|
|
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc.
Author's Notes: The character of Gabriel was introduced in a previous story I wrote entitled 'Divergent Paths'.
Part 1
"So you can help me?" Gabriel asked the ancient looking woman. She crouched before him in the seat of a large wicker chair, which, for all intents and purposes, was a throne. She was frighteningly thin, with dark brown skin that was marked with an intricate pattern of fine wrinkles. Her eyes were like tiny black jewels embedded in the folds of her face and were alive with vibrancy and intelligence. He could hear a disturbing, hollow rattle in her lungs as she breathed, but when he looked at her, he could see a resilient inner strength that sustained her frail form.
Gabriel had left Sunnydale two months ago and been following the habits of the gypsy band for the last three weeks, watching and waiting. They were not like the gypsies of Europe, choosing to live modern lives and meeting with the rest of their band only once every month, during the full moon. After tonight's meeting, they would put on their business suits and drive away in their flashy sports cars, returning to their lives in the city once again until next month.
He had been surprised to find a traditional gypsy band in this part of North America, let alone one as ancient and knowledgeable as the Qu'ayarvi band. After tailing one of their members for miles along an intricate and convoluted route, he had found their secret meeting place. The guards had met him with stern refusal and drawn pistols, but the elderly woman, the clan's leader had insisted that he be allowed entrance. She had taken him to an opulent motor home which was parked at the center of the camp and served as both her home and audience room. The odd setting mattered little to Gabriel. At the moment, his mind was consumed with only one thing.
"Help you? Yes," The wizened woman regarded him shrewdly, "but not in the way that you believe."
"What do you mean?" he asked desperately. This had to work. Time was already running out. "You're the troupe mother. You must know the ancient rights."
"Oh, I do, young man, I do." She answered, shaking her head, "But you are not ready."
"Please you must help me." He pleaded, "I have to go back. I need to change the past." His shoulders sagged under the weight of his guilt. Just over two months ago his father had been killed and Gabriel felt it had been his fault. Since then, he had spent every waking moment looking for a way to change things. This might have been his only chance to set things right again.
"You live too much in yesterday. You would do better to think about tomorrow." The troupe mother shifted stiffly in her huge wicker chair and handed him a cup and saucer from the stand next to her. "Here, a cup of tea will help calm you."
"I don't care about tomorrow." He accepted the tea cup only to quickly lay it aside. "To hell with tomorrow! I need to do something about yesterday."
The elderly woman's dark eyes glittered knowingly. "To hell with tomorrow, you say. That's an interesting choice of words. Be warned. You may not care about tomorrow, but tomorrow is determined by today and today is determined by yesterday. Change the past and you will change the future."
"That's exactly what I intend to do." He answered with unwavering conviction.
"I see that I cannot dissuade you." The woman sighed, "And let it never be said that the Qu'ayarvi have refused assistance to a living seventh son. I will help you."
Gabriel relaxed visibly. He was one step closer to his goal now. The old woman fished around along a stack of small shelves beside her, gathering a handful of powder packets and herbs. Sitting forward, she pointed with a gnarled finger. "Hand me that book on the wall behind you. And the silver bowl, as well."
Obediently, he retrieved the two items and handed them to her. Setting up a circle of candles on a footstool before her, she lit them and placed a metal tripod over the flames. The elderly woman then set the silver bowl atop the tripod and filled it with water from a water skin. She poured three packets of powder into the warming water and tossed two more into Gabriel's lap. "Put this in your tea and drink it. The water should be ready by then."
Gabriel eyed the powders warily. Recent events had made him distrustful of unknown substances.
"Come now." The troupe mother pressed with a commanding wave of her hand. "You've come this far. Are you afraid to take this small step?"
Mustering his resolve, he tore the corners of each of the packets and poured them into his teacup. The powders dissolved quickly in the hot tea. The drink tasted strong and bitter and by the time he had finished it, the herbal mixture in the bowl was beginning to steam.
"Now, " the woman urged him to lean over the bowl with her. "Look into the bowl and think about where you want to be and what it is you want to do."
Gabriel closed his eyes and let the steam bathe his face and fill his lungs. It made his head feel light and a wave of prickling tingles rushed over him. He remembered standing before the portal to the demon dimension. The Sword of Seals, the weapon which had opened the portal in the first place, jutted from the forehead of a terrible, tentacled demon. He was holding tightly to his father's hands, the only thing keeping the man from being drawn across the rift by the retreating, dying creature. But then a bone broke in his arm and he had lost his grip. His father had been dragged screaming through the portal seconds before the Sword scraped across the threshold and sealed it behind him. The Sword was the key. With it, he could save his father. The gypsy mother's words wafted hauntingly through his mind. Change the past and you will change the future. The future . . .
A tingling sensation washed over him and his body clenched tightly against itself. He felt like he was falling. The feeling rushed over him in dizzying waves and he thought his stomach might rebel. Just as the strain grew too great, the disorienting sickness abruptly ceased. Gabriel opened his eyes and found that he was lying on the ground and that the gypsy troupe was nowhere to be seen. He stood up slowly in a world that was not his own, careful to be sure of his footing on the unfamiliar, broken, blasted ground. The air carried a whiff of sulfur and the skies were dark, shot through with streaks of glowing red. Overhead, the moon was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a creature that looked like a giant manta ray sailed by and released a terrifying shriek. Quickly, he bolted and ducked behind a sharp outcropping of rock to hide.
His mind was clouded in obscuring fog. Everything was gone, his past, even his name. He couldn't remember who he was, but he knew that something was wrong.
Breathing heavily in panic, he pressed an open palm to the center of his chest. "Where am I?"
He had been walking for what seemed like hours. Everywhere he went, he found the same thing. Seared earth, burnt out and abandoned buildings, and the wreckage of old vehicles. Gradually, portions of his memory had returned as he walked, filling in the blank spots in his head like pieces to a puzzle. He remembered the gypsy troupe mother and the spell she had cast on him. But this wasn't what he had wished for. He crawled down a jagged slope of upturned pavement and approached a scorched and twisted metal road sign. He ran his hand slowly over its cold surface, leaving trails in the soot with his fingers. A brightly colored banner had been emblazoned boldly across the blasted metal with blue and yellow spray paint. 'The Human Resistance Lives!' it read. Rubbing off more of the soot, he read the lettering underneath.
"Over here!" a woman's voice shouted in the distance, "Just over this hill. I can feel it."
A series of voices answered her, getting close by the sound of it. A group of silhouettes crested a distant ridge. One of them raised a weapon to its shoulder and a dull pop sounded. Instantly, a piece of the brick next to Gabriel shattered, spraying debris in all directions. Gabriel dove into a roll and started running.
Crouching low, he narrowly avoided a volley of gunfire. He whipped around the corner of an old building and broke into the open. The ground exploded in front of him in a hail of sparks and odd, sharp, ricochet sounds. They were gaining on him. He had to find cover. Fast.
He circled the rusted shell of an old truck and slipped inside another building. Grabbing up a broken board, he backed into a shadowed corner, between an open window and the doorway.
"Over here." One of them directed, "It went inside that building."
Their voices were getting closer; they knew where he was hiding. He could hear the pounding of their heavy boots, the jingling of their metal gear, even the harshness of their breaths. Getting closer and closer. Gripping his makeshift club tightly, he waited for the first of them to enter the doorway.
A shadow fell into the room and he reacted. He swung with strength born of fear and connected solidly with the man's face. The wooden board cracked and the man collapsed with a strangled moan.
"He's got a weapon!" another of his pursuers shouted. "Hustle! Hustle! Move in!"
Gabriel smashed his fist into the speaker's throat and shoved him sprawling head over heels. A bullet bounced off the doorjamb, barely an inch above his head as he snapped a sharp kick into another's chest. Ducking back inside, he leaped for the window. More bullets bounced off the wall as he sailed through and hit the ground, scrambling to escape.
A heavy weight hit him from behind, strong hands grasping for his throat, and he stumbled forward. Acting purely on instinct, he drove a hard elbow back into his attacker's ribs and was rewarded with a high-pitched, animal-like yelp. Spinning, he threw the attacker off him and sent it tumbling with a solid kick. He bounded down the slope, jumping over a deep crevasse. As his feet connected with the ground on the other side, a tall, beautiful dark-haired girl with strangely familiar green eyes stepped in front of him, her fist cocked, and slammed her knuckles into his chin. The solid impact, combined with his own forward momentum, knocked him flat.
"Don't move!" the girl commanded, whipping out a strange looking shotgun and holding it steadily pointed at his head.
Looking closely at her, he felt like he was in a bad action movie. The girl wore a battered police helmet, painted black and decorated with streaks of red. There was a small greenish scope, similar to the night vision goggles he had once read about, that hung over one of her almond shaped, emerald green eyes. Her clothes were black, a makeshift uniform of some sort, with swatches of red and mismatched pieces of metal armor attached at various points on her body. The toes of her boots were capped in worn metal as were the knuckles of her fingerless leather gloves.
"Get up." She commanded sternly, pressing the barrel of the gun to his forehead.
Raising his hands in surrender, he complied. The green eyed girl backed off a step and kept her weapon trained unerringly on a point directly between his eyes as he rose. The sweat on his body turned chill with fear. He looked down the cold metal barrel of the gun and closed his eyes, waiting for the bullet that would end his life.
"What are you waiting for, Alex?" an unfamiliar girl's voice asked teasingly. "You going to do him or are we going to sit here until nightfall?"
A few of the dozen or so soldiers raised their voices in assent, joking amongst themselves. Gabriel's fear evolved into outrage and anger. They were laughing at the thought of murdering him! Opening his eyes, he fixed Alex with a baleful glare. Their eyes met and a surge of strong familiarity shot through him.
"No." the helmeted girl's pink lips tightened momentarily, "There's something different about this one. We'll take him prisoner." With a practiced flip of her wrist, she holstered her weapon against her thigh and started back up the hill.
A young soldier approached Alex cautiously. "Do you think that's such a good idea?"
Her hand shot out in an instant, catching the young man around the throat. Pulling him in until they were face to face, she tightened her grip.
"Who is the commander of this squadron, Private?" she demanded, her voice as hard and dangerous as sharpened steel.
"Y-You are." The soldier coughed.
"Then, as long as I am, you will obey my orders. Understand?" With one hand, she threw him back into the arms of his comrades as if he weighed no more than a child. "Dar, get the prisoner ready for transport."
A short, slender girl with honey blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes hopped down the small hill with a cheery smile. She wore the same type of uniform as the others, but made of lighter material and adorned with far less metal. The only exception was the knuckles of the gloves she wore on her delicate looking hands. She had no helmet, preferring instead a red and black streaked headband to hold the short, spiky hair out of her eyes. Like Alex, something about her seemed familiar to him. Had he known them at one time? She stooped to fish a length of rope out of a bag at her side and winced, rubbing gingerly at her ribs.
"Nice kick back there, Jackrabbit." She smiled in a way that was both shy and yet wolfish, "I'll have to pay you back for it sometime."
He looked pointedly at the rope in her hand, refusing to speak.
"Okay, then." Dar shrugged, unconcerned. "You can be quiet all you want. Makes no diff to me." She reached up and nudged his head back. "Chin up, please."
He slowly looked up at the black and red sky with a resigned sigh. At this point he didn't really have much choice. Something as hard as steel and swift as a lightning bolt collided with his jaw. The world jerked violently and went hazy. His knees buckled and he dropped to the hard ground. He could distantly hear the blonde girl humming contently to herself as she efficiently flipped him over on his belly and tied his wrists and thumbs together. The rough jostling was all it took to push him over the edge into sheer blackness.
He awoke in a dimly lit rectangular room. There was a dull hum in his ears and every few seconds, the room felt like it bounced. This isn't in a room, he realized, it's some sort of vehicle. And it's moving. Gabriel sat up swiftly and instantly regretted it. His skull throbbed with a splitting headache. When he tried to reach for his temples, he found his hands couldn't move. Distantly, he remembered that he was a prisoner. While he was unconscious, someone had bound his ankles together, too.
"Hey, he's up." a young man's voice noted. Gabriel heard the sound as if his ears were filled with water. "Looks like you didn't hit him hard enough, Dar. I think you're slipping."
"Pfff, yeah, right." The petite girl gave the commenter a good-natured shove, "You want to let me have a try on YOUR jaw?"
The squadron was seated on a pair of long benches facing each other like in a subway. The black haired girl with the police helmet sat away from the others, in the seat across from him. Dar squeezed down the aisle and sat next to Gabriel. "Hey, Jackrabbit," she piped, reaching out and poking his head with a slim finger, "How's your melon?"
Hissing in irritation, he jerked away from her.
"You sure he's clean, Alex?" Dar leaned around him and peered into his eyes, squinting as if looking through a dirty window. "Check out these eyes. Never seen a human with yellow in his eyes before. You think he can talk? It'd be a real waste if he's a flatline. He's a looker."
"He's human, just maybe a little more so than most, that's all. And he can talk." Alex stated flatly from her seat, "He just doesn't want to." She sat with her hand resting on her helmet on the seat beside her. Her soft, black hair was swept carelessly over one shoulder and her sharp green eyes were locked on Gabriel. "Do you?"
"I don't make a habit of talking to people who try to shoot me." He declared coldly, fixing her with an accusing glare.
"If I was the one who took a shot at you back there, you'd be feeding the scavengers right now, " she snorted, "or worse."
"So why didn't you?" he frowned.
"Because, I got a sense from you." She looked him over curiously, "I know you're a good person. I just don't know why, yet."
"You got a 'sense'?" he saw it in her now, a power similar to his own Second Sight, but the pain in his head refused to allow him to look deeper.
"Alex gets a feel for people." Dar leaned across him excitedly and prodded Alex's shoulder. "She's real good at it. Sniffs demons out better than any of the trackers. Something about you got her radar freaking. That's why we were after you." She grinned, tracing a fingertip across Gabriel's bruised jaw. "Either that or Alex has finally decided to catch herself a man."
Alex scowled at the comment, but the others in the squadron chuckled guardedly. "Let me apologize for them." Alex spread her hands. "It's been a long patrol. They're just blowing off some steam."
Dar sidled up next to him. "Yeah, Jackrabbit, no sweat. We're all a bunch of pussycats at heart."
"My name is Gabriel." He grumbled. The name came back to him in an instant, as if he had never forgotten it.
"Gabriel, huh?" the blonde smiled, "I like that. I'm Dar, short for Darlene."
"Short for everything!" one of her teammates called jokingly.
"Shut it, Cavanaugh!" she returned, smirking over her shoulder.
Gabriel shifted uncomfortably, wiggling his arms to get the blood moving again.
Looking him over carefully, Alex pursed her lips in thought. "How did you stay alive out there for this long?" she asked suspiciously, "You a collaborator or something?"
"A what?" his brows knitted together in confusion.
"You don't know what a collaborator is?" Darlene giggled uproariously, "You MUST be a flatline. It wasn't always this way, but nowadays, if you're human, you're either part of the Resistance, a collaborator or dead."
"And you're all part of this Resistance?" he arched an eyebrow dubiously. None of them appeared to be much older than he was.
"Hellooo," she made a tapping motion toward his skull, "home base to squadron!? What do you think, that I wear this get-up because it compliments my figure? Which it does, incidentally."
"We hunt the demons." Alex stated, tapping a slender finger to her temple. "I feel 'em out and then we blow them to bits."
Frowning, he looked at the dark haired girl, earnestly. "How long has it been like this?"
"Like what?"
"The darkness, the sky looking like its on fire, demons walking around freely, all of it." He watched her face carefully. There was something about her that made him want to trust her. Despite her gruff demeanor, she was brave, intelligent and straightforward, he could see it in her, all of which made her the best choice to ask questions of.
"Who knows?" Darlene interjected, "Alex's older than anyone else here and it's been this way since she can remember. My big brother was born just after the millenium and even he doesn't remember. All this is old news, Gabriel. You really have been out of the game. Where have you been all your life?"
After the millenium. The words rang in his mind like a gong. After meaning it had already occurred and not recently by his impression. Somehow, something had gone wrong with the gypsy spell and it had sent him into the future instead of the past. But the future was a nightmare. He shook his head slowly in disbelief.
"Ever hear of a guy named Van Winkle?" he chuckled bitterly.
"Who?" both girls made a distasteful face.
"Never mind." He turned away from them, and stared into the wall. His mind was in turmoil, whirling with the implications of his predicament. Darlene quickly grew bored and climbed down the aisle to sit with the rest of her comrades. Alex remained. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him with curious detachment.
The vehicle slowed and came to a jarring halt. Halfway up the length of the wall, a door opened downward with a hiss of released pressure, forming a ramp way to the ground.
"All right, everybody out. We made it again." Alex shouted the command, rising to her feet. "We're home."
The soldiers cheered, happily clapping each other on the back, and scampered down the ramp. Gabriel rolled to one side, but couldn't get to his feet. Dar watched him struggle comically for a moment before her face broke in a wide grin.
"Let me give you a hand." She suggested. With only moderate effort, she bent down and scooped him up over her shoulder. Gabriel didn't bother to protest. It would make no difference, he knew. Best to endure the humiliation and find out what was going on.
They entered a wide, windowless chamber, brightly lit by circular overhead lights and lined with what appeared to be fire extinguisher pipes along the ceiling. There was a certain coldness to the room, a sterility that caused his nose to wrinkle. Looking back, he noticed that the vehicle they had come out of looked like a short subway car, only sleeker. That explained the lack of windows. Wherever he was now, it was underground.
Alex was the last to leave the car. She exited behind Dar, watching him as he hung unceremoniously, his head dangling down by the petite blonde's belt. Simultaneously, the two girls came to a halt.
"How went the hunt?" a deep male voice asked in a friendly tone.
"Better than usual." Darlene bobbed Gabriel's limp body on her shoulder, "Look what I found? You think they'll let me keep him?" Snickering, she slapped him pertly in the rump.
Gabriel straightened in outrage, his eyes widening and his face flushing.
"That's enough, Dar." Alex pulled Gabriel off her friend's shoulder and set him on his feet. Smoothly, she slipped a keen edged knife out of her boot and sliced through the bonds around his ankles then removed the ropes around his wrists and thumbs. "I'll take care of him from here."
"Oh, you're no fun." Darlene pouted.
Gabriel stepped from foot to foot a few times, rubbing his arms, reveling in the renewed blood flow. He nodded his thanks to Alex and looked over her shoulder at the man who had spoken earlier. He appeared to be in his mid twenties and he was tall, taller than Gabriel, with jet black hair that fell in an unruly mass to just past his shoulders. His eyes were equally dark, with serious brows and a thin, straight scar running between them. An intricate blue pattern was tattooed over his left eye. Sporting a well kept black goatee and a pair of gold hoop earrings in each ear, he reminded Gabriel somewhat of the Gypsy men of the Qu'ayarvi. He wore the same type of uniform as the others, save that where theirs were red, his was a tawny gold.
"Who is this?" he regarded Gabriel suspiciously, his hand slipping down to the butt of a pistol at his belt.
"His name is Gabriel." Alex stepped protectively in front of him. "He's a toplander. We found him on the outskirts."
The dark-haired young man shook his head. "He's no toplander. Look at him. I had more scars than he does by the time I was five. Any toplander as old as this would either go feral or flatline by now."
"Lay off, Cole." Alex snapped a little to quickly, "It doesn't matter where he's from. What matters is that he is here now. I'm taking him into the central complex." She pressed her fist to her chin in troubled thought. "Besides, I have to give my report to the Head Director."
"What do you think they're going to do with him, Alex?" Cole questioned seriously, "You know he's just going to get dumped topside again. Even if he is any good to us, we can't afford the security risk."
"I don't care." She stated firmly, "I found him, so I decide what to do with him."
"Fine." Cole folded his arms across his chest angrily, "Do what you want. Once the Council finds out he's here it won't matter anyway. Why do you have to be so damn infuriating?"
"Once in a while, Cole, a soldier has to act on faith. This is no ordinary toplander. I can feel it." She took Gabriel gently by the arm, turning her back to Cole. "Are you all right to walk?" When he nodded, she guided him toward a clean, well-lit hallway.
Cole stared at them as they walked, painfully aware of her hand on the toplander's arm. Alex was a gruff girl, more accustomed to breaking men's arms than holding them. He didn't like the way she was so steadfastly protective of the toplander without knowing, or even wanting to know, a thing about him. Fuming, he stalked away. Darlene, rolling her eyes toward the roof, shrugged helplessly, and headed for her quarters with a carefree smile.
"Don't worry about Cole, Gabriel." Alex assured him as they walked, "He's Terakan. They're born that way."
"Terakan?" he asked, "As in the Order of Teraka?"
"Yeah," she shrugged, "Or what's left of it. Some people say he'll be their next leader, but I don't think so. A purebred human could never lead the Order."
"Where are we going?" Gabriel asked as they turned down another corridor. The architecture became more rounded as they traveled deeper into the base. With wide cylindrical hallways, it made him feel like he was walking in a giant tube.
"To see someone important." She answered shortly. Her footsteps grew more hurried and her eyes were locked straight ahead. Anticipation was apparent on her face.
They approached a rectangular metal door. Faintly painted runes were scrawled along the outline of the door and a roughly hand-carved wooden sign was posted in the center. "The Rosenbergs," was painted across it in crooked, childlike letters. It was an odd combination, the dark mystery of sorcery alongside something as innocuous as a child's craft.
Alex stopped at the door and pounded on it with the heel of her fist. The latch rattled from the other side and the heavy door creaked open. A small, plump woman, perhaps in her fifties, with short, gray-streaked, auburn hair and coffee brown eyes, smiled when she saw Alex and pulled her into a loving hug. There was an indefinable familiarity about the old woman, much stronger than what he had felt when he had first encountered Alex or Dar.
"Alex, you're back!" the woman exclaimed, on the edge of joyful tears, "We were so worried for you."
"Hey, you know no grubby demon can take me, Nanna." Alex straightened her back and proudly thumped herself on the chest.
"Of course not, but I still worry." The old woman regarded her with an incongruously youthful pride.
"I want you to meet someone." Alex pulled Gabriel into view by the arm, "Nanna, this is . . ."
"Gabriel." The middle aged woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes widening as she stumbled back. Gabriel recognized her suddenly, his heart leaping against his ribs. One look at her face and a rush of memory resurfaced in a flood of images and feelings. He knew that she had looked familiar, but he'd had no idea why until now.
"Nanna! What's wrong?" Alex grasped the woman's arm fearfully.
"Go inside, child." Nanna gestured sharply, "Get your uncle!"
Alex bounded into the interior of the room, quick to obey. When she was gone, the middle aged woman recovered, straightening.
"Gabriel," she smiled warmly, reaching out and touching her fingers to his face. "It's been so long. What happened to you?"
"Willow." He clasped her hands and held them tightly to his lips. He was so glad to finally find someone in this madness that he recognized. Almost.
"But you're not him." Willow whispered sadly. "Or not the Gabriel I think you are, at least."
"Willow, what happened here?" he asked seriously, "Why are you so . . . "
"Old?" she finished for him with a wry smirk. Even in her mid fifties, Willow still retained her childlike innocence. "A better question might be why are you still so young?" Tugging on his hands, she led him inside.
Alex returned, dragging a wiry, gray haired, gray bearded man wearing a bright yellow bathrobe and loose black pants, into the room with her. He was short and stocky with sparse gray hairs sprouting all over his body.
The grizzled man fretted and fussed under Alex's attention, grumbling sleepily and rubbing at his beard. The old man stopped when he saw Gabriel, and took a step back in surprise.
"Whoa." He blurted mildly, his voice rich and deep, "You're back."
"Back?" Alex frowned, "Do you two know him?"
Willow jumped to respond before her husband. "We knew someone very much like him." She explained, "A long time ago. Alex, why don't you run along and give your report to the Head Director. Then maybe you could check on Darlene. I feel better when you're around to keep an eye on her."
"Wait a minute. SOMETHING is going on here." Alex reasoned cannily, "Why won't you tell me?"
"Alex," the old man intoned deeply, "Do what your aunt says. Please."
Alex looked suspicious, but dutifully obeyed, slowly walking out the door. When the door closed behind her, Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't believe she left so agreeably. It's not like her to ignore a mystery."
"She knows something's up." The gray haired man shrugged knowingly, "She's got that look in her eyes. One way or another, she'll find out what it is. The question isn't what we tell her, but how much."
Willow paused in troubled thought, then, remembering her guest, snapped out of it.
"Gabriel," she smiled, "You remember Oz, don't you?"
Gabriel clasped Oz's thick hand in his own. It gratified him to see the two of them still together after all this time. Even if, to him, it was hardly any time at all. "How could I forget?" he smiled.
Oz fished a battered pair of spectacles out of the pocket of his robe and put them on. Leaning forward, he squinted at Gabriel. "I knew there was something different about you. Or maybe not different enough. What do you think, Willow, dear? Clone maybe?"
The old witch rubbed her chin in thought. "No. No, I don't think so." She held a clear crystal up to her eye and looked in Gabriel's direction with the other eye closed. "I don't sense a seeming or anything. What we're seeing is real."
Oz quirked his nose a few times. "Smells like the real thing, too. If you're a spy, Gabriel, then you're a damn good one."
Willow scratched her head. "So where did you come from? What do you remember, Gabriel?" She led him to a plush chair and gently urged him to sit, taking the seat opposite him.
Gabriel sat down, holding his head in his hands. It was all so blurry, like the canvas of his memory had been smeared by an inept hand, but, after a moment of concentration, he was able to recall. "I was with a band of gypsies. The troupe mother cast a spell that was supposed to send me back in time."
"A tempus enchantment. They're tricky work." Willow smoothed her hands down over the front of her dress and folded her fingers in her lap, "But instead of sending you into the past it sent you here. What year was it then?"
"It wasn't long after the first time I met both of you." He paused remembering a little more, painful memories this time, "After my father . . . died. In 1999."
"Makes sense." Willow and Oz nodded to one another. "Before the turn of the millenium."
Oz smiled broadly and patted Gabriel roughly on the knee, squeezing into the chair next to his wife, "That was thirty-five years ago, Gabriel. My kids are older than you."
"Thirty-five years?" Gabriel echoed softly, "You have kids now?"
"You bet. Two of them." The grizzled man grinned proudly, "My oldest, Marcus, teaches sorcery to the students at the academy. They call him a techno-wizard, a real expert with magic and machines. He takes after his mother. And you've already met Darlene, by now."
The blonde girl who had knocked him out. She was a half-were. No wonder she was so strong.
Willow stroked her hand appreciatively across the back of his shoulders.
"What happened?" Gabriel asked , "How did everything get . . . like this?"
"No one really knows for sure." Oz tugged absently at his steel gray beard. "What we do know is that at the turn of the millenium, Mayor Wilkins succeeded with the Ascension and became known as Emperor after that. He opened the Hellmouth somehow and brought a flood of demons through. The first ones were hideous creatures. We called them Burrowers. They carved massive tunnels through the earth and lead their brethren to establish bases all over the world, all attached to the Hellmouth like spokes in a wheel Not long after that, the Tower grew up around the Hellmouth and we were caught up in a full scale war."
"Tower?" Gabriel queried, relaxing in his seat somewhat. Now that he was getting a better understanding of the situation, it felt like he was regaining some small measure of control over his life.
"A huge living mountain that became like a base of operations for the Emperor and his demons." Oz answered, "We gathered as many people together to fight them as we could and formed the Human Resistance Movement back in '02. Things were pretty rocky at first, but it got better. We were actually winning for a while. It's more like a stalemate now."
"What changed?"
Willow rubbed at her eyes and rose quickly. "I-I'll get us something to drink." She said with a tight voice, and scurried quickly into the next room.
Oz adjusted his spectacles, his eyes following her sadly. "It still hurts her to think about it sometimes. She'll be fine in a few minutes." He explained, turning back to face Gabriel. "Do you remember Xander?"
Gabriel nodded, frowning as the name triggered another small resurgence of memories.
"He went into politics right after the turn of the millenium." He whispered with a mild smirk, "Yeah, I know, none of us believed it at first either. Xander was never really any good at politicking, but when it came to blunt honesty, he was the man. There were so many empty promises and lies being spread around by politicians trying to explain what was happening. People really took to him. He got elected to the Senate back in 2009. Damndest thing I ever saw."
He straightened in his chair and fixed his robe, taking a moment to go over the facts in his head. It seemed like it had all happened an entire lifetime ago.
"With him and Buffy working together, support for the Resistance skyrocketed." He continued, "All of a sudden, we had scientists developing new weapons to use against the demons, strategists to lead the troops and more soldiers than we could count. People were tired of being preyed on, I guess."
His eyes went distant as he looked back over the years at memories both pleasant and painful. "Things went in our favor for years. The two of them made a great team, her on the military side, him on the political side. We had the best fighters the world had to offer and with Senator Harris keeping everyone's spirits afloat, we were almost guaranteed to win. I think that's why the Emperor got so desperate. During Xander's Freedom Day speech, he sent an army of demons on a suicide run. We killed a hundreds of them, the stench was ungodly, but a few still got through. They assassinated him in front of the entire free world."
"Oh, my God." Gabriel whispered, his jaw sagging open. Death was something he had only recently become acquainted with when his father had passed. Hearing about it in reference to someone else he knew was a little disturbing. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
Oz stood up and started pacing slowly back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. "In all the confusion that followed, support for the Resistance fell apart. The demons took back huge sections of territory and the different branches of the Movement lost contact with each other. Everything was in chaos. We know there are other resistance forces out there all over the globe, carrying on their own fight, but we have no way of communicating with them or even finding out where they are."
"Where was Buffy throughout all this?" Gabriel was almost too afraid to ask.
"Oh, she was fine." Oz shrugged it off as if it were nothing important. "Just a little busy, that's all. A baby can be a real handful."
"Baby?" Gabriel gawked, "Buffy had a baby?"
"Yeah, a girl." Oz smirked proudly, "Cutest little thing outside of my own two. Tough as nails, too. Don't you think?"
Gabriel swallowed, hard. "Alex?"
"Good guess. How did you know?"
"I got a weird feeling from her when they captured me. It was a lot like the feeling I got from Buffy the first time I saw her. It didn't make a whole lot of sense until now. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"
"She's the best soldier I've ever seen, and that includes her mother." Oz agreed, "Buffy would have been proud."
"Would have been?" Gabriel repeated, the words like a knell of doom in his ears.
The pride in Oz's eyes clouded over with fresh sadness. "She was killed twelve years ago. When the first demons came through the Hellmouth, before the Resistance was around, they established what we call Hellspires. Think of them as living extensions of the Hellmouth all connected to the Tower as if it's a brain or a heart. Each one allows more demon matter to come through and instantly transport to anyplace where a Hellspire exists. They tried to raise a new one in Washington. Buffy charged in there totally fearless and blew the damn thing to bits. Did quite a job on the Emperor, too."
He smiled wistfully, moisture gathering in his eyes. "Willow and I have been taking care of Alex ever since."
Gabriel's chest tightened painfully. Of all the things that he had imagined, this was the worst. He couldn't believe it. "How could she die?" he questioned, his voice heavy with sorrow. "She was the Slayer."
"Yeah, I did a lot of thinking about that." Oz nodded slowly, "She was older than any other Slayer on record. Forty-one, if I remember correctly. Kicking demon butt is no party once you hit that age, believe you me. As time went on, Buffy spent more and more time in the planning room than in actual battle. I think she knew we needed a Slayer in the field. Self sacrifice seems like something she'd do. Just don't tell Willow I said that. When she lets herself think of it, she likes to believe that it was all just a big mistake. I think it was the most heroic thing I've ever witnessed."
"It must have worked then, did it? I mean you have Alex fighting for you now."
"It did, but Alex is no Slayer. Even if she had been, she was only eight at the time, too young to step up." Oz continued to pace, tugging thoughtfully at his beard. "We had a new Slayer within a month. And she lasted about three."
"What?"
"Killed by a two headed gate demon." he explained sadly, "Damn girl was just too careless. Another one arrived a month and a half after that. She survived almost a year. There were three more after her. None of them lasted more than two years. No one knows where the current Slayer is anymore. She ran from us when we contacted her and she's been missing for almost six years now."
"So, in the end, she died for nothing." Gabriel felt drained. Calling this place a nightmare was being kind. He had landed in hell, pure and simple.
"Yeah," he stopped tugging on his beard and let his hand fall to his side, "But I try not to look at it that way. You let yourself get down around here and you'll never get back up. The trick is to find the little pockets of goodness and cherish them. I have Alex and my own kids. Oh, and Willow, of course. Which reminds me. WILLOOWW! You can come out now!"
The sweet old woman popped her head into the room almost immediately. "Oh, are you finished talking?" she mentioned innocently, "I was just coming back."
"Gabriel is pretty well filled in on what's changed around here." Oz announced, "I think maybe we should take him to the briefing room, figure out what to do with him."
"Does he know EVERYTHING?" she clasped her husband's hands and peered up at him.
"He knows enough." Oz assured her.
"What's in the briefing room?" Gabriel rose slowly out of his chair.
"There's someone else you should meet." Willow laid her hand on his shoulder and guided him toward the door as Oz took up the rear. Gabriel tried not to notice the nervous quiver in her fingers.
The door to the briefing room was an old, heavy portal, made entirely out of dull, dark metal. Willow paused before it and looked to her husband.
"Do you think we should knock first?" she asked uneasily.
Oz raised a bushy gray eyebrow, "You think he'll be any less surprised?"
"No," she agreed, "I guess you're right."
Gabriel reached for the door handle. Oz quickly stepped in front of him.
"Under the circumstances, maybe I should go in first." he suggested.
"Who is this guy?" Gabriel frowned, "And why do you both seem so afraid of him?"
"I wouldn't exactly say afraid. More like careful." Oz quirked a half smirk, "Sometimes even good people fly off the handle under the right circumstances."
Oz pushed the heavy door open and led the other two inside. The room was dark, lit for the moment only by a wan overhead lamp. A shadowed figure leaned over a large oval table in the center of the room, a wired listening device held up to his ear. The figure didn't even look up as they entered.
"Hey, Angel." Oz greeted, carefully. Gabriel frowned at the obvious caution in his friend's voice.
"Oz," Angel still didn't look up, "Just who I wanted to see. Come here and listen to these transmissions we intercepted. See if your hearing can pick up anything mine can't."
"I don't think this is the best time." Oz declined, "There's someone here to see you."
Angel finally raised his head, his face blank. Almost instantly, he noticed Gabriel and his eyes locked on the young man, narrowed with anger. Gabriel met his gaze steadily.
The vampire looked exactly like he had in 1999. But Gabriel could see the passage of time in his eyes, he could sense the pain and suffering that had been ground into the vampire in recent years. The last time they had seen each other, Gabriel wouldn't have called him an enemy, but not exactly a friend, either. Something told him that, for Angel, the distinction was not so difficult to make anymore. Stepping out slowly from behind the table, Angel walked slowly over to him.
"It's Gabriel." Willow pointed out, encouraged by the vampire's apparent calm.
The blow came too quick for any of them to see. One minute Gabriel was standing, the next he was sitting on the floor holding his jaw.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Angel snarled, his voice strained with emotion. "You have no right!"
Gabriel jumped to his feet, ready to retaliate. Willow took hold of Gabriel's arm, concerned while Oz subtly slipped between the vampire and the seventh son.
"Now hold on there, Angel." he held his hands up non-threateningly. "This isn't the same Gabriel we knew. Look at him. He got lost in time somehow and I think we should try to help him."
Angel glared at the auburn-haired young man as realization slowly set in. "Help him? Why?"
"Because he needs it." Oz looked him in the eye meaningfully, "Calm down."
"You're right." Angel let the tension ease from his face and clasped Oz by the arm, his muscles relaxing, "Thank you." He turned to Gabriel and offered his hand. "I'm sorry."
Gabriel warily accepted the handshake, forcing his anger under control. "What did I do to you?" he asked carefully. The ramifications of his situation were still sinking in. He hadn't even considered the thought that he might still be alive in this time period. On the bright side, it probably meant that, at some point, he would get back home.
"It's not important." Angel shook his head dismissively, turning back to the oval table, his left eye twitching uncontrollably, "We have too many other things to worry about now to dredge up ancient history."
Oz cocked his head, picking up an alarming note in Angel's voice. "What's up?"
Angel sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. "There's something big going down. Fides is planning something, but I can't figure out what it is."
"Fee-dez?" Gabriel questioned, frowning at the odd sound of the name.
Angel fixed him with a reproachful stare at the interruption, but Oz quickly interceded.
"After the Emperor bought the farm, his top demon henchman took over." He explained to Gabriel, "She's no crossbreed like the usual spawn we meet up with. She's a full-fledged demon, what we call a first class force. Her name is Fides and she's been running the show for over ten years now. If she's planning something, it can't be good." He turned back to Angel.
"You want to organize a recon mission?" he suggested.
"We may have no other choice." Angel traced his finger alone a faint line drawn on a blue print map. "There's a new data storage facility in the middle of the old skirmish zone, but we'd need a crack computer expert on the team."
"Darlene's the best around. Did Alex report on their patrol yet? How bad was her squadron when they got in?"
"Not too bad, " Angel considered, "They lost Martinez and Durst. Plus a few minor injuries, but not bad. It's little early to be sending them out again, though, don't you think?"
Oz shook his head sadly, and tugged thoughtfully at his beard. "Trust me, no one would like to see Red Squadron get some R and R more than me, but there doesn't seem to be any alternative. Who else has such a skilled and well rounded team?"
"The mission can wait a few days." Angel stated, "Give them a chance to unwind a little. Call a meeting in an hour. You and I can work out a basic plan and figure out who else we need in on this before then. We'll make an official announcement about our new guest then."
"Wait a minute." Gabriel raised his hand, "How am I supposed to get home?"
Angel's eye started twitching again as Oz turned to Gabriel and smiled. "We'll see what we can do for you. But the three of us have some other things to talk over first. You can wait here for now, if you want. We'll set you up in some temporary quarters later."
Angel and Willow walked to the door while Oz went to a case of circular disks and withdrew one. He handed it to Gabriel.
"Gabriel," Oz regarded him gravely, "It's probably best if we keep it a secret where you really come from for now. As far as anyone else needs to know, you're just a fortunate toplander, okay? The last thing we need is a wild rumor flying around and getting everyone all worked up."
"Even if the rumor is true?" Gabriel smirked sardonically.
"Truth is the worst kind of rumor." Oz set a portable computer on the table before him and indicated a thin slot beneath the slightly curved view screen. "Put it in here. It has enough information to fill you in on a few of the things you'll need to know if anyone's going to believe your story."
"I hope you're right." He answered.
Oz turned to Angel. "Think he needs a new name to go with the identity?"
"Too late." Gabriel informed him, slipping the shiny disk into the slot. "I already told the blonde girl my name." Immediately, a menu appeared on the view screen. At least computers don't seem to have changed too much, he thought, relieved.
"Well, then I guess that's that." The grizzled old man chuckled lightheartedly, "If my little girl knows your name then you can bet that everyone else in the base knows it too. We'll get together and work out a believable story for you before the meeting, okay?"
"All right." Gabriel scrolled around the computer's interface using a little analog control on the front of the machine and started quickly getting the hang of its design.
"See you later, Gabriel." Oz rejoined his wife and Angel at the door. "We won't leave you here for long."
"Wait, Oz." Gabriel looked up from the computer console, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Uh, yeah, sure." The old werewolf seemed a bit uncomfortable.
Angel and Willow exited the room, leaving Gabriel and Oz alone.
"So what do you want to talk about?" Oz asked, "You worried about keeping up appearances while you're here?"
"No, it's not that." Gabriel answered, turning his chair to face the other man, "And it's not that I don't appreciate your help, but . . ."
"You want to know what that thing with Angel was all about." Oz finished for him with a smirk.
Gabriel nodded softly.
"After Buffy was killed, he started drinking. A lot." The bearded man explained, "He's dry now, but it took a lot of work. When he sees you, he sees the past and when he sees the past, he sees her. It's not easy for him. He's not the barrel of laughs he used to be." Oz sighed, "It doesn't really help that the two of you had some . . . political differences."
"I see." Gabriel nodded, "Was I was part of the Resistance Movement?"
"No." Oz shook his head sadly, "You were kind of an independent until . . ."
"What?" Gabriel regarded him seriously.
"You died. You were killed a long time ago. That's why seeing you again has been so . . . unexpected."
The news was upsetting to Gabriel in a removed sort of way. He had already been told about Xander and Buffy being dead. Extending the scope of that horror to include himself was not really a big step.
"Look, Oz." The seventh son looked at him earnestly, "I want to thank you for trying to help me. I can see that you all have your hands full. I wish I could help."
"Don't mention it." Oz smirked cryptically, "It's the least I-we could do. Study the disk. It's important that we get you up to speed."
Opening the door, he paused to wave and then exited, leaving Gabriel alone to sift through a veritable mountain of data.
Outside, Oz patted Angel's shoulder compassionately. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." he smirked. "Aside from that little outburst at the beginning, you handled yourself pretty well."
"I still don't trust him." the vampire grumbled, "Once a coward, always a coward."
"Like you said, " Oz smiled at him, a flash of teeth through his wiry steel gray beard, "We'll just have to wait and see."
"Why didn't you tell him?" Willow's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "You know, about . . ."
"Because there's no need." Angel responded tersely, "I want him out of here as soon as possible. And I don't want either of you telling him, either. It will only make more problems. If you can work out a spell that will send him back, then there's no need to complicate things. Do you think you can do it?"
Willow's face contorted cutely, despite her age, as she considered. "I've never done a tempus spell before, but I've got one in my books. It might take a while to translate it, though."
"Good, get started on it right away. Oz and I will work out the plans for the raid."
Willow rubbed her finger across her bottom lip, her brown eyes filled with worry. "Is Gabriel going to be all right? There's so much he has to get used to."
"He'll be fine." Angel scoffed, a little bitterly, "He's taken care of himself before, I have no doubt that he can do it again."
"I hope you're right." she whispered gravely.