Disclaimer: I don't own them, Type-Moon and Joss Whedon do. (Yes, you heard me, Joss Fucking Whedon)
]Of Knights, Champions, Guardians and Slayers
By: Elf
Los Angeles, California
United States of America
Rain pelted his face, even more now than when he was on the ground. It almost obscured AngelÆs vision, but yet he kept his fingers digging into the leathery hide as the vampire flew higher and higher into the sky. The dragon bellowed into the rain, but yet the vampire with a soul kept clinging until those reptilian golden eyes met his.
ôMake another pass,ö Angel said as he leaned forward to keep from tumbling as the dragon raced down to the fray below.
Lightning fast, the dragon passed through the army on the ground. Angel caught sight of swords, axes, armor, and bodies of various sizes, most of which werenÆt even human shaped. In the center of the fight were two standing, bodies bloodied yet still going.
IllyriaÆs cold blue eyes met AngelÆs on the back of the dragon. Her blue haired was plastered from her head and her body had blood of various colors splattered on it. She held an axe in one hand and a mace in the other which she calmly used to take out the head of a horned demon starting to close in on Spike.
The former Old One shouted, ôVampire, we need more assistance!ö
Angel patted the dragonÆs neck. The dragon bellowed out into the raining night and the stormy night sky lit up with orange. Fire rippled through in gold, crimson, and orange ripples to rip through the line of demons getting closer to the last two members of his team standing.
Spike shouted, ôThe wankers got Charlie-boy!ö
ôWhat?ö Angel shouted as he leaned towards the dragon. He whispered to it, ôGive us cover for a couple of minutes, doing as much damages to their ranks as they can. Then come back for me.ö
The dragon seemed to nod as it dropped Angel off beside the other vampire with a soul and Illyria. SpikeÆs now golden eyes met AngelÆs as he shouted, ôVampires got Gunn, Angel, I think theyÆre gonna turn him.ö
ôDamn it,ö Angel shouted as he brought up his broadsword and slashed through some grotesque demon that was part pig and part turtle. He looked at Illyria and asked, ôWhich way?ö
ôHe didnÆt have time left, Angel,ö Illyria continued in her monotone as she punched through the head of a Chaos Demon, spraying slime all over her body. She grimaced in distaste as she kicked its corpse away from her.
The ground started to rumble. Spike shouted, ôWell, we donÆt have much time left either.ö He then gave a fanged grin as he dropped his sword and went after demons with bare knuckles. Angel watched the familiarity as Spike threw himself utterly into the fight, determined to go out on his own terms.
Ozone cackled through the air. The air seemed to shift despite the rain and the dragonÆs breath ripping through it. Angel swore, ôDamn it, theyÆre going to take L.A. down with us.ö
He shouted and started to run to the end of the army. Or rather where they came from. He could feel it, the beginnings of the spell, or rather, the event. If he could only get there and stop it . . .
******
He was dead.
He had died.
His last moments had been happy, wrapped up in a lie.
And now he was here, without form, without body, but still in spirit, which he guessed had power.
Almost limitless power actually. He had the knowledge to go across dimensions, into other worlds and realities almost countless in numbers. The Senior Partners might have him bound to another plane of existence so he couldnÆt go to the next, but that didnÆt mean he was their lap dog.
He knew fully well what they were going to pull, what they were going to do. He also knew they had the means to do as much. And Angel didnÆt have the means to stop it.
However, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce did.
He could give Angel a Champion of sorts, or rather a Guardian. A Counter Guardian if what he peeked into that one dimension had been true. Counter Guardians where monochromic entities that acted as a clean up crew for humanity. If a disaster was caused, theyÆd clean it up; kill those responsible and any witnesses.
They were heroic spirits, but not of the epic sort such as Gilgamesh, King Arthur, Robin Hood, or Achilles where. They were people who did things in life quietly to save others and made deals to be granted power if they served after death. Rather like AngelÆs unique existence.
However, summoning a said Guardian would be tricky. Guardians themselves were only summoned by that worldÆs version of the Powers that Be, or, rather, Gaia. Still, from his research there was an anomaly. There always was. Several in fact.
Just which one Angel ended up was going to be a gamble, but due to the nature of the summoning, heÆd get a spirit who was close in personality to him.
As a ghost, with the boost from the Senior Partners, Wesley was almost unstoppable magically. He couldnÆt Master the spirit, but Angel could. It would be providing said Servant with magical energy, or rather, mana, that would be the problem, but Wesley was working on that as well.
However, he had to Summon said Spirit though.
He stood in the center of the circle in the basement of Wolfram and Hart. In the center of the circle was an all too familiar ring. A ring so precious if Angel found out what he was using it for, he would have gone ballistic. However, there had to be some tie to the Master through the Servant, and true AngelÆs blood was used to cast the circle, there had to be something from the heart.
Wesley figured that AngelÆs long unworn Claddagh ring would work very well. He didnÆt even know the man had the ring until once Spike mentioned it drunk. Spike also had gotten irate that Buffy had one herself for a very short time. Even though heÆd been almost an invalid at the time, Spike had noticed the two rings on the former lovers before Angel lost his soul for the first time.
Ironically, Angelus kept wearing the Claddagh ring after he lost his soul. Spike didnÆt know if it was just out of habit, but considering the vampireÆs obsession to ôbreakö Buffy, Wesley knew it was more than that. He briefly wondered if theyÆd get a Guardian who lost their One True Love.
If they did, I think we could all sympathize, Wesley thought dryly as he stepped into the circle as a pair of laughing brown eyes entered his mind. Brown eyes that frosted over and became a chilly blue as the smart, wholesome girl became a frosty fallen goddess. He clinched his metaphorical jaw as his own ice blue eyes narrowed.
He began to chant, slowly at first, but his voice picked up speed and volume as he felt the power swelling around him:
ôYe first, O silver, O iron.
O stone of the foundation, O Dark and Ancient Power.
Hear me in the names of our great Evil, The Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart . . .
Let the descending winds be as a wall.
Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve.
Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.
If thou submitteth to the call of the Counter Force, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.
I make my oath here.
I am that person who is become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance-!ö
Wesley felt the crash resound through the building with the impact of the spell. He winched but didnÆt leave the circle. He muttered to himself, ôI just hope this bloody works . . .ö
******
They were driven back. Despite the dragon making his passes and letting loose his fire, their impossible effort was now to their edge. Angel felt cold blood dripping from countless wounds, his left arm was dangling from bits of meat held on by his coat, and Illyria and Spike werenÆt fairing much better.
And Gunn . . .
The vampires had taken him hours ago.
Only two vampires with a soul and a former Old One stood between Los Angeles and Armageddon.
And they were faltering.
ôWeÆre being pushed back. At this rate, this place will be awash in Chaos,ö Illyria gasped as her chest hitched with shaking breath. Her icy eyes flashed as she said, ôOnce I would have enjoyed that, but now with this body and lack of power, I regret this. This feeling still rages within me, and . . . I know it will end fruitlessly.ö
Spike wiped blood from his once again blue eyes, having lost his vamp face hours ago. His body was shaking, blood seeping from countless wounds painting him in red, and his beloved coat in shambles. He looked towards Illyria and snapped, ôThanks for the bloody pep talk, Big Blue, we still have some fight left in us. Right Angel?ö
ôYeah, something like . . .ö
The heavy blade came right down at Spike. Hissing, Angel used his good arm to shove the other vampire away. He managed to roll away from the blow as the huge sword wielding behemoth lifted its weapon again with a bellow.
ôWeÆre sucking this place into Hell!ö it screamed as Angel blocked the blade.
Angel glared and managed to hold the slab of iron, for it was in all honesty too heavy and thick to be a sword, despite his mangled left arm. He pushed with all of his legs to break against the demon and hissed, ôBeen there, tried that, got my ass kicked by a tiny blonde.ö
The sky crackled with violet lightning before going dark. The ground started to tremble and shake before the black concrete cracked open to reveal glowing orange beneath. ôBloody hell,ö Spike groused.
Angel shouted, ôKeep going, try to get to the casters . . .ö
ôIt is fruitless, Angel, you proved your point, but you knew this war was lost before you began to wage it,ö Illyria hissed beside him, her eyes meeting his in the face that was at once loved and now loathed.
Spike hefted his axe and snapped, ôWell, it ainÆt bloody over until itÆs over. I still got some fight left in me. Keep going, Peaches, weÆll give emÆ hell.ö
Illyria gritted her teeth, glared, but kicked at another demon none the less. She said, ôFine, see your war to the end, vampire.ö
Angel whistled into the night. The dragon swept down and Angel grabbed onto its claw. It spun gracefully and managed to throw Angel on its back as he took mount again. He pointed with his sword, blood dripping into his eyes, and said, ôKeep going. WeÆve still got work to do.ö
The sky kept flashing with purple lightning until something happened.
A hazy, orange sky with thick grey smog began to overtake the night sky. Giant gears gyrated in the distance while the cracking concrete was over swept with a baron field. Sticking up from the ground were countless swords and the occasional bubble of molten steel as far as AngelÆs eyes could see. He halted the dragon as the swords flew up into the air as the demons watched.
He held on with his good arm as his own sword crashed to the ground. The blades sang before raining to the ground. Over and over again, the ground simply replenishing with the swords, to kill the army. Until only Spike was leaning on Illyria as they stood in a field of bodies impaled by countless swords. Once everything had been thoroughly killed, the sky shifted back to the raining Los Angeles night and the field of swords was gone.
Superhuman eyes narrowed, Angel saw a tall figure dressed in red standing at the place where the army had spawned on top of a hill of corpses. His white hair had been pelted into his face and his red mantle flipped back with the wind. Grey eyes narrowed at Angel before the man simply leaped, coming straight for him.
The dragon reared back, but somehow the man managed to land nimbly on the dragon, rain dripping from angular, rugged slightly Asian features. The steely eyes narrowed as the man folded his arms over his chest. He glared down at Angel and said in a sardonic voice, ôIf youÆre not my Master, IÆd start praying to whatever higher power you believe in.ö
Angel blinked as the manÆs eyes flickered towards his ruined left arm. Or rather, the back of his left hand. Angel looked down as well.
On the back of his left hand was what looked like a Celtic knot divided by a jagged line in bright red against his pale skin.
]Of Knights, Champions, Guardians and Slayers
By: Elf
Los Angeles, California
United States of America
Rain pelted his face, even more now than when he was on the ground. It almost obscured AngelÆs vision, but yet he kept his fingers digging into the leathery hide as the vampire flew higher and higher into the sky. The dragon bellowed into the rain, but yet the vampire with a soul kept clinging until those reptilian golden eyes met his.
ôMake another pass,ö Angel said as he leaned forward to keep from tumbling as the dragon raced down to the fray below.
Lightning fast, the dragon passed through the army on the ground. Angel caught sight of swords, axes, armor, and bodies of various sizes, most of which werenÆt even human shaped. In the center of the fight were two standing, bodies bloodied yet still going.
IllyriaÆs cold blue eyes met AngelÆs on the back of the dragon. Her blue haired was plastered from her head and her body had blood of various colors splattered on it. She held an axe in one hand and a mace in the other which she calmly used to take out the head of a horned demon starting to close in on Spike.
The former Old One shouted, ôVampire, we need more assistance!ö
Angel patted the dragonÆs neck. The dragon bellowed out into the raining night and the stormy night sky lit up with orange. Fire rippled through in gold, crimson, and orange ripples to rip through the line of demons getting closer to the last two members of his team standing.
Spike shouted, ôThe wankers got Charlie-boy!ö
ôWhat?ö Angel shouted as he leaned towards the dragon. He whispered to it, ôGive us cover for a couple of minutes, doing as much damages to their ranks as they can. Then come back for me.ö
The dragon seemed to nod as it dropped Angel off beside the other vampire with a soul and Illyria. SpikeÆs now golden eyes met AngelÆs as he shouted, ôVampires got Gunn, Angel, I think theyÆre gonna turn him.ö
ôDamn it,ö Angel shouted as he brought up his broadsword and slashed through some grotesque demon that was part pig and part turtle. He looked at Illyria and asked, ôWhich way?ö
ôHe didnÆt have time left, Angel,ö Illyria continued in her monotone as she punched through the head of a Chaos Demon, spraying slime all over her body. She grimaced in distaste as she kicked its corpse away from her.
The ground started to rumble. Spike shouted, ôWell, we donÆt have much time left either.ö He then gave a fanged grin as he dropped his sword and went after demons with bare knuckles. Angel watched the familiarity as Spike threw himself utterly into the fight, determined to go out on his own terms.
Ozone cackled through the air. The air seemed to shift despite the rain and the dragonÆs breath ripping through it. Angel swore, ôDamn it, theyÆre going to take L.A. down with us.ö
He shouted and started to run to the end of the army. Or rather where they came from. He could feel it, the beginnings of the spell, or rather, the event. If he could only get there and stop it . . .
******
He was dead.
He had died.
His last moments had been happy, wrapped up in a lie.
And now he was here, without form, without body, but still in spirit, which he guessed had power.
Almost limitless power actually. He had the knowledge to go across dimensions, into other worlds and realities almost countless in numbers. The Senior Partners might have him bound to another plane of existence so he couldnÆt go to the next, but that didnÆt mean he was their lap dog.
He knew fully well what they were going to pull, what they were going to do. He also knew they had the means to do as much. And Angel didnÆt have the means to stop it.
However, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce did.
He could give Angel a Champion of sorts, or rather a Guardian. A Counter Guardian if what he peeked into that one dimension had been true. Counter Guardians where monochromic entities that acted as a clean up crew for humanity. If a disaster was caused, theyÆd clean it up; kill those responsible and any witnesses.
They were heroic spirits, but not of the epic sort such as Gilgamesh, King Arthur, Robin Hood, or Achilles where. They were people who did things in life quietly to save others and made deals to be granted power if they served after death. Rather like AngelÆs unique existence.
However, summoning a said Guardian would be tricky. Guardians themselves were only summoned by that worldÆs version of the Powers that Be, or, rather, Gaia. Still, from his research there was an anomaly. There always was. Several in fact.
Just which one Angel ended up was going to be a gamble, but due to the nature of the summoning, heÆd get a spirit who was close in personality to him.
As a ghost, with the boost from the Senior Partners, Wesley was almost unstoppable magically. He couldnÆt Master the spirit, but Angel could. It would be providing said Servant with magical energy, or rather, mana, that would be the problem, but Wesley was working on that as well.
However, he had to Summon said Spirit though.
He stood in the center of the circle in the basement of Wolfram and Hart. In the center of the circle was an all too familiar ring. A ring so precious if Angel found out what he was using it for, he would have gone ballistic. However, there had to be some tie to the Master through the Servant, and true AngelÆs blood was used to cast the circle, there had to be something from the heart.
Wesley figured that AngelÆs long unworn Claddagh ring would work very well. He didnÆt even know the man had the ring until once Spike mentioned it drunk. Spike also had gotten irate that Buffy had one herself for a very short time. Even though heÆd been almost an invalid at the time, Spike had noticed the two rings on the former lovers before Angel lost his soul for the first time.
Ironically, Angelus kept wearing the Claddagh ring after he lost his soul. Spike didnÆt know if it was just out of habit, but considering the vampireÆs obsession to ôbreakö Buffy, Wesley knew it was more than that. He briefly wondered if theyÆd get a Guardian who lost their One True Love.
If they did, I think we could all sympathize, Wesley thought dryly as he stepped into the circle as a pair of laughing brown eyes entered his mind. Brown eyes that frosted over and became a chilly blue as the smart, wholesome girl became a frosty fallen goddess. He clinched his metaphorical jaw as his own ice blue eyes narrowed.
He began to chant, slowly at first, but his voice picked up speed and volume as he felt the power swelling around him:
ôYe first, O silver, O iron.
O stone of the foundation, O Dark and Ancient Power.
Hear me in the names of our great Evil, The Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart . . .
Let the descending winds be as a wall.
Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve.
Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.
If thou submitteth to the call of the Counter Force, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.
I make my oath here.
I am that person who is become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance-!ö
Wesley felt the crash resound through the building with the impact of the spell. He winched but didnÆt leave the circle. He muttered to himself, ôI just hope this bloody works . . .ö
******
They were driven back. Despite the dragon making his passes and letting loose his fire, their impossible effort was now to their edge. Angel felt cold blood dripping from countless wounds, his left arm was dangling from bits of meat held on by his coat, and Illyria and Spike werenÆt fairing much better.
And Gunn . . .
The vampires had taken him hours ago.
Only two vampires with a soul and a former Old One stood between Los Angeles and Armageddon.
And they were faltering.
ôWeÆre being pushed back. At this rate, this place will be awash in Chaos,ö Illyria gasped as her chest hitched with shaking breath. Her icy eyes flashed as she said, ôOnce I would have enjoyed that, but now with this body and lack of power, I regret this. This feeling still rages within me, and . . . I know it will end fruitlessly.ö
Spike wiped blood from his once again blue eyes, having lost his vamp face hours ago. His body was shaking, blood seeping from countless wounds painting him in red, and his beloved coat in shambles. He looked towards Illyria and snapped, ôThanks for the bloody pep talk, Big Blue, we still have some fight left in us. Right Angel?ö
ôYeah, something like . . .ö
The heavy blade came right down at Spike. Hissing, Angel used his good arm to shove the other vampire away. He managed to roll away from the blow as the huge sword wielding behemoth lifted its weapon again with a bellow.
ôWeÆre sucking this place into Hell!ö it screamed as Angel blocked the blade.
Angel glared and managed to hold the slab of iron, for it was in all honesty too heavy and thick to be a sword, despite his mangled left arm. He pushed with all of his legs to break against the demon and hissed, ôBeen there, tried that, got my ass kicked by a tiny blonde.ö
The sky crackled with violet lightning before going dark. The ground started to tremble and shake before the black concrete cracked open to reveal glowing orange beneath. ôBloody hell,ö Spike groused.
Angel shouted, ôKeep going, try to get to the casters . . .ö
ôIt is fruitless, Angel, you proved your point, but you knew this war was lost before you began to wage it,ö Illyria hissed beside him, her eyes meeting his in the face that was at once loved and now loathed.
Spike hefted his axe and snapped, ôWell, it ainÆt bloody over until itÆs over. I still got some fight left in me. Keep going, Peaches, weÆll give emÆ hell.ö
Illyria gritted her teeth, glared, but kicked at another demon none the less. She said, ôFine, see your war to the end, vampire.ö
Angel whistled into the night. The dragon swept down and Angel grabbed onto its claw. It spun gracefully and managed to throw Angel on its back as he took mount again. He pointed with his sword, blood dripping into his eyes, and said, ôKeep going. WeÆve still got work to do.ö
The sky kept flashing with purple lightning until something happened.
A hazy, orange sky with thick grey smog began to overtake the night sky. Giant gears gyrated in the distance while the cracking concrete was over swept with a baron field. Sticking up from the ground were countless swords and the occasional bubble of molten steel as far as AngelÆs eyes could see. He halted the dragon as the swords flew up into the air as the demons watched.
He held on with his good arm as his own sword crashed to the ground. The blades sang before raining to the ground. Over and over again, the ground simply replenishing with the swords, to kill the army. Until only Spike was leaning on Illyria as they stood in a field of bodies impaled by countless swords. Once everything had been thoroughly killed, the sky shifted back to the raining Los Angeles night and the field of swords was gone.
Superhuman eyes narrowed, Angel saw a tall figure dressed in red standing at the place where the army had spawned on top of a hill of corpses. His white hair had been pelted into his face and his red mantle flipped back with the wind. Grey eyes narrowed at Angel before the man simply leaped, coming straight for him.
The dragon reared back, but somehow the man managed to land nimbly on the dragon, rain dripping from angular, rugged slightly Asian features. The steely eyes narrowed as the man folded his arms over his chest. He glared down at Angel and said in a sardonic voice, ôIf youÆre not my Master, IÆd start praying to whatever higher power you believe in.ö
Angel blinked as the manÆs eyes flickered towards his ruined left arm. Or rather, the back of his left hand. Angel looked down as well.
On the back of his left hand was what looked like a Celtic knot divided by a jagged line in bright red against his pale skin.