Author’s notes: This is an interlude between Chapters 2 and 3 of The NightCrawler, explaining how and why LaCroix came to Sunnydale and why he chose to remain there, for all those who don’t know what happened at the end of Forever Knight. The quotes in bold italics come from NightCrawler Monologues from different episodes of Forever Knight.
The NightCrawler
by Belladonna
Interlude I
~To his old glory~
“So welcome again, children of the night. I’m here to share myself with you…will you share yourselves with me?”
Night fell down above this small Californian town with the beautiful name Sunnydale. The night, in her radiant beauty had draped herself over the homes there, embracing not only the buildings but also all inhabitants with her black void.
It wasn’t exactly the night that drew all different kinds of people towards this small community but also the town itself. There were families who wanted to build their homes in this traditional all-American community, businessmen and –women who tried to make up new business connections or even start their own businesses here, their own goings. Some people just wanted to leave everything they had behind them and start anew, making a clean slate underneath their old lives and begin their future with no past worries at all.
But the town was also not the only thing driving people towards itself, making them settle down in this community. Some of the newcomers came because of what lay underneath the surface of the at day peaceful and normal town. They came because of what Sunnydale resided upon, the Hellmouth.
A centre of both mystical and demonical energy that beckoned the inhabitants of darkness and night to come forth, settle down around this very special point of landscape and try and tap into this powerful energy to use it for their own purposes, may these be of sinister intent or not.
But even some of these creatures that dwelled in the dark had come here for the same reasons which had made the mortal population of the town move there; making business or starting families here. And some of them also had come here to leave their old lives behind, to leave everything behind them that reminded them of what they used to be and to move on.
It had been quite a while since someone new had actually come to Sunnydale to stay and that was because of various reasons, foremost because of the Slayer that happened to reside also on the Hellmouth. With her gone now, word had spread around that this small town now seemed to be unprotected and therefore open for everyone. Many had followed this unspoken invitation, but not the newcomer who entered Sunnydale in that night.
His reasons were not unlike those of the mortals; he also had wanted to leave his old life behind and move on to start anew. He had packed everything he deemed valuable that he owned and which he had wanted to bring along with him into this new life, but he hadn’t intended to begin it alone.
“It's time for both of us. We have come full circle. Nicholas, don't you see? You have overstayed your welcome. The pain that you're causing your mortal friends is no longer acceptable to them. Those that do survive will not allow your relationship with them to continue the way it was. They will demand change, and you will be compromised. One way or another. Nicholas, the time has come. I will be at your loft tonight for your decision. And then, I am leaving. With or without you.”
Oh, the man had been well prepared to leave Toronto alone, to leave a City alone in which he had resided now for so many years now that the time had come for him to move on. He had prepared to leave it alone because he had somehow known that Nicholas would rather stay there, continue playing saviour of these insignificant mortals he so much treasured and longed to become once again. His favoured Childe who meant more to him than a true son would have chosen them again over him like he had done before.
The man had known that Nicholas would rather stay with his beloved mortal friend Natalie instead of following him, his very own Sire when he would leave town.
“I understand the need to move on. It is something that happens to us all. But if your time has truly come, I also understand that with the beauty of this life, there comes pain and despair. No one is immune. But consider what you have in your hands! Don't trade a treasure for an empty box!”
The man had been prepared for continuing his journey alone, knowing well that his stubborn Childe would follow him soon.
He just hadn’t prepared for or counted on himself being forced to kill him.
“How dark can your existence be when compared to an eternal void? Unless, of course, you have faith that there is something beyond.”
A car had just passed the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign, therefore entering town. The driver hadn’t intended to come here after leaving Toronto, hadn’t planned anything at all. He’d had of course known how to start over after leaving his old life behind but all that had changed within a second, a single moment’s action had taken all that away from him and more. His own plans turned insignificant somehow then, he simply had driven as long as the dark of the night had allowed him to before he had had to find shelter form the deadly rays of the sun.
His Childe had always told everybody that he’d chosen his car because of the generous trunk space it had, without of course ever mentioning for what exactly he needed that space truly, but the man who drove the car now wouldn’t hide in the trunk from the sun. He would’ve never lowered himself that far down, not for the fact of hiding in there itself but more from fear of someone taking the car and with it the possessions he had stowed away in it.
Possessions, that reminded him of his past life and with it of his favourite Childe.
“What do you see from where you stand? A bright light at the end of the tunnel? Is it a ray of hope? A glimmer of something better? Or will it burn you like the rising sun? Are you hearing the trumpeting of St. Peter's angels or the screams of Memnoch's tortured souls?”
Possessions, that were the only things now, besides the memories that he had left from his Childe to make him remember Nicholas.
“You can't really answer that, can you? Because you will never know the answer until after the deed is done. And is your faith really that strong? “
The man continued to drive through Sunnydale, looking for a place to stay and spend the coming day, his memories haunting him still. He’d had many names before but none of them mattered now, to him or anybody else for all of these people he’d been were dead by now. They had to be dead for him to be able to move on but never before had with them he died inside, too. He now was as dead as Lucius was, the man he used to be before dying his first death back then in Pompeii hundreds of years ago. The man known as Lucien LaCroix was dead as well now, died the moment his own hands had rammed the stake through his Childe’s heart.
“Life is a gift. As sweet as the freshest peach, as precious as a gilded jewel. I have never been able to understand the logic of wilfully surrendering such a treasure.”
He knew he didn’t need to seek shelter immediately, the night still wasn’t retreating in favour of the coming day but something beckoned him to stay, or at least to think of staying here. The man just couldn’t figure out what exactly. He wouldn’t paint the windows over with black paint, that would raise too much suspicion from the mortals and his life had taught him never to underestimate them. In the end they had cost him his son. He couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself, none of them could.
They couldn’t risk the attention from mortals to them or their existence at all.
As well as their death’s weren’t mourned by anyone other but them. For no one would ever know that they had lived at all.
“Life will always find a way to cheat death. Life is the enemy we cannot defeat, only cling to like parasites on the living flesh of the universe. Hoping that we're not noticed and brushed away with a flick of the hand.”
As the car drove past the houses, the man known as LaCroix felt the power of the Hellmouth surging through him, felt its call that whispered to him to stay, using this raw and primal force of energy but he didn’t listen. All he heard were the voices in the back of his mind, crying out in grief and anguish for his loss; fading away unheard. Only the ghosts of his past life now remained, clinging to his un-beating heart, breaking it with the memories.
“Ghosts are mistakes that we've made. They come not from beyond the pale, but rise up from our gravest doubts about ourselves. Each ill-considered thing that we have done is a ghost that haunts us. If we let it.”
He remembered everything, more than he wanted to and this pain hit him in the middle of his chest, stabbing him through the heart. He’d had to watch too many of his children pass the past year and all of them hurt deeply.
“A dozen in a single night. My children and my people. Who should have lived forever, living their last. Who would ever believe that they would die? “
He hadn’t wanted to believe it then and still didn’t. They simply didn’t die. They had all eternity for themselves and were above the Reaper; laughing in his face should he foolishly come for them. The last year taught him otherwise for the harsh truth was that they weren’t that untouchable they fancied themselves to be.
“What then of those taken out of sequence? How to prepare them for the bitter end?”
The emotions washed over him once again, making him feel his helplessness again as he remembered how he had been forced to sit by and watch them wither and die, fading away and finally succumbing to an illness that shouldn’t have harmed them at all but did. It had made him aware for the first time in his whole existence of his own mortality. A funny thing considering that he wasn’t bound to the mortal world and its limitations for a long time.
“They say the ages of man are denial, awareness and acceptance. A young man believes he will live forever. A middle age man knows he will not. And an old man is ready.”
He had grieved for all of them but who would grieve for him when his time was to come?
Would they care at all? Would there still be even a single one left to know?
“A man who knows he will not die is a young man. He is kept young by the knowledge that death shall have no dominion. There's nothing so hard as watching that die.”
The man stopped his car suddenly, bringing it to a halt right in front of one of these huge black and seemingly abandoned mansions Sunnydale owned. He stepped out of the car, inhaling the cold breeze of the nightly air into his lungs, feeling it cooling him from the inside. But could he turn colder than he already felt deep within?
The silver moonlight shone down from the sky, making the man’s skin paler than it was when it bathed him with its white light. His blond hair stood out but to any other observer it would be the man’s eyes that were the most remarkable thing about him. They were of an icy blue that needed comparison and their gaze used to be equally cold. Not anymore for they now were shrouded with pain, showing his loss for everyone to see when they didn’t know his reasons. They would never know. Where he didn’t care about whether they saw or not, he would keep his promise to all of them, would he not break their laws and reveal his existence to the mortals.
He was only allowed to grieve in solitude and forced to do so for eternity.
“Who knows the pain of death better, he who gasps his final breath, or we who must breathe the foul air of his decomposition? Who bears the greater burden, the cold bones of the dead man in his coffin, or the spine of the pallbearer carrying his load? No one knows this burden.”
Yet how painful their deaths had been to him, it was nothing compared to what he felt now, hadn’t stopped feeling since that fateful night. Even having to bury his own child, his true child hadn’t torn his heart apart that much that he couldn’t see it healed again. He remembered his own words, those he had told his Childe then; that a parent shouldn’t have to watch ones own flesh and blood die. It had been true and the man still held to it but having to kill ones child was much more painful than anything describable.
LaCroix felt the tears slowly trickling down his cheeks, staining them red as he silently wept bloody tears for all of them, and for himself.
“They say if you love someone, let them go. If they’re really yours, they will learn their lesson and return. You will come back, Nicholas. I can wait. I’ve all the time in the world.”
How true these words were. How painfully true and the same time even wronger now than they could ever be.
His Childe had hated him with passion for so many years now and LaCroix had to admit that it had annoyed him at first. One should not act that disrespectfully towards ones elder. But later he had found himself becoming rather amused at his Childe’s tries to avoid him and even more at his rather futile attempts to become human once again, mortal.
It was something that was impossible and Nicholas should’ve noticed it, but he’d kept trying it again and again, only to find himself disappointed once more. Maybe, the man thought now, it was out of fear of realizing the folly of such an attempt that had made him continue his attempts to regain what he no longer possessed; his lost mortality. Maybe it had been out of fear of living but the man now couldn’t be sure of it. All that he knew was that it did no longer amuse him any more. It was all that was left of his Childe, the memory of his foolish quest for humanity and what it had meant for him and for himself.
In the end it had meant final death for his Childe. For himself he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.
His eyes clouded once more with sadness as more tears were spilled. He had never understood that one would willingly lay down ones life, the most precious thing one owned for seemingly nothing at all. But then, was his Childe to blame or even he himself?
It had been Nicholas who had made the decision, hadn’t it? He had been the one wanting to end his existence out of despair. Could he have tried to convince him of the foolishness of his actions, that it would be wasting his life if he’d died now? He had to admit, that he didn’t know the true reason for his Childe’s last wish either, just like with his search for humanity. Was it out of guilt of having accidentally killed his beloved in a futile attempt to embrace her to his own darkness? Or was it out of despair, grief and fear of having to live now without her? LaCroix truly didn’t know and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t understand it anyway.
He had to continue living with his own actions upon that wish; a wish born out of a tragedy that like so many before had started and ended with love – the love to a mortal.
“What about love? Heaven makes means to kill our joy with love. It's suffering. It's anguish. It's pain. And yet, we must have it--at any cost. But are you so enamoured that you'll overlook you love of life? And you do love it. I have seen you smell the sea, gaze at the stars at night. Are you willing to sacrifice one mistress for another? Look into your heart and tell me that you're willing to make the choice!”
He had tried to tell himself that there hadn’t been a different choice; that he hadn’t had any other choice than to honour his Childe’s wish and execute it but he wasn’t able to suppress the mocking voices in the back of his head. If only he had tried harder to change Nicholas’ intentions, he might have been able to convince him not to choose death. If only he had come to peace with him earlier he might have prevented the whole string of actions that had led to that fateful night in the first place.
Oh, what cruel words that kept haunting him, mocking him with their harsh reality.
It was so nice and convenient to say that everything might have turned out differently if only one had he acted equally different. It was even more convenient to put the blame entirely away from himself, shoving it towards the one who couldn’t defend himself against it.
It was easy, wasn’t it?
But then it was not, for LaCroix had to realize that there was no one to blame but him. He had not a single soul to put the blame on, to ease the burden of guilt that waged so heavily on his own soul
“I see you sagging, laden. And yet, I have to ask, is it grief that weighs so heavily on your shoulders, or is it that should've, would've, could've fools game called guilt?”
He had no one to blame but himself. It had been his own hands that had brought that elegantly carved wooden stick down, plunging it directly into the heart of his Childe; so desperate to end his life that he had asked his Sire for this.
And now he had to understand why he had done it for him.
He had to go on with the weight of his soul, burying him underneath the pain. Funny thing feeling the weight of a conscience when he supposedly did not possess one, he thought to himself but would he have laughed, it would only have been a hollow sound, hollow and bitter.
“There's a price to be paid. Love may be tasted but never savoured. In our darkest moments we may envy mortality, but we should never aspire to it. Guilt is a poison. And staying past our time is death. But it need not be.”
As the man stood there underneath the pale moonlight night, right under the Sunnydale sky he felt something more powerful than the call of the Hellmouth. It was a sound that chilled him to the bone for it was so much like his own cries of desperation being thrown back at him.
He stood there, becoming overpowered with the rush of emotions that caused him to stagger form their intensity. It was a cry of anguish, pain and grief that only could come from a broken heart, filled with the pain of loosing someone close to the heart and it opened the still raw and bleeding wound of his own. The other must have lost someone he had loved and it had crushed him entirely.
“If we truly care for a mortal, if we love one, then we must go. Isn't that something that you taught me? Leaving is the purest form of love.”
His own feelings of loss had made him blind for the pain that others felt, especially these children of the night that he belonged to, too. He felt the desperate wish to go on, having to continue for the memory of the lost one and that strong will of living opened the man’s eyes.
His Childe had asked him to fulfil his final wish and he had to honour that decision, even if he could not understand nor accept it. But he had made the final move and had to continue with the memories. LaCroix knew that it was not like him to crumble like this and that Nicholas wouldn’t have wanted him to break down. He now understood the emotions behind that demand and the deeper meaning. He had had trusted his Sire with his life, asked the one who had given it to him to take it once again and he had submitted to this wish.
Nicholas had loved him enough to do that, believed in him to have the strength for both of them to continue and that was it he now had to do. That other kindred soul that had cried out tonight had to continue living for he still had someone that was worth living for, he assumed. And all that he had were his children, the children of the night that he considered his own, may they be of his family or not.
LaCroix stood in front of that huge mansion, looking up to the dark building and made a decision. It somehow reminded him of the place he had lived before. Of course it had been a different life then, he been a different person and that was it he had tried to run away from. He now understood that he couldn’t run faster than his memories, they always would catch up with him. And he understood that this was all that he had left of that past life and he understood their value as he entered the abandoned dark mansion.
He would never be the same man he used to be. He had wanted to be a different one, but what had happened had changed him more than he had wanted to admit to himself at first. Never had it occurred to him to just wait for the sunrise instead of moving on. Surrendering his own life was nothing he believed in and he would not do it while continuing living also.
It had needed this lonely Childe’s grief to remind him of that again.
“One short sleep past. We awake eternally and death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die! We will survive.”
LaCroix listened to this other man’s Childe’s cry, his unearthly wail of sorrow taking as if it was his own. He wouldn’t simply go on, being the man he had been, acting like nothing had happened. He just couldn’t do that. But he knew he had to live again, to return to his family, his own.
“All that remains now is to lock the doors and turn out the lights...”
The car was hidden in the garage before the morning sun would rise. Before the dawn of the new morning would colour the skies with its reddish glow, signalling to all these Childer of the Night that wandered the streets of Sunnydale the arrival of the day, the newcomer had chosen to stay; to settle down and to move on with his life. He had chosen to leave his old life behind and start a new one, just like many before had done. But unlike these others he had not drawn a clean slate down his past life for he had found a way to retain the memory of everything he had lost and risen from the ashes his life had become. After all, it was all that was left of him, who he had been and would become again.
“Time heals all...you cannot deny what you are.”
And you most certainly couldn’t deny who you were.
“Welcome again, gentle listeners and my fellow children of this eternal night. The NightCrawler is on the air…again.”