An entry from lifeinsunnydale
I was right in the middle of filling the second glass with water when my brain sparked to life.
Sick!
Plague!
The plague demon!
Holy summoner on a stick, Batman! I forgot!
~~~~~****~~~~~
Flashback
~~~~~****~~~~~
It had been more than two months now, and I there hadn't been any progress with Warren. At first I didn't believe his mother when she told me that Warren was in a coma - I thought either he had fled the country and she was covering for him, or that something worse had happened and she didn't want me to know. Worse as in he was de... dea...
No, I couldn't even think that. So a few times over the past 9 weeks I broke into the hospital to visit him. Sure, I could have gone during the day as long as I got Mrs. Mears to give me permission, but after everything I'd been involved with and barely escaping the rampaging she-witch with my life, I thought it best to lay low for a bit. Each time I visited he was the same: just lying there in the hospital bed, head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes closed as if he were just asleep... but he wasn't. I'd talk to him, tell him how things were going and what he was missing on the Sci Fi channel, though I never mentioned Buffy or any of her friends. I didn't want to upset him, of course.
After my forth visit, during which I observed the exact same thing I'd seen the previous three times, my hope started to fade. The following Wednesday I checked with Mrs. Mears, as had been routine lately, to see if there was any change. She said there was none. So I calmly returned to my basement, lifted some of my brother's books, herbs, and tools, and went about finding just the right demon to wipe out the town that had taken my Warren from me. Nothing too big, though. Something subtle that the Slayer wouldn't notice until it was too late. I spent hours leafing through all of the books until I came across a particularly promising passage:
It was perfect. The creature was beyond my control, but I could summon it. After that, it didn't really matter. I didn't care what happened. It was roughly three in the morning when I finally made the decision to wipe out Sunnydale. I constructed my magic circle, surrounding it in salt and the proper barrier herbs (so it wouldn't immediately attack me) and inscribed the incantation around it with white chalk. I also drew the demon's symbol on a piece of wood, which I strung around my neck with a length of twine. At this point I was in a sort of numb trance, detached from myself with the knowledge that I had lost Warren forever and that I was about to cause the deaths of thousands of people. Both were just easier to deal with if I separated my mind from the actual act.
As I read the incantation aloud, I drew the summoning athame across my hand, letting just a few drops of blood fall in the circle. I then tossed in the breadcrumbs needed to entice the demon, and immediately a bright yellow light filled the circle, nearly blinding me. When it faded, contained within was the rakshasa.
The demon was no taller than five feet, just slightly shorter than Jonathan, though it slouched forward from the weight of it's large belly. Its posture reminded me of a gorilla slightly, with it's large, bulky arms hanging long by its side with the knuckles of its hands dragging on the ground. Its skin was a sick-looking yellow, like the shade of a fading bruise, and certain parts were covered with green mottled splotches. It had a large, almost humorously out of proportion nose, which glistened with some sort of sticky moisture. Its eyes seemed a combination of large, bugged human ones and the multifaceted pattern of insects' eyes. Two dark green patches rested on its brow where the skin seemed to shine more like a shell than any flesh. It was dressed only in a thick, heavy brown loincloth decorated with bones and beads. And, just to make me wish even more that I hadn't eaten those taquitos earlier, several strange little bugs, each roughly the size of a small mealworm, were crawling over its body.
Each of those bugs would find their way into the food and homes of Sunnydale, infecting any unfortunate enough to either be stung by them or to eat food in which they had hidden themselves. The disease's onset would be subtle, seeming only like a flu epidemic. They may call for flu vaccinations, but it would do no good. Within two weeks of being infected, the victims would die. During their last days, they would suffer constant hot and cold flashes, extreme pain in their bones, blindness, oozing sores, constricted lungs, and insanity. That is, unless the demon could be killed and its blood be distributed to the infected.
The rakshasa eyed me warily, sizing up whether or not it could break the barrier and attack me. Despite it's appearance of being just a short, fat sickly man, each hand sported long rotted fingernails that all contained the same poison that its insect minions held.
After a moment, I remembered to speak.
"D-demon rakshasa... I have summoned you here to bestow upon you a gift: the town of Sunnydale. I wish for you to gorge yourself on the people here; to infect and devour your fill. I ask only that you spare this house in exchange. Do we have a bargain?"
The rakshasa nodded its bloated head once. I stepped forward and swept away a portion of the salt, herbs, and chalk incantation to break the circle, grateful that at least for now the demon chose to cooperate with me. A moment later the insects swarmed out through the break, followed by the lumbering mass of the rakshasa. They slipped out through the cellar door and into the night. Once each insect had left I cleaned up the circle, returned the materials to Tucker's room (though he was so high at the moment that I doubt he'd even noticed they were gone) and collapsed on my bed in the basement.
The next day the memory of the summoning seemed barely a dream, and I reasoned that it was impossible that I, Andrew Wells, could have done such a thing. Three days later... Warren was back from the hospital, and all my thoughts were replaced with him.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
End Flashback
~~~~~*****~~~~~
...
"Oopsies."
Sick!
Plague!
The plague demon!
Holy summoner on a stick, Batman! I forgot!
~~~~~****~~~~~
Flashback
~~~~~****~~~~~
It had been more than two months now, and I there hadn't been any progress with Warren. At first I didn't believe his mother when she told me that Warren was in a coma - I thought either he had fled the country and she was covering for him, or that something worse had happened and she didn't want me to know. Worse as in he was de... dea...
No, I couldn't even think that. So a few times over the past 9 weeks I broke into the hospital to visit him. Sure, I could have gone during the day as long as I got Mrs. Mears to give me permission, but after everything I'd been involved with and barely escaping the rampaging she-witch with my life, I thought it best to lay low for a bit. Each time I visited he was the same: just lying there in the hospital bed, head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes closed as if he were just asleep... but he wasn't. I'd talk to him, tell him how things were going and what he was missing on the Sci Fi channel, though I never mentioned Buffy or any of her friends. I didn't want to upset him, of course.
After my forth visit, during which I observed the exact same thing I'd seen the previous three times, my hope started to fade. The following Wednesday I checked with Mrs. Mears, as had been routine lately, to see if there was any change. She said there was none. So I calmly returned to my basement, lifted some of my brother's books, herbs, and tools, and went about finding just the right demon to wipe out the town that had taken my Warren from me. Nothing too big, though. Something subtle that the Slayer wouldn't notice until it was too late. I spent hours leafing through all of the books until I came across a particularly promising passage:
It was perfect. The creature was beyond my control, but I could summon it. After that, it didn't really matter. I didn't care what happened. It was roughly three in the morning when I finally made the decision to wipe out Sunnydale. I constructed my magic circle, surrounding it in salt and the proper barrier herbs (so it wouldn't immediately attack me) and inscribed the incantation around it with white chalk. I also drew the demon's symbol on a piece of wood, which I strung around my neck with a length of twine. At this point I was in a sort of numb trance, detached from myself with the knowledge that I had lost Warren forever and that I was about to cause the deaths of thousands of people. Both were just easier to deal with if I separated my mind from the actual act.
As I read the incantation aloud, I drew the summoning athame across my hand, letting just a few drops of blood fall in the circle. I then tossed in the breadcrumbs needed to entice the demon, and immediately a bright yellow light filled the circle, nearly blinding me. When it faded, contained within was the rakshasa.
The demon was no taller than five feet, just slightly shorter than Jonathan, though it slouched forward from the weight of it's large belly. Its posture reminded me of a gorilla slightly, with it's large, bulky arms hanging long by its side with the knuckles of its hands dragging on the ground. Its skin was a sick-looking yellow, like the shade of a fading bruise, and certain parts were covered with green mottled splotches. It had a large, almost humorously out of proportion nose, which glistened with some sort of sticky moisture. Its eyes seemed a combination of large, bugged human ones and the multifaceted pattern of insects' eyes. Two dark green patches rested on its brow where the skin seemed to shine more like a shell than any flesh. It was dressed only in a thick, heavy brown loincloth decorated with bones and beads. And, just to make me wish even more that I hadn't eaten those taquitos earlier, several strange little bugs, each roughly the size of a small mealworm, were crawling over its body.
Each of those bugs would find their way into the food and homes of Sunnydale, infecting any unfortunate enough to either be stung by them or to eat food in which they had hidden themselves. The disease's onset would be subtle, seeming only like a flu epidemic. They may call for flu vaccinations, but it would do no good. Within two weeks of being infected, the victims would die. During their last days, they would suffer constant hot and cold flashes, extreme pain in their bones, blindness, oozing sores, constricted lungs, and insanity. That is, unless the demon could be killed and its blood be distributed to the infected.
The rakshasa eyed me warily, sizing up whether or not it could break the barrier and attack me. Despite it's appearance of being just a short, fat sickly man, each hand sported long rotted fingernails that all contained the same poison that its insect minions held.
After a moment, I remembered to speak.
"D-demon rakshasa... I have summoned you here to bestow upon you a gift: the town of Sunnydale. I wish for you to gorge yourself on the people here; to infect and devour your fill. I ask only that you spare this house in exchange. Do we have a bargain?"
The rakshasa nodded its bloated head once. I stepped forward and swept away a portion of the salt, herbs, and chalk incantation to break the circle, grateful that at least for now the demon chose to cooperate with me. A moment later the insects swarmed out through the break, followed by the lumbering mass of the rakshasa. They slipped out through the cellar door and into the night. Once each insect had left I cleaned up the circle, returned the materials to Tucker's room (though he was so high at the moment that I doubt he'd even noticed they were gone) and collapsed on my bed in the basement.
The next day the memory of the summoning seemed barely a dream, and I reasoned that it was impossible that I, Andrew Wells, could have done such a thing. Three days later... Warren was back from the hospital, and all my thoughts were replaced with him.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
End Flashback
~~~~~*****~~~~~
...
"Oopsies."