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By spikeNdru, February 2004
AtS/BtVS
PG-13
Story begins at the conclusion of A New Dawn.
Warning: Contains some spoilers for AtS Season 5. I wrote this between November 2003 and February 2004 and utilized some plot points from the series as they fit into my own concept. Contains character death.
Hank Summers’ girlfriend, Linda Gutierrez, was created by Barb Cummings in her wonderful novella, “Necessary Evils”. Barb graciously allowed me to borrow Linda for “A New Dawn”. Linda doesn’t actually appear in this story, but she is mentioned frequently. She still belongs to Barb. All AtS and BtVS characters still belong to Joss.
Many thanks to Lena and Painbow, my wonderful beta readers, whose suggestions were much appreciated.
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Chapter 1
He’d had *The Dream* again. He woke sweating and shaking and disoriented. He threw off the covers and padded on bare feet into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. With only the faint glow of the nightlight as illumination, he stared at himself in the mirror. Sweat-dampened, stringy brown hair, flushed face dripping with cold water and haunted eyes, more gray than blue in this light, met his gaze and he quickly looked away. He ran the water until it was as cold as it was possible to get, filled the plastic cup on the sink, and gulped it down. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, glanced once more at his reflection, and left the bathroom.
Returning to his own room, he peeled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. Clasping his hands behind him, he stretched out his aching shoulder muscles before opening the drawer to grab a clean T-shirt. He glanced at the rumpled bed with distaste and went to stand at the window instead. The drapes were still tied back; he hadn’t bothered to close them when he went to bed. He looked out at the dark forest surrounding the house, knowing that what he feared was not out there—it was inside him. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and tried, once again, to make sense of *The Dream*.
There were four separate people in the dream, but somehow, he knew they were all him. He was himself in the dream—his real self—but at the same time, he was also a baby. He thought the baby was supposed to be him, but the dream baby had different parents. There was a tall, strong father and a beautiful mother, with streaks of sunlight in her dark hair. The mother and father loved the baby very much, but there was an undercurrent of fear and desperation running through the love in this part of The Dream.
The Dream then expanded, and while he was both himself and the baby, he was also in hell. This part was never very clear—a bleak landscape, peopled with monsters and he was frozen with terror, his mouth open in a silent scream that seemed to go on forever. This hell alternated with a Mad Max version of Los Angeles with darkness and fires and fighting in the streets alternating with the gray, bleak landscape, both hells swirling together in confusion.
Then the faces of the loving parents changed . . . the tall, strong father became a monster with yellow eyes and fangs and the beautiful mother’s look of love turned sly and evil and he didn’t know what to believe, who to trust, the world tilted on its axis, and he was filled with bottomless despair and the silent scream continued as he woke.
He knew he wouldn’t sleep any more tonight—he never did after having The Dream. Connor sighed and stepped back from the window. He may as well brush up on his chemistry as long as he was awake. Turning on his desk lamp, he slouched in his chair and began to read.
**********
He woke, stiff and sore, slumped over his chemistry book. His momentary puzzlement was all too quickly replaced by awareness—he had had The Dream again. Pulling on a hooded sweatshirt and his Sauconys, Connor did some quick stretching and went out for a run.The sun had just cleared the horizon and the slanted rays of light made the dew glisten on the leaves surrounding him. He caught his breath at the beauty of a world seemingly dressed in diamonds. Within minutes, his shoes were wet from slogging through damp pine needles and his lips twisted in a wry smile as the theme from an old TV show his sister loved to watch on Nick at Nite ran through his head. “You take the good, you take the bad, the Facts of Life . . .”
He heard a rustling in the trees to his left and a small doe bounded out of cover. Putting on a burst of speed, Connor kept pace with the deer and, this time, his smile was genuine. When he had cleared the last remnants of The Dream from his head, he turned and slowly jogged back to the house. He still had time for a long, hot shower before school, if he could just get to the bathroom before his sisters woke up!
**********
The last bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Dawn leaned back in her chair, waiting for the bottleneck at the door to clear, before gathering her stuff and joining the queue. Making her way to her locker upstairs she felt like a salmon swimming against the current as the thundering horde swept downstairs to freedom. Retrieving her jacket and the books she would need for tonight’s homework, she turned to see Connor lounging against the wall. She felt a brief flash of surprise and concern at this change in routine. He generally left right after school for his part-time job and then called her after dinner before tackling homework. If they stayed caught up on their school work during the week, they had more time to spend together on weekends, so seeing him like this was unexpected.
“Hey.”“Hey. What’s up?” she responded.
Connor shrugged, but Dawn could see the neediness in his eyes.
“I don’t know . . . I just needed to talk to you. This is really stupid . . .” His voice trailed off and Dawn placed her hand gently on his forearm.
“Lemme call Linda and we can go for a walk or something.”
They left the building and Dawn paused at the base of the steps to dig out her cell phone; letting Linda know she may not be home for dinner, and promising periodic updates of her whereabouts.
They walked across the parking lot to Connor’s forest green Jeep, and he unlocked and opened the door for her. Sliding behind the wheel, Connor made no move to turn on the ignition. Dawn sat quietly, watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped the wheel. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and turned to her.
“You remember that creepy hotel we saw the first time we went to the movies?” he asked. Dawn nodded, without taking her eyes from his face.
“Well, I’ve been having . . . dreams . . . and they’re somehow connected to that hotel.”
“Do you want to talk about them?” Dawn asked tentatively.
“No . . . but I think I need to . . . and you’re the only one . . .”
Dawn covered his right hand and ran her thumb across his bloodless knuckles. He let out an explosive breath and relaxed his grip on the wheel.
“Let’s get out of here . . . I need some air!”
Exiting the car, Connor began to walk rapidly across the parking lot, Dawn almost running to keep up. He fairly sparkled with kinetic energy and the words burst from him as he related The Dream to Dawn.
“. . . and it’s somehow connected to that hotel we saw,” he concluded, and paused for a deep breath.
“Have you always . . . do you remember when you first started having the dream?” Dawn asked.
Connor thought about her question. “I think . . . it first started the night after we went to buy the swords. You know . . . we haven’t really talked about it, but those things . . . in the parking garage . . .”
Dawn nodded. “They were demons,” she said pragmatically. Connor raised an eyebrow and Dawn laughed.
“I’m not crazy and neither are you. Yep, demons are real. And so are vampires and werewolves and hellgods and witches . . . only they’re really not old and ugly and warty and stuff. They can be totally beautiful and nice . . . when they’re not going all veiny and homicidal and trying to destroy the world and all, but that doesn’t happen very often . . . with the witches I mean. Actually, the destroying of the world part happens pretty often.” She cheerfully continued, “One of my best friends was a vampire. He used to baby-sit me when I was younger and my friend Xander was engaged to a 1200 year old ex-demon. She became human, but he stood her up at the alter, so she became a demon again, but then she went back to being human and was killed when we closed the Hellmouth . . .”
The spate of words trickled to a stop as Dawn glanced at Connor in apology.
“And this is just way too much information for you, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be listening while you tell me about your dream.”
“So, all that stuff is real? That explains a lot, including how certain archetypes are almost universal across cultures . . . so it’s not a universal unconscious . . . they all actually exist?”
“Yeah-huh. Well, except for leprechauns. My friend Mr. Giles says they’re still a myth. Hey! I know! We could call Giles about your dream. He knows all about stuff like that . . . I’m sure he’d help us figure it out.”
**********
Giles replaced the phone in its cradle and, out of long habit, began polishing his glasses while processing Dawn’s call. She seemed to be adjusting well to her new life, although he suspected that was due more to Linda’s generosity of spirit than to any contribution of Hank’s. Her grades were excellent and she had made friends, although he felt a twinge of concern regarding her special friend, this boy Connor.The reoccurring dream of his would definitely bear further study. His personal library was intact—thank heavens Robin Wood hadn’t taken him up on his impulsive offer to supply books to the high school library—but the loss of the Council resources was an incalculable blow.
Sliding his glasses back on his face, he was struck by a sudden thought. Hadn’t Roger said something about Wesley the last time they had met? He had gone to his club for a drink and Roger had been there—holding court. The man was such a pompous git! Giles had tried to sidle by unnoticed, but Roger was entrenched in his *Hail fellow, well met* mode and Giles was forced to either speak to him or display overt rudeness. Not that that pillock would recognize a social cut if it jumped up and bit him on the nose! He was so absolutely convinced of his own importance he could not even entertain a contrary opinion.
Giles had continued to navigate the room, while not appearing to do so; and politely asked after Roger’s family, a conversational gambit destined to guarantee brevity, as Roger had very little interest in any topic than Roger, himself. Now what had he said about Wesley? Oh, yes, he was now apparently employed in the Research Department of a supernatural law firm. Roger was obviously disdainful of his son’s career choice, but Wesley may have access to resources he, Giles, did not. He would peruse his own collection first, but if he failed to turn up anything relevant, contacting Wesley at Wolfram and Hart might be an option.
Lighting the gas under the far burner, Giles put the kettle on to boil and prepared to go into Full Research Mode.
**********
Linda had to work late, so Dawn planned to make dinner as a surprise for her. How hard could it be? The directions were right on the box and she could read . . . it was a simple matter of following the steps. *Brown one pound of ground beef in a large skillet; drain*. She could do that. Mom and Linda and Tara had all made it look so effortless. Maybe there was a *cooking gene*? Apparently neither she nor Buffy had inherited it! Opening cupboard doors, she located the colander Linda used for spaghetti. Dumping the meat in to drain, she read the rest of the directions. While she waited for the meat-milk-water-and-contents-of-both-packets to turn into Cheeseburger Macaroni, Dawn thought about Connor’s Dream. Giles was gonna research prophecies and dreams and stuff, but there should be something she could do. The hotel! Connor thought The Dream was somehow connected to that hotel—the Hyperion? She could research the hotel . . . find out who owned it, check old newspapers for its history, things like that! She’d take the bus to the library after school tomorrow while Connor was at work.Feeling better now that she had an actual plan, Dawn opened a bag of salad and filled three bowls, then stirred the dinner-glop. Linda was really gonna be surprised!
**********
Dawn stood and stretched out the kinks in her back and shoulders. Gathering up her notes, she returned the microfiche rolls to the resource desk and pulled the bus schedule from her shoulder bag. She had time for a cup of coffee and a donut before she had to catch the bus home. Geez, Connor wasn’t wrong when he had said bad things happened there! There seemed to be cycles of murder and disappearances connected with that hotel going way back!It had been built in the 20’s and was apparently THE in-place to be when it first opened. Gangsters and gin and all-night parties! A Federal raid turned violent and the combination of mass-murder and the Depression shut the Hyperion down until it reopened during the post-War boom in the late 40’s. A few years as a normal hotel, then what’d’ya know? Suddenly you’ve got murderous bellhops and guests lynching each other and bodies in meat lockers! The hotel closes again. Last year it reopens, but not as a hotel. It’s sort of a cult house, people flock to it from all over the city, then more murder and mayhem and it shuts down again. Dawn figured a trip to the County Recorder’s office to track down the owners would be on tomorrow’s agenda. But first, she’d call Connor when she got home and fill him in on what she’d learned today.
**********
While waiting for their pizza, Dawn and Connor tried to make sense of the information they had unearthed. The Hyperion had remained dormant until 2000, when it was leased, with option to buy, by . . . Angel Investigations. Lawyers from Wolfram and Hart had spent the next two years filing building code violations and doing all kinds of things to get Team Angel out. Then the mystery cult appeared, W&H purchased the building and A.I. disappeared. Dawn tried to fill Connor in on the back-story.“Um, you know I told you Sunnydale was built on a Hellmouth? This is gonna sound all crazy and delusional, but I swear it’s true . . . every bit!”
Connor laced his fingers through Dawn’s and reached out with his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“I trust you, Dawn, and I’m willing to listen to whatever you have to say.”
Dawn took a deep breath. “Okay, my sister and her friends fought the forces of darkness in Sunnydale for years . . .”
**********
Connor threw back his head and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. He took a breath, opened his mouth to speak, but was again gripped by gales of laughter. People were starting to stare, as helpless giggles erupted from Dawn.“Um, maybe we’d better get the pizza to go?” Dawn gasped.
The man behind the counter seemed more than happy to accommodate them.
Sitting cross-legged in the back of the jeep with the cardboard pizza box between them, they finally managed to regain some control.
“Your sister’s boyfriend was a vampire?” Connor asked, managing not to burst into laughter again, but his lips quivered at the restraint.
“Two of them were . . . her other boyfriend was sorta normal, except he was in a special branch of the military and worked for a mad scientist that built a Frankenstein monster.”
“When you told me before about demons and vampires being real, that was cool, but I hadn’t actually thought about people dating them. I figured they would be more the one-night stand type . . . instead, it’s like ‘Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my boyfriend Pete. He’s an Undead-American?’ ”
“I never actually thought about it that way,” Dawn confessed. “It all seemed pretty normal at the time. I mean, my sister dated vampires, her best friend was in love with a really cool musician, who also happened to be a werewolf, then she went gay and fell in love with a beautiful witch.” Tears glistened in Dawn’s eyes and Connor reached for her hand.
“I loved Tara. She was just the best person ever. She . . . she really cared about me, you know? My mom died and then my sister died . . .”
Connor looked up in surprise. From the way Dawn had talked about her, he was sure her sister was alive—hadn’t Dawn said she was in Europe? Oh, maybe she had two sisters . . .
“Everybody was pretty much wrapped up in their own stuff. But not Tara. She was always there for me. She always remembered me.” Dawn grew quiet, thinking about Tara, and then continued. “Spike was there for me, too. I mean, he always protected me and wouldn’t let anything happen to me. But he wasn’t there . . . emotionally. He was . . . pretty much closed off. See, he really loved Buffy, and when she died, it almost killed him, too. I think he was just keeping it together cause of me. He promised her he’d take care of me, but he wasn’t really there, ya know? Nobody else really noticed, but then, they didn’t see Spike like I did, I guess.”
Dawn covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Shoving the pizza box away, Connor moved to sit beside her, and put both arms around her, holding her close. Dawn looked up with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I miss Tara and Spike so much!”
Connor continued to hold her, stroking her hair and making inarticulate murmuring sounds. When she had cried herself out, Dawn sat up and blew her nose on a handful of scratchy paper napkins. She glanced at Connor through half-closed eyes, afraid she had made a fool of herself, but was reassured to see only concern in his eyes.
“I can’t even imagine what your life must have been like! I’ve been really lucky. My parents are great, and I’ve always known they love me. The weirdest thing I’ve had to deal with is my mom’s continuing obsession with hair bands!” He grinned at Dawn. “When I was 13, she dragged me to a Bon Jovi concert, because my dad had a last minute emergency at work and couldn’t go with her. Talk about embarrassing. Going to a concert with your MOM has to be the worst! I was so afraid someone would see me. And she kept screaming ‘I love you, Jon!’ and ‘Richie, you rock!’ and she knew all the words to all the songs.”
Giggles were bubbling up from Dawn and she scrubbed away the last of the tears. Connor shook his head.
“I suppose it could have been worse . . . it could have been a Poison concert!”
Dawn threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything!”
**********
Connor found it hard to concentrate on his homework. All the things he and Dawn had talked about were jumbled together in his mind.*Vampires and witches and werewolves, oh my!* he paraphrased Dorothy. On the heels of that thought came another. *Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!*
He supposed Angel investigations would be the place to start. They had been based in the Hyperion before it was taken over by a cult . . . they must know something. It shouldn’t be too hard to track them down. And A.I. was run by one of Buffy’s ex-boyfriends, so they knew Dawn and would probably help. He wondered which boyfriend it was . . . the Frankenstein-creating mad scientist boyfriend or the vampire.
**********
Returning from the Cotswolds, Giles realized he hadn’t eaten all day. He thought about stopping at the pub for a late supper, but there was so much to sort out he really didn’t fell like socializing. He decided he would just get take-away and work until exhaustion caught up with him.Stretching out the kinks in his back, he started the kettle for tea and dished up his curry. He added an extra measure of English Breakfast to the pot in hopes it would help keep him awake.
He bent to touch his toes several times, then settled himself at the kitchen table with his books, his notes, his curry and pot of tea.
Bernard Addison had been a close friend of his grandmother’s and the old duffer had to be at least a hundred. Yet there he was, still living independently in his own cottage, growing vegetable marrows in the Cotswolds.
Bernard had been the best mystical psychic the Council had ever had, and he was still sharp as a tack. Unless, of course, he was completely barmy and just gave the appearance of being sharp as a tack. That was a distinct possibility. As was the possibility that Giles himself was completely barmy. Too soon to rule that one out!
He had laid out all the information he had gotten from Dawn and that he had gleaned from his own research, and Bernard has suggested three possibly relevant prophecies. One involved a race of immortals and a prize, one involved something called a Shanshu, which could mean either to live or to die, and one involved the child of two vampires.
*Take your bloody pick,* Giles thought. *They’re all equally impossible and it looks like I may have to believe three impossible things before breakfast.*
The latter two seemed to involve the vampire with a soul though, so he guessed he should concentrate on them to start. They had to refer to Angel. Er, wait! Spike also had a soul now—would that throw a spanner in the prophecies? Probably not, as Spike allegedly sacrificed himself to close the Hellmouth, or at least that’s what Buffy believed. In any event, with Spike out of the picture, it looked like he was back to Angel.
Giles poured another cup of tea, then got up and went to the odds and ends drawer where he kept an old packet of cigarettes for the occasional indulgence. Lighting up, he sat back at the table and thought about the moment when Bernard’s milky, ancient eyes had seemed to clear and go black as he spoke about apocalypses and portents and betrayals. He mentioned corruption from within the belly of the Beast and the end of time.
Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and flipped through his notes to find Bernard’s exact words. *Hmmm, apocalypses, plagues, vampire with the soul.* Where was the other prophecy? *Ahhh, here it is:*
“That which was up will come down, the potential for peace will be ended, the champions will go down into the belly of the Beast and, if corrupted, will release the time traveler who will bring about the end of time. This can only be averted by the child of two vampires and he will not be known, except by his dreams will ye know him. The key will unlock the dream. The dream will unlock the power.”
*Bloody hell!* It had to be! It was staring him right in the face. Forget Gatherings and Immortals and vampires with souls living or dying or living until they die—it had to be this prophecy. Dawn had been the one to call him about her friend’s reoccurring dream and . . . “The Key will unlock the dream.” Checking the time, Giles picked up the phone to call Wesley.
**********
Hanging up the phone, Wesley noticed his hands were shaking. His whole body, in fact, seemed to be overloaded with adrenaline and the “fight or flight” response felt immediate. He deliberately drew in long, slow breaths to calm himself.“The child of two vampires.” That phrase had meaning for him; he knew it did. His mind just refused to cooperate in supplying any particulars. Well, then, start with the body if the mind wouldn’t—or couldn’t—function. What was his body telling him? Pain, fear and betrayal. Had he betrayed someone or had he been the one to be betrayed? He couldn’t tell, but the sense of betrayal was strong. His hand touched his throat. It was smooth and unmarked, as usual, yet he felt the echoes of a phantom pain.
“The champions will go down into the belly of the beast . . .” Angel had said that recently about their working for W&H. He nervously tapped his pen on the blotter, faster and faster, and stared at the words of the prophecy Giles had related to him. “That which was up will come down” could very well refer to Cordelia’s ascension and return last year; “the potential for peace will be ended” obviously must refer to their stopping Jasmine.
He abruptly stood and went to pour himself a glass of cold water from the pitcher that stood on the sideboard. He had always been fascinated by mystical research and ancient prophecies—but it was more than a little unsettling when those prophecies seemed to actually be about you and your friends.
Wes sat down again and took out a yellow legal pad. He separated the prophecy into three parts. The first part resonated strongly and almost certainly applied to the A.I. team. Giles seemed to understand the key and the dream part. That left the middle: The time traveler who will bring about the end of time and can only be stopped by the child of two vampires. Time to hit the books.
**********
Connor was exhausted. His previously limitless energy was flagging. He had been having The Dream nightly for the past week which had seriously disrupted his sleep patterns. That, in addition to his full schedule of school, studying, his job and spending all of his time with Dawn researching instead of relaxing was beginning to affect even his normally sunny disposition.He felt old and tired and not at all like himself. Maybe he should have left things alone. It seemed like by focusing on The Dream, he was giving it more power. He had hoped to get rid of The Dream—not have it take over his life.
He loved school, and generally enjoyed his classes, but now it was a struggle to just get through the day. He was glad that Art was his next class. He always found Art both relaxing and invigorating, so hopefully he’d feel better soon.
The blinds were drawn and the Art room was dim as he entered and found his seat. Mrs. Scarpino announced that she would be showing slides of paintings and sculptures taken during her recent trip to Italy. Connor tried to pay attention, but felt his eyelids getting heavier until they finally drifted closed. He was awakened by a soft touch on his face. His blue eyes snapped open and he stared in wonder at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She looked like an angel. Her soft blonde hair framed her face, and eyes the same color as his own looked at him with boundless compassion and love. Her delicate hand cupped his cheek and she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered in his ear, “You’re needed, my darling boy. You must stop Sahjhan. Only you can do it.” Tenderly brushing his hair back from his face, she smiled radiantly and added, “I always loved you. Never doubt that.”
Connor’s eyes blinked in the sudden glare of the overhead lights. Mrs. Scarpino was standing by the door with her hand on the light switch, and his beautiful blonde angel was gone.
**********
Connor sat in his Jeep waiting for Dawn, sketchbook propped on the steering wheel, attempting to capture the . . . vision? angel? that had appeared to him in Art. He added a bit more shading to the hollows of her cheeks and a slightly higher arch to the graceful wings of her eyebrows. There!He glanced up to see Dawn searching the parking lot and he got out of the Jeep and waved. She hurried over and he enfolded her in a hug that restored his sense of connection and somehow made everything seem less dire.
“I missed you,” he murmured, burying his nose in her hair, which smelled like lavender and sunshine.
“I missed you, too. How’re you holding up?” Dawn pulled gently away so she could study his face, a small frown line forming between her brows.
“Better, now that you’re here,” he smiled and her return smile made her whole face glow.
With his arm around her shoulders, continuing to hold her close, they moved around the Jeep together so Connor could unlock the passenger door for her.
Dawn picked up the sketchbook and slid into the seat. She raised one eyebrow in an unspoken quest for permission, and at his self-conscious nod, began to flip through his drawings.
“These are good—you’re really talented!” Dawn exclaimed, pausing to study a sketch of a fawn dappled in sunlight. How did he do that using only a pencil? The sense of color seemed to permeate the drawing which was actually only done in shades of grey. She flipped to the last drawing and raised startled eyes to his face.
“When and where did you ever see Darla?” she asked in a shocked voice.
Connor explained about his experience in Art and Dawn closed the sketchbook with an audible snap.
“We have to call Giles right away!”
**********
As the three Fates spun the shining threads of a mystical convergence . . .
In Bath, Giles made reservations for a transatlantic flight.In his basement apartment, Spike abruptly awoke with the dreaded certainty that the Bit was in danger.
In his office, Wesley continued to research ancient prophecies, unable to shake the feeling that he should know more than he actually did know.
In his luxurious penthouse, Angel tossed and turned, dreaming of blood and betrayal and loss.
In another dimension, Darla continued to watch over her beloved son.
In a restricted area, deep within W&H, Gunn searched for something, looking through the glowing, golden eyes of a panther.
In their Headquarters Dimension, the Senior Partners prepared for “their” apocalypse.
In his safe, normal home, Connor had The Dream again.
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