Misery Loves Company - III
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell' - Oscar Wilde
Fahey's Bar, Los Angeles
2005
Three hours earlier…
It was a little known fact that demons were actually highly appreciative of music. Of course, it did not speak to their souls, for the vast majority had none, and neither did it soothe the savage beast within. But music was one of the pleasures of the human world that demons simply and inexplicably did not detest.
The melody that drifted on the evening breeze from the jukebox in the corner of the bar had enraptured several of the demonic occupants, who within recent weeks had begun using the remaining buildings in L.A. as their human counterparts would have. A Luxlar demon was stationed behind the bar, serving drinks to the 'customers' using all eight tentacles simultaneously. The carcass of the previous bar tender had been propped up rather comically on a bar stool, his head stuffed between his thighs and his features frozen in the same terrified expression he had been wearing when he had been struck down by the axe of a Krishana demon. His entrails were of course still digesting in the creature's belly.
The door to the bar groaned on its hinges as it swung open, allowing a small cat to scuttle across the floor and approach the centre table.
"Sir," the feline hissed, rearing up on it's hind legs and bowing it's head in reverence to the demon it was now stationed before.
"Silence," the demon barked in reply, briefly exposing it's fangs as it smiled, "I love this song."
The cat, (or the creature that appeared as such), nodded emphatically and lowered itself to the ground to commence licking it's groin whilst the final bars of the song played out.
The demon he had been seeking sighed then immediately fixed his red pupils upon the new comer.
"What do you want, Sage?" the demon demanded, it's nostrils twitching at the scent that wafted from Sage's orange fur. The demon licked it's lips and a thick glob of saliva dropped onto the table before him. Sage visibly gulped, a rather comical gesture for a cat to undertake, and doubled over suddenly retching. Sage expelled a large fur ball from his throat, which he instantly batted away with his paw as though embarrassed. It was still a bone of contention for him that he had been assigned as an underling of a demon that on the whole resembled a rather dim-witted, overgrown puppy. He spent most of his serving days in nervous anticipation of being eaten or chased up the nearest tree.
"My Lord, I have word from the outside," Sage began, licking his paw and smacking his lips as he tasted dried blood on his claws. "The Slayer has been attempting to gain access to the city."
"We knew that six months ago, you dumb fur-ball," the demon snarled, peeling back his lips and growling at the cat, who shrank back visibly.
"Yes, yes sir," Sage hastened, "only now we have learned that she has a personal stake in it all, if you would pardon the pun."
Cerberus slammed an immense paw onto the surface of the table, causing the entire room to shake and the jukebox to abruptly cut out. A few of the lesser patrons grumbled under their breath but none dared to directly challenge the guardian of the gates of Hell.
"Speak cat, I grow bored," Cerberus said, his tone measured yet dangerous. The demon rose onto his hind legs and peered down at the insignificant lackey he now towered nine feet above.
"Angel is alive my lord," Sage said in a rather strangled voice. Immediately, Cerberus' eyes flashed crimson and an enraged howl bubbled up from his throat.
"He walks the Slayer's dreams, my Lord. This is what I have heard," Sage continued hastily. Had he resembled something more human, beads of perspiration would have been coursing down his forehead.
"And does the Slayer yet know this?" Cerberus demanded, dropping to all-fours and beginning to stalk through the bar, flinging furniture and demons against the wall where they blocked his path.
"We believe not," Sage said, smiling somewhat apprehensively, "I am told that she thinks her visions to be nightmares, and is not entirely sure what fate has befallen the city… or the vampire."
Cerberus paused and sat back on his haunches, both ears pricked up. The demon strongly resembled an enormous, ebony jackal, and was truly terrifying for both human and demon alike to behold. Sage was not entirely sure of the demon's powers but he had heard numerous stories during his time in L.A. of how the hound could devour not only the body, but also the essence of any being. The details of what exactly happened to that essence afterward were rather sketchy, but Sage was in no hurry to discover them firsthand.
Laughter abruptly sliced through the tension like a knife. Cerberus was literally rolling around on the tiles, cackling in amusement. Sage tittered, as of yet unsure of the joke. Cerberus fell abruptly silent once again.
"Let her in," he growled, his hackles raised and claws withdrawn in readiness.
"But sir…" Sage stammered, glancing around at the remaining demons in the bar for support. The horde cast their eyes to the bottoms of their glasses and turned their attentions away from the cat.
Allowing Buffy Summers into the city would surely only spell trouble. Indeed she was likely to bring with her an arsenal. The pathetic soldiers who stood guard outside the city limits posed little threat to the demons, but should the Slayer march into battle with a cadre of potentials at her feet then the comfortable set-up they had secured in L.A. would certainly come to an end.
"Do it," Cerberus roared, swiping at the feline, who yowled and hissed instinctively. "It's about time the Slayer went to Hell."
Sage scuttled backwards through the door, bowing one final time in the hellhound's direction.
"As you wish, sir."