Summary: Giles finds the answers he has been seeking, and promptly wishes he had not. Azrael is ready, Larcinda is ready, Shelia is, well, present, and one thousand vampiric minions are ready. Willow has become the stuff of Azrael’s dreams, and humanities nightmares ...

Marcus opened his eyes, and knew he was at peace.

* * *

“Sir, you cannot pass this way.”

The Chinese guard was insistent, and far too belligerent for Giles’s liking. He attempted again to gain admittance to the path.

“Please,” he requested in fluent, courteous Chinese, “I need to speak with the high priest of the monastery. If you would just pass on my name, I’m sure he will agree.”

“I’m afraid all contact with the monastery is forbidden by order of the Chinese government. They are, well,” the guard looked decidedly perturbed. “They are best left alone.”

“Look here, I’m an English Citizen.” Giles produced his passport.

“That’s good,” the guard smiled, desperate to dissuade Giles from attempting to pass. “A fine country, and a friend of our Republic.”

“Then be a fine friend, and let me by,” Giles demanded, fast growing tired of the guard’s obstruction.

“Sir, there are many other fine example of Tibetan monistic architecture in this province.” The guard was deciding whether to radio for assistance, but decided he had the situation in hand. “I can understand the British Museum’s interest in this place, but I have my orders. No one, whatever the level of security clearance in their possession, can come past this checkpoint. The orders have originated from chairman Mao himself, and have never been countermanded.”

“Very well,” Giles appeared to demur. The guard sighed in relief, and then froze.

“Now comrade, either attempt to stop me, or fuck off.” Giles distained having to utilise the imprecation, but his limited knowledge of Chinese profanity precluded anything milder.

The guard rapidly pondered whether Chairman Mao’s sacrosanct orders, or Giles’s Beretta pistol, held greater sway. The pistol won out.

“Very well comrade,” the guard acquiesced, lowering his AK-47 assault rifle to the ground. “I will not attempt to prevent your passage. If I could just say though, you’re completely insane.”

“I bloody well have to be,” Giles said in English, and began his gradual ascent, keeping the pistol levelled on the crestfallen guard.

* * *

“Bleedin’ Christ,” Spike murmured in awe.

Before him, over a thousand vampires stood ready. They were arrayed in a vast circle, forming a circumference around a plain, flat ring of stones. They had been placed there long ago, in preparation for this day.

“Are you ready to become a god?” Larcinda said, the anticipation evident in her words. “To become higher than any other of Lucifer’s creatures?”

“Too soddin’ right I am,” Spike concurred. “I’ll be above the Master himself!”

Well, if the wind carries your ashes in that direction you will, Larcinda ruminated. She was not clear if any ashes would remain, but the thought did not overly perturb her.

“Come on my god,” she smiled to Spike. “Let us prepare to ascend.”

Azrael watched. They were both worthless, evil aberrations. And they would be destroyed, it knew. With humanity to follow swiftly in their wake.

* * *

Willow had never driven before. But then, Willow par se was not doing the driving. The menial automotive functions were being taken care of. She was somewhere higher, ethereal, and soon to be omnipotent.

And already dreaming of revenge.

* * *

The monk had possessed a name. Once. He had also been mortal. Such things were little more than an atavistic memory to him now. He again looked into the orb, and again he saw it.

The flame had been lit with humanity’s birth, and would be extinguished with their demise.

The flame had died.

* * *

The sweat poured from Giles’s brow, but he was oblivious to the exertions being placed upon his being. The path was as narrow as he had feared, and even more precipitous. Yet he knew what depended upon him completing the journey, and so forced himself onwards.

He finally reached the imposing wooden gates, which linked the monetary to the outside world, and in want of anything else to do, gave them a vigorous pounding. To his surprise, they were swiftly opened, and Giles made his way inwards.

And stopped. The Watcher was overwhelmed by what he saw around him. Beautiful, ornate statues were located at every juncture. He remembered the cheap tourist guide he had obtained spoke of an order of reclusive Buddhists, but from the figures depicted in the statues, Giles instantly surmised these were no Buddhists.

“So I’ve come to the right place then,” he said aloud, and to his shock, received a reply.

“Indeed you have Rupert.”

Giles turned, and saw Ethan Rayne reclining lazily against a rock. “So good to see you again so soon Ripper,” he mocked his erstwhile compatriot. “Have you come all this way to blow my balls off?”

“Mother of God,” Giles cursed. “Get lost Ethan,” he stated tersely, “before I spread your guts over the stones.”

“Ripper,” Ethan replied casually, “you may, I suspect, have the inclination and indeed the will to do as you say. But here,” he smiled suddenly, “you do not have the option.”

“Sod off Ethan,” Giles breathed. “Sod right off right this bloody second.”

“Have thou come seeking answers?” Ethan was now crossing over to Giles, the languor evident in his gait. “Doth thou wish to be enlightened upon the state of our world? Or rather, the end of it.”

“Sod off,” Giles reiterated, and thumbed back the pistol’s hammer. “I’ve come here to stop it.”

“Too late Rupe.” Ethan was beside him now, the pistol barrel virtually touching him. “They’re all going to die. Everyone. The men, women and children will be scoured from this earth. It will make the holocaust look like a Sunday school outing.”

“Sod off!” screamed Giles. Was nothing sacred to this man? He mocked the living and dead with the same cool distain.

“But then, which holocaust would I be talking about?” Ethan began a crazed, ebullient laugh. “I mean, there have been so many. Against Jews, Gypsies, Aztecs, Native Americans, Christians and God knows who else. We’re scum Ripper; accept it. It knows we’re scum.” His eyes were fixed directly with Giles’s. “It’s going to create a demon, and its name shall be man. We shall scour the earth Rupert, we shall be the instigators of our own demise. I’ve come here to watch. To enjoy the end. This place shall not be spared of course, but it’s a fair bet to surmise we will be among the last. I shall enjoy watching them die Ripper, because the bloody well deserve it. I shall have my last laugh at our stupidity, and die a happy man.”

“You’re insane,” Giles murmured.

“Of course I’m bloody insane!” Ethan babbled manically. “The whole damned world’s about to end, and there’s bugger all nothing I can do about it. There is no magic wand, no solution. Your quest has been a futile errand Rupert. There is only one person who can stop this, and I sincerely doubt they’re going to demure from what’s being offered.”

“There has to be something,” Giles said, the words already sounding hollow.

“Nothing,” Ethan reciprocated. “Nothing.” He mouthed the word slowly, enunciating each syllable. “Don’t you think I’ve looked? I’ve tried everything I know. Spoken to every contact, tortured some of the buggers. And there’s nothing we can do. I’ve accepted it Rupert. You should as well. I’ve come all the way her to enjoy our end, watch our race die. I shall enjoy the death Rupert. Ripper would have enjoyed it too.” He sounded suddenly friendly. “Come on mate, what’s the bloody point egh? We can’t save ourselves. I’ve accepted it, and at least I will have some fun before I go.”

“You are, and have always been, shite,” Giles stated acidulously. “A worthless, lying, manipulative, evil piece of shite.”

“I will dance to the babies cries,” Ethan said. He had deteriorated rapidly in recent days, upon discovering the monetary could only postpone, and not prevent, his death.

Giles did not know why he fired. There was neither rhyme nor reason to the sudden jerk of his finger. Perhaps he felt he was putting Ethan out of his misery, or perhaps he was disgusted that this man should live to enjoy the suffering of billions.

Or maybe, he simply hated the bastard who had caused so much suffering in his life.

The bullet sailed gracefully through the air, through Ethan’s abdomen, and collided against the stone with a cacophonous twang.

“That wasn’t very friendly,” Ethan smiled.

Giles looked aghast at his unwounded body. “You see,” Ethan explicated, “here, men cannot die. You put a bullet through me, you chip the upholstery. Swing a sword at my neck, and I’d feel no more discomfort than if I’d got a early morning crick in my spine.”

Giles raised the pistol to Ethan’s face, the barrel level with his temple.

“Have another go Rupert,” he smiled. For a second, Giles was tempted. He wanted to put the remaining fourteen bullets into the man before him. But he did not. The gun fell to the ground, glancing harmlessly off a small cluster of stones.

“Come.”

Both men turned to see the man. He may have had no name, but he did hold every answer Giles wished for.

Each one ratifying still further humanity’s death knell.

* * *

Willow had arrived. The girl was not sure exactly of the method of her transit, but did know she had arrived. Larcinda moved slowly forward towards her, hesitant of a being containing so much power.

“Hello,” she said softly. “My name is Larcinda, I am here to take you –”

“To where I must go.” Willow interceded. The voice was not that of a fifteen-year-old. It was not that of a woman. It was not that of a mortal being of any kind.

But it was, nether the less, a voice.

They moved together slowly from the beach, the rising wind pulling at their hair. Larcinda clawed it back from her face, but Willow simply allowed it move, swaying erratically about her face.

The walk lasted but a few minutes. They came to the hill that only a few hours beforehand Larcinda and Spike had be standing astride, and looked downwards.

“I am ready,” Willow stated.

“Ya know, so am I,” Larcinda replied acerbically, her confidence now restored. “Come on, lets go screw the world.”

They walked slowly downwards, the vampiric mass moving to allow them access to the circle of stone.

Azrael appeared.

The very fabric of space seemed to recede, and it emerged. It was blackness, death. Humanity’s worst nightmares manifested. Lights could be glimpsed through its mantle. They may have been stars, or may have been something else entirely.

It was fallen, and submitted itself to Larcinda. For the fall to be successful, it had had to submit itself to a demon. Azrael has chosen Larcinda not for her intellect, her power, her nous, but for the ease with which it could work its deception upon her. She had fallen easily for its verisimilitude, and would now pay the price.

“Bring the vessels,” Larcinda ordered. Shelia was roughly dragged forward, barely comprehending the events happening around her. A vampire was also dragged into place, in preference to Spike, who now stood behind Larcinda, smiling.

“Place them,” Willow said, in a voice that would elicit no argument. In the centre of the circle, there was a simple sphere, half buried in the ground. The remains of the demon had been used to forge it, and now Azrael prepared to reconstitute humanity’s nemesis.

Formed smoothly in into it were three holes. Shelia’s arm was placed in one, and the vampire’s in another.

“Now give me the ring,” Larcinda instructed Willow. This was where things demurred from what she had assumed to be their course.

“Move,” Willow stated, shoving Larcinda roughly aside. She made a move to stop Willow, and was repelled by a strength that dwarfed her own. She was sent sailing through the air, landing harshly against one of the stones.

Willow stood beside the sphere, and slowly lowered the arm encircled with the torque. It moved gradually towards the demon’s remains, an esoteric, inexplicable glow begging to arise from both sections.

Larcinda, lying unconscious against the stone, was in no position to protest the events’ course.

The glow was brighter now, and had consumed the ring of stone. Those within were isolated, the world currently irrelevant to their actions.

Azrael moved gradually forward. It would have to enter the sphere at the exact same instant as Willow. It was not perturbed. If their had been one thing it had learnt from existing for an eternity, it was punctuality.

“Wait, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do?”

The voice was Spike’s. The vampire suddenly got the terrible, inexorable feeling he had been deceived.

No one was listening. Willow’s wrist was now centimetres from humanities destiny.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Spike said. The words were as appropriate as any.

* * *

Giles reclined back, and acquiesced. Humanity would die. The monk had explained the incontrovertible chain of events to him, and Giles now had to accept them.

The demon would ravage the earth, propelled by humanities weaknesses, made manifest by the desires of the person who instigated it. The monk had also told of a fallen First, although Giles was unsure of the word’s exact meaning.

But he had seen the mythical orb, and the extinguished flame. He had read the legends. It had been forged from the very matter of creation, and indicator of humanities existence. A gift provided by the First Good, a sign that all it stood for would persevere.

Except it was now gone. The monk had told how the First Evil’s own indicator, located in a different place, held within its own sanctuary, had also died. The force that tied them to the world had been interrupted, and was about to be severed.

There was no hope, no salvation. It was simply time – time to die.

* * *

Willow’s fingers brushed against the sphere. They had mocked her, ridiculed her, and now, she knew, they would pay. She would not go to far, she was sure; merely extract an appropriate revenge, and then end it.

Azrael prepared to move.

Willow’s hand slid into the opening. The torque was almost home.

“All that has been, and gone, comes together now, as one.” Azrael took comfort in the words, and knew it was acting for the best.

The torque entered the sphere, the demon’s essence was reunited, and Azrael moved.

* * *

The orb shattered, the fragments spraying across the monastery’s cold stone floor.

* * *

Azrael had been there for the beginning, and now instigated the end.

Except, there was no Azrael, no Shelia, no vampire, no Willow.

There was merely the demon, stronger than anything before created on the earth, and under humanity’s control. It prepared to move, ready to begin.

And then, everything stopped.

© Byron, 2000