Devil's Truth Part 1

PROLOGUE

It began with a light.

A single, tiny, point of light. No more than a pinprick, really.

But it was still a light. A taint on the pure, perfect darkness. Change in what was eternal. Light speared into the void beneath reality, and somewhere, deep in the infinite depths, something that envied and hated the light saw, and roused.

Something unspeakable began to climb toward the world.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

PART 1

Buffy returned to consciousness slowly, and with a fair amount of pain. This wasn’t an entirely uncommon experience for her. In her tenure as the Slayer, she’d been drugged, shocked, beaten, and body-switched. Enforced naps were something of a job hazard.

Her head hurt. A dull, grinding ache throbbed behind her eyes. Worse, her stomach felt like she’d just taken fourteen consecutive rides on the tilt-a-whirl. Drugged. She diagnosed. I was drugged. That’s a hangover. If she had been physically knocked out, the pain would be coming from the point she’d been struck, not inside her head.

She shifted, instinctively testing her limbs. To her surprise, they were free. Usually, when someone went to the effort to knock her out, they made an effort to make sure that she didn’t get back up.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear her vision. When it cleared, she blinked a few more times and shook her head, expecting what she saw to vanish like the dream it had to be.

It didn’t.

The library. She was in the library. It was whole and undamaged. Not even a scorch. She was sitting at the table around which the Scooby Gang had planned strategy for three years, in her favorite chair--the one that she sat in when she wasn’t sitting on the table. No one else, not even Giles, had been able to tell this chair from the others. But Buffy was always able to identify it by a nick in the left arm, and she felt that familiar nick beneath her hand.

Everything was the same. The dusty smell of ancient leather and paper, the undisturbed silence like an empty church. It was like she had fallen asleep, and the last year and a half had been nothing but a dream.

"Oh, good. You’re awake."

She was on her feet with a stake in her hand, facing in the direction of the speaker, before the sentence was complete.

A stake? They’d let her keep a stake?

A middle-aged man wearing a navy business suit entered from Giles’s office, carrying a liter bottle of Evian water.

"All right, who are you, where am I, and what’s going on here?" She demanded. She winced inwardly at how confused she sounded. Way to take charge of the situation, Buffy. She quickly forgave herself. She’d just woken up. She was still a bit unsteady.

"In a moment," he replied pleasantly, crossing the room. He showed no fear of her or the stake, and she was the one who ended up backing away. He set the bottle of water in front of her place at the table. "Here, drink that. You’ll feel better."

Buffy lowered her stake and approached warily, examining her companion carefully. As she took her second look, she realized that he wasn’t middle-aged. Or at least, she wasn’t sure he was. His silver-white hair had given her that impression, but his face was unlined. Ageless. He could have been twenty-five or fifty. The warrior in her, assessing him as an opponent, recognized the grace and controlled power of his movements. Underneath that suit, there were muscles. She was sure of that. This man was very, very strong. But what drew her attention the most were his eyes. Shocking, Ice-sapphire blue eyes. He was smiling and he seemed friendly enough, but there was something about those eyes.

"Please, sit down," he said, waving at her seat. He then took a seat halfway down the table from hers. He grinned apologetically as she sat down and took the water. "I’m sorry about the tranquilizer dart," he said. "But I simply had to speak to you alone first, and I don’t think I could have arranged that any other way."

"And you thought kidnapping me would make you more agreeable?"

"No, but I was certain I could get through to you once I got the chance." He indicated the library with a broad sweep of his arm. "Do you like it? I thought it would make you more comfortable if we talked on your home ground. It was easy to fix, really—"

"Yes, that’s nice." She interrupted. "You’re very nice, and polite, and you had to tranquilize me to get me here. You’ve answered where and why. Now I want to know just who the hell you are."

"Oh, me? I’m called Belial."

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. One hand gripped the arm of the chair. The other gripped her stake.

"Oh, you recognize the name? You’ve heard of me?"

Flashback

"Thank you for responding so quickly, Buffy."

"There’s no need to be snotty, Giles. I was in class. I came just as soon as I got your message."

Giles glanced significantly at her and Riley’s joined hands and raised an eyebrow. "Of course you were."

"No, it’s true." Willow called from the couch where she and Tara both sat, leaning forward to read a tome sitting open on Giles’s coffee table. "The only French class she could get into was at 4:30, and we’re required to take a language."

"What are you taking?" Tara asked her quietly.

"Hebrew. I’m trying to get in touch with my roots."

"So what’s the what, Giles?" Buffy asked as she headed for the kitchen. "Got anything to eat?"

"No, Spike got here first."

The vampire in question emerged from the kitchen, the "Kiss the Librarian" mug he had stolen in his hand. "Don’t blame me that your fridge was so understocked, Rupe."

"Why do you feel the need to raid my refrigerator anyway, Spike? You don’t need to eat."

"Passes the time. I don’t even need to worry about gaining weight," he smirked at Buffy.

Buffy just rolled her eyes at the barb. "Is that the best you can do, Spike? Not even your wit is dangerous anymore."

"I could do better."

"Not if you don’t want to see the inside of a dustbuster."

"If you two are quite finished..."

Spike rolled his eyes and wandered off into the den. He turned the TV on to MTV and ignored Willow and Tara’s dirty looks as he threw himself down on the couch and crossed his boots on the coffee table right beside their book.

Giles turned back to Buffy and Riley. "I anticipated that you would be hungry when you arrived—" He cut a glance at Riley instead of Buffy this time. The former soldier was unable to suppress a blush, and Giles smirked. "Uh-hum." Buffy looked sharply up at her beau, who was blushing and fidgeting, then turned back and glared at Giles. "—so I sent Xander and Anya to fetch some pizza--Seasoned with garlic!" He called over his shoulder. Spike grunted and settled deeper into the couch, sulking. "I will explain what the "what" is once they arrive."

As if on cue, Xander and Anya entered. "Soup’s on!" Xander called, holding up two pizza boxes.

"What soup?" Anya asked. "It’s pizza. We didn’t get soup."

"They’d better not be half-gone, Xander." Buffy warned.

"Are you ever going to let me forget that, Buff? It was just the once."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, twice."

Willow looked at him.

"Alright, alright, a few. But I’ve gotten better. Delivering pizzas gave me practice."

"I told him he wouldn’t get any sex tonight if he snuck any pieces," Anya said, taking a piece.

"Traitor." Xander muttered. "Open the other one for the vegetarian option, Tara. It’s just got mushrooms."

"Th-thank you."

"Is everyone fed, then?" Giles asked as the Gang gathered around the table. "Very well. I received a call from Angel today. It seems that Cordelia had a vision."

"Um, excuse me, sir," Riley interrupted, holding up his hand in a reflex from both military service and studenthood. "I’m sorry, but who is Cordelia, what does she have to do with Angel, and...vision?"

"She’s a friend of ours—" Buffy started.

"I wouldn’t go that far," Willow grumbled.

"She’s someone who went to high school with us." Buffy corrected. "She worked with us while she was here, but she moved to L.A. when we graduated."

"She’s the reason I’m here." Anya elaborated. "She was Xander’s girlfriend, but he cheated on her with Willow, so I came here to avenge her. But he broke my power center," she pointed at Giles. "And here I am now, stuck in this form. I can’t even boil anyone’s blood anymore."

Riley gaped at her for a minute, then shook his head. "I’ll sleep better not knowing," he muttered. He looked back at Giles. "Yes?"

"She works as Angel’s secretary now. Originally, they had a friend whose visions guided Angel’s endeavors. That friend died, and passed the visions on to Cordelia."

"So he’s got his own prophet working for him?" Riley asked incredulously.

"Effectively, yes."

Riley looked at Buffy. "Is that supposed to be standard issue? Why don’t you have one of those?"

Buffy tapped on her temple. "I get dreams instead."

"Oh."

"If I may?"

"Sorry, Giles."

"It seems she saw you, Buffy, wearing armor and killing people. She also heard voices chanting the name ‘Belial’."

All the color drained from Anya’s face. "Belial?"

The sound of shattering ceramic startled them.

"Damn it, Spike!" Giles shouted, turning toward the den and his unwelcome guest. "I don’t have the money to keep cleaning that carpet!"

"Did you say Belial, mate?"

"Yes, I did. Belial. Now, this information seemed to disturb Angel greatly. In fact, he was nearly frantic. He said he would be on his way here as soon as the sun set."

Riley scowled. "Is that really necessary?"

"He seemed to think so."

"Of course he did." Xander groused. "It doesn’t have anything to do with coming back here to see Buffy and shake her all up again."

Buffy was scowling, too. "Doesn’t he think I can handle myself at all? A warning isn’t enough. No, of course not. He has to come running here to the rescue—"

Spike rushed across the room and grabbed Anya by the shoulders.

"Hey!" Xander protested.

Spike ignored him. "You got a car, don’t you, An?"

"Yes." She turned toward the door and grabbed Xander’s arm. "We’re going."

"Going? Where? Wait—" He pulled his arm out of her grasp. "No, we’re not going. What’s got into you two?"

Anya grabbed the front of his shirt. "Xander, Belial is coming." She pointed at the door. "I am going out that door, I am getting in that car, and I am going to see how many states away I can be by the time he gets here. If I could still do dimensions, I would. And you are coming with me if I have to knock you unconscious and make Spike carry you."

"Carry him? Me?"

"You will if you want to come with me. I have the keys, and you can’t take them from me."

"Oh, alright."

"Whoa, wait a second." Buffy spread her hands placatingly. "What’s with the sudden wiggage?"

"What do you know about Belial?" Anya demanded from Giles.

"Um, quite a bit, actually. The name is fairly well known. He’s a Christian demon, supposedly the angel who kept his beautiful voice even after he fell. He’s reputed to be the most gifted of tempters. He’s ranked as one of the most potent arch-demons, sometimes identified with Lucifer himself."

"Got the profile right, mate. Just got a couple words wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"You called him a ‘demon’." Anya answered "He’s a True Devil."

"Demon, devil, what’s the difference?" Buffy asked.

"Everything. Demons were the Earth’s original inhabitants. When the animals came, some left and some stayed and became tainted. Regardless, Earth is the demons’ original home. True Devils are from...somewhere else. They always lived in the Outer Dark, and they always hated the Earth, and wanted to destroy it. Even when it was demons living here. Differences that matter to you? They’re much, much more powerful."

*

"I’ve heard the name before, yes," Buffy answered cautiously.

Belial frowned. "I see that my reputation has preceded me. Why don’t you drink your water?" he indicated the bottle. "It’ll help your headache and your mood. Don’t worry—if I wanted to kill you, I could have done so long before now. I wouldn’t bother with poison."

Still keeping an eye on him, Buffy took the water and began to drink.

"It’s not really a fair reputation, you know." Belial continued. "I’m just a representative for the opposition. I make sure we get our say, our day in court. That our voices are heard. Is that so wrong? Is it my fault that I’m convincing?" When Buffy failed to respond, he fixed her with a look that seemed to see straight past all of her defenses and into the truth of her. "Don’t you know what it’s like to be stuck with a reputation that you don’t deserve?"

"Oh, yeah." Buffy answered, surprising herself. "I go out every night, risking my life to defend people. I save the world repeatedly, and God only knows how many lives, just to get grounded and treated like a juvenile delinquent. Sometimes—" She stopped herself. Why had she said that? Sure, it was a speech she’d wanted to give for years, but she’d never let even her closest friends in on those feelings. That resentment for the people it was her destiny to protect. Why was she telling a True Devil?

He nodded sympathetically. "I, more than anyone, understand how you feel."

"But Angel never showed up," Buffy said hastily, changing the subject. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

"Why would you think that? Are you sure that Angel is quite trustworthy? He’s broken promises to you before."

"Yeah, promises to stay away," she said bitterly. "If he had the slightest excuse he’d have been there."

"That’s true," Belial agreed. "In fact, I did have to arrange a little delay for him."

Angel bustled around the lobby of the Hyperion, gathering supplies. He tossed the Nikraan ritual dagger on top of a pile that already included a broadsword, a battle-axe, Vocah’s scythe, three crossbows, and a flail. Then he went for the fridge to fetch his blood bags. "We should leave the second the sun sets," he was saying. "If I could leave now, I would. Actually, maybe we should. I could lie under a blanket in the back seat. Gunn has his truck, he could catch up."

Wesley didn’t even acknowledge that his employer had spoken. Instead, he flipped through yet another book, shook his head in frustration, and carelessly tossed it onto a pile of books he had already rejected. Cordelia had never seen him treat books that way. He had to be really worried. Which worried her. Which made her angry, because neither of them would take the time to explain to her why she was worried.

"Look, what is the deal here, anyway?" She demanded. "We’ve given Buffy her warning. Why can’t we just let her handle it?"

"You had a vision," Angel said shortly, dropping his blood bags into a cooler. "That means that I’m supposed to be involved."

"Remember how it worked out the last time you went running to her rescue?" Cordelia said.

"I learned my lesson, and I’m not going to repeat it. I called ahead, I told her I was coming, and I’m going to work with her this time."

God but he could be dense sometimes. Couldn’t he tell what she was really asking? If one of them didn’t give her some real information but fast, she was going to scream.

"She doesn’t want your help, Angel. I think she’s made that pretty clear."

"She may not want it, Cordelia." Wesley said, looking up. "But she needs it. Belial is the Corrupter. He’ll turn her into a monster worse than any demon."

"Have a little less faith, why don’t you?"

"It’s not about faith. Belial is the greatest of tempters. People who successfully resist him become renowned as saints." He stood, triumphantly tapping on a line of text. "I’ve found something."

The door opened. "Congratulations."

Angel entered from his office. "I’m sorry, sir, but we’re—" Angel froze, a wide-eyed look of shock and terror on his face.

Cordelia whirled. She’d never seen Angel look so frightened. It had to be...a guy. In a navy business suit. She instinctively knew that it was the highest-quality, most likely the most expensive suit she’d ever seen. Impressive, yes. Scary? Not hardly.

"Angel, what’s wrong?"

"It’s—this is—it’s him."

"Him? Him who? Oh, him." She turned her head to stare at the new arrival in disbelief. "This is Belial?"

Their guest nodded pleasantly. "Of course you knew. All demons instinctively recognize their masters. If you weren’t so distracted, I’m sure you would have noticed me sooner."

"I’m a little disappointed. I expected something scarier. I mean what does this guy have on a sixty-foot snake?"

Belial cocked his head at her. "Scarier?" He asked mildly. Suddenly, the frosted windows on either side of the door shattered. Cordelia jumped back, shielding her eyes with her forearm. As soon as the glass stopped flying, she lowered it again, then wished she hadn’t. A bulky man with an assault rifle stood in each window. Or maybe a bulky woman. Or a skinny man. Or a small child. All that Cordelia was really paying attention to were the assault rifles. "These aren’t scary enough?"

"No, no, those actually do the job pretty well," Cordelia answered, backing away. Now would be a good time to show up, Gunn.

"Good." Belial turned back to Angel. "Those weapons can turn a human body into spaghetti sauce, Liam. The lumpy kind. And they will unless you come peacefully." He looked down sharply. "You can stop shifting your weight. Forget about pouncing. You could only reach one of them while the other is painting the walls with your employees." Angel froze in place. "Good boy."

"What assurance do I have that you won’t kill them anyway?" Angel demanded.

"They’ll be useful for corrupting Buffy. Not as useful as you—either one and even both are certainly expendable. But useful. I won’t kill them if you give me the choice."

Angel locked eyes with the True Devil for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with tension and the desire to move. His huge, strong body, all his supernatural power, and he could do nothing. And the depthless cold in the True Devil’s eyes told him all he needed to know. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

"Wise decision," Belial said. "Now, I understand that you really hate it when people shoot you?"

Angel’s head jerked up in alarm.

"I must apologize for this, then."

It seemed like forever that Angel jerked and danced as the bullets strafed him, that Cordelia screamed his name, that Wesley tried desperately to think of anything to do, but it couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds. Then there was silence, broken only by a click and a clatter as the gunmen ejected their clips and slapped new ones in place.

"Very good," Belial pronounced, nodding in satisfaction. He looked at where Cordelia and Wesley stood, desperately wanting to run to each other but not daring to move, staring at their fallen friend. Cordelia had her fists pressed tightly to her mouth, trying to keep the screams in, silent tears running down her face. Wesley just stood, trembling violently, his hands at his sides. "He’ll get better." Belial informed them. "Come quietly, or you won’t"

*

"So you ambushed them." Buffy surmised.

"You could call it that," Belial agreed. "But don’t worry. I assure you that they’ll be quite all right."

"We waited," Buffy continued, losing herself in thought. "And waited. But he never came. Then my mother called."

"Yes. She was in danger, but your so-called friends didn’t care."

Buffy stared straight ahead. If there were anyone there to see, they might have thought she was in a trance. "They were afraid it might be a trap. They wanted to take their time, and take precautions. But every second was another second my mother was in danger—"

"And they didn’t understand what it is to be the only child of an only parent. They don’t understand the bond."

"No. They don’t. They tried to stop me. Riley offered to go instead."

"Yes. Your beau. But you knew that he couldn’t do as much good as you could."

"No. I had to go. I ran, and they followed, and..." she blinked. "And...we were ambushed, we—" Her eyes flared and her head snapped up, and she glared at him. "You played me!"

"Like a recorder. It’s really quite simple. In some ways, you’re quite predictable, Buffy. The Master, Darla, and Angelus all figured it out."

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then shot to her feet. "And you have the balls to think I’ll deal with you?" She whipped out her stake and put its point at his throat. "Where are my friends?"

His smile froze on his face. Calmly and deliberately, he took her wrist and moved the stake away from his throat. She trembled with the effort to keep her hand in place, but it was like arm-wrestling a machine. He didn’t even show any effort.

"I’ve done nothing to harm them, if that’s what you mean. They’re going to take part in our conversation later." She glared at him distrustfully. "They’re perfectly well, I assure you. They were tranquilized and taken when you were, and now they’re resting safely and comfortably."