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Author's Chapter Notes:
If you are squicked by violence, please do not read this chapter. Instead, just skim through it. There is graphic violence as well as mass murder, so don't read this and leave stupid reviews complaining about. Sorry to be blunt, but don't cuz you will be mocked.
Dark Reflection
By: Jose Gonzalez

Chapter Six:
By the Candlelight.

Author’s Note: There is a lot of violence in this chapter, if brutal violence turns you off, feel free to skip through the violent parts. There is a lot of graphic violence and death, so you have been warned. Also much thanks to my beta Spike'z_tart.

19 The avenger of blood shall himself put the murderer to death; when he meeteth him, he shall put him to death.
20 And if he thrust him of hatred, or hurled at him any thing, lying in wait, so that he died;
21 or in enmity smote him with his hand, that he died; he that smote him shall surely be put to death: he is a murderer; the avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death when he meeteth him.
Book of Numbers, Chapter 35

Watcher’s Council, England

Isaiah Morrison considered himself a relatively a good man. He had no vices, didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink and didn’t indulge himself in the act of fornication like so many lost souls in the world. He was a man of God, used by the Lord to vanquish the evil that threatened to overtake it. He was destined…

He was chosen.

Unlike Buffy Summers, he had no supernatural strength. He didn’t need it; he was blessed. For years he used the blessings he had and fought on the side of the Council, surviving cruel and harsh tests to become a demon hunter. He was a lucky man, and now the Council chose him to be their first test subject.

He was given power so great, it snuffed out the light of the one little girl who was too self righteous for her own good. Now, he’d be stronger than her, beyond her equal.

He’d become a Slayer.

Candles were lit all around him, giving Isaiah an eerie, yet powerful glow. He was chained to a wall in the Council’s basement, while he waited for the ceremony to commence. The chains were for the Council’s protection. His very first moments as a Slayer would be disorienting as well as aggressive.

He tentatively yanked on the chains holding him in place, and found them to be a bit restrictive. A little too restrictive….

Quentin Travers, followed by a pack of Watchers descended the steps of the basement. There were five Watchers forming a circle around Isaiah, each of them dressed in tweed suits. Isaiah only recognized two of them, Lydia Chambers and Quentin Travers. The other three Watchers looked nervous, their eyes paranoid, swiveling around the room and peering at Isaiah closely. Travers held a black book in his hand, and passed a crystal to each of the Watchers and they held it up in the air.

They began the ceremony. The crystals began to glimmer as Quentin began chanting in Aramaic. Years ago he had graduated from Cambridge and had picked up a little bit of the old languages. He only caught a few words, but there were a string of sentences that didn’t sit well with him, their words frightened him, which was bad because he only feared God alone.

Reside in him, demon, make his nature like yours and vanquish the world of evil.
Reside in him, demon, curse him with your demonic strength and let yourself live through him.
Reside in him, demon, sleep in his temple and become as one.
Reside in him, demon…

As Travers finished chanting, a beam of light emitted from each of the crystals, focusing into one beam that went through Isaiah. Swirling around the beam was a dark essence, wrapping itself around it like a coy snake. Bright yellows eyes stared at him, and Isaiah screamed.

*They’re imbuing a demon into me.*

Isaiah struggled against his bindings, he couldn’t allow them to finish. This was an act of blasphemy, a demon residing in his temple that he kept sacred for his Lord.

“Stop! This is blasphemy! I can’t allow this demon to reside in me, it’s impure, stop it now.” Isaiah cried out and fought against the chains that held him in place.

“My dear boy, this is necessary to become the Slayer. Where do you think its power comes from? God? No, there is no such thing.” Travers spat harshly, his mouth curling up into a snarl.

Isaiah continued struggling, but it was useless. He passed out from exhaustion and the demon merged with his soul, binding his power to Isaiah, making him new.

When Isaiah awoke, the world felt different. Never had he felt power like this in his entire existence, the power he was wielding was surreal. A powerful burning aura surrounded him, engulfing him in its power. He flexed his muscles, and ripped himself off the chains that had been previously holding him still.

*Stupid fools. They shall have their comeuppance; especially that geezer, Travers.*

Lying next to him was a small meal. At the sight of food, his stomach rumbled. He reached out and grabbed a slab of steak off a plate that was next to him and shoved it into his mouth, washing it down with a little bit of water from the tall glass next to the steak. After finishing his meal, he contemplated what he would do next. He wanted to strike the Watchers where it would hurt them the most.

They had raped him.

They had defiled his temple and thrust upon him a powerful demon essence to corrupt his body and soul with its dirty seed. It had given him power, and new life, but the power could not wash away the feeling of wrongness that came with it.

The stupid Watchers believed that the Slayer was the tool that they used to do their work; they hid behind desks and played political games while the Slayers fought, battled and suffered.

He would take them out, every last one of them. Afterwards he would go to Sunnydale, and send the little girly Slayer to heaven to receive her judgment. He’d be the executioner, the left hand man of God.

He would be the avenger of blood.

Would God save him, even though the Watchers had forced this gift upon him?

Did God still love him?

For the Watcher’s sake, he hoped God did. Though it didn’t really matter, they would all die.

*Anyone arrogant enough to reject the verdict of the judge or of the priest who represents the LORD your God must be put to death. Such evil must be purged from Israel.*

He sat in silence until he heard the soft footsteps of someone coming down the stairs. It was a female Watcher; he recognized her scent from earlier. As she stepped down the stairs, his green eyes were locked on hers, “What do you want?”

She lowered her eyes. “I was sent to ask you a couple of questions about how you feel after the ascension.”

“What’s your name?” the Slayer demanded. He already knew who it was, he just wanted to her voice laced with fear.

“Lydia Chambers.” She responded softly, her fear and nervousness undeniable. She stared at him, he was unbelievably attractive. He was tall, around six and a half feet, with spiked, close cropped hair. His jade eyes were hypnotic, his curved mouth made her want to come on herself despite the fear. He was shirtless, his body ripped with a six pack, his biceps as thick as her thighs.

“How do you feel about my ascension?” Isaiah asked. He crooked his mouth into cruel smile on his face.

He scared the hell out of her.

“I think it was wrong. When you realized that the power of the Slayer was from a demon, you asked them to stop, yet they continued. It was wrong of them to do that.” Lydia said.

“How many other Watchers agree with you?”

“None. The only other Watcher who would agree with me would be Rupert Giles, but he’s off getting pissed and ornery because it’s his Slayer you’re being sent to kill.” Lydia replied, a disgusted look crossing her features as she thought of that old man getting drunk.

“What would you like to ask me?” the Slayer questioned, arching his eyebrow in disdain at the thought of having to answer the Council’s questions.

“How do you feel about being a Slayer?” Lydia said, backing up a couple steps as Isaiah stepped towards her.

“Powerful. I have never felt a power this immense. It’s bloody overwhelming.” Isaiah said. “I have a desire to vanquish evil. That’s what I feel, Chambers.”

Lydia wanted to correct him for addressing her the way he did, but instead asked another question, “Evil demons and such, you mean?”

“No. Every bit of evil, demon or not. Your Watchers, especially Travers, they’re all going to die. Nothing is going to stop me from doing my mission.” Isaiah said laughing. “I’m going to become immortal. I will slay the Slayer in Sunnydale and through her blood I will open the gates of Balzabar and receive my gift. This is my destiny.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No. You’re not evil, Lydia. Not at all.” Isaiah walked up to Lydia and cupped her face.

Her eyes got wide and she turned and ran.

Quentin Traver’s Office

Lydia Chambers stormed into Traver’s office. He had been quietly sipping his tea when she rudely interrupted his thoughts on the new male Slayer. He looked up at her and glared. “Can I help you, Miss Chambers? Or, are you planning on bothering everyone else too?” Quentin said.

“I apologize Mr. Travers, but this is urgent. I did as you asked and interviewed the male Slayer. I recommend that he be confined for a bit until he stabilizes himself and can assume his duties as a Slayer.” Lydia replied sharply, earning herself a look of disdain from the older Watcher.

“Why do you feel that way Miss Chambers?” Quentin asked, his interest rising.

“He’s crazy. He’s deluded himself in visions of grandeur and immortality. Not only that, but he wants you dead Mr. Travers.” Lydia explained, watching as the old man’s eyes lit up in fury at that.

“Don’t worry Miss Chambers. He’ll be in good shape in no time. He’s just a little aggressive because of the spell we had to perform, but I wouldn’t worry too much about him.”

“I disagree with you, sir.”

“I guess it’s a good thing it’s not up to you then, Lydia.”

Travers left to give the male Slayer his first mission.

Hours Later

Lydia paced around in the Council’s conference room. She had been called in for The Meeting. The meeting, in which all the top Watchers would discuss topics and decide how to solve them. Normally, they would sit down and discuss important things over a good cuppa, but not today. Today was the emergency meeting, they would all discuss what actions to take on the Slayer residing in Sunnydale, California.

According to the desperate Rupert Giles, a human foe of the Slayer had taken the life of her younger sister and now Buffy Summers was definitely into some payback. Dr. Harrison, a demon agent that the Council sent to Sunnydale, had called Rupert informing them of the events unfolding there.

Quentin Travers burst through the door, sweat dripping off his face as he shakily carried a glass of scotch. He had aged years in the past minutes. His eyes appeared haunted, and more wrinkles appeared shamelessly on his face.

Rupert Giles filed in behind him, followed by other well-respected watchers. Rupert was most definitely not sober; he carried a stench of scotch as he walked pass Lydia. He sat down, dressed in a wrinkled collared shirt and black slacks, his hair slightly disheveled. He had definitely not shaved; the beard on his face was testimony to that.

Why there was a drunken has-been watcher in the meeting, she didn’t know. While he was Buffy’s Watcher, Lydia was not sure how much of a help he’d be in his drunken state.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we all know why we are here.” Quentin Travers began, arrogance dripping from his words. “As you know, Buffy Summers, our currently active Slayer has gone rogue, most likely on a path of vengeance. She has proven herself to be our strongest Slayer, as well as our most resourceful, she has not been beaten. Anyone and anything in her path will be annihilated in her anger.” Quentin Travers paused to sip on a glass of scotch.

At Quentin’s description of Buffy, Giles swallowed down the rest of his glass. His eyes were already red, and now they began to water up again.

“We all know that Rupert Giles was an extraordinary watcher to her, even if his methods happened to be somewhat unorthodox, but her actions are not without consequences. Here’s our solution.”

Hotel Howard Johnsons, London

A man awoke in a dark, damp hotel room. His name was Alexis Bailey, and he was in a world of trouble. He was a short, pudgy man, and he loathed running. Brown, beady eyes scanned the room, paranoia getting the better of him. The world seemed a lot different to him than what it used to be, he reflected as he slowly got up from the bed.

Everything used to be so bright, but now the world seems to be shades of gray. He used to be a Watcher, working diligently for the Watcher’s Council, until he found a text no man should ever have found.

It was a scroll with the origins of the Slayer on it. He had been researching in the Council library when he found the small, brown scroll amongst other books. The language had been in ancient Babylonian, and had taken him hours to figure out.

He had been arrested for trespassing. A group of guards had brought him into the Council court; he had been caught trying to burn the scroll. In the non judicial court, it was where Travers had fired him, humiliated him in front of his peers. After the trial Travers had tossed him in jail to suffer.

Quentin Travers threatened to have him killed, for finding out about the scroll, put a noose around his neck and hang him. Yet, the old man said he had something else planned for him.

Paranoia gripped him and he wondered why he was still alive. Why did that evil bastard let him live for now? Would something else kill him instead? He knew Travers wouldn’t let him live, the information contained in the scrolls should never be found. If he were to contact the Slayers and notify them of the scrolls existence and of its contents, it would irrevocably change how the Slayers cooperated with the Council.

The growling in his stomach let him know he was hungry. The only problem was the he knew he didn’t have time to eat; he had a lot to do, in such little time. He had to contact Giles and the Slayers of the contents of the scroll.

He didn’t know, but something waited for him in the darkness. A predator, something that was supposed to be for the Light, yet reveled in its darkness.

Dark green eyes peered at the Watcher in the dark, waiting for the best time to strike and make this a painful death. He had been ordered to kill the man, and that he would do.

He was a male, tall and muscular, muscles bound tightly in a taut body. A creation of the Council, his body genetically enhanced to be the perfect killing machine. And, that he was.

The Watcher saw the Slayer’s shadow as he moved to kill him. Alexis screamed as Isaiah swung a wicked katana at his face. Alexis ducked, the katana swishing through the air and missing his bald head by inches. He tried to exit his door in an attempt to get out in the open, where he hoped the killer would run off scared.

He yanked the door open hard, stumbling into the balcony of the fifth floor of the hotel. He tried to run, but it was futile. The killer threw his katana in a wicked arc, decapitating Alexis. His head fell to the deck, sending a spray of blood in the air. The decapitated body stumbled and fell off the balcony, five stories later, and landing to the pavement with a sickening splat.

People below began screaming.

The Slayer didn’t care.

*Amen.*

Sunnydale Hospital

Spike viciously tore into another blood bag. He downed its contents quickly and grabbed his fifth bag, the blood healing his aching body miraculously. The hole in his jaw from Warren’s gun shot him closed up, fading into nothing more than a scar. He needed to be as strong as he could for the fight against the Slayer.

Her sister’s death sent Buffy spiraling into an abyss one in which the human Buffy was swept up into the predatory Slayer side.

She would kill him; unlikely that he’d survive this debacle. Fighting Buffy would be like taking on the full demon essence of the Slayer in Buffy’s powerful, lithe body. He was just a vampire, a Master Vampire who’d be dusted all too easily by her power. He hoped that his sacrifice would be worth something, that somehow he’d be able to reach the soul of a grieving sister and bring her forth. He didn’t want to fight her, but he wouldn’t let her kill any humans, Buffy didn’t need blood staining her soul. He needed Buffy back. He didn’t care if seeing Buffy back was the last thing he saw before he died.

“Hurry up Fang Face!” Xander said anxiously, he wanted to find his best friend as soon as possible. This fight was important, the apocalypse no one saw coming, and he needed to be there.

“Listen Whelp, unless you want to offer your scrawny neck for me to snack on, would it be too much to ask for some silence?” Spike asked.

Xander sucked his teeth for a second. He thought of coming back with a snarky comment, but decided against it. In light of their new friendship, he needed to make up for all the times he had insulted Spike.

Dr. Harrison interrupted. “Are you well enough now, Spike?”

The blonde vampire glared at the doctor before slowly nodding his head. “Okay then, let’s go find us a Slayer.”

Council of Watchers, England

Quentin Travers revealed to the congregation of Watchers what he had done.

A demon’s essence, similar to the one that was imbued into the first Slayer, was now weaved into the body of a male. A stealthy demon hunter who worked for the Council, who went by the name of Isaiah, they forced a very primal, power demon into his, essential creating the male slayer bloodline.

Most of the Watchers agreed, but Rupert Giles was completely outraged. His bloodshot eyes lit up as he slammed his empty glass of scotch on the conference table.

“This is a bloody outrage. You remember what happened last time, Quentin? This can’t turn out well.” Giles shouted, frustrated by how hot he was in the tweed suit, as well as by Travers’ stupidity.

“Rupert, do shut the hell up. I am not some amateur who can be coerced into listening to you. If you had been a good and proper Watcher from the start, this would have never happened. Blame yourself for being such a lax Watcher.”

Giles shut up. It was useless to argue with the Head of the Council, he was too stubborn to listen, and was pretty much the head honcho. If Giles continued ranting, Travers could try to charge with insubordination.

He must return to Sunnydale tonight. He was needed there. He had to help Buffy recover from her recent trauma, and he needed to save her from the Slayer assassin they were sending to exterminate her.

“Fellow Watchers of the Council, let me introduce you to our very first male Slayer, Isaiah.” Travers ordered one of his lackeys to open the door.

The Slayer walked in.

*He is our salvation, he is our savior.* Quentin thought, grinning widely as Isaiah walked in.

“Lydia, could you please get Isaiah something to drink. Some scotch, if it’s not too much to ask.” The tone of his voice left no room for arguement.

*I’m not your bloody servant.*

She left the meeting hastily, rushing to the kitchen to fetch Isaiah his drink.

“Damn it, Quentin, you cannot do this.” Rupert Giles snapped, gulping down the rest of his glass.

“Please tell me why I, the Head of the Council cannot do this?” Quentin said, spittle flying in the air.

“Do you remember what happened when you forced the demon essence on the Christopher Wakefield? He couldn’t handle the power, it was too much for him; he committed suicide within the hour.”

“He was a bloody nancy boy!” Quentin raged on.

“Let’s not forget how hard the ascension was for Senaya, the first Slayer period. It The demon changed her completely and she attacked humans as well as vampires. It’s even in our sodden records in the library.” Rupert finished.

“She was a bloody cavewoman, that’s why. If you have nothing else to offer Giles, would you please get out of my office? Make yourself something to drink, you drunkard. You’re a worthless Watcher. If you had given your charge any discipline, this would never have happened.”

With tears and alcohol blurring his vision, Giles stepped out of the office, giving the male Slayer one last saddened look.

“Thank you, Quentin, for this power you have given me.” Isaiah said, his eyes surveying the room, speaking after Giles left the room.

“That’s Mr. Travers to you. Isaiah. You’ve worked for the Council for years. You are just our tool; you don’t get to talk to us like that. You will address me as Mr. Travers, and speak to my colleagues with respect.”

Isaiah’s eyes narrowed in anger. His lips formed a dangerous smile, and he gave Travers a toothy grin. “Right. I promise to do better, Mr. Travers, ” he said, his deep, sultry voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think I need to remind you of your place before you begin your mission.” Travers warned him.

“I’m trembling in fear.” Isaiah said sarcastically, digging his right hand dug into his pocket, as if searching for something.

“What are you doing?” Muhammad Lien, a Watcher of West Indian origins, asked. He walked over to Isaiah and grabbed his shoulder threateningly.

The look that Isaiah gave him nearly made Muhammad faint in fright.

“Showing you who the tool is!” Isaiah said, his left arm swinging, fist slamming into the Watcher’s face. The force of his blow knocked out all the Watcher’s front teeth as he flew backwards into the wall.

“Stop this at once!” Quentin yelled, shock revealed on his face.

“Sorry mate, not happening.” Isaiah laughed as another puny Watcher tried to stop him by sprinting towards him. The Watcher was spun around and the Slayer efficiently broke his neck.

Pandemonium broke out in the room as Isaiah pummeled his way through all the Watchers that stood in his way to Travers. Some tried to run, but a katana made sure they didn’t escape. Several of the more daring ones, jumped him and tried to take him down. He fought them back, hard, harshly stabbing them until they faltered and died.

One of Traver’s guards shocked him with a taser, but it didn’t affect him. His body far too strong to be fazed by some taser. He grabbed the taser and put the stunning weapon to the guard’s mouth before unleashing a wave of electricity into his system. The electrocuted man fell to the floor, sizzling.

“Guess he liked it extra crispy.”

Quentin began to run Isaiah kicked him in the back of the head, slamming his face into a wall. Upon impact, Travers’ nose shattered, rivulets of blood flowing from his nose. He screamed as Isaiah pulled out two wicked blades, and stabbed him through the back of his hands, pinning him to the wall.

“Just so you can’t run, I’m going to need a bit of collateral.” Isaiah said dangerously, before grabbing Quentin’s left leg and snapping it to the side. Quentin screamed as his leg bone fractured and tore through the flesh of his leg. The Head of Watchers screamed, vomit curdling up from his stomach, and spewing from his mouth as The Slayer broke his other leg. “Don’t move. Or, I’ll make it hurt so much worse.”

Isaiah pulled out a collapsible katana from the sleeve of his coat and went to work on the Watchers who were barely alive, trying to escape. The katana was long, curved, and single-edged. Isaiah had stolen it from a demon who posed as a modern samurai in Akagi, Japan. Heads and other body parts came off as the psychotic Slayer hacked away at them. Most of them didn’t fight, they were already dying. One of the Watchers stood to his feet, blood dripping around him, and tossed a chair at him, which Isaiah ducked. He fell to the floor and breathed his last.

***
Rupert Giles sat in the kitchen with Lydia Chambers, the two of them sipping on scotch until they heard the screams coming from the conference room. Giles sprang up from his chair to run there by instinct, when Lydia grabbed his arm.

“Don’t. If they are all dying in there, what difference can you make?” she asked.

“None, most likely, but I still have too try.” Giles said, taking off in direction of the conference room. Lydia wanted to run, but instead, she decided to follow him.

Quentin screamed for help, his two broken legs dangled, broken bones tearing through flesh.

Isaiah walked over to the screaming Watcher. “Shut up, you useless maggot.” he said angrily, landing a blow to the side of Travers’ face, mashing the Watcher’s face harder into the drywall.

Quentin Travers whimpered in pain.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this Slayer gig you volunteered me for. You claim that humans are good and vampires and demons are evil. Yet you and I are both as evil as them. You say they’re soulless, yet you and I have souls. We both kill, we both maim. How are we any different from them?” Isaiah walked around the room.

“We’re not. We just try to do good at any cost.” Travers whispered, his voiced pained.

“You send me to California to kill off one little girl who went psychotic because she’s about to kill some guy who killed her sister. Good on her I say. Bad for you. Evil is as evil does, Mr. Travers, and without any doubt in my mind, you are one evil, twisted fucker.” Isaiah grabbed the back of Quentin’s head with one hand and with the other he grabbed his chin.

“If anyone deserves to die Quentin, it’s you.” Using his supernatural force, he yanked the Watcher’s chin sideways, ripping his mandible off, sending the unhinged jaw flying uselessly in the air. Blood sprayed the wall where Travers was crucified.

He was about use his katana to finish of the job and kill the bleeding Watcher, when Rupert Giles and Lydia Chambers stormed into the room.

Giles charged at him, his hand cocked back and ready to knock the Slayer out, but Isaiah slammed his elbow into the Watcher’s face, rendering him useless. Isaiah pushed Lydia to the side before she could even think about doing anything and ran out of the room.

“You knew this would happen?” Rupert responded harshly, grabbing Lydia’s arms.

She gave him an annoyed look. “Of course. I interviewed the Slayer immediately following his ascension.” Lydia replied, pulling her arms away from Giles.

“What did he say?” Giles snapped, throwing his glass across the room, sobering up slowly and frustratingly so.

“That he’d kill the Slayer, as well as anything standing between him and immortality. That even though being the Slayer was promising; he could no longer stand being in the mortal coil. He spoke of an artifact that would be unleashed through a dead Slayer’s blood, giving him his much desired immortality.” Lydia finished, swallowing the bourbon quickly.

“Travers didn’t listen, I take it?” Giles asked gently. Tears slid down Lydia’s cheeks and Giles’ hand unconsciously reached up to brush them off.

“No, he didn’t. He refused to listen to me and said I didn’t know anything because I was a woman. Afterwards he made me his servant; he made me do all the crap jobs and such.”

“Mrs. Chambers, with all due respect, I have to help. The Council has dug themselves into this mess, but they aren’t going to be able to get themselves out.” Giles took her hand.

“It Missus, Mr. Giles. I never married. Where shall we go?” Lydia asked.

“We’re going to Sunnydale. Where we’re needed, I have to try to stop the Slayer before he does any more damage.”

***

Sunnydale Hospital

Tears of pain slid down Warren’s cheeks. His guts hurt beyond anything he felt in his life; his insides were filled with a white hot pain, searing him from the inside out. He looked up at his attacker, the beautiful blonde Slayer that went by the name of Buffy Summers. Gone was the small wisp of a girl he met in high school, and the woman presented before him was a goddess, an enormous vibe of power radiating from her golden skin. No one could save him now, not even his useless pleas would get through to her.

“Please.”

“Enough talking.” she snapped at him, sending a harsh kick to his face, leaving him on the ground a bloody, whimpering mess.

“You can’t kill humans, you’re the good guy.” Warren pleaded.

“I’m not a ‘good guy’ Warren …”

The Slayer put the muzzle of the gun to Warren’s mouth.

“I’m the Slayer.”

Warren’s eyes opened wide as she smiled cruelly, and pulled the trigger.





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