Part Four

The Beast master stood in the room and watched through the eyes of his hounds, at the events thus far. He was not entirely displeased. True, he had lost one of his pets, and their prey managed to escape the first wave of attacks, but he was patient. He knew it would only be a matter of time, before they would die. And with the capture of the Witch, he was that much closer to gaining his freedom then he had ever been before.

His two favorites, picked up their heads and gave a low grumble, as the door to the room opened. In walk the demon-child, with a wide smile on her angelic face, “So, how is everything going? Are they all dead yet?”

The Beast master turned to the little girl, “The hounds managed to kill one of them...the Witch,” he lied, “But the other’s have escaped, so far.”

“Escaped?” She said, stomping her feet, “I thought you said that they would die quickly. I can’t go after the Slayers with their loser friends hanging around. They’re too strong when they’re together...”

“Which is precisely why the first round of attacks has not been a total success,” he replied, “Don’t worry, my dear, they will die. One by one, my hounds will be successful.”

“And then...the Slayers will die,” she grinned, hugging her porcelain doll close to her, “That’s cool. I think a slow, torturous death will be much better, don’t you? Although, I really wished they didn’t kill the Witch. After what her kind did to me, I wanted to kill her myself. Oh, well, at least it’s one less witch to worry about. So, what’s your next plan?”

The Beast master closed his eyes and saw the tall man in tweed backing up from the bushes that one of his “pets” where waiting. Rupert Giles! Now, this will be even more satisfying than he thought, “One more hound still has yet to attack. When it does, then we will see.”

This seemed to satisfy her, “Okay, you just concentrate on killing them, and leave the Slayers to me. Let me know when they’ve all died. I haven’t had this much fun in centuries!”

******

Edgar watched the little girl leave the room, and skip passed him. She was so wrapped up in her own happy plans that she didn’t notice her manservant sadly shake his head. He had worked for vampires since...well, since he learned of they’re existence. It was the only way he could think of to stay alive, in a very dangerous world. But in truth, there were actually a few of his “masters” that he liked.

Emily was one of them; at least when Mr. Trick first hired him to take care of the child. Even though she was a demon, there was a small amount of innocence left in the girl that made her so irresistible. He figured that he could mold her and shape her to be a proper young lady, harnessing her powers and beauty to make her a very formidable vampire. Someone to be reckoned with.

And in a way, he got his wish. Emily was indeed powerful, beautiful, and intelligent...and so very deadly. But there was also something frightening about the pint sized demon, with the face of an angel. There was an evil about her that defied anything he had ever seen in vampires. An evil older than what she should be.

That’s when he learned about Callisto.

Emily was more than just a vampire in a child’s body...she was a monster. Callisto, a greater demon, trapped in the abyss, for four thousand years, was now free and living in the body of Emily Wilson...right along side of the vampire. God, he thought, that’s all the world needed was a multiple personality demon, running around wreaking havoc.

As time went on, the Callisto persona began to take more and more control, pushing the vampire demon aside. This was a very dangerous thing. Vampires, were lesser demons, not very powerful, and often times relying on others to help them...that was where he came in. But Callisto, was a greater demon. Not one of the Ancient Ones, but quite powerful in her own respects, and not in the need for Edgar’s services. That put him in a very precarious situation. If he stayed, he would eventually lose his appeal to her, but if he left, he would die for certain.

So, the Manservant sat back and waited, biding his time until he could make his move, and stop the Demon. He only wished he could stop her, before he became another victim of the hounds...

******

There was only one growl, deep and ominous. But that was all Giles needed to tell him that he just ran out of time. He backed up as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough, to avoid the lighting speed of the hound, as it leaped out of the hedges, onto him. It knocked him to the grass, viscously trying to maul him with sharp teeth, razor claws and swinging tail.

And it would have succeeded, if Rupert Giles had never encountered this beast before. But the hound was not a stranger to the Watcher, and Giles used this knowledge to keep himself alive. He quickly grabbed the deadly tail and used it as a weapon against it, by swinging the barbs into the creature’s face. It howled in pain, but didn’t stop its’ assault.

Giles kicked it hard in its’ belly, sending it flying off of him, and buying him a few precious moments of escape. He looked back at the back door, which seemed to be a mile away, and saw it still open, but no Joyce. Where was she? Did she get away? Was there another hound around? He tried to scan the yard, as he stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pain of the multiple gashes on his body, but couldn’t find a trace of her. His thoughts were racing. He had to get away from the brutal attacks of the hound, but he couldn’t just leave Joyce to die.

He didn’t remember how he reached the door, but he suddenly found himself with his hand on the knob, before the hound managed to regain its’ balance. “Joyce!” he shouted, frantically looking around, “Joyce!”

Nothing.

Oh, god...please don’t let her be dead! Please let her be safe!

The beast slammed its’ body into him with such force that they both flew into the house, and fell over the kitchen island. He struggled against the powerful body of the demon dog, reaching for a pot to use as a weapon. He slammed it hard against the scull of the beast over and over, to no avail. It wasn’t slowing the demon down, just making it angrier.

Suddenly he heard a loud woosh and the agonizing cries of the beast, as it turned around to face its’ new attacker. Joyce stood terrified, but determined with a planting hoe in her hand. The beast gave a low growl, and slowly approached her, ignoring the injured Watcher. Joyce swung the hoe back and forth, trying to fend off the hound’s advances, as she backed up. Giles saw this and struggled to get to his feet. He had to do something to help her, before the beast could make its’ move.

He reached for the swishing tail and grabbed it, holding on with all of his strength. Now, the creature was being attacked from both ends! He then swung its’ tail around and imbedded the spikes into its’ back. The beast shrieked, and quickly spun around to face Giles. With one swift motion, it struck out with its’ clawed paw, knocking Giles into the wall with a loud thud. His head struck the hard wooden frame of the door, and crumbled to the floor unconscious.

Now, the beast could smell victory, as it neared Giles’ unconscious form. Saliva dripped from its mouth, anticipating a quick and easy meal. But, suddenly, the creature stopped, when it felt the sharp end of the hoe, strike it hard on the back. Joyce continued her furious attack, hitting the beast over and over, until it gave a long hard look at the woman, hissed and skulked off, into the night.

Joyce threw down the hoe and ran over to Giles, who was already beginning to come around, “Oh, god,” she said, helping him sit up, “Are you all right?”

Giles moaned, and held his throbbing head, “I-I think so. You know, Cordelia’s right, I really should keep track of how many times I’m knocked out...it has to go down in the Watcher Book of Records. Ow...my head.”

But his head wasn’t the only thing that concerned Joyce. She looked down at his chest and arms and saw his clothes stained with blood. He claimed he was fine, but she knew better. She reached out a gentle hand to his wounds and said, “Let me see that.”

“Joyce, really...I-I’m fine,” Giles tried to reassure her, “I-it looks worse than it is. Just a few scratches, is all...ow, ow.”

“Fine huh? Still, I want to make sure you don’t need stitches.”

He looked at her determined expression, and decided it would be wiser to allow her to examine him, than to fight a losing battle. And with the look on her face...he was going to lose.

She gently took off his jacket, being careful not to aggravate the injuries, then proceeded to remove his shirt. She closely studied his chest and arms, dabbing the wounds with a clean cloth and water. He marveled at how soft her touch was. He supposed it came from being a mother and having to care for a child. She had become an expert at bandaging boo boo’s, and now her skills were being used on his tired, aching body.

Each scratch, she cleaned with care, applying disinfectant and a sterile bandage she got from her bathroom. Her touch was so soothing that he had almost forgotten the pain he was in. “There,” she said, bandaging the wounds, “Almost done.”

Giles gave a small, shy smile, “T-thank you, it’s doesn’t hurt too badly.”

Joyce looked around at her kitchen. It was in ruins! Pots, pans and broken dishes littered the tiled flood. And blood was everywhere. It looked like a massacre. She shuddered and turned to Giles, “Okay...what the hell was that?”

******

Wesley and Cordelia arrived at the hospital and raced up the room where Oz was in. Xander sat outside with a look of exhaustion on his young face. He sported bandages of his own on his arm’s, face and torso, where the sharp claws managed to clip him. He looked in pain. But more importantly, he looked defeated. He let Willow down, and now she might be dead.

“Xander, are you all right?” Wesley asked, seeing the young man rise unsteadily to his feet, “How’s Oz?”

“Doc says he’ll be okay,” Xander replied, “He lost a lot of blood, but they stitched him up and have him resting.” He then looked at Cordelia, who was standing by the Watcher’s side. He could tell she was upset, but acted too cool to show it. He knew her all too well. “You okay?” He asked her, “Wes said you fought off one of those things by yourself.”

“Well, I didn’t actually fight it off,” Cordelia admitted, showing more compassion for him than she had since...well since a while ago, “I caught it by surprise and ran like hell.”

“Not to change the subject,” Wesley interjected, looking a Xander “but you said you killed one of those beasts. Where might it be?”

A wave of fear passed over Xander’s features for only a brief moment, as though even the thought of having to look at the creature again, was more than he could bare, “It’s down in the van. I dragged it in there after we killed it...I thought you might want to see it. Did you reach Giles?”

“Um no, not yet. As soon as you called, we left for the hospital. I’ll call him, as soon as I know what we are dealing with. Shall we?” he motioned to the outside.

The three of them walked out to Oz’s van and stopped at the back doors. Xander paused and took a deep breath, before unlocking them. The doors swung open revealing the body of the attacker. Cordelia, turned her head away, and gave a small shudder, “That’s the thing. God, it looks even uglier dead.”

Xander turned and saw Wesley staring at the corpse, unable to hide the fear on his face, “You’ve seen this thing before?” he asked the Watcher, “Mind sharing?”

Wesley shook his head and closed the doors, “I haven’t exactly seen this creature before, but I know about it. Every Watcher does. They are called Hell’s Fury...or simply just as the Hounds. They are what are known as sub-demons, creatures bred by the Greater Demons for specific purposes. In the case of the Hounds, they are designed for the Hunt.”

“And how do Watcher’s know this?” Xander asked, “Do you have a manual on them or something?”

“Not exactly. We have a great deal of experience with them.” Wesley explained, sitting down on the curb. As he talked, his voice and gaze drifted far off, as though he was telling the story from an outsider’s perspective, “It happened about fifteen years ago, before my time as a Watcher. You see, Gwendolyn Post was not the first Watcher to go bad. Michael Saunders, a young Watcher-in-training at the time, became tired of waiting for his chance to become a full fledge Watcher. There was a great deal of politics involved in his case. His father, who was a Watcher, had become an unstable man over the years. Eventually, he committed suicide...while Michael had begun his training. The Council was afraid that he would follow in the path of his father.”

“So, what does a psycho-Watcher have to do with these...things?” Cordelia stated the obvious.

“He grew more and more disenchanted with the Council,” he continued, “and, when he was finally dismissed for his growing instability, he vowed revenge.” Wesley’s eyes grew dark, “And he got it. Michael found the summoning spell to bring forth the Hounds and the Demon that controlled them. He set them upon the Council, in the hopes of destroying the very people he believed drove his father to insanity, and denied him his destiny. It was the first direct attack on the Council, in history. And they were powerless to stop it.”

“But they did stop it didn’t they?” Cordelia asked.

Wesley turned to her and replied, “Yes, but at a great price. Before the Hounds were stopped, twenty members of the Council of Watchers, and their assistants where brutally murdered by the demons.”

“Wow!” Xander said in amazement, “So, the great Council of Watchers isn’t indestructible. So, how do we stop them? And what happened to Willow?”

“If the Hounds didn’t kill her right away, then she’s still alive,” Wesley pointed out, “The Beastmaster must have a reason for keeping her alive, or the Hounds wouldn’t have bothered carrying her off like that.”

“That makes me feel better,” Xander said bitterly, “That still doesn’t tell us how to stop these thing. How did the Council stop them?”

“Well,” The young Watcher said, “That’s unclear. We don’t know who stopped them, but we know that the only way to send the Beastmaster back to the Demon dimension is by killing the one who summoned him. So, I’m assuming that whoever stopped him then, did just that. That person was a hero really, but never came forward...I-I don’t know why.”

“So, all we have to do is find the person that started all this and kill them,” Cordelia sighed, shaking her head, “Great! Give me a knife and call me Faith.”

“Cordy!” Xander scolded, “That wasn’t Faith’s fault. It was an accident, remember? Besides, she’s in just as much danger as the rest of us. I only hope that Buffy found her. It’s not safe to be alone...even for a Slayer.”

“I agree,” Wesley nodded, “We mustn’t let ourselves be separated. There is safety in numbers. We can’t reach Buffy until she checks in with us, but we can contact Mr. Giles. It’s imperative that he’s made aware of the situation.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said, “That’s if he isn’t already aware.”

The three walked back to the hospital entrance to a pay phone outside, “Always the ray of hope aren’t you?” Xander said sarcastically, as he picked up the phone and dialed.

******

Buffy, Faith and Angel patrolled the cemetery, looking for answers to their mounting questions. It seemed too quiet even for a slow night on the Hellmouth. They left one cemetery, and traveled to another, hoping that they could catch a lead somewhere. But every stop, led them to a dead end. So Buffy figured on going to a staple in Vampire information...Willie’s.

As soon as they rounded the corner to the out-of-the-way pub, they stood in amazement at the strange site. It was nearly midnight, and Willie’s was closed.

“Okay,” Buffy said, “You know it’s bad when the rats have left the sinking ship before you do.” She saw the worried expression on her lover’s face and asked, “So, what does Willie know that we don’t?”

“Price of rent is going up?” Faith quipped, seemingly unaffected by the strange turn of events.

“A lack of clientele would make him close for the night. Well, that would explain why it’s been so quiet all night, all the vampires are in hiding. There are very few things that would scare off Vampires,” Angel began.

“ ‘The First’,” Buffy supplied, “Been there...done that...”

“And...” Angel stopped.

“And?” Faith asked, her interest now peaked.

Angel’s expression hardened, “And...I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure.”

“God,” Buffy snorted, “You’re starting to sound like Giles. What gives? And why won’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m not sure of it myself,” Angel admitted, “It could be a coincident...or nothing...I don’t know. What we need to do is find out who would try to kill Willow...”

Angel cocked his head, fully alert. This brought an equally responsive action from the two Slayers. They peered into the dark alley, looking for something that didn’t appear to be there. Just chasing shadows, Buffy thought.

Then they heard it.

It was a single, low grumble...like the sound a hungry wolf would make before pouncing on its’ prey. They could hear the clicking of nails on the pavement, and the deep, controlled breaths of the hunter, they could not see. Something was in the alley, and by the sounds of it...it was not friendly.

“Okay, somebody didn’t close the gate, and fido got out,” Faith observed, reaching for her stake, “It can’t be a Werewolf, right?”

“No full moon,” Buffy agreed.

“So, then what is it? A coyote?”

As if answering her, the Beast lept from its’ hidden position, and practically flew passed the three, before either could react. When it was out of reach, it turned toward them and hissed, baring its’ sharp teeth, then disappeared.

Buffy noticed Angel’s reaction almost immediately, “I’m guessing this is the “thing” you didn’t want to tell us about?”

******

“So,” Joyce said, pouring them two glasses of water. She had finished her bandaging job, and helped the Watcher into the living room. With everything that had gone on the past hour, the kitchen was the last place she wanted to be. Of course, now that she thought about it, Sunnydale was the last place she wanted to be. But since she just couldn’t move away from the town at that very moment, moving into the living room would suffice. “Let me get this straight,” she continued, handing him the full glass, “That 'thing' that attacked us was some kind of demon, controlled by another demon, who was summoned by somebody, we don’t even know? And I thought following Soap Operas was hard.”

“The Hell’s Fury is more animal than actual demon.” Giles said.

“And the only way to stop all of this is to find the person, or whatever, and kill them...sending the demon back to where ever it came from. Why don’t we just kill the Hounds?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Giles said, shaking his head, “The Hounds won’t rest until they have accomplished their goal...and killed their prey...”

“Meaning us.”

“In part, yes. But, if we did manage to be fortunate enough to kill even a few of them...the Beastmaster would only create more, until the task is complete.”

Joyce digested that last sentence before she asked, “And what happens when they have completed this task? My God! How do you stop them? How do we stop them?”

“As I said before, by killing the person responsible for summoning them.” Giles looked away from Joyce. In the past several months, she had seen a side of Rupert Giles that he would rather have never existed. And now, she was about to learn more. He didn’t want to tell her, but if they were to both survive this, she had to know, “The summoner and the Beastmaster are blood linked. As long as the Summoner remains alive, the Hounds can continue the hunt.”

Here it comes... “You sound like you’ve had some experience with this. Where you a Watcher when the Hounds attacked the Council?”

“Yes.”

“And, did you know how to stop it?”

“Yes.”

“And did you?”

Giles took a deep breath knowing what his answer meant to them both, “Yes.”

He saw the look on her face and turned away. It was one thing, with Eyhgon...that was a case of killing a demon possessing a friend’s body. But this...this was an ordinary man, tampering with forces that were well within his control. At least so he thought.

“I-I didn’t have a choice,” Giles tried to explain, “Michael wouldn’t give us one. When Ethan and I tracked him down, he was quite insane, and very power hungry. The Hounds had killed many good men and women...some of which were friends of mine...and would have continued until all of the Council, and its’ Watchers were dead. And then...God only knows.”

Joyce was silent for several agonizing minutes. Then she shook her head and said, “Wasn’t Ethan that man with the candy, the one Buffy took great pleasure in beating to a pulp?”

“Um, yes.” Giles said, unsure of where this was leading.

“And he helped you stop the Hounds?”

“Yes, I suppose he did.”

“Strange man,” she said with a smile, “Can’t figure out who’s side he’s on.”

Giles smiled at this and took her hand, “I’m sorry that this is happening, and I promise I won’t let them get to you. But, we can’t stay here. The Hound will be back, and probably with others. Unlike vampires, they can enter where ever they choose.”

“So, where do we go?”

“Someplace, I can retrieve some weapons...the Library.”

Joyce got up, as the two of them headed for the door, “Is that in the school budget? And did I vote on it?”

With that, Giles smiled and escorted her out of the house to her car. Had they stayed in the living room for only two minutes longer, they would have heard the phone ring...and they would have learned that things were quickly going from bad to worse...

******

“Damn!” Xander hissed, as he hung up the phone, “No answer.”

“You don’t think...” Cordelia trailed off, not really wanting confirmation of her fears.

“They probably went to the Library,” Wesley offered, trying to convince himself of that, as much as the others. He didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario...he couldn’t. Because if he did, that would mean he would be the last chance to stop the hounds and their master, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

The three walked back into the hospital and up to Oz’s room. He was sleeping, thanks to the wonderful effects of the Demerol drip in his arm. His arm was bandaged, and like Xander, he was sporting several gashes over his body. The only difference between the two, was that Xander was still standing.

Cordelia, walked over to his bedside and sat in a chair next to the bed. She looked a Wesley and asked, “So, what do we do next?”

“I’m going back to the Library to see if Mr. Giles and Mrs. Summers made there way there,” Wesley answered. Then turning to Xander and Cordelia, he added, “The two of you are staying here with Oz. The hounds won’t come in to a crowded building...you’ll be a great deal safer in the hospital than with me.”

“Wait a minute,” Xander pointed out, “you said it is safer in groups, and you’re going off on you own? Okay, what’s wrong with this picture? Oh, yeah...it’s suicide! You can’t go off on you own...I’ll come with you.”

“Xander,” the young Watcher, shook his head, “I don’t want you putting yourself in any more danger than you’ve already have...”

“Which is why I’m going with you. You go off on your own and get killed...the Council of Stuff Shirts will send another Watcher, and we’ll be back to square one. And I really don’t feel like retraining yet another Watcher.”

Wesley couldn’t help but grin at Xander’s unique expression of concern. Well, he supposed the young man was right...it would be more prudent if he didn’t travel alone, “All right,” he conceded, “you may come along. But Cordelia stays here. I don’t want her to be put in harm’s way.”

“Believe me,” she said, as the two men headed toward the door, “I have no intentions of getting in harm’s way. As a matter of fact, I’m staying far, far away from harm...thank you,” she turned to Oz, and looked at his sleeping form, “So, what do I tell Oz when he wakes up?”

Xander stopped and considered her question, “Tell him, we’ve gone to find Willow.”

******

The room was dimly lit, and smelled musty, like the smell of a cellar in the heat of summer. Willow tried to focus through the haze of her pounding head, wondering where she was, and brought her to this point. The young Witch remembered making out with Oz...then Xander came over, saying something about a creature stalking them outside...then...

She heard the familiar growl, that brought all of the terrifying memories flooding back. The Hounds!

“They won’t hurt you,” she heard a smooth, baritone voice say, “not unless I tell them to.” The Beastmaster strode forward and smiled at her. His long, dark hair was pulled away from his sickly gray features, as he looked at her with large orange eyes. “You aren’t going to give me a reason, are you?”

“Um...”Willow said, shaking, “no?”

He bent down, and ran his thin, boney hand through her red hair, “Very good answer. You’re a smart girl, what’s your name?”

Willow considered his words for a moment. Should she lie to him and take a chance by giving him a false name? She wasn’t sure if it really mattered what name she gave him...she didn’t think it was going to be the hot topic of conversation. “Willow,” she said, barely audible.

“Willow,” the demon repeated with a tenderness that surprised her, “what a lovely name. Well, now Willow...I need you help, and I just know that you will want to assist me.”

Willow was in no real position to argue with him, but she was becoming curious, “What do you want me to do?”

The Beastmaster stood up and walked over to a chest that was at the other end of the room. He lifted the lid and pulled out an old dusty book. With the book in his hand, he walked back over to her, “Well, you see,” he gave a toothy grin, “I need you to perform a magical ritual for me. In return, I will let you live, where your friends will die.”

“Die?” Willow gulped, “Oz?”

“It’s too late for him now, as it will be with the others,” the demon lied, “But not for you. Help me and I will spare you from the Hounds. Help me, and you can rule by my side...my pretty little Willow.”

The stress of being attacked by the Hounds, kidnapped and tied up, was almost more than the young Witch could bare. And now...Oz....dead? This couldn’t be happening, she thought, this was all just a really bad pepperoni pizza induced dream. One in which she would wake up from any time now....any time now...

“What will it be, my sweet,” The Beastmaster said, leaning ever so close to her.

She wasn’t sure if it was the stress, or the feeling of his cool breath on her face, but what she said next surprised even her...

“Go to Hell.”