul than those dumb beasts we kill for food. Somehow this ability to think and feel has led us to an arrogance that we are masters of the Earth, and so we destroy it as we see fit. We rose up against our masters, the Old Ones, the Ones who had been for so long, longer than any can remember, and we deposed them through foul magic that stole from our very masters. We banished them from their own realm.

We were created by the Elementals to serve them. They lifted us from the dull mediocrity of our lives and showed us the true nature of power. They showed us that which we must obey, and so we pass it on to those who understand that there is no good and evil – only power, and those too weak and stupid to seek it. We have collected magicks and power beyond the dreams of most humans who think themselves mighty as they lead the world in the nuclear age. These humans are deluded fools, who have convinced themselves that because they have a weapon that they cannot control, that can only destroy and do nothing else, they are more powerful and can sleep in peace at night.

For years our only purpose was to collect power, to make ourselves a mighty army. There was naught else that we could do. We kidnapped the witches that would have become tools of you our oldest enemy and drained them of the power that they were not worthy of. We worked diligently and were at last seen to have done what we must do to be trusted by our masters. They stole us from our bodies in an extraordinary feeling of exhilaration beyond the wildest dreams of mere mortals, and showed us that which we must do.

A prophesy was given to us, the prophesy of the Key, the Doorway, the foretold vessel that would carry the incarnation of our sublime master, the Harbinger of Armageddon. We would have to interfere, in specific points, in order to accomplish this. Our great mother of old, Pandora, had allowed our masters to use her body for their visions, for the breeding plan that must be carried out to continue their great plan.

And so we hid ourselves from the world, from Avalon, that bastardized outpost of the thrice-curst traitor-fool Ferro, hidden for him by the faeries, those impure, imperfect wastes of spirit, of Ether. We did nothing that could draw attention to ourselves, nothing that could give us away. We knew that the seekers of Avalon would be searching for outbursts of magic so should we ever have to use it we stored it in our weapons that were cloaked in spells that hid their magical nature from any scrying spell.

This is the way it was for scores of years, until we were contacted by our masters.

XX. Pendragon

A great King had risen to power, one who was a burning source of the foulness of light that had pervaded the world. We were told to watch and wait until our moment could come where we could interfere, which would set into motion our great plan, the first moment that would ripple across the waters of time until hundreds of years later, we would act on those ripples that would become a tidal wave that would crash at the gates of Armageddon.

His name was Arthur Pendragon.

This was the era of magic, the Dark Ages, as the humans have come to know it. Avalon had grown rich in their power and so had influenced the thrones of their homeland, which was at that time the most powerful of countries. All kings at that time had the blessings of Avalon, because if they attempted rule without it the native Britons would not follow their Anglo-Saxon betters. Normally the politics of men were of little interest to our order, but at this moment of time was Avalon's greatest weakness, through their greatest arrogance. The Blood of Avalon would need to run strong in the one who was prophesied to come forth, and so we waited until our great plans could be set in motion.

Many prophesies had been put forth about the Pendragon, the mystical line of Kings which would propel Britain to its greatest era of Light, wherein the foulness of the God and Goddess would balance each other and the stench of justice would cloak the land. When Uther Pendragon was born, Avalon launched itself into action. The Lord of the Aisle took the name of Merlin, a great enchanter, and he watched and was watchful. Uther Pendragon was named the King's successor, fulfilling the prophesy.

As Merlin positioned himself to be an advisor to the new King, we also launched into action. A natural born witch named Igraine had been born and was fated to be loved by the Pendragon. At the time she was married to a Welsh lord, Gorlois, a man of little importance. History remembers him as the father of one of the greatest of all witches, Morgan le Fay, but in this history was lied to. The shadows of our Order were dark, and in concealing magicks our High Priest laid with Igraine, disguised as her husband.

When Igraine and Uther Pendragon first laid fateful eyes on each other, Igraine was in London for the installment of the new High King with her husband, and her daughter Morgan (also called Morgana and Morgaine) at home. Morgan had been deemed unfit to travel to London for her strangeness – her flashes of foresight, her ability to manipulate the elements without control. A natural witch and also part of a demonic order – she was gifted with great power. One of our brothers, gifted at the skill of manipulation, stayed with Morgan whilst her mother and her mother's husband were gone. She was convinced of her love of mother and father, and of her own power. He secretly taught her control, and kept her away from Avalon.

History tells the next part of the story – that Uther and Igraine were cursed with the hand of love when they saw each other, and that Gorlois cursed the new king and stole his wife back to his great stronghold, there to challenge Uther. Uther, a brave and arrogant man, would not have won the battle there were it not for Merlin's magic. He enchanted Uther's sword to break the metal of weaker swords, a sword of kings. After Gorlois had been killed, Uther was swathed in cloaking magic and sent for his bedtime thrills with Igraine.

And, watching this, realizing what had happened, Morgan developed a deep hatred for Uther Pendragon, and saw that the Pendragon line was evil, and brought about a perceived light that was instead dark. When her mother became pregnant from her night with her new husband (for she had been given as chattel to Uther Pendragon, who married her the next week and installed her as High Queen), Morgan swore that she would set herself against the dragon Arthur with all her might, and would do what she must to bring the natural order back to the world.

Wondrous, really, how the roads of good intentions lead to disaster at every turn.

So, Morgan began on her road to infamy, she who was called Morgan le Fey behind her mother's back, as everyone believed her strangeness a curse of the faerie folk, for back then everything wrong was blamed on the faeries. Eventually the blame shifted to magic in general, and the witch hunts would begin. People are sheep, especially in the face of false religion, where they will do whatever they are told to do. They do not realize that the Old Ones are the true power.

XXI. Merlin and the Young Dragon

Merlin gained fame over the years as well, as he was called the Merlin of Britain, the great enchanter, gifted by God and by England as the great defender of their land, the master of magic. They did not realize that he was a pawn of Avalon's political games. Arthur grew brave and strong under Merlin's care, as Merlin took him away from his parents that he might teach Arthur himself. You know the story – Merlin stuck Uther's magic sword in the damn stone and set it so that only Arthur could pull it out. Pleasure business sleight of hand, but it impressed the sheep of Britain. Arthur was revealed as the King after Uther's death, and so the young boy was made King and Merlin was given guardianship over him.

Avalon now had control of the throne, as opposed to the Bishops and Popes.

Arthur made laws on Merlin's advice, propagating peace and love and justice throughout his empire. He made the Code of Chivalry, installed knights. It was a wretched time where even revenge was frowned upon by our great king. Everyone was forced to be happy in this enforced peace, they did not realize what a perversion of natural chaos it was. It was stale, this peace, it was forced. Avalon had played their hand, the Lady of the Lake emerging from her watery womb to hand Arthur the enchanted weapon Excalibur.

Since Avalon was finished, it was our turn to start the moving of our Queen in the ancient chess game that Avalon was too stupid, blind and arrogant to realize they were playing.

XXII. Morgan and Mordred

Morgan le Fey had travelled the length of Britain, searching the old ways and the Old Ones out. She spent time in Avalon, learning their ways. She spent time with her old advisor, our priest, and learned the arts. She vanished for many years, until Arthur was twenty and she twenty-five. During this time her bitterness against Pendragon, against Avalon's forcible takeover of her homeland and the cursed enforced peace of Camelot, as Arthur's kingdom came to be known.

She revealed herself on Samhain, the Witches' New Year, when her power would be strongest, appearing as a raven who shapeshifted to her true form – again, a simple trick that immediately won over the court. Merlin was suspicious, but he had also started to age, and so could not sense her plans or intention. Morgan told her brother that she had come to be reunited with him, to aid him. Arthur, the trusting fool, swathed in the blind goodness of Avalon, instantly accepted her to his court.

For a year and a day Morgan le Fey stayed at Camelot. She ingratiated herself into her brother's life, and found herself given command at court. She found herself wavering. Was not her half-brother innocent against the malice of Avalon? We found it necessary to give her a Scrying Stone, that she might contact us when her strength wavered. We cursed ourselves that we had given her freedom, for she had been exposed to the corruption of goodness as well, and we knew that when the day was done she would have to be eliminated, lest she become a threat as well.

And so it was that Morgan was again filled with resolve. She moved her plans into action, and sought out Guinevere, the legendary beauty of Britain. She paraded her before Arthur's court, and Arthur and all of his men fell madly in love with her. Guinevere had been raised a Christian lady, and so could not think for herself. Though she was in love with Lancelot, she gave her hand to Arthur in order to honor God.

At the start of the Spring Equinox, when fertility was high, she tricked Arthur into her bed. Though this had been her plan, it exposed the weakness in her soul, and so she kept the secret from Arthur and mysteriously vanished. We dispatched two of our order to seek her out, and another crept into Camelot and cursed Guinevere with infertility. Merlin did not sense us, and so we knew that Avalon was no longer a threat to us.

When we found Morgan, she killed both members of our order and fled. She intended to seek asylum in Avalon, but our High Priest found her again and warned her that should she go there she would be shut up in the Great Oak for her crimes, for it was not the nature of goodness to understand the thinking of chaos. Morgan cursed him for what we had forced her to do, but it was she who made her own choice. She surrendered her baby with a curse and fled to Avalon, telling them that she had decided to come back to escape a painful world. She was accepted, as far as we can tell, by the trusting fools.

The baby was named Mordred. History can tell you the rest – how Lancelot was cast with a simple love spell that convinced him to overcome his inhibitions and fuck the stupid bitch, and how Mordred was sent to his father's kingdom. Because the boy had grown up with hatred for his father and for Camelot, that we had taught him the truth of, he told his father the nature of his birth. Morgan le Fey was called an evil sorceress, and such began the rumors of her dark nature.

Nimue, a witch we had enchanted, enticed Merlin to his death, finally, and Mordred revealed to Camelot how their beloved Arthur had been made cuckold by his best friend and whorish wife. The entire kingdom rallied against Guinevere and Lancelot, and Lancelot had to kill his friends in order to save his woman from burning at the stake – sealing his place in the minds of people the reputation of evil. It was what we had been waiting for. Mordred fulfilled prophesy and took over Camelot. Arthur attempted to fight him.

However, it was Morgan who proved that goodness will overcome the stupid at the end. She arrived at the final battle and just as Mordred was due to strike the killing blow she enchanted Arthur's arm to lift Excalibur one last time. Her magicks could not heal Arthur due to the poison we had enchanted Mordred's blade with, and so she stayed with her half-brother as he died. She is the one who returned Excalibur to the waters, so that we could not touch it. She vanished to Avalon with Arthur. Fantasy tells he will return, but he is surely dead.

Avalon had lost their greatest lord of the isle, and Morgan le Fey had become Lady of the Lake. It was she who withdrew Avalon from the world, for in their hope to install peace they had allowed us our greatest chance to throw open the door and fulfill the calls of prophesy to install our great Chosen One.

XXIII. Dark Legacy

The one who we had been waiting for had finally come, the one who would set our grand plan in motion. Our High Priest swathed himself in cloaking magicks so strong that he would never be able to remove them, but it was necessary to move underneath the magic of Avalon. Finally he was prepared, and he hobbled to a monastery and hid himself there with the monks. He withstood the pain of their…goodness, their simplistic life dedicated to worship of a being of light and charity to the poor. Though this burnt his skin and aura every day, he waited until fate delivered a young boy named Daniel Bënnu to the monastery.

The boy was strong in magic, as we had been warned, and had no control over it. He was terrified, and in his terror had lost control and set a robber aflame with the power of his mind. This was the one that we needed. The High Priest, disguised as a monk, told the child's horrified parents to allow the boy to live in the monastery where the power of God would help the boy. They agreed. As soon as everyone knew that they had relinquished their son we kidnapped them and drained their life forces, adding to our stores.

Daniel Bënnu stayed with the monastery for four years. He was raised in the time after Camelot's collapse, when Britain succumbed to the glorious Dark Age that was ravaging the world. The boy was terrified of the fires of hell and the fires of the pyres that witches were threatened with. We encouraged this in him, and so when Avalon came looking for him, as we knew they would, he was so repulsed by them that he vowed he would escape their evil influence.

There he met the daughter of Morgan le Fey and a man named Truth. He was of Rakia's bloodline, and he comforted the distraught Morgan after the death of her brother. They had a daughter, named Aimee, who inherited Rakia's bloodline as well as Morgan's. Though bound, her powers were enormous. Coupled with the Bënnu bloodline, they were…words don't describe. Blind to this, Morgan did not have enough power to stop Bënnu from running away with Aimee. They left the isle.

Though Avalon lost interest in their children, we did not. We waited. For hundreds of years we waited, until the spell had been splintered into generations, some powerless, some not. When the line moved to the new world, we travelled to an unexplored desert and called forth the first Hellmouth of the world. There we positioned ourselves, and there we waited.

XXIV. Witch Mother and the Boy of Prophesy

When the power of the Hellmouth called Jessica Benew to it, we watched her. When we knew that it was she who would fulfill the ancient prophesies we summoned the demon Neithal, mistress of misery, to bind herself to Jessica, our reverent Mother. When Jessica called on her powers to kill the mighty Neithal, she won the trial and proved herself champion of prophesy. We called our masters down on her that month's lunar eclipse.

She mated with the Lord of Air, he who had conceived the sublime vision of Armageddon, and so Alexander was born, the boy.

He is the Harbinger of Armageddon. He is the Doorway, he is the Key. It is through him that our masters will emerge and rule the world once more!

But we were foiled, for Jessica did not die as was fated. We could not steal the babe from her. And so it was that Avalon again interfered, when we tried to take that which was rightfully ours. And so that is the story, a thousand curses upon your heads. You cannot stop this. When our masters rise you will feast in hell with them as their slaves!

XXV. Death and Life, Hand in Hand

At the end of his tale, the evil thing in the chair took a breath and slumped forward, shaking in rage and fear and Goddess only knows what. I had been released from my Binding Spell, and took the opportunity to sink to sit. The story…

You must understand that it inverted everything that I had learnt about Camelot, first off, and about Morgan le Fey. But what he was implying…I glanced at the boy on the bed. Xander was so small, so innocent in slumber. What was going to happen to him, with this legacy hanging over his head?

Our entire lives, the lives of a thousand great Witches and Druids, servants of Good, of Light and of Peace, had been in a silent battle we knew nothing of to guard the very life of the Earth and its inhabitants. And in our arrogant blindness, our great kingdom, Camelot, the realm of light and peace that we brought about, had brought about the Harbinger of every awful thing that we had attempted to fight against.

Our arrogance had destroyed us.

At that moment, I felt little more than a child. The pure evil of the thing before me had reduced me to a little girl who wished to cling to her mother's apron strings because the night is dark and full of badness. What was wrong and right, in that moment? How could I, a simple girl, be entrusted to be Lady of the Lake, when this dark battle was the legacy of that moment? Never before had I so questioned my strength, or the strength of my power. I longed for the home of Avalon, where I could attempt to forget this, where peace was the order.

"Perversion and lies," Shiloh said suddenly, and I flinched out of my reverie. He was so furious, so angry, that his aura was making the very air around him tremble. "Lies of our Queen Morgan and of Camelot, spawn of evil! DIE!"

"NO!" I screamed, but it was far too late. The thing's athame had been snatched from the table where it lay and Shiloh plunged it into his heart. I screamed as dark, inky black blood shot out, burning what it touched. Acidic blood sprayed Henry, the guard, and he sank to his knees, screaming. Shiloh took no notice. Madness seemed to have gripped him. Curses of Avalon – our own power our own undoing? I could do nothing but watch, until a ripple of power filled the air and the man's body exploded.

Fire filled the air, and I grabbed Xander and flung myself behind a wall. Henry's dead body flung itself against a wall, dashing brains where his head hit with a sound like splitting firewood. Shiloh fell gasping against a bed. Blood was simply everywhere, coated everything, a hellish baptismal splash. This was the nature of evil – to destroy everything, even in its defeat. A great sense of purpose filled me, the light of the Goddess and the strength of the God. This was my destiny – to fight evil, not with evil, as Shiloh had attempted, but with Good – a balance, as was necessary.

When I emerged from my hiding place, Shiloh turned to me, covered in blood, his eyes wild. "Where is the thing?! We must kill it!"

"You won't touch him. His life will be in the hands of our coven, not in the hands of one who has shown he has no rational judgment," I said coldly.

Though he sprang at me, cursing, I bound him with a spell of my own. "Thomas," I said to the other guard. "Bring him. We must leave this hotel room and never come back."

And so we started the long journey back to Avalon.

XXVI. The Nature of Good and Evil

Despite the nature of the journey, all I could feel when I again entered the mystical realm of Avalon was relief. I cannot, of course, tell of the journey itself, for the true location of the Holy Isle is a carefully guarded secret, but this I can tell you – of its shields and spells and charms. Entering the realms of Avalon is like walking through a wall of solid magic; only those who know the Old Ways and know the exact spells and Words of Key can pass them. Entering is like a cleansing experience to the aura. I could feel the dirt of the road wash from me, could feel the calm again encapsulating my soul.

Although, when I looked down in the ship to see Xander bound in an enchanted sleep and Shiloh, once High Druid of Avalon, wrapped in magical chains of bondage with hate-filled eyes fixed on the boy and on me, I could not help but think that it was perhaps this sense of tranquility and calm serenity that all could feel on the Isle that had led to our being tricked into a sense of security by our deadly foes.

There was a small party waiting for us on the beach. The Master and Mistress of the Guard were standing at attention next to my mistress, the former Lady of the Lake, a venerable old woman named Sasha. The two women of the Council were next to the two men, and Mathu, soon to be the next High Druid, stood in front of them all.

I motioned for the master of the ship to stay behind with my…captives. I disembarked slowly, allowing myself to feel the relief of homecoming. The feeling would not last long, I knew. Mathu was already glaring at me impatiently, for it had been my mission that had interrupted his most sacred vows. I silently apologized to him – it is the nature of the relationship between Lord and Lady that they be working partners. His eyes widened as he felt that some unknown catastrophe would further delay his initiation, and he retreated, not saying a word to the curious council members.

"You have been gone far longer than expected, Lady," Sasha said after a moment, stepping forward as spokeswoman of the group.

The Council of Avalon, as I should probably tell you, is broken down into the faces of God and Goddess. As the mysteries inform us, the deities are that of the three stations of life – for Goddess it is Maiden, Mother and Crone; for God it is Master, Father and Sage. The Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle represent the phase of leadership, Mother and Father respectively. The Lord and Lady who passed their mantle of leadership down to the current Lord and Lady take up the mantle of Crone and Sage, the wise elders of Avalon. The two chosen to become Lord and Lady next are the youngest, the brightest and most powerful of the students, and they are the Maiden and Master. I was once the Maiden of Avalon, not two years past. Mathu still held the position of Master, for Shiloh was the Lord of the Isle. Shiloh's old teacher, Erik, looked incredibly tired. He was ready to move on, to fade into the mists of the afterlife. I felt incredibly sorry that I was stalling that transition again. Sasha, once Lady of the Lake, now Crone the wise woman of Avalon, stood waiting for my answer.

I took a deep breath and reached within me for the constant thrum of magic that whispered through my veins. It felt magnified here a thousand fold, and I reached it down into the Earth, feeling the beauty of the God and Goddess in perfect unison, sustaining this their great creation, giving Life. I drew some of that power into myself. I would stand before this test as the Lady of the Lake, Mistress of Avalon, not as a tired once-fledgeling who had been pushed from the nest too brutally and too soon. I had woken up, and I had had my path chosen for me by God and Goddess. I would not deny their holy charge.

"Forgive me, Sasha," I said quietly, my voice ringing with authority. I could feel my old mentor's slight surprise at my regal tone, at my easy slide into the role of Lady. "A problem has come up, an ancient problem that poses grave threat to us all. Assemble the Council," I ordered. "There is a problem that must be decided for the good of us all."

"You can't technically call the Council together without the Lord of the Isle," Mathu said quietly. We all turned to stare at him; I could feel myself beginning to stir with anger at the charge of bureaucracy before he continued: "Where is he?"

I sighed at the simple question – well, I had known it was coming. "Bring him," I ordered back to the ship. The master of the ship emerged from the hold, cautiously carrying a struggling Shiloh to deposit him gently on the beach of Avalon. The Council gasped in collective shock.

"How dare you bind the Master of Avalon?!" Mathu yelled, apoplectic with rage. Sasha was glaring at me with cold eyes and the young woman who had just been appointed Maiden, Audrey, merely looked confused and shocked.

"It was entirely necessary, for reasons which I will explain when—" I began tiredly.

"I think you will explain it now," Sasha declared, her eyes blazing with self-righteousness and the power of a woman who was once the most powerful Witch Queen of the most powerful coven in the world. Abruptly my temper snapped. I do not condone my words now, but at the time you must understand that I had just returned from a strange country I had never been in before, and in that country I had had to fight for my life, watch my friend die in front of me, had my illusions of history shattered by an evil creature and subvert my training to restrain my superior in order to save the life of a boy prophesied to by the Harbinger of Armageddon. Understandably, I think, I snapped.

"I think that as Lady of the Lake I am the superior of everyone here at the moment, and I say that you will follow my orders right now!" I snapped, my voice resonating with magical power, static electricity sparking in my hair.

Sasha looked like I had slapped her. When she opened her mouth to respond, however, she was stopped by a low, hoarse chuckle. "I believe, if what I am sensing from the ship is correct, that there is quite the story to hear from this. As old as I am I have come to value a story, particularly one that is true. I will make the Council chambers ready," Erik said after a moment. He turned on his arthritic joints and began walking slowly yet steadily on a hawthorn staff toward the buildings of Avalon.

After a long moment, Mathu and the others followed him, leaving Sasha and myself to stand on the beach of the Isle with Shiloh laying struggling on the ground near our feet. She stared at me for a long moment, measuring my eyes and I hers. "You've changed a great deal, Marie-Claire," she said finally. "Something both great and terrible has happened to you, and the mark of the Goddess is on you – you've been charged."

"Yes," I answered. "I don't want to argue with you, my teacher – I will explain myself and tell all to you. But please respect me in this, for this decision impacts not just the future of our coven but perhaps the future of this world." There was a moment of silent communication between us that had occurred so often before, from student to teacher. Without another word she lifted her hands and levitated Shiloh before her and turned to do my will.

As soon as her eyes were off of me I slumped forward in absolute exhaustion. The scent of apples that our island had been named for filled my nostrils and mixed with the calm lapping of the waves. The sun was shining, the incarnation of the God spilling light and life down on this calm, happy place that I would now tear asunder. It was not fair that I should be the one to doom the complacency here, a complacency that we should never have fallen fully into. We had been lulled into happiness. I would be remembered as the one that would break that happiness.

I gripped some sand in each fist and watched it trickle through my fingers – so much like time, each grain a lifetime that in itself might be insignificant but together weave a rich tapestry that is so profound we have yet to understand it. Something was happening now to destroy that tapestry, and I couldn't let it happen…but at the same time I could not become as monstrous as that which sought to destroy us all. I would not take the life of an innocent child for mere ancestry.

Going to the ship I said the spell to waken the boy. Xander opened his rich chocolate eyes – and they seemed to affirm my decision, in their sleepy innocence. Since reaching the protected shores of Avalon, the demonic hints had left his system, or been suppressed at any rate. I was pleased to note that his skin was not as pale as I had thought but instead a sort of golden tan like honey, and a mouth that was given to smiling. I held out my hand with a pleased smile and helped him out to the beach.

"What is this place?" he asked, breathing deeply. In an absurdly motherly way it pleased me to see his happiness.

"This is Avalon, Xander – my home," I answered. His eyes widened as the ship vanished, but I had seen it too many times to be surprised. "Just its job," I explained, gently guiding him off the shore and toward the rich grasses of the hills.

"Can I go swimming?" Xander asked eagerly, looking back toward the beach.

"Maybe tomorrow," I said quietly.

888

The inner temple of the main building of Avalon is deep in the earth, grounded in the deepest of old magicks. The center of the circular chamber contains an ancient crystal called Aliana la'Chroi, which is positioned directly above the Nexus, channeling its powers. From that chamber the Council of Avalon has the potential to cast spells that could take effect at any point in the world – though of course any spell that requires the focusing power of the Aliana has its own policies that are required – but I digress.

In the grandest chairs to the East sit the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle – all Circles begin in the East, so therefore the ruling power of the Council sits there as well. The other offices are located in a triangle from the East, so that the youngest sit in Fire and Water, while the oldest sit in Earth and Water.

To my knowledge, a mandatory Council meeting such as what I was calling for now had not been performed in more than a century. This was the group of people that I would have to convince of Xander's innocence. I knew that I must not, could not, fail, in my duty to the God and the Goddess, in my duty to myself, and in my duty to my office.

It would be a long battle though; I knew, for of the Council I could perhaps count Erik and Sasha for my cause. Mathu would follow Shiloh's beliefs, and Audrey was far too new for me to tell what she would decide.

I had taken a night of rest and relaxation to prepare myself for the next day, with Xander installed in my quarters for the time being. I had bathed and slept deeply, waking the next day feeling refreshed. I sent for my guards to take Xander to the younger charges and allow them all a day of rest and freedom from their studies while the Council debated. This was also, I must admit, a way of safeguarding him from Shiloh, for I did not trust my then-counterpart to not merely make another attempt on the boy's life rather than fight with me for the right to kill him or let him live.

I entered the Chamber dressed in a pure white dress, a white cloak wrapped around me. I wore the Circlet of Athena, an ancient talisman, and prayed for Her wisdom and Her courage in battle as I assumed my seat. Shiloh was already in his, his face lined with rage and pure refusal to look at me. I had been expecting this and did not let him see my intimidation. I held my head high and sat down.

Sasha and Erik sat at their seats to my right, my old teacher in the black robes of the Crone and Erik in comfortable brown. Sasha was watching me carefully, but I could detect no emotion on her face or in her aura. She was not shutting me out due to meanness, but I could tell that she would carefully weigh all of the evidence and then make her decision; she would not come out in full support of me just so that I would not have to fight as hard. Erik was impossible to read and always had been. He sat calmly, contented, and seemed to be meditating.

Mathu was dressed in red, and looked very angry. I did not want to know what Shiloh had already told him and decided then that I didn't much care. I had already expected to have to fight him. Audrey looked far calmer than I had expected her to, and met my gaze without flinching. She was wearing dark blue.

I stood from my chair and began: "My Lords and Ladies, I bid thee Hail and Welcome to this most grievous of Councils. A decision must be made in the name of all of Avalon, and I entreat that you give your consent to enter into the debate of the decision of this Council. In the name of God and Goddess, will you give your consent?"

"I consent," Erik said, his voice stronger than I had thought it would be.

"I consent," Sasha said simply.

"I consent," Audrey said.

"I…consent," Mathu spit out angrily. He had already made his choice without hearing my tale. So be it, I thought.

"Then, in the name of the God and the Goddess, this Council of Avalon has been called. Blessed be," Shiloh said coldly, and resumed his seat. "As the Lady of the Lake has taken initiative to call this Council, she will begin." He gestured to me condescendingly, and I fought to not insult the man then and there, but I would not allow him to goad me into losing control and hurting my chances of winning this contest of words.

"I thank you for your consent," I said instead, completing the ritual. "I will tell the tale." And for what must have been an hour I did so – starting from the beginning, the tale that Shiloh himself had outlined for me from our own archives and my own story up to that point. When I had finished my legs hurt from the standing and my mouth was dry. I took a sip of water from the chalice next to my chair and resumed my seat gratefully.

Sasha slowly stood up. "I thank you, Lady, for calling this Council," she said after a moment. "When I had heard that old tale, I did not at first believe it. That complacency has been this Council's folly, and I praise your courage in the face of your horrific adversaries. This is indeed a matter to be put to the vote of the Council of Avalon."

"I don't see that there is much to vote on," Shiloh said flatly. "Every word that the Lady spoke was true; I did indeed attempt to kill the boy and I would do it again given the opportunity. Our fears of his innocence cannot outweigh the fact that that 'boy' has the potential to be a living conduit of the absolute Armageddon of mankind."

"But the key word in the Lord's argument is potential," I said, equally unequivocally. "And every human being has the potential to be evil. Look at this Council! Should any one of us turn rogue and attempt to wrest control of the Avalonian Nexus, think how much damage that one person could do before we could even attempt to stop them! We cannot sink to our enemies' level and end the life of an innocent child out of our fear of that child's 'potential.'"

"You have already gone against Council mandate and attacked the Lord of Avalon," Mathu said flatly, which stopped the Council dead. Shiloh had a lightly triumphant grin on his face and I realized at once what he had instructed his pupil to do. If I was found guilty of a crime serious enough, my arguments would be thrown out, as would I, and Shiloh would be able to do as he wanted with Xander. "I move to dismiss the arguments of the Lady of the Lake and bring her to trial for her crimes against her counterpart."

"I move to dismiss your trial," Audrey said suddenly. She stood up, her small size suddenly making her seem even more intimidating. "The Lord of the Isle as already dismissed it – for a Binding is only seen as an attack in one interpretation…and the Lord already admitted to Binding the Lady of the Lake to one spot while he interrogated the enemy assassin. Therefore your unworthy and childish attempts to avoid the argument to get your own way are negated." The Maiden of Avalon met Shiloh's fierce glare utterly fearlessly, her eyes daring him to continue.

Mathu sat back down, his face red, refusing to meet my gaze. I would not smirk in triumph; I felt instead disgusted. Was the office of the Lord of Avalon so abused that he would sink to such indeed childish displays to countermand my argument? Shiloh could see by Sasha and Erik's cool gazes that he had made a mistake; neither looked quite impressed by his attempted political trickery and so he stood up.

"Yes, child," he said, nodding politely in Audrey's direction, deliberately drawing out the word 'child,' as if to emphasize to his older contemporaries her youth. "We will debate this. But I urge the Council to understand that evil is an inherent part of our humanity, as my Lady already has pointed out. Therefore, the potential for destruction can by necessity be measured great enough to commit this crime.

"I stand before you in genuine fear of what our enemies can perhaps be capable of should they ever be able to get Alexander Harris in their clutches! You have heard the tale – Camelot, our greatest loss in all of magical history, was caused almost directly by Tiocfaidh ár lá – all without our being aware of it! Directly under our magical gazes! The trials of Jessica Harris were a human error – one that we cannot afford to make again!

"I say unto you again, and again – the cursed bloodline of Atlantis must be stopped – forever!" He took a breath and sat down again. His words had had their effect, and I could see his logic behind them.

"Yes, Tiocfaidh ár lá has indeed been able to accomplish all of this because of our blindness – but blindness once fixed can be fixed again!" I said, stepping to the forefront of the chamber. "Were we not able to Bind the powers of the bloodline once before? The only way that that Binding has weakened was because we have been complacent and indeed weak. With this knowledge we can again Bind them and we need not spill innocent blood!

"Never allow yourselves to think of Xander – yes, his name – is a child, with a child's understanding of the world and of his powers. We have rescued him from the clutches of our enemies; now let us rescue him for all of time from them and instead of committing the murder of a child – a horrific crime against God and Goddess! – let us Bind the powers of Alexander Harris!"

"Binding once broken can be broken again!" Mathu said, stepping forward. "And it is not the Binding that we are here to discuss! What is evil?" he asked suddenly, changing pace, and we all turned to stare at him; even Shiloh: whatever tactics they had discussed the night before had not included this.

"Is that not what we are arguing about?" Mathu persisted. "We consider murder a great evil, yes? An evil great enough for the Lady of the Lake to press her argument…but has not this child, so called, already murdered?"

"In self-defense!" I began, hotly, but was stopped by Sasha.

"Murder is murder," she said quietly. "I will give thought to Mathu's argument – could not the innocence you claim is in the child have not killed but instead harmed?"

"He has no training to allow for that distinction!" I said. "We have all been taught that our magic is tied to our emotions, that our powers can lash out without years of training – look at Amelia! Was she not training a class of ten-year-olds in the nuances of gardening when a child in a fit of pique accidentally allowed her emotions to control her powers and knock Amelia unconscious?" The girl was a powerful earth-witch, and had she not come to her senses after a fight with another girl she could very well have killed Amelia. This thought clearly gave Sasha pause.

"And could Binding not save him?" Audrey asked, standing with me. "Evil is not something inherent in everyone; as our Lord and Lady have pointed out, everyone has the potential for Evil within them. It is the choice that is the true Evil, and could we not take Xander out of the way of having to make that choice? I understand that he grew up in a broken home – could we not give him a better, more stable environment?"

"Other children come from broken homes," Mathu snapped. "And yet which among them will grow up to be a murderer and which will become a hero? The potential for evil is indeed in every human but there are those who will grow up with more of it than others! Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely – the old maxim that we all know! Did we all not feel the power that boy possessed when he stepped onto the Holy Isle? That power will drive him to kill again for it is a demonic power!"

"An ordinary human might suggest that our abilities are demonic, Mathu," Erik said. "It is all perspective. Power itself is not a living thing to inspire Evil; it is what we as humans do with that power. Our founder, the great Ferro, had unimaginable amounts of power within him and yet he never strayed from his path, even when Pandora betrayed him, even when she unleashed the miseries of the world, Ferro would not use his powers to take a life…and neither should we. I will not cast a vote to kill the child."

"I will not cast my vote to kill the child," Audrey said. "Potential for Evil can always be coupled with potential for Good, and we have all seen from Marie-Claire's perspective that there is a great light inside Xander Harris. I will not take the chance and extinguish that light out of fear of an enemy that will not show their face."

"You already know my vote, I said quietly. "That makes it three against two, with one vote undecided. In summation, the vote stands thus: the Wise Woman stands undecided and the Sage votes against death. The Lady of the Lake votes against death but the Lord of the Isle votes for death. The Master of Avalon votes for death, and the Maiden of Avalon votes against it.

"Milady Crone, are you ready to issue your decision?" I asked. Sasha alone remained sitting, slowly taking us in. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

"No, I am not ready to make my decision," she said quietly.

"Sasha! This must be decided—" Shiloh began, but she silenced him with a cutting gesture.

"Take me to the child before I make my decision," she said simply, and stood to make her way out of the chamber. After a moment's hesitation Mathu led Audrey out of the chamber as well, leaving me, Shiloh and Erik still there.

"Well, it seems to crush our traditions under your feet like fragile glass everywhere you step," Shiloh said cuttingly. "Even the Crone will not wait for you to end the ritual of Council."

"Better a wise decision made later than a wrong decision made rashly," I said flatly, and strode out of the chamber without a backwards glance. Erik was laughing behind me but I would not stay. I intended to see this – surely Sasha would be moved by Xander's easy innocence!

888

We found the boy on the beach, where he was dressed in the bathing attire of Avalon and laughing like a devil as he sprinted far from the exasperated guards to jump off of the tall rocks. The teenaged students were giggling as half the girl children blushed at Xander and half the boys were inspired by him and tore off after him, causing a few of the teachers to run after them all. One of the more portly teachers (I couldn't see from the distance) sat down in the sand after a moment, and the laughing teenagers almost collapsed.

Xander threw himself off of the rock and for an eternity he seemed poised in the air, a little boy yet not quite, an innocent and a dervish, his face peaceful and happy and laughing, before time caught up to him and he slammed into the water in a cannonball that had everyone laughing again. Xander liked the attention, and he smiled as he surfaced, a bright, sunny grin that lit his entire face up.

We all stood there, in a line, until Sasha turned to face all of us. A tear tracked down her face and for a second I thought I would vomit until she said "I will not murder this child. My vote is with the Lady of the Lake."

Shiloh cursed and spat on the ground and stomped away. Mathu stared at Xander, the small smiling boy who had caused so much. He wanted to say something but didn't. He nodded politely to us all and left at a much more sedate pace than his teacher's. I closed my eyes and thanked the God and the Goddess, who seemed to smile along with me in the brilliant sunlight and the calm, calm sea.

XXVII. Under the Mother Moon

One month later, Xander and I were standing outside. It was nighttime, but it was warm – Avalon was always warm, an ancient weather spell gifted to the island by the faeries long ago. There is a reason that we are referred to as "the Summer Isle." The Moon hung high in the sky. It was the full moon, the Seed Moon, one of the thirteen Esbats, or Holy Days. These nights our magic was strongest, the Goddess present in all of us.

This was the full moon of April, the beginning of Spring, a great time for planting. Xander had been with us a full month and he had been able to sit in on some classes. He had a natural aptitude for gardening, Amelia had reported, and seemed to know the best places to plant things. His uncanny knack for knowing when a bad time was for planting due to the weather's influence over him (and his influence over it) had led to what would be a great crop this year, she had said excitedly.

Xander had surprised everyone with his thirst for the outdoors. He had explained to me that he felt safe under an open sky, because when it was dark indoors it meant that people were mad at him. I hated his parents then, but I knew that he would eventually be returning to them. So instead I had decided to break an old Wiccan law and take him out here before the great ritual would begin.

"The night sky is full of magic, Xander. You can't fear it," I said softly. He was smiling again, that bright, happy smile. He took my hand trustingly and when he squeezed it I felt it squeeze my heart. "In the night you see everything for what it really is. People think the Sun tells the truth but it actually doesn't."

"Why?"

"It's always been like that, Xander," I said with a smile. "In the night everything is clearer. The stars tell the future, the Moon illuminates the truth. You smell more, sense more, like a veil has been pulled away and suddenly everything you know is displayed to you."

He threw his head back and sniffed, and I couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. "Isn't the Moon the Goddess?" he asked.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," I said guardedly. Once again he'd shown that odd, adult nature to his speaking.

"Is there a God and a Goddess?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then why do we only say God when we pray?"

"Well…you're praying to the Creator," I said, struggling to explain. "The God and the Goddess that I speak of are…the Earth, and the Sky…the magic…" How to explain this to a child?

"Oh," he said. "Magic." Then he turned and gave me a triumphant smile as the wind kicked up around us. There was nothing evil in his gaze, no darkness – he was controlling it, easily, still smiling, still human, still Xander. The breeze tickled around me, the scent of apples strong in the night air, and it was as if the spirits of Mother Nature Herself were dancing around me. I felt suddenly as if I were the child and he the teacher, and I had to laugh.

He slowly turned in a circle and the wind moved with him, lifted him, he was floating and the Moon was suddenly very, very bright. Petals drifted from the flowers of the apple blossoms around us, joining the dance. It was intoxicating, this control over the elements. I longed suddenly to see the world the way that he saw it, for I knew that Xander was different, saw things differently. The air grew warmer, the breeze tickling and chuckling around me as the grass seemed to…zing, I believe the term is, with a wilder green.

The song of the wind, of the Earth itself, was pulsing like a heartbeat and I knew suddenly that he was sharing this with me, the way that he saw the night. The song roared like a primal pulse of pure music in my head, a song of power and also of Life, something that he danced to and that I danced to. I noticed in a detached sort of way that my feet were no longer touching solid ground and yet I didn't care. I was connected to the Great Mother and the Father and everything around me, the wind carrying me where it wished.

The feeling is…indescribable. I will carry my memories of that night with me until I die.

Xander slowly landed, the breeze dying. The song faded from my ears, but I did not feel loss. I knew suddenly that I would prophesy a great prophecy that night, that the Goddess would enter me freely and that I would remember all of my words of the future in the great Esbat ritual of Drawing Down the Moon.

"Xander, whenever you feel the need of the Goddess, find the Moonflower," I told him, breaking my vows of secrecy. I led him to a white lily that only the initiated could find. "Drink of this nectar and She will enter you. You'll know what to do then."

XXVIII. Spells of Binding and Protection, Blessed Be

The Dark of the Moon is the best time for a Binding Enchantment, for it is the time of waning. This is not an evil time, merely a reflection of the rhythms of life. Never mistake magic as unnatural, therefore; for it must itself follow the rules of natural life. The new moon fell at the beginning of March that year, so we waited until then. Xander had a month and a half at Avalon, and had made friends, had enchanted his teachers and indeed myself. Shiloh avoided him, to be sure, but Mathu was fast approaching his solemn initiation rituals into the office of Lord of Avalon, so it did not overly concern me.

However, it was decided that he could not stay at Avalon his whole life. If we were to Bind Xander's powers, then it would be cruel to do as our ancestors had done and expose him to a magic that he could never wield, to a world that he could live within but not take part of. We decided that we would send him home – but then how to keep him from Tiocfaidh ár lá? We would have to go about this very carefully, and so we researched all of the ancient protection magicks that were within our archives.

When at last we were ready, we sent for Xander. We did not tell him what it was that we were going to do to him. Cowardice, on my part; I didn't want to see the look in his eyes when I told him that he was leaving. So he was dressed in the ritual black robes and led down into the Earth, to the sacred chamber, to sit over the Aliana la'Chroi, for if we were to do this it would need to be with all of the power that Avalon could muster. Sasha, as representation of the Wise Woman and Crone on the face of the Earth, would lead the ritual. We put Xander into an enchanted sleep…I'll never forget the trust on his face. Xander does not break his love for you, once given…But I digress.

I cannot reveal to you the ritual itself, but suffice to say that it worked. Xander's powers were Bound, to never again resurface. But we went a step further. I wanted a normal life for Xander – I wanted him to have the chance to find happiness, to find a lover or start a family or follow whatever his heart desired. I wanted to let the human light inside him flourish now that the power was bound. So I entered into the flow of the Nexus and obliterated his memories of Avalon, of myself, of his powers, and of anything strange that had ever happened to him. I threw myself astrally into Sunnydale and repeated the process to his parents, his teachers, his friends, and indeed everyone.

When I had finished, I sat down to Ground and Center myself, and Audrey stepped forward. She entered into the power of the Nexus as well, but hers was a difficult task. She was joined by Mathu, who was still technically Master and not yet Lord, and together they combined their powers, the powers of youth and the fires of the young, power undimmed by worldly concern. They joined their fire together to create a shield, a protection sphere around Xander that would protect him from Tiocfaidh ár lá. It shielded Sunnydale, California, which is why a small spell on Xander himself would keep him from a desire to leave.

Understand at that time I was not aware that Sunnydale was located on the Hellmouth; I was far too caught up in my personal drama involving Xander at the time. It was an oversight that has cost me many nights' sleep – however, you'll notice that nearly all demons don't attempt to kill Xander so much as…mate with him. A small mercy, to be sure, but one that has saved his life many times.

I myself bore Xander to the Barge of Avalon and laid him to rest with the two guards who would accompany him to his home, shielded so heavily from magical detection that I myself could not psychically sense them, even though they stood not two feet from me. Xander would not awaken until he was home in bed. All that he would remember was being "institutionalized," with me as his primary caretaker. His parents would remember that it was free, and Xander would go back to his normal life with no adverse affects.

I did not see Xander again for eight years…until now.

XXIX. Xander

Though I did not personally see him, I did keep an eye on him, magically speaking. Xander had laid a claim on my heart, though I didn't like to admit it. I checked in on him from time to time and for the most part I was highly pleased with what I saw.

Xander, freed from the ominous demonic overshadow, had become the bright, happy boy that he'd been destined to be. He was outgoing, cheerful, friendly, and happy. He made friends and he defended them from others. True, his home life wasn't quite what he deserved, but his parents weren't completely abusive. And he had two best friends – Willow Rosenberg and Jesse McNally.

He grew up, the protection spell doing its job. The Avalon Coven was content with the fact that I was keeping watch over him. We had vowed that even though the protection magicks were strong and doing their jobs, we would never stop watching. We couldn't afford to do what our ancestors had done. Which was why it was of such concern that Xander had somehow managed to become involved with the Slayer.

You must understand, Ms. Summers, that you are, to say the least, an…unorthodox Slayer. There's been nearly no Slayers before that have actually surrounded themselves with friends who not only know their secret but choose to help them shoulder the burden. Xander has joined the roster of a very powerful new witch, a Watcher with a very interesting past, an ordinary girl with a very interesting future, and a werewolf. The entire Otherworld, the world made up of magic and everything else that the "ordinary" realm rejects as fairy tales, keeps a close watch on you. No one is sure what you can do, how far you can go. To put it bluntly, the demonic world is frightened of you.

This seemed at first to aid me in my argument for Xander; you understand that Xander chose to fight with you, which seemed to indicate to all involved that we had indeed been successful, that whatever evil may or may not have been present within him was no longer a threat. However, certain turns of events have led to the entire reason why we're here. That is to say, I must rehash what must be a wound for nearly everyone in this room – Angelus.

XXX. The Fires of Passion, Once Lit, Can Burn Everything in Their Path

And, so, we have nearly reached the end of this story. Here is where Avalon's knowledge has failed, and all we can tell you is our conjecture. What we do know is what we have been able to learn from Jenny Calendar, and from our observations thus far.

Jenny Calendar was positioned exactly as we needed her once Xander joined the forces of the Slayer. It was decided that he needed more watching by the Council, and so we contacted Jenny. She had been our student once and so was honor-bound to aid us when we needed her. She had been positioned in Sunnydale to watch over Angel, as you know, by her clan. Because she was posed as a teacher she was also in perfect ability to watch Xander as well.

We don't know exactly what went on between Xander and Angelus after the vampire captured him. Xander was blocked from magical Sight by the mad vampire, Drusilla. What we do know is what led up to his capture. A powerful love spell led to Angelus tasting Xander's blood. Xander was found out to be Angelus' Cruor Aduro – ah, Mr. Giles, I see you understand. I will elaborate for the rest of you.

Lecruor ut sono is an old vampire legend that has its roots in reality. A powerful mage, thousands of years ago, had offended a demon badly enough for the demon to seek revenge. The mage's wife was turned into a vampire and cursed to waste away before her husband. Certain vampires are born into their demonic existence with more humanity in them than other demons – like William the Bloody, and Drusilla…in fact, most of the so-called Scourge of Europe are more possessed of human traits than other vampires. The woman, whose name has been lost to antiquity, had been cursed to only ever be able to feed off of her husband, thus cursing her to death – if she did feed off of him she would kill him, which would slowly kill her. If she didn't feed off of him she would die of starvation anyway.

The mage, overcome with grief, cast a spell. He took the magical essence of a Siren and mixed it with his own blood. He became the first Cruor Aduro – Blood Singer. His blood sustained his wife for up to a month at a time, and her Claiming of him made him immortal, as long as she lived. She lived for an immensely long time – the Slayers could not track her for if she were ever being tailed she could simply disappear. She did not need to hunt every night of her life because of her husband. Eventually a Slayer was forced to stop her by ending the vampire's husband's life. The grief of losing him after dozens of lifetimes together, joined by the Claiming, coupled with the magical loss of her Cruor Aduro, led her to walk into the sunlight. The entire thing has become something of a tragedy told among vampires.

What her husband had not counted on, however, was that any great work of magic such as what he wrought, has consequences that ripple across the planes of reality. He essentially made himself something more than a human, a magical creature but not quite of the Faerie. The magic fused into his blood created something more. The essence of the Sirens had been unleashed.

In certain cases two beings are joined together by Fate, something that we cannot understand. When this happens in the case of vampires – something extremely rare, due to the fact that all vampires are soulless – this creates a Cruor Aduro. Xander had become that thing for Angelus. We don't know how but such as it was. We heard the ripples through the magical realms as the two were joined, beginning an ancient ritual that was completed when Angelus Claimed Xander as his own.

This may have been bad enough, but it was the first cord to unravel all that we had worked. It turns out, as you have learned, that the Stoírm planned this from the beginning. Angelus was led deliberately by a possessed Seer to find Xander, to learn of his origins, to Claim him. What the Stoírm undoubtedly planned was for Angelus to make Xander immortal and tinge him once again with demonic taint. This would have led his followers to be able to find Xander and shatter our protection charms once and for all.

However, the vampire Angelus has always gone that extra mile. He did the Stoírm's job for him by completing the ritual and removing Xander's Binding. The Stoírm had only to wait until a moment of extreme stress led Xander's already fragile consciousness to surrender to the possession of his forefather.

Now the situation stands as you see before you: Xander is still in there, deep in the spirit. His body, however, by now belongs entirely to the Stoírm. The Slayer is so hurt she can barely walk, along with Angelus; no matter how potentially powerful your Wicca is, she is nearly dropping and needs to rest before her magic destroys her. The werewolf, the girl and the Watcher are all in as bad a shape as you are. And in all of this you only managed to knock the demon unconscious. As it is unconscious now, now is the time that a plan can be made.

If the Stoírm is allowed to finish its plan it will use Xander as the Doorway that he was prophesied to be to open the way to Atlantis, where Pandora still lives, join Xander's body with the fount of human evil, and unleash Armageddon upon the face of the Earth. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, I can no longer argue with the decision of the entire Council…including myself.

Alexander Harris must die.

A/N: OH MY EFFING GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry, I just had to get that out! I've finally finished this chapter! Finally! And it was good! And I FINISHED IT!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, seriously, I'm done. But you have no idea how GOOD it feels to be done with this. I can't wait to hear what you guys think of it! And I promise that the next chapter will of course be shorter than this and will jump right back to where these two left off.

What will happen? Who will ultimately affect the outcome? What's going to happen to Xander? To Angelus? To Buffy? Well, I could tell you, but that would spoil the whole point of reading this, so there you go! (Heh heh heh!)

Some final end notes: I just finally got the chance to see The Dark Knight. Oh, my, God! That movie was freaking insane! I loved it! LOVED it! Of course, I still really wish that David Boreanaz had actually accepted the role of Batman, because he was offered it before they shot Batman Begins, but the movies are still freaking amazing. Sigh.

SO, GUESS WHAT? You know how I said that two one-shots will be out by the end of this week? I wasn't lying to you guys this time. I am really sorry that this chapter took me so long to write, but if you read the first chunk of the author's note up at the top you know why it did. My life's been pretty crazed around here lately, so please bear with me. I will finish this fic. It's too damn LONG by now to not finish it!

So, read and review, and look for my other two fics to be out by Sunday. I will be writing the next chapter of this fic as well, but I won't be optimistic enough to say something like "Expect it by Christmas."

SO, IN CASE YOU DON'T HEAR FROM ME AGAIN UNTIL AFTER THE HOLIDAYS, GOD/GODDESS/MYSTICAL BEING/FELLOW ATHEISTS BLESS YOU ALL, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING WHAT I'VE WROTE!

Being the end of the insanely long chapters known as Chapter XIX, Parts I & II. -- PyroPadawan