Fic; Defenders of the Night; Prelude(1/2)

["JDMeans" <Jim_D_Means@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Hey all. Thought I'd tease y'all a little, with the first of two posts(thesecond should be out either tomorrow or the day after), which shows you the direction I'm taking with my new story, "Defenders of the Night". If you're not familiar with Disney's Gargoyles, the best sight on the net IMHO isThe Gargoyles Fan Website at http://www.gargoyles-fans.org/; Basic information, chat lists, characters, episode synopses, and if you have the time towade through it, a ton of fanfiction(including an adult section, but you need to sign up for ID for that one). All Garg fans out there should check it out.

Disclaimers;
Joss owns any characters related to BtVS. The Gargoyles characters are owned by the house that Walt built. First rule of copyright law; don't mess with the Mouse!

Author's Note;
This is a massive Buffy/Gargoyles crossover, which will take place over several episodes. I'm going for a whole season-length event(kinda like Joss usually does), with plenty of character interaction and a major threat.  

The story takes place a few years after the third season of Gargoyles (ABC's Goliath Chronicles series), and during that time, I'm assuming that Goliath and his human detective partner Elisa Masa have gotten together romantically. There was plenty of chemistry between them, and they did finally admit that they had feelings for each other at the end of the Hunter's Moon story arc, dammit!

Oh, and it doesn't happen yet, but somewhere down the line, Buffy and Willow will get together. That's the name of the list, after all!

Rating; PG-13

Archives; Let me know and get the name right.

Feedback; Puh-LEEZE! Jim_D_Means@xxxxxxxxxxx

Summary;
Follows "Return"; Buffy is reborn, but her peace won't last as new allies and new enemies converge on Sunnydale.  


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Defenders of the Night;
A Prelude in Five Parts
By Kirayoshi
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In Every Generation
There is born the Chosen One.
She alone must fight the vampires, the demons 
And the forces of darkness
She is the Slayer.
========
One thousand years ago.
Superstition and the sword ruled.
It was a time of darkness.
It was a world of fear.
It was the age of Gargoyles.


Part One;
Ill Met by Moonlight

990 AD, Scotland,

He walked the parapets of Castle Wyvern, his home and protectorate. The humans had built their homes and stone castles among the rookeries of his clan, and they lived in peace. The humans agreed to protect him and his clan by day when they were vulnerable, and the clan returned the favor, defending the humans from the invading armies of the Norsemen by night. It was theway of things.

Goliath was pleased that the Norse invaders had been scarce of late. Theirraids had proven most destructive in the past, and were it not for the efforts of his clan, no doubt that they would have long ago conquered Castle Wyvern.

And he was especially pleased that none of the Third Race had chosen to bedevil either his own or those whom he was sworn to protect. Oberon's children were notorious for their mischief, and the less he dealt with them, especially the trickster Puck, the happier that made him.

Still in all, it was a peaceful night over the castle. The town below slept, resting for the labors of the morrow. And Goliath and his clan were wide awake, ready to defend them.

A sudden shriek stabbed the night, galvanizing the seasoned warrior to action. Goliath climbed over the parapet, resting his haunches on the castle wall, and testing the winds around him. Yes, he thought, just right for flying.

He spread wide his wings to catch the air around him, and leapt from the wall.

His seven-foot tall, five-hundred pound frame was too heavy and bulky for his wings to provide independent flight, but with a sufficient wind, his clan could glide and coast along air currents for as long as was required to travel. He darted through the air swiftly, his keen ears attuned for any other cries of distress. He heard scuffling from an alleyway beneath him, and directed his attention there. Like an arrow he shot past the rooftops ofthe village, toward the sounds of conflict. He wondered who or what couldbe responsible for disturbing the night, but he was certain he could deal with any interlopers.

He alighted to the street, just outside the alleyway, and folded his wings around him. The dark hue of his wings served as a camouflage, allowing Goliath to slip into the shadows of the alleyway. He stood there, silent as stone, listening, sniffing the air around him, waiting for any sign of danger.

An unholy smell wafted through his nostrils. A smell of decay, mixed with darkest magic. And a more natural scent, of a woman in fear. They were here, he realized. The woman who shrieked, and something, some unearthly creature who had chased her away from here.

He carefully moved from his secret vantagepoint, tracing the scent past thealley, and into a maze of streets and causeways. Yes, he thought, a perfect place for something evil to hide and prey on the unsuspecting. Perfect,that is, if not for Goliath discovering the hunting ground. There would be no more hunting of human prey here, not while the Gargoyle warrior had anything to say about it.

He followed the scent of his quarry into the blackest of alleys, hanging back as the dank wet passage wound down into the bowels of the village. It was there when he heard the distinctive sounds of battle. The clang of swords, the impact of a fist against flesh, the grunts and battle cries. The veteran warrior followed the sounds of the altercation into a dimly lit street. That's where he witnessed the strange battle.

He must have been well over six feet tall, with stringy greasy hair and an evil glow in his eyes. His brow was ridged, giving his face a demonic cast. Goliath had no idea what manner of monster this was, but he was certainly powerful, and savage beyond all reason. The young woman should not have been able to fend off such a terrifying creature, but she was clearly in command of the situation. She thrust forward with her sword, fending off themonster's every attack. Finally, she let fly with a swift sword-stroke, lopping off the head of her opponent.

The vanquished demon had burst into a cloud of ash and dust, leaving almostno remains. Goliath stood thunderstruck at the display, as the young female warrior sheathed her sword, regarding her departed enemy with a grim satisfaction. Suddenly, she stopped and glanced around. "Who are ye?" she called out to the night. "Show yourself!"

Goliath ventured from the shadows as quietly as he could manage. "Peace, milady," he greeted the young woman. "I mean you no harm."

"Stand fast, demon!" she shouted at him, loosing her sword. "I mean thee plenty harm if ye step closer! Clear off, demon, else ye die like your compatriot!" Goliath held back, wishing to explain himself, to assure the woman that he was not her enemy. Before he could offer any assurances, the strange woman backed away, fading into the darkness of a nearby alleyway.

Goliath made ready to follow her, but a hand rested on his shoulder, restraining him. "Let it go, lad," a familiar gravelly voice spoke to him. Goliath turned around to see his mentor and commander standing behind him. Theold one-eyed gargoyle gave a half-smile as he spoke to his young student. "That one'll never trust ye, my son. She's of a special breed."

"You know of her?" Goliath asked.

"Of her kind, aye," the older warrior nodded. "She's called the Slayer. There's only one like her every generation. They're called to fight unholy magicks, demons and vampires. Their lives are all too brief and violent."

"How is this possible?" Goliath felt his heart go out to the scared young woman. "How can the fates be so cruel to lay such responsibility on such slight shoulders?"

"In a way, lad," his mentor answered, "she's like us. We gargoyles can no more stop defending our castle than we can stop breathing. The same goes for the Slayers. They feel the call and whether they desire it or no, they must defend innocents against the dark. 'Tis a lonely life, sure, but whatchoice do they have?" Shaking his tired wings, the older gargoyle said, "Now, laddie, we'd best be getting home. If we start now, we may enjoy someale before the sun rises."

Goliath followed his commander as they scaled a nearby wall, hanging on by their claws. Once they reached the roof, they spread their wings to catch the evening wind, and glided aloft. As they winged their way back to Castle Wyvern, Goliath looked over his shoulder, wondering about the fate of that unfortunate woman. How few days did she have left in her cruel life? Would some demon take her life before another fortnight had passed?

That night, before entering the stone sleep at sunrise, Goliath made a silent vow; should he ever encounter this Slayer, or any other Slayer in the future, he would do all he could to aid her in her cause. No one should haveto shoulder such a burden alone.

And as long as there was breath in Goliath's body, the Slayer never would.



Part Two
Break the Locks of Prison Gates


August, 2001;
Los Angeles Women's Penitentiary

"Lights out, Spencer," the guard grunted as he passed her cell.

Faith grumbled a curse to the guard, and switched off the overhead light inher cell. She had no desire to argue with the guard, or anyone else for that matter. She lay on her bed contemplating her future. She only had a fewmore months before her parole hearing, and she didn't want to jinx it. She had been on her best behavior since her conviction, never instigating anyfights, never complaining about her punishment. She knew she had deservedfar worse than she got, and was prepared to do what she could to atone forher past misdeeds.

She'd get that opportunity soon enough, she figured. The last time Angel had visited her, she learned the terrible news. Buffy Summers, her rival, her opponent, and her ally, had died. She sacrificed her own life to save her friends and her sister, to seal an inter-dimensional breach that would have destroyed all reality. For the first time since her incarceration, Faith cried. She had lost her final chance to atone to B personally, to beg forgiveness from the one person who could truly forgive her.  

She had it planned. Once she was paroled, she would move back to Sunnydale, and set up shop as the resident Slayer. She would train harder, fight harder, and do everything she could to fill the void left by B. If Red needed a sympathetic ear, she'd be there. If Dawnie needed a 'big sister' figure in her life, she'd be that for her. She had no delusions of replacing B in their lives, but she would gladly dedicate the remainder of her life to her memory. B deserved no less.

"Lights out, Spencer," a voice called out to her.

"Hey Shemp, I already turned out the lights," she growled, until she liftedher head and saw the figure who spoke to her. A Hastor demon, horned and tusked, his cloven hoof scraping sparks off the concrete floor of her cell.

"I said lights out, Faith," the demon hissed. "Your lights out, to be exact." He stepped forward, and Faith saw the murder in his eyes. "Think of this as a severance package from Wolfram and Hart." She cowered back in hercell. There was no room to fight, and she had no weapons at any rate. She was tired, angry, and unable to fight against the monster that W&H had sent to finish her off. She closed her eyes, and prepared herself for her death.

A sudden flash of light erupted between Faith and the demon, blinding the monster and sending him staggering. "Come, Faith, trip away!" a strangely merry voice entreated her. Faith shook her head, struggling to clear her vision, when she observed the far wall of her cell disappear. Beyond the wall lay a sandy stretch of beach, with pristine blue waves lapping at the shore. Now she knew that her sight was failing her. She was hallucinating, that was the only explanation.

"Quickly child, make no stay!" the voice called to her again, and she stirred from her bed and followed the strange voice. When she found herself stepping through the unseen wall, into the strange setting beyond, she knew that her sanity had finally deserted her. She didn't seem all that troubled by it, however; after all she had gone through in her unhappy life, a little madness might be welcome.

"Well and good, my errant child," the voice remonstrated her. "You think your mind is much beguiled?" 

"Hey," she called out to the unseen voice. "What the hell's going on here?Where am I?"

"Where are you child? I'll make it plain. You're far away from that placeof pain." The speaker emerged from nowhere, capering before Faith with merry abandon. He was thin and lithe, possessed of a nimble grace. He had pale skin, a thin face that terminated in a strongly chiseled chin, pointed ears and long stringy white hair. His lips were upturned in a smile that was equal parts innocent amusement and sinister intellect.

The fairy jester continued to taunt Faith; "You're where few mortals have trod before, on blessed Avalon's vasty shore. And I have the unearned luck, to be that merry wanderer, the Puck." The trickster bowed theatrically before Faith, as though expecting applause for his rhymes.

He didn't get any. "Right. So what the Puck's going on here, Ears? And quit with the rhyme scheme, already!"

"Fair enough, my child," Puck stood before Faith, seemingly chastised, but still with that air of mischief about him. "But I cannot provide a full explanation for your presence here. My lord and lady come forward," he pointed to a gold chariot heading their way, "and they'll be glad to explain your presence and purpose on Avalon." And he started dancing toward the coming chariot.

"What...what are you?" Faith questioned. "An elf?"

His dancing stopped. "Elf. Did you just call me...an Elf?" His voice, despite its earlier merry tone, was now slow.and deadly.

"Er." Faith deferred.

"It's the pointy ears isn't it?" He suddenly changed his tone with a sigh. "I tell him and tell him that pointy ears are just not the way to go. But does he listen...Noooo. It's always 'We really like them, or 'We think they suit our royal self well.' Next thing you know people will be walking up tome and saying 'Live long and prosper.' Sheesh."

"Puck," a cold, authoritative voice called out as the chariot stopped before Faith and the elf. The chariot's driver, a regal looking figure, was clearly a man accustomed to being obeyed, and despite his chaotic streak, Puckwas now compliant before him. "You have done well in bringing the Slayer here, but do not antagonize her. Remember that you are tolerated on Avalononly at my sufferance, and must soon return to your mortal lord."

"Aye, Lord Oberon," Puck answered.  

"Be not so harsh on the Puck, my lord and husband" a fairie woman of unearthly beauty and majesty laughed as she approached Lord Oberon. "He has performed as you have required of him in this matter. He is as aware of the consequences of failure as we are."

"Indeed, fair Titania," Oberon bowed to his queen. Turning to Faith, Oberon declared, "Mortal, we have brought you here for a vital purpose, one thatwill affect all that lives, in your world and in ours."

Faith regarded Oberon with a cynical eye, but ultimately decided he was being level with him. Besides, she sensed that he was far more powerful than anyone she had ever seen before, even the evil Mayor Wilkins. "Okay, O," Faith started, until she received a disapproving look from the Fairy king. His eyes narrowed just a touch, and though a small gesture, Faith somehow knew it was very much akin to a thunderhead sweeping across the sky. Here was someone far more powerful than Mayor Wilkins, or even the worst monsters of the Hellmouth. Less a living person, and more a force of nature. This was a person you simply didn't disrespect. "Uh, right, Lord Oberon. Why'dyou go and bust up my parole? You know the prison's gonna report my absence. They'll think I've escaped and there goes my early release."

"Be at peace," Lady Titania answered. Her voice, while carrying the command of Oberon's, was strangely calming, almost motherly. "All records of your incarceration have been dealt with. Even the minds of those who sent youto prison have been erased of your memory. Only those whom you left behind in Sunnydale will know you."

"Well, ain't that convenient?" Faith asked acidly. "So, what's the up? Whyall the secrecy in bringing me here?"

"Faith Spencer," Titania explained, "there is a great evil afoot in your world. Beyond anything you ever faced, even from the Hellmouth. This evil stems from Avalon itself, and therefore are my Lord and I bound to aid in its defeat. However, we require human agents, those who are familiar with the evils of your world. You, my Slayer, are one such person. We have located two others and will soon bring them here. You, my child, have borne a terrible weight on your shoulders. You feel unworthy of forgiveness, and inyour mind and heart must atone for your past crimes. We offer you a chance to sponge the record clean, and to allow you to fully atone. It will notbe easy, and there is every possibility that you shall not survive the ordeal, but we do need you in this battle. What say you?"

Faith regarded the Lord and Lady of Avalon, and smiled. "I say, I'm five-by-five with it. Let's do it." She accepted Lady Titania's hand, and the bargain was struck.



Part Three
Goblin Lead Them Up and Down


The offices of Wolfram and Hart, Los Angeles;

"Mr. Manners," his secretary buzzed him. "A Miss Destine is here to see you, sir."

"Show her in, Tiffany," Holland Manners answered, "and hold all my calls." As he shut off his pager, a tall, statuesque figure entered his office andimmediately took command of it. Her striking figure was framed in the most impeccably tailored blue business suit imaginable, highlighted by her darkly shaded features and perfectly coifed brunette hair. "Dominique Destine," he greeted her cordially. "It's always a pleasure to do business with you."

"And it's a pleasure to see you as well," Dominique lied as she shook Mr. Manners' hand. She felt no pleasure in touching any human, but for her purposes it was necessary. "How's the business these days?"

"Progressing smoothly," Holland answered. "And you, Dominique? How are things in New York?"

"Just fine, Holland," she answered amiably. "We're about to introduce our winter fashions at the next major show. Evangelista's agreed to model for us."

"Delightful," Holland answered as he sat down behind his desk, and Dominique eased her way into a waiting chair. "Now then, Dominique, I doubt you'rehere to chat me up, so shall we get down to business?"

"Always to the point," Dominique commented. "I like that about you, Mr. Manners. Now then, as you know, I'm something of a collector of." she pursedher lips as she considered the proper words. ".rare and esoteric objects.And I understand that Wolfram and Hart are in a position to acquire such objects."

"And you thought to pick my vaults," Holland guessed, "in order to find outwhat treasures we may possess."

"I assure you, you shall be well compensated," Dominique answered. "And asit happens, there is one specific object that I require for my purposes."

Holland regarded Dominique like a chess player. He was aware that Dominique Destine was far more formidable than she let on, and there were rumors that she was involved in dark magic and other esoterica. He paid close attention to her, hoping to understand what she required. Not for the first time, he wished that he had her working for Wolfram and Hart.

"What I'm looking for," Dominique answered casually, "is a ferula gemina."

This surprised Holland greatly. Only a few people dared use such a dangerous piece of magical equipment. "Miss Destine," Holland spoke in measured tones, "you are aware of the purpose of a ferula gemina. It's a potentiallydangerous artifact."

"I am fully aware of its purpose," Dominique answered, her calm demeanor suddenly replaced by steely resolve. "And be assured that I will practice all due precautions in its use."

"Very well," Holland shrugged his shoulders. "Let me see," he mused as he tapped at the computer keyboard. "F.e.r.u.l.a.G.e.m.i.n.a.Hmm." He waited for a few moments, reading the results of his computer search. "No, we don't seem to have a ferula gemina in our vaults. Let's broaden that search." He tapped out a few more keys, and his face brightened. "Ah, here we are. It seems that the last sighting of a ferula gemina was a situation in Sunnydale California, just twenty miles south of LA. It seems that a demon had planned to use the device against the Slayer, but his plan backfired."

"Just can't trust those demons to do anything right," Dominique quipped conversationally.

"Never send a demon to do a human's job," Holland joked. "Anyway, according to our intell from Sunnydale, the Slayer was presumed dead in recent months, but judging from the latest reports from our sources there, she's very much alive and well. You may want to proceed with caution."

"I always do."

"No doubt. A good place to begin your search is an establishment called the Magic Box. The shop is operated by the Slayer's mentor, one Rupert Giles."

"You seem to know a great deal about Sunnydale," Dominique commented. 

"There's a Hellmouth present there," Holland explained. "With such a potential source of power, we have to keep tabs on it. Anyway, we have reason to suspect that he keeps a store of mystical artifacts at his place of business, and I have no doubt that he has the ferula gemina there for safekeeping. You may wish to deal with him for the device."

Or simply take it from him, over his corpse, Dominique mused to herself. "Well, thanks for your help, Mr. Manners," Dominique replied crisply as she rose from her seat. "It has been a productive afternoon."

"I hope that you will grace us with your presence again," Mr. Manners replied, shaking Dominique's hand civilly. As the businesswoman left his office, Holland Manners felt a strange chill over his soul. The feeling of someone walking over his grave.

Dominique Destine left the office building quickly, striding away with purpose. She unlocked her car, slid into the driver's seat, and sped back to her hotel. She barely managed to arrive at her hotel room before the sun faded over the horizon. As she unlocked the door, she felt the uncomfortabletwinges at the small of her back. It was starting.

She hurriedly rushed inside her room before anyone could see her, see the change. She managed to make it under the bell, before the real changes began.

It was always painful, but that was the price she paid for her tampering indark magic, not to mention dealing with that damnable Puck. First came the agony in the shoulder blades, as her wings materialized, bursting throughher back. Then the searing pain in her legs as they reformed, sinews and muscle toughening from her frail human form to her true nature. The arms were always next, as claws broke free of her fingers. Then the discoloration, the changing from Caucasian flesh tones to the deeper violet skin. Finally the face, as fangs grew and her brow reformed.  

Finally the change was complete. Dominique Destine was no more, and in herplace stood her true self, who men only knew as Demona.

She opened the window overlooking the Los Angeles skyline, stepped out to the sill and jumped. Her wings bore her on currents of air, and she soared high over the towers of LA. She despised these nests of human habitation, these constant reminders that the traitor race was strong in this world. But soon, her plans would reach fruition. This Hellmouth, yes, the Hellmouth would be key.

Soon, her final plan would be complete. She would achieve her ultimate goal.

Soon, the accursed species homo sapiens would be extinct.

The thought made her smile cruelly.


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Parts Four and Five coming in two days, max.

"Demons. Now there's something you don't see every day. Unless your us!"
--Xander, "Bargaining"