A small group of men and women could be seen talking amongst themselves inside the Watcher's library. One of them being an older, slightly overweight gentleman, with short gray hair, wearing a three-piece suit and a tan overcoat.  An old "friend" of Giles' was also present, Ethan being up to his old habits of being eternally annoyed about his time being wasted, at another meeting that goes nowhere. 

 

To him, it was nothing more than a pointless endeavor of endless research that amounts to nothing. 

 

"Quentin, we have been at this for hours, there is absolutely nothing written in any of the prophecies about this supposed "Goddess gracing us" in the past, present or future.  It doesn't exist.  Wouldn't we have been prepared for this years ago if it were?"

 

"Oh, are we on a first name basis now?" Quentin Travers says with a mockingly professional tone.  "We have research of many supernatural anomalies dating back centuries, we have prophecies that pre-date the first Slayer, and even some that are said to pre-date man." 

 

Quentin states with an educator demeanor.  "Admittedly, we cannot validate those as facts, considering we don't exactly know what that means, or where the prophecies would have come from if that were the case, but we can't exactly dismiss them either.  We are the Watcher's Council for a reason.  It is our duty to be kept informed, it is our duty to protect what is ours, information is the greatest weapon we have, Ethan.  Arm yourself with knowledge, and we can limit the amount of ... let's call them "surprises" that enter our reality.  Do you understand?" Quentin says as if talking to a toddler.

 

Just as Ethan was about to respond, something crashes through the ceiling of the library and breaks through the center of the table they were all sitting at.  Startling the group as they all dive out of their seats as if trying to find cover.  The thought of being attacked was the first thing that came to their minds, until they notice an object embedded into the floor shrouded by a glow of white and orange light that seem to sparkle around it. 

 

After the dust settles and they remove the debris blocking the area in question, the familiar light around it gets snuffed out.  Revealing a jagged double-edged black dagger that looks like it was made from the darkness itself, stabbed into the ground.  An orange scroll can be seen, rolled up with a black and white ribbon around it, tied to the golden handle of the blade. 

 

"No one touch the dagger! We have no idea what it will do to you." Quentin bellows, showing leadership in the situation. 

 

"Remove the scroll, but be careful, put on gloves if you have to, but do not touch that blade." Quentin continues with direct orders.  Ethan removes the debris covering his suitcase, opening it to reveal a pair of leather gloves that he keeps for such occasions.  

 

Putting on the gloves, he slowly approaches the blade. He reaches out for the scroll, then stopping when hearing incoherent whispers in an unknown language seemingly calling for him to touch it.  He tries to ignore the whispers, as they get louder the closer, he gets to the scroll.  Carefully untying the ribbon from the blade, he pulls the scroll out slowly and backs away, the whispering stopping after a short distance away. 

 

"Good, hand it to me, Ethan." Quentin directing orders once again with his hand outstretched.  Ethan, with a cold sweat dripping from his brow, he stops to think about it for a second, before reluctantly passing it along to Quentin.

 

He opens the orange scroll, revealing what they've been looking for. Everyone in the room is extremely tense, they want to know what it says, but they also want to be as far away from it as possible.  The conflicting emotions of the group has them all in an unsettling state of panic and paranoia.  But for one member of the council, he had to know.

 

"W-we need to know what that says, Qu--Mr. Travers. We deserve to know. It's why we're here.  It might as well have chosen us."  Ethan demands with confidence in his voice.

 

"Are you all ready to bare the consequences?  Consequences from an unknown source of power we have yet to understand?"  Quentin says with his eyes moving over to everybody paying full attention to him as he continues.

 

"There will be a very slim chance of turning back, Are-you-all-sure?" Quentin bellows to make sure everyone understands the gravity of the situation.  Everyone looks towards Ethan. Looks of worry and trepidation evident on the faces of the council members present.  Ethan takes a look around, before giving a strong affirmative nod towards Quentin. 

 

Quentin looks back down at the orange scroll with black lettering, as he reads aloud to the ones seemingly swearing to accountability. 

 

"She Exists By The Will Of The Stars, The Stars Exist, By The Will Of Her, The Sun Rises By The Will Of Her Grace, The Sun Sets By The Will Of Her Grace, Accept Her Will, And Her Will Brings Hope, Challenge Her Will, And Her Will ..... Brings...Fear" Quinten trails off at the end, seeing a vision of a set of beautiful, glowing, sunset-orange eyes staring into his soul.  Sweat dripping off his brow as sheer terror came over him.

 

He continues reading as he stammers getting through it. 

 

"D-Do You Wish To Acc..ept Her...Will? Please Confirm....[Y/N]

 

Everyone stares on, not knowing what to do or say, they just stare blankly at Quentin, they look on as if confident in his leadership, yet terrified of his answer.  Ethan, not willing to wait any longer, he has had enough of waiting.  That's all the Watcher's Council is to him, a damn waiting game.  Waiting to be dispatched, waiting for the next Slayer, he was sick of waiting for anyone's answer, he honestly didn't care for their answers. 

 

In this defining moment, it was his to answer.  Ethan steps to Quentin, "Oh, just hand it over old man!" Ethan snatches the scroll from his hands.

 

He opens it up, reading the last line aloud again. 

 

Do You Wish To Accept Her Will?  

Please Confirm

[Y/N]

 

Ethan stalls, considering his answer for a split second, before inevitably, giving the only answer that made sense to him.

 

With an emphatic resounding, "NO, We Will Not Accept Her Will!" For a second nothing happened, until the words on the scroll start to change, as Ethan reads out loud for the terrifyingly curious council members.

 

"You Have Chosen Defiance Over Her Will, The Black Star Smiles At Your Loyalty, Who... Who Will Be My ... Bearer?" Ethan stammers with curiosity in his tone. The room is quiet for a moment, as no one makes a sound or dares to move, a sense of dread washes over the members present.  

 

Quentin is scared and simultaneously furious at Ethan's severe lack of patience, and tact. Now wasn't the time to voice the concerns he and just about everyone had. He didn't have to, he knew Ethan to be reckless, and at times those moments may have been necessary. Just when Quentin was trying to decide if his gamble on Ethan was worth the risk.  The dagger on the ground that everyone seemed to have forgotten about started to shake and plague the room in darkness, as if the darkness allowed it, everyone could see in perfect clarity.

 

The dagger removes itself from the library floor, circling around the members of the room, whispering in an unknown tongue as if on repeat, passing from person to person, no one daring to remove their gaze from it. 

 

Passing by Quentin and reaching Ethan, where it stops to hover and move closer towards him by the blade's tip.  Ethan hearing the voice get louder, the unknown tongue becoming much clearer, his mind starting to slowly translate the words.  Adapting to it quickly, as if teaching him the language in seconds.  

 

As the words start to make sense to him, a feeling of completion washes over him. 

 

You Have Defied The One Who Eats My Kin. 

 

You Have Defied The One Who Eats My Kin. 

 

You Have Defied The One Who Eats My Kin. 

.......

.......

.......

 

The blade starts to shift in mid-air, as the handle turns to face Ethan.  As if he knew exactly what that meant.  He grabs the handle of the blade, his eyes immediately shrouded in darkness, but his vision clearer than it's ever been in his entire life. His body starts to convulse, just before dropping to his knees and screaming in agony.  Staring up towards the sky with the blackest eyes anyone present has ever seen, he spreads his arms as his entire body flexes.

 

The darkness of the blade starting to move downwards, as it wraps itself around the handle, forcing Ethan to grip it at a strength he didn't know he had.  More of the darkness started to seep out of the blade as it makes its way down, following the path of his arm, slowly passing his shoulders and towards his chest where the seemingly endless trail of darkness settles.  

 

The whispering of the blade getting louder as the words change...

 

Defy The Sun Eater...

 

Defy The Sun Eater...

 

Defy The Sun Eater...

 

Defy The Sun Eater...

.....

....

 

The mantra of the blade completes, and the settling darkness pours into Ethan's skin at his chest, making its way into Ethan's heart with short work. His heart being swallowed by it.  Moving through his veins and throughout his entire body.  The words changing once again,

 

"Everything must go. Everything must break."

 

His eyes snap shut as the density of the darkness pushes him down, lying flat on his stomach, wailing in pain as his bones shatter and reshape, His muscles snap and reform, with the darkness giving him strength to wield its weapon, it has chosen its bearer. 

 

His bones breaking and reshaping for the last time, and a sense of being absolutely reborn came over him in a rush, he gets to one knee, pushing himself to stand.  His eyes open, the council members present would swear they are staring into the abyss.  Ethan releases a breath of pure darkness, as if the shadow was alive within him, he speaks four words for everyone to hear.  

 

 

"Defy The Sun Eater."

 

*****

 

After Joyce left the two little troublemakers to eat their breakfasts, she sits in her car, with her eyes set on the garage door in front of her as she stares into empty space.  She lets the stress take over, as she drops her head to rest on her hands that are gripping the steering wheel. 

 

"W-Was her life truly saved?"  Joyce whispers to herself with her eyes closed, her anxiety over the situation rising with the thoughts unable to leave her mind.  She lifts her head from the steering wheel and looks over to the passenger seat where the newspaper sits.  She takes it in her hands to read the last paragraph again, as if hoping it would be different.  

 

"Amber Crane, the self-proclaimed "survivor" of a vampire attack, was said to be under the influence of heavy narcotics, given to her forcefully by a gang known for their PCP distribution around the city of Los Angeles.  A common night life activity for the horrific, violent members of the gang.  The victim will be held in a rehab facility, where she will receive treatment and care for the foreseeable future. Thoughts and prayers go out to the other victims and their families of this event...." 

 

"I can't believe I ever believed this crap before.  It's such an obvious cover up now that I stop to think about it.  Well, I had no reason to not believe them, if I'm being honest.  Was... was I right to not let the girls know about this? I don't like the idea of keeping things from them, but I have a feeling Domino would go absolutely nuts to find this out. She may be a Goddess, but I have to protect her."

 

She steps out of the car to toss the newspaper away, takes one last look at it, before setting the lid back on the garbage bin, and getting back in her car.

 

She takes a moment to reflect on her decision, before inevitably pushing it aside for now, to run her errands for the day.  When another car on the opposite side of the street could be seen, following closely behind.

 

 

*****

 

After finding and purchasing her replacement kitchenware in the department store, she's in, she heads towards the washer and dryer section to place an order for delivery and installation. 

 

"By the strongest dryer do you mean, the strength of the heat? The spin cycle speed? I guess I'm not quite sure what you are asking for exactly." The clerk says with confusion evident on his face.  

 

"No, well, sure that too, but I was referring to the...casing itself.  The durability of the dryer is... an important feature for me. Is there a dryer here that could handle... oh, I don't know, say an earthquake or a tornado? Whichever dryer can take on a natural disaster with relative ease would be great."  Joyce says with a smile, trying to be as pleasant as she can with her odd request.

 

"Uh... I guess you can special order one to be reinforced. I'm not sure you could do that here though, it's only my first week, but I can go ask my manager if you'd like?" The new employee asks with mild anxiety about his ignorance. 

 

"No, no it's fine, I'll just take the one you previously recommended, thank you, sir." Joyce says with a smile.  She really wasn't trying to be a difficult customer, but a Kryptonian definitely has their preferences.  

 

She places the order, and heads back towards the parking lot as she removes the plates and pans from her cart to load it into the trunk.  When an older gentleman with gray hair and a tan overcoat approaches her.  She turns to see a man place the morning paper in the bread compartment of her grocery cart. 

 

"Joyce Summers, correct?"  The man says with an emotionless professional demeanor.  

 

Joyce stares at the newspaper for a moment, before taking a look around, noticing the hustle and bustle of the parking lot.  She looks back towards the man with an emotionless glare of her own, "what do you want?" The man fails to notice her grip on the cart bending the handle inward, as her anxiety skyrockets. 

 

"I'm going to make this quick, we know who you are, and we know about your... "daughter".  You will hand her over to us, you will be compensated for yo--".

 

Joyce cuts him off, "you won't be laying a finger on my daughter!" Her grip tightening around the handle of the cart.

 

"The false God is NOT your daughter!" The man bellows before continuing. 

 

"This... visitor has no place in this world.  But if you need some more motivation, we know about your other daughter as well.  Buffy... is it? We know she is a Slayer potential." 

 

Joyce taken aback, not recognizing the man's meaning to his words.  "What do you mean Slay--" the man cuts her off this time.

 

"It's unnecessary for you to know the full details, all you need to know is that she technically belongs to us.  We are not unreasonable; we know losing both "daughters" would be a horrible experience for you.  So, we'll give you a choice."

 

The man takes a business card from his pocket as he continues. 

 

"Either give us the false God, and accept the compensation, or we will take both of your daughters, and leave you with nothing. We will leave the decision up to you... we implore you to make the right choice. You have 36 hours".  The man says while placing his business card on top of the newspaper, before walking away.  

 

Joyce, stares at the card in front of her which reads "The Watcher's Council" followed by his name and number in a smaller print.  She hurries to get in the car, not wanting to stand there any longer, feeling like a fool as she was just staring into the void as her thoughts race. 

 

Her head buried in her hands as tears fall down her face.  She has no idea what to do, she has no idea what to think.  But what she does know is, the thought of abandoning either daughter, was the furthest thing from her mind.  She does have a choice to make.

 

Trading one daughter for another, definitely wasn't one of them. She wipes the tears from her face, stares blankly out of her windshield with a new goal in mind, as she does the only thing she could think of in that moment.  With confidence in her voice, she yells out a single word.

 

"STATUS!"

 

******