TITLE: ONE LAST APOCALYPSE – CHAPTER 1
Author: PhenDog ( phendog@hotmail.com )
A/N: Since I originally posted the prologue, distribution for this fic has increased to include not only http://www.buffygiles.com/efiction, and GRB, but also ODD, TweedyBookGuy, and Watcher’s Girls
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy, AtS or anything else except my beloved computer named "Slate." (Obviously I don't own them, or I'd own a lot more than Slate and you'd have to pay to read this.) The Buffyverse belongs to Joss, ME (yes I know, old joke), and a whole bunch of alphabetical TV networks, `specially now that it's gone into syndication. Please don't sue, I know I don't have permission. Bad me. All my money went to bootleg X-files and Buffy episodes and Slate doesn't want to leave me!
Special Thanks to those helping me! First, to ElizaBuffy, for keeping me from making embarrassing grammar snafus and adding all those commas as well as picking apart my word choices *L*, you’ll always get first beta credit w/me! Also to Kim…sorry for making you chew me out over killing people off! But hey, it’s war…*L* but I WILL try not to enjoy it so much. To Noelia, good luck applying for college! I certainly don’t miss those days myself! And Susi? Hope Real Life improves and treats you the best that it can… I baked cyber cookies for all of you!
And w/o further ado:
1923 E. Garrington Circle – Residential Neighborhood
Los Angeles, California, USA 19/05/04
3:56:33 AM local time/ 10:56:33 GMT
His silent screams cut off, and Alec sat up panting as he awoke from the dream that had terrorized him for the past several nights. The one in which the demons came for him. But now it was quiet, and he was safe in his room, the Superman nightlight revealing the soft shapes and bumps of the various objects and toys that littered the life of an eight-year-old boy.
He was still shaking, but as he checked himself, he was glad to find that this time he hadn’t wet the bed…this time. His parents were generally nice about it, but he could tell it had begun to wear thin after three nights in a row. Still, it was tempting to at least go crawl into their bedroom and curl up beside the bed to let the safety of his parents’ closeness scare away the evil that haunted him still.
The decision made, he slowly got out of his bed, wincing at the noise as his bare feet met the cold hardwood floor in the hall; the boards creaked loud enough he was afraid it would wake the whole house. For a second, he didn’t even breathe, scared to break the silence that was punctuated only by the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall. Finally, he started to walk forward again, inching along as he kept a hand on the wall.
Then he heard it…at first it was just a car or two. Street noise. Then there were more vehicles from outside, and another sound began while he remained rooted, afraid to move. It seemed like a dull buzz. He thought it might be the wind, but then it became louder, and he realized it was like no wind he’d ever heard before. Then he knew…it was just like his dream, and the demons were coming.
Alec ran into his parents’ room, flinging open the door. “Mom! Dad! Wake up.” Nothing happened, so, frantic, he went to the bed and shook his father.
“Alec?” the man rumbled. “Go back to sleep.”
Then he heard a scream in the distance through the open window.
“DAD!” he screamed, and his father sat up to see what was the matter with his normally reserved son.
“Alec? What’s wrong?” his mother asked with concern in her voice.
“They’re here.”
Just then, the noise from outside grew louder.
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Los Angeles, California, USA 19/05/04
3:57:13 AM local time/10:57:13 GMT
She reached up a hand to shove back the hair that clung to her face, sticky with the blood and ichor of the foes she’d killed, many of whom decorated the pavement around her in her ever-continuing forward advance. The fingers wiped across the gore to spread the mix of red, brown, and green flecks and give the illusion of primitive war paint against her features, as her sword continued to do damage to those that dared her circle of destruction.
The battle raged on around her, shrieking and screaming ceaselessly, as the endless wave of demons and hell creatures flowed on and on.
It had wreaked havoc on their small band. Gunn, injured, and the weakest by far—a mere human after all—had been the first to fall, cut down to collapse on the bodies of those whose lives he himself had taken—only to have his own corpse swallowed by the bodies of more as his friends continued the fight. But he had died valiantly, side by side with his friends; there was no better death, and Illyria knew he would be duly rewarded.
After that, she, Angel, and Spike had been compelled to fight back-to-back for a while, forming an impenetrable core of resistance, until the firebreather had swooped down on its leathery wings, and had forced them to scatter or burn. Even then, they had fought close enough that they could sense each others’ presence due to the effect their efforts had on the flow of the battle, and, every now and then, they would catch a glimpse of each other.
Then the firebreather had returned, talons outstretched, and, this time as the demons scattered to give it room, Angel didn’t run from it, but rather toward it. As the beast came low, he surprised it, cutting its throat, even as it whipped its head around and used its teeth to tear him in two, the halves dissolving to dust as the creature gasped its last. The beast lashed around violently in the throws of death causing its gaping wound to spray the area with its black lifeblood, even as Angel’s sword clattered to the ground. It had been so sudden, there had barely been time to process what was happening as another of the earth’s heroes met his end. Still, Illyria took it in stride. Everything came to its final conclusion sooner or later. Since he’d not been given his redemption in this life, perhaps he’d finally earned it for the next.
Spike had turned to her, eyes suspiciously moist as he cheered his Sire. “Got his dragon!” he yelled so she could hear him, but the rest of what he had to say had been drowned out as the swarm renewed itself and separated them, cutting them off from one another to fight their own separate battles of futility against an infinite hoard. As she had not seen him, nor the effects of his handiwork for quite some time, Illyria knew it likely her last companion had either fallen already or been taken by the ebb and flow so far away that she wouldn’t know when his time came.
Still, she was not tiring. If anything, the ending of each demonic life only served to invigorate her further. Illyria could feel it, the sheer power building in her as the bloodshed released certain energies and reawoke in her those aspects that had been safely curtailed. Unfortunately, it was that same godpower that had previously threatened to tear apart the weak shell that held her now, and she knew the same threat was beginning to loom once more. Soon, it would simply be too much.
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Private Residence of Rupert Giles
Bath, England, 19/05/04
12:05:32 PM local time/ 11:05:32 GMT
“Damn it! Yes, I am aware the President is very likely not in a mood to be called to the phone just now. But you can just tell him and whomever else you need to that I bloody well don’t care,” Giles spat into the phone, mentally cursing idiot government personnel. “Tell him this is Chairman Giles of the Royal Watcher’s Council and that I have information on the situation in Los Angeles that he NEEDS to know….No, I don’t CARE if you don’t know who I am! Tell him, you ponce, or it’ll be more than your job on the line.”
As he was clicked onto hold, Giles seethed inwardly. He knew that he shouldn’t have lost his temper, but the last five minutes had been virtually wasted as he was bounced from one aide to another. Thank God they at least seemed to be awake at…seven in the morning, he realized, doing a quick mental conversion. Surely the old Council would have kept the major world governments apprised of their existence and basic function?
Forcing himself to relax, he waited until a new voice came on the line.
“President Randall speaking. Make this quick; I’ve got a major crisis going on right now. Still, I’ve got an advisor here who seems to think I ought to take this call.”
Inwardly, Giles cheered. Finally, the news of his call seemed to have reached someone who knew what the Watcher’s Council was. “Sir,” he said calmly, “I’m quite aware of the urgency. What do you know about the situation going on in L.A?”
“Not much, save that the whole damn city seems to be going to shit. No one can tell me what’s going on, but the calls that are coming out of there are frantic.”
“I can imagine.” Giles had hedged with himself how to say the next, but finally decided to just leap into it head first. “Do you believe in hell, Mr. President? Because I’m very much afraid one of the gateways has opened right in the middle of the city. I’m sorry to say, but the best we can hope for is containment. If it’s half as bad as my Scryers…er, informants…tell me, then the city may very well be lost.”
Terry had called Daniel, one of the best Scryers they had left, into the office within minutes of Giles’ commands. Daniel, in turn, had performed a basic spell to detect the rift. When Terry had called Giles back on his second phone line to give him the report, it had not only confirmed his fears, but increased them.
“Lost? To…to what? Demons?”
Giles breathed out a sigh of relief. The man seemed incredulous, but at least it seemed they were on the same page. Perhaps the President had never actually been exposed to the darker elements of the world, but at least someone had bothered to inform him of its existence. “Basically, yes.”
“And who are you again?”
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Porter Apartment Complex – Apartment 126B
Cleveland, Ohio, USA 19/05/04
7:11:02 AM local time/ 11:11:02 GMT
Carefully, he returned the phone to its cradle and wandered back into the bedroom. Standing in his boxers, Wood looked down at the form lying tangled in the sheets and silently apologized, knowing that when it came to war, she was among those who would inevitably be called to the front lines. The fact that he was now in that category as well, failed to bother him even half as much.
Silently, he threw on jeans and a t-shirt, then reached over and took her shoulder as he kissed her awake. Faith moaned slightly and finally opened her eyes as she drew him closer, hauling him forward by his t-shirt. “Why are you dressed?” she asked, genuinely curious when she processed that fact. He certainly hadn’t been earlier.
The slats of the blinds were turned down to block the morning sun, but she could tell it was daylight. Squinting over at the glowing numbers on the radio alarm clock informed her that is was still earlier than they normally rose. When he didn’t answer right away, she tensed. “Don’t tell me…World going to hell again?”
“Terry called from the Council. Something’s going on back in L.A.”
“I didn’t hear the phone ring.” As she said it, Faith vaguely remembered that she had heard the phone. She’d just chosen to ignore it when Robin had stirred.
“You were asleep.” Robin kissed her forehead and untangled her hand. “Just get dressed. I’ve gotta go wake the others,” he said, referring to the other Slayers. Practically the whole building had been rented out for the purpose of forming a Slayer tenement, and the warehouse across the street had long since become their primary training ground. Unfortunately, at the rate new Slayers were being found and recruited, space was quickly becoming limited. “I’ll tell you more when I find out exactly what’s going on, but it’s not good.”
Faith nodded numbly, realizing he wasn’t in the mood for questions. As he stepped out of the apartment, she did as he’d asked, and looked for some clean clothes to shrug into. It was time to greet the day…or at least attack it before it had a chance to attack her.
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Los Angeles, California, USA 19/05/04
4:20:48 AM local time/ 11:20:48 GMT
Time slowed, and the tide seemed to come to a halt as Illyria wielded her restored power once more. Using her advantage, she swung her sword, cutting the throats of the virtually motionless demons poised for attack, knowing their bodies would fall as soon as time returned to normal. It was an easy and fast method to wreak mass murder and she continued to swing, working as quickly as she could. Still, she was easily aware that even taking out literally hundreds each time she managed to gather enough power, she could barely make a dent in the overall problem.
Had she been able to continue the fight, Illyria had no doubt that the mass would eventually overwhelm even her, but it was quickly becoming a non-issue. The shell she was in was shaking, even to the point of queering her attacks. However, it was doing so not from exhaustion, but rather from too MUCH energy. It was overwhelming her and threatening to literally shred the little bit of reality she occupied.
Something would have to be done, and soon. Illyria was aware that she could never survive intact…there wasn’t the required time to gain a new host properly, but an idea was beginning to occur to her. If she couldn’t save herself, perhaps she could save someone else—the one human with which she had developed and still felt a strange connection.
Time caught up with her, and bodies fell, their owners dead in seconds. Surprised, the flow backed off, and Illyria pushed forward relentlessly even as she sent her mind out to see if what she intended was possible.
Quickly, her awareness found him. His body was still there where it had fallen…where she had left him after the last of his life flowed out in her arms. His soul remained nearby, too shocked from the loss of its physical reality to have moved on just yet. The hole in his gut was gaping, but repairable. Nodding in appreciation, she knew she could do it. Her power was just enough.
The shell faltered, growing weak with the overload, and Illyria knew if she was going to act, now was the time. Gathering up as much of her essence as she could, she prepared for the transfer of lifeforce. As an entity, she would no longer actually exist, but parts of her would carry on; for now, the best she could do was to choose those pieces that would be most useful to the one she planned to raise in her place. Then a thought occurred to her, and she gathered up all that was left of the shell as well, hoping it would please him when he found himself in the world once more.
A massive blue demon grinned toothily as it saw her stumble, knowing their enemy was growing weak and the end of her destruction was near. He lunged forward, hoping to take her down, and was mere inches away when the space she had occupied imploded. The demon had just enough time to look confused before the air seemed to shimmer. Then his world was ripped apart.
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Oval Office of President Theodore Randall
Washington, DC, 19/05/04
7:20:48 AM local time/ 11:20:48 GMT
“Mr. Giles,” President Randall said into the phone again, holding his head in his hand, wishing the dull throb would go away. He allowed his eyes to trace the pattern of the burl in the polished walnut desk, seeking to collect himself. “I cannot just sacrifice an entire city! If what you say is even true…”
Garrett Compton, his Chief of Staff nodded when Ted Randall looked up and he managed to catch his eye. If the head of the Watcher’s Council said it was true, then it probably was, and it needed to be taken seriously. Silently, he found himself cursing the fact that the President hadn’t been better briefed on the supernatural aspects of the world when he came into office. It was his own fault he knew. Although it existed, it wasn’t something that usually entered into their realm where most people were completely ignorant, so he hadn’t thought it would much matter. What convincing he’d managed to do was hard enough and there were other forces that normally dealt with such things; forces such as the Council. Unfortunately, now it was there problem as well.
Randall took Compton’s advice seriously, but as he listened to the man on the other end of the phone talking about calling on witches and sorcerers to set up some sort of mystical barrier, he shook his head again, in disbelief, wondering when the dream would end or everyone would run into the room laughing at the practical joke.
“It’s hit the networks!” someone yelled, and the President looked to the door just in time to see the television being wheeled into the room. He took one look at what was shown on the screen and swore.
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Via Corrienne 135
Rome, Italy, 19/05/04
1:36:32 PM local time/ 11:36:32 GMT
Buffy groaned as the phone continued to ring, wishing it would just go away. The ringing had finally stopped, but whoever it was must have really wanted to talk to her because it had started again less than a minute later.
“Planning on getting that any time soon?” a voice grumbled. She looked over at the other presence in the bed and smiled inwardly. The Immortal was handsome and one hell of a lover; she had to give him that. Unfortunately, due to those qualities, last night hadn’t been used for sleeping.
“Yeah.” She sighed and finally flopped over stretching out to reach the handset, letting her arm slide along the royal blue satin of the bed sheets. “Ciao,” she growled in an unfriendly tone.
“Buffy?”
She furrowed her brow, recognizing her sister’s voice. “Dawn? It’s like what…nine or ten? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Um, one thirty actually, and I’m still on lunch break. Anyway, Buffy, you need to turn on the television. Something really bad is happening back in Los Angeles right now. Everyone’s watching…probably everywhere in the world. It’s on all the international stations and some of the local ones, too.”
Buffy tried to clear the fog out of her head. “What?”
“L.A., demons, hell on earth…trust me, you need to watch.”
“Shit! L.A.?” she fumbled for the remote, and turned on the television across the room. Her lover was sitting up, staring at her, and trying to ascertain what was going on.
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure,” Dawn responded as the television screen came to life, the station set to some black and white movie. Quickly, Buffy flipped to the cable channels and picked an English version of CNN. The pictures that assaulted her were absolutely stunning. They were obviously aerial shots taken from a helicopter but showed the city and what almost looked like a massive wave surging through its street. Various fires that had been ignited in its path, combining with the many floodlights of the city to light up the night sky. Then the camera panned in closer, and she could see the grainy shots of things that were clearly demonic.
“Dawn? Call you back,” Buffy said in a daze as she clicked off the phone and turned up the volume.
The voice on the television babbled forward from an obviously excited anchor. “These images were given to us just minutes ago, and we’re replaying them now for those just tuning in. Please be aware that many of these images may be disturbing to some viewers.”
Just then, the camera panned over a pile of clearly human bodies that seemed to have been caught as they were rushing out of a club…trust the clubs in L.A. to be running all night long. This was followed by scenes of a series of overturned cars, which looked for all the world like toys that some careless child had thrown about. “This footage is being brought to you directly from Los Angeles, California. At this time, we are uncertain exactly what it is that we’re witnessing, save that these creatures terrorizing the city are very much alive, and what you’re seeing is no hoax. There are no reports on where these creatures came from, or exactly what they are. Current theories range from extraterrestrial attack to genetic mishap and even as far flung as demonic activity.
“As for the city itself, reports are unclear. This disaster has the possibility for major devastation, even though we are assured there are likely to be survivors as many are even now fleeing the city. The National Guard is being sent to evacuate the outlying areas. If you or anyone you know are located near the hot zone shown on this map – ” an image of LA with a large, solid-red outline was shown in the corner of the screen “—you are urged to go elsewhere and take only necessities.” The map disappeared and the recorded scenes filled the screen once more.
“Please be aware that the next scene we are going to show you is highly distressing as you’re going to see our helicopter crew attacked by one of the creatures. We are showing it again to give you some idea of what we’re dealing with.”
Buffy watched the horrifying site of something vaguely humanoid with dark purple skin and massive leathery wings approach on the screen. It was like a madman’s angel, as it loomed large. It stopped short of the camera, which was now jostling about wildly, and then lashed out a previously unseen tail, impacting the side of the helicopter. The camera didn’t show the interior of the aircraft, but the noise of the air decompression could be heard along with the screaming of the occupants. The tail lashed out once more, and then the screen fuzzed over.
“At this point, we’ve had no more information on the camera crew filming this scene and can only pray for their safety.”
A hand touched her shoulder and Buffy flinched before relaxing as it massaged her gently offering comfort. “Well, you have to give them credit for being naïve even now,” The Immortal commented lightly. Buffy nodded numbly. Generally she only saw demons only a few at a time and privately, in graveyards and alleys at night. Certainly, she never expected to see such scenes broadcast on international television.
The image changed to that of the anchorman’s face as he continued his babble, squinting at a piece of paper in front of him. “We will be continuing to update you as we learn more about the situation and give you any footage that we are able to get. In the meantime, I’d like to turn you over to one of our commentators, but before I do, it has been announced that the President will be addressing the nation and the world within the half hour. When we receive the feed, we will cut to it directly. Until then, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Nakamuru who believes he may be able to explain how such creatures may have been created as part of a government experiment in genetic weaponry…”
The Immortal sighed. “You have friends there, correct?”
Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth as she realized what he was saying. She was still waking up and the situation just seemed so unreal—she was used to her apocalypses coming privately and quietly, not to mention usually having more warning. His words finally made her realize the implications of what she’d seen. “Oh God! Angel!”
She grabbed the phone again as she turned down the volume on the nonsense being spewed by Dr. Nakamuru and his accompanying full color graphics and began to dial.
There was a three-note tone on the other end, and then an automated voice began to speak. “We’re sorry, but all lines in the area are busy. Please hang up and try again. If you would like to place another call, please press 1. If you need assistance—” Buffy cut off the phone and then frantically began to dial Angel’s cell phone again.
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Le Meridien Copacabana, Rm #456
Avenida Atlantica, 1020 Copacabana
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 19/05/04
8:48:32 AM local time/ 11:48:32 GMT
Kennedy sat nervously on her knees as she massaged Willow’s shoulders to relieve a bit of her own excess tension. Willow herself was cross-legged on the floor, cursing the slow connection as she waited for her YahooIM to pop up in the iBook.
She knew it had to be midday for Xander in the small village near Windhoek, Namibia where he was busily chasing down yet another Slayer. She prayed he’d be on the satellite Internet connection, even though his icon showed him in Invisible mode.
witchywoman1120: You there?
She waited and a minute ticked by. Kennedy sighed. “Maybe he’ll answer his cell phone?” It also worked on a satellite connection, so it was worth a shot. Willow knew her phone bill was already high for this month, but this counted as an emergency.
Just as they’d been getting ready to leave the hotel for breakfast in the restaurant downstairs, her cellular had rung with its customized ring tone. John Cummings of the Watcher’s Council, one of Terry’s aides, had told her the basic details of the situation and asked her to summon the group in Africa, knowing that she was the easier one to get a hold of. Just then, her computer chimed as his icon suddenly read available and a reply came onto the screen.
one_eye_zeppo: hey! whats up?
witchywoman1120: Xander? Sit down. It’s bad.
one_eye_zeppo: dont tell me…next apocalypse…right?
one_eye_zeppo: w/the day i'm having, i figure i'm about due
Kennedy giggled slightly before realizing it really wasn’t all that humorous.
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Los Angeles, California, USA 19/05/04
5:50:07 AM local time/ 11:50:07 GMT
The flesh continued to heal, inching itself closed, millimeter by millimeter, as the damage was repaired and the organs and tissues knit flawlessly in a painstaking process. Finally, it was complete, and the heart began to beat again. Lungs expanded, and blood rushed to the brain once more.
Suddenly, the eyes flew open, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce sat up, terrified, as the memories, old and new, rushed back, overwhelming him.