The claws glittered in the moonlight as they swept toward him, the thing an angular sculpture of crystal, somehow brought to life. They chimed, delicately, as they met Xander's hastily raised sword.
The grooves they left in the metal were anything but delicate.
Before he could return the blow the demon faded back into the shadows and once out of the moonlight it was translucent, nearly invisible.
He lost sight of it and retreated a step to the center of his pool of moonlight, straining his eyes and ears into the darkness surrounding him. The museum displays were half-familiar shapes in the darkened room, remembered only from glimpses before even the emergency lighting had died. Trickles of moonlight seeping through the high windows were his only refuge now from that beautiful and terrible thing that flickered in and out of the shadows.
A beautiful demon. There was a rarity. He could name a lot of demons that could "look" beautiful but when they showed their true face it always reflected what they were inside.
This demon was different. It was like a fevered dream; beautiful and nightmarish all at once. A lethal ghost of crystal, light, darkness, and whispering chimes.
It scared the crap out of him.
His searching senses found nothing.
Damn it! Where was it? He had to find some way of killing it before some clueless security guard wandered in on a check and had his guts taken out and shown to him.
He almost missed the faint sound of chimes from the far darkness. Jerking his head around he gazed past the moon kissed marble of a Greek statue.
Great. It was going into the Egyptian section.
Mummies.
He let out a silent sigh and shifted his grip on the sword.
At least it wasn't Incan Mummies.
He crept across the chamber, skirting the displays, being careful to keep close to the cold glow of the moonlight.
After all, how much worse could Egyptian undead be?
"All exits have been secured and the security guards have been evacuated." The faintest bit of static intruded on the words as they exited the small speaker.
"Roger that." Jack released the transmit key on his radio and glanced to his teammates. "Teal'c, you've got point."
"Jack," Daniel said, "They haven't opened it yet. If he's there he's still trapped inside."
"No chances, Danny," Jack said as they moved up the museum steps. "There hasn't been time for a full briefing or prep for this Op, and that's always when the surprises bite you in the ass."
He halted them in the museum entry. "Okay kiddo," he looked to Teal'c. Sam continued to watch the the room, but he could tell she was listening. "Time to tell me what's got you so spooked."
A single eyebrow climbed.
"Don't give me that look. You damn near jumped out of your skin when Daniel told us this guy was imprisoned on Earth. This Ab... Omoboshi..." he glanced over at Daniel."
"Abeth Ushi," Daniel corrected him. "It means-"
"Old Night." Teal'c's voice rumbled over Daniel's.
"What is it with that anyway?" Jack looked between the two of them. "I've yet to hear of a Goa'uld without a gaudy over-the-top name."
"He has no name, O'Neill. All feared him far too much to give to him that which he had not taken for himself."
Daniel said, "So others used titles they thought were descriptive of him."
"Old Night? So, what, he take old dark skinned guys as hosts?"
Teal'c, apparently wasn't in the mood for sarcasm; the edges of his mouth turned down fractionally, and as he turned away to proceed deeper into the museum he said, "Perhaps you would prefer another of his titles, O'Neill... Father of Demons."
Xander twisted aside as claws slashed through the space his right shoulder had been an instant before.
It was playing with him.
The demon moved so fast that the air, shivering around the crystal panes of it's body, gave voice not to chimes but to an eerie sort of music. Air breezed through rents in his clothes produced by delicate strikes of those razor claws, fluttering the fabric when he moved. But his skin was unmarked.
It was playing with him.
He grimaced, trying to catch his breath. How the hell did he get into these situations? He took one step toward one of the three exits of the room, and halted as he caught the flicker of motion in the darkness between him and the door. It wouldn't let him near the exits, keeping him boxed in the center of the room.
For an instant he allowed himself to wonder if this was where he was going to die. Then he discarded the thought; Wills would resurrect him and let Buffy kick his ass. Well, maybe she wouldn't, given the whole heaven "snafu" but-
His back thumped up against something solid, stopping his backward motion. His heart nearly stopped. Shakily he reassured himself, No, the demon's in front of me. He hadn't taken his eyes off the translucent form in the shadows. So...
The sarcophagus.
He'd noted it going into the room. It was the centerpiece of an unfinished display. A massive thing, standing upright, carved with hieroglyphics that were unnervingly suggestive in the dimness.
Not sure he was comfortable with that at his back, but it was probably the one display in here that could keep that thing from getting behind him.
The demon moved, silently, ghosting along inches above the floor. His gaze followed it, nearly loosing it again in the dark, and he shifted his sword to keep it between them. The weapon wasn't much better than a club now, the metal scared and twisted by the slashing of the things claws. He got the impression that the demon could have taken the sword away from him easily.
It hadn't. Which probably meant the sword couldn't hurt it.
This was not turning out to be a good night.
The demon disappeared behind a chariot that had some wax posed pharaoh riding in it. His heart sped up; out of sight was not good. A second passed and another.
Shit. His eyes flicked from shadow to shadow.
Maybe it had gotten tired of playing and decided to return to wherever it had come from.
Yeah right. It-
The faintest shiver of noise almost above him was all that warned him. He dropped. There was a gentle tugging on his back, before he hit the floor, and a sudden wetness. Then the pain hit.
A thought flashed through his mind: it had gotten tired of playing. Only it wasn't going away, it was going to kill him.
Gritting his teeth against the burning in his back he came up swinging, sword whistling though the air as he spun... and hit nothing.
It took his eyes a moment to find it. The demon was hovering several paces away, seemingly uninterested in him. He was about to leap at it when motion caught his gaze.
The sarcophagus.
It was opening.
"Ah come on! I was kidding about the mummies!" The words echoed in the room.
He tried to move away but his legs wouldn't work. The burning in his back had spread and a tingling was creeping into his extremities.
Poison.
He started to laugh; he was going to die here.
A figure stepped out of the sarcophagus. Clothed in things Xander had only seen in movies the man looked like something out of one of the exhibits. Only gaudier.
A pair of dark eyes swept down to meet Xander's, a chill settled into his gut, and his laughter choked off.
Gaudier. And scarier.
The eyes moved away, dismissing him, to stare at the demon. Xander realized the sound of the chimes had shifted sounding... agitated.
The man spoke, his voice distorted, resonant, "Kree Mashatur! Shal pa Ka'ree, Ushi." His eyes glowed.
The demon's reaction was violent. It's musical sounds blended into one high pitched shriek that seared into Xander's eardrums and in a blur of motion it surged toward the man, claws outstretched.
A single hand snapped up. Light flashed off metal from the chain that joined the hand piece to the bracelets and a gem winked from the center of the palm. Energy exploded outward, smashing into the demon.
But didn't stop it. It seemed to stager but the crystal plains of its body fragmented the brunt of the blast, scattering it off in different directions to wreak destruction among the contents of the room.
Sam jerked her P-90 up at a sound she heard regularly in her nightmares. To her right she heard the Colonel say, "Crap. Was that..."
She answered, "A ribbon device." even as Teal'c said, "Yes."
As the Colonel grabbed for his radio he said, "See, Daniel. Surprises. I hate surprises." Then he mashed down on the transmit button and said, "Code bravo, people. The target is active. Over."
A string of acknowledgments filtered back over the air.
As they resumed moving deeper into the building she spared a glance at Teal'c's back. Anyone who didn't know him as well as the three of them wouldn't have noticed, but she could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way he moved, the way his eyes jumped from shadow to shadow.
Teal'c was afraid.
She'd never know him to be afraid of one of the snakes. But there was something different about this Goa'uld. She knew it, too. Jolinar knew it.
Some fragmentary memory passed on in her brief time as a host whispered to her... of fear.
The demon grappled with the man, claws biting into flesh, and blood flowed.
"Sha pa kree!"
A flash blinded Xander and the concussion knocked him back to the floor. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision. The man swayed as the air around him shimmered and crackled. Xander could see horrible wounds on the man's torso. White bone showed through in several places. Yet as terrible as the wounds appeared Xander could see no fear on the man's face. Only rage and... annoyance?
The demon tried to reach the man again, but this time it was hurled back by the glowing sparking field.
As he watched Xander realized the demon was wounded as well; the crystal of it's body was cracked and scorched. The cracks were weeping a clear fluid that sparkled in the light. It threw itself at he man again, apparently determined to batter through the shield.
A wave of energy from the gem on the man's palm hurled it back, and then another pounded it to the ground, and another, and another.
Deflected bits of energy scattered in all directions pulverizing artifacts and models. Shattering protective glass and wrecking treasures thousands of years old.
Through a growing numbness Xander watched it all with detached amazement and considered that it might not be Willow to resurrect him and kill him again, but Giles, for taking this fight into a museum. He winced as a sandstone statue cracked under a blast and then crumbled under the next. He wondered how the museum was going to explain that away.
Vandals probably, they-
Blearily, he realized it was quiet.
The demon was a pile of shattered crystal on the floor. A floor that was cratered from the force that had been hammered repeatedly into it. Even as Xander watched the pieces of crystal broke down further until only a faintly glittery sand remained.
Huh. Demon problem solved.
Of course that left scary sarcophagus guy.
Who was swaying on his feet, and looked to have more blood on the outside of his body than in. Slowly the man turned and took a shaky step back toward the sarcophagus, only to have his legs give out under him. As he fell to his knees his eyes met Xander's.
They flashed with a golden light.
Right before he pitched forward onto Xander's legs.
Okay. Problem two solved. Now if only Will would show up in the next few minutes he might just live. Maybe the old Harris luck was taking vacation ton-
Something burst out of the neck of the corpse across his legs. Something both snakelike and horribly other.
It squirmed up his body.
Frantically, he tried to swat it away but his numb limbs wouldn't respond.
It reached his neck and he felt a piercing pain as it burrowed in. He felt it writhe inward, moving beneath skin and muscle.
He screamed.
That wasn't good.
The screams choked off after a couple breaths. Sam kept her grip on the P-90 loose enough not to jerk the trigger if she was startled. A glance showed her the tightening of Daniel's jaw. She knew that in other circumstances he'd be enthusiastically investigating the contents of the room the were in. But right now there was a Go'uld not more than sixty feet away. Just through the doorway ahead, in fact.
She keyed her radio to give the distinctive triple click that would inform the Colonel that they were in position, having split off on one of the corridors to circle round the room and enter on the opposite side. If a double click came back that would be the signal to-
There it was. She brought her weapon into a ready position and she stepped into the room. Sweeping her quadrant with both eyes and weapon she fell into the familiar pattern drilled into her by training. She could sense Daniel doing the same close by.
Devastation. The room was destroyed. Pieces of artifacts, displays, glass littered the floor. Something that must have once been a sandstone statue was in pieces to her left. Even the walls, ceiling and floor had been chewed into by what she could only assume was a ribbon device's energy discharge. The only object in the room still whole was a massive thing in the center of the room that she recognized as some sort of variant on a Goa'uld Sarcophagus.
It was upright and bulkier than the standard and there were other design changes she didn't recognize. Daniel had implied it was a prison.
Her area was clear. She looked to Daniel. He was finishing up his sweep and in a moment he nodded to her and they continued further into the room.
Something wasn't right. If the Goa'uld was here he should have challenged them already.
There was a pattern to the destruction. It radiated outward from... there. An area of the floor had been hammered downward, the reinforced concrete was cracked and pulverized. A pile of fine dust rested at the center of the depression. And slightly off from it and the sarcophagus-
She snapped her weapon over to cover the two still figures on the floor. One was obviously a Goa'uld, but it looked like it had mauled by some form of very large, clawed animal. Blood was everywhere.
The other, lying on his back, expression frozen in a grimace, was a civilian. Obviously injured, but still alive.
"Damn it!" The Colonel's voice.
She took her eyes, if not her aim, of the bodies and looked a him as he stood across from her near the sarcophagus. Teal'c circled round the other side, moving to avoid both her line of fire and the Colonel's.
The Colonel's voice was furious. "The museum was closed, what the hell was he doing in here?"
"I do not know, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "But he has clearly been taken as host when the Old One discarded his previous body."
Sam grimaced, seeing where the Goa'uld must have erupted from the neck of the one of the men, and the bloody trail up the body of the other. Her eyes moved from the Goa'uld's entry wound to the man's face. God. He couldn't be more than twenty five, at the most. She prayed he'd been unconscious when the Goa'uld had struck. It would have been some small mercy.
The Colonel was on his radio calling in the other extraction teams. Teal'c stepped closer to the two on the floor.
Daniel asked, "Teal'c?"
"Something is wrong, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c was gaze was intent upon the young man. "He has been taken by a Goa'uld, but it is not yet in control."
Come to think of it, every time she'd seen a person taken as host it had been almost instantaneous. Yet the man had to have been lying on the floor for at least two minutes now.
Daniel said, "Can he be resisting?"
Teal'c shook his head. "I have never heard of such a thing."
That left another option. "A natural immunity?" Sam asked.
"It doesn't matter right now." The Colonel said. "Teal'c, get him restrained. The other teams will be here in a minute to help us get him out."
Xander knew pain.
Confusion.
Nightmares surrounded him. Memories.
They held death. Destruction on scales he had never before imagined, never though possible. Cities, nations, whole worlds drowned in blood and fire. Armies, his armies, their members drawn from this universe, and others. It was an advantage that his younger brethren did not possess and did not understand. They could not have usurped him were it not for the betrayal.
Hatred flared and then cooled back to its banked embers. He had waited long, but freedom was here, as he knew it would be. The extra-dimensional had proved an annoyance in his weakened state, forcing him to abandon his previous shell and take on this new one.
He-
No. No. This wasn't him.
[Yes. It is now.]
The voice blew though him with the chill bite of a winter wind, and a presence lingered behind it.
He tried to ignore it, remembering. He'd been in the museum: the demon, the sarcophagus, the man... the snake-thing burrowing into him.
That... thing was inside him. It had coiled itself around his mind, his soul. He could feel it there: vast, cold and patient. Horror lent him strength. He tried to struggle, to slip free, to throw it off, somehow, but it's coils only closed around him more tightly.
There had been other entities in his mind before: a spell induced soldier, a hyena. Traces of them still lingered, traces that objected to this violation as much as he did. Desperate, he threw them at the new intruder.
The serpent swept them aside like cobweb.
Pain flared as it tore into him. Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced: it had no physical source it was everywhere, everything.
[Submit. Struggle will gain you only agony.]
No. Get out! Get the hell out!
Teal'c sat, silent, watching the young man that had been taken as host by a Goa'uld who was remembered only in stories told in whispers to the young of each generation. A being so terrible the gods, failing to kill him and fearing the result of his exile, imprisoned him. Locking him away for all time in a place known only to a few of the oldest System Lords, its key held only by Ra.
The restrained young man had not moved, beyond the occasional twitch, in the hour it had taken to move him from the museum to the closest airstrip and onto a military transport. The wallet Teal'c had taken from him identified him as Alexander Harris, a resident of Cleveland.
The door to this sealed area of the plane opened and the other members of his team returned. O'Neill expression was disgruntled. Daniel Jackson seemed lost in thought, while Major Carter, he noted, glanced immediately to the still form in the center of the room.
Guessing at the cause of O'Neill's distress he said, "The Tok'ra have not yet contacted us."
"Got it in one, Teal'c. The-" He cut off glancing at Carter.
Undoubtedly not wishing to offend her. Due to her personal experiences and her father's presence in their ranks Major Carter's views of the Tok'ra were more... moderate than O'Neill's.
Teal'c raised an eyebrow as Major Carter didn't respond in any way to O'Neill's aborted comment, but continued to stare at Alexander Harris.
Daniel touched her elbow, "Sam?"
She started and said, "Sorry."
O'Neill glanced from Major Carter to Alexander Harris to Teal'c and said, "Okay. That's it! Does someone want to tell me exactly what has the two of you so freaked out? It's a Goa'uld! Been there. Done that. Killed, mounted, stuffed. Repeatedly." He switched his glare briefly from the two of them to Daniel.
Daniel Jackson pushed his glasses up as he said, "Don't look at me. I just found out he was here. I haven't been able to find much in the way of references on him. What few I was able to find seemed to predate any mythology on earth."
Teal'c shared a glance with Major Carter.
O'Neill was insistent. "Carter?"
"Sir-" she started hesitantly, then paused. "It's something from Jolinar. Not a specific memory, just a feeling. The thought," She glanced at the still form, swallowing convulsively. "Of him, alone, would be unnerving, but his actual presence would have terrified her."
O'Neill stared at her a moment and then turned to back to him.
How did he explain this to O'Neill? That the one with whom they were sharing this room had reigned, unchallengeable, for an age beyond memory. Had been whispered of with fear by powers such as Ra, Apopis, Cronos, Anubis, and Sokar. He had been before them all, and seemed as eternal as the night between the stars.
"He-"
The figure in the center of the room spasmed, arching upward.
He whipped away from O'Neill and brought the Zat'nikital to target the convulsing figure before he'd even formed a conscious thought.
Major Carter, too, had her weapon out of its holster and pointed.
The convulsions eased, sweat glistened on Alexander Harris's face, and his mouth moved weakly.
Above the noise of the plane he could hear, "Out... get... hell out." and was silent again.
He dared take his eyes from the young man once again to exchange glances with his teammates.
It appeared that Alexander Harris was indeed resisting the control of the Soulcrusher. It spoke of a stronger will than any Teal'c had ever conceived of.
He prayed that that strength held out while they contacted those who could once again imprison the ancient Goa'uld. For he did not have O'Neill's confidence that they could kill, or even restrain the Father of Demons should he awake.
Fire seared Xander, blistering his mind, ravaging his very soul. If he'd had a mouth he would be screaming. Some distant part of him was aware of his body convulsing as echoes of his pain reached it.
Agony subsided and again it said, [Submit.]
He didn't respond; he didn't have the energy. Fragmented thoughts scattered through his mind but somewhere something rang false. Laboriously, clenched in anticipation of the next wave of soul-blasting agony, he latched onto that thought. What was false?
Pain.
He was drowning in pain. Pain like his very substance was being torn apart, shredded beyond any hope of recovery. He felt the precious thread of sanity, already battered, stretch thin. After a moment that lasted an eternity, the ocean of pain receded. He'd had a thought. It was important. What had-
[Submit!]
That was it! The mind wrapped around his was vast. Too vast; it could crush him in an instant, or brush him aside into one corner of his own mind without effort. So why hadn't it? Why was it trying to get him to give in through pain?
There was one way to find out; he could sense a vast sea of memories that weren't his own. Thoughts flickered through those depths, distant, but reachable if he dared. Dared to plunge back into that abyss of horror he'd barely jerked himself out of.
Agony beyond bearing, or horror beyond description. Gee, choices.
Sensing it gathering to strike again he dipped his consciousness into the other.
Old. This thing that had invaded his body and mind was old beyond his concept of the word. Old in a Glies, "The world didn't begin as an Eden…" Type of way. He touched briefly at ages of memories and reeled back, left feeling sick and cold. God. How could something like that exist? Whatever this thing was, comparing Angelus with it would be like comparing your average street crook to Hitler.
Pain shattered thought. He convulsed in agony; it had seen what he was doing. Desperate, now, beyond caring what he saw in its mind, he grasped for why it was doing this.
Sucked into an ever-tightening cyclone of pain, blood, and destruction, he felt himself sinking into darkness.
In the moment before everything went black, light shone briefly, and he knew.
And he laughed.
Well, at least he got to take this bastard with him. Not half bad for a one-eyed carpenter.
Multiple convulsions had wracked the body of Mr. Harris. Sam fought down her shivers as she expected, after each convulsion died, for them to be facing an aware Goa'uld. But each time he returned to stillness.
It just wasn't biologically possible. Once infected a host could not interrupt the control of the Goa'uld. There were races that were immune but this man was earth human, as far as she could tell, and what she was seeing wasn't possible.
So how was he doing it? A change caused by genetic drift? Mutation? Some environmental factor they didn't know about?
A strangled laugh jerked her attention back to Mr. Harris. He was murmuring something, and she risked another step closer to hear.
"…picked… wrong …possess…bastard."
Stepping slowly back she found her gaze turning slowly to meet Teal'c's wondering gaze.
Who was this guy?
"Teal'c still there?"
The Colonel's voice from behind her caused her to jump. He frowned at her as she recovered and she said, "Yes, sir."
"You're still here."
She winced at his tone; he'd told her to take a break.
To her surprise he didn't say anything else. He studied her for another second and then moved past her to look through the glass into the isolation room.
Teal'c stood, at guard, beside the door of the chamber. He was armed,heavily: a fact about which Janet had had a number of unpleasant things to say. Teal'c hadn't bent at all and at Sam's backing and the Colonel's "better safe than sorry, General," Hammond had posted more than the usual guards to keep watch over the comatose man and Goa'uld.
In the center of the room was a bed with various pieces of medical equipment sprouting up around it like so many mushrooms. In the bed was the cause of her current sleeplessness.
Alexander Harris.
The Colonel turned back to her and said, "From what Teal'c says, this guy is Anubis, Sokar, and Ra all wrapped into one."
She nodded, "That would fit with Jolinar's impression, Sir."
Glancing once into the room he then pulled up the second chair and strattled it. "So, what do you make of all demon stuff that Teal'c mentioned?"
She took a moment to think about that and then said, "It could be something as simple as a parallel of Anubis's super soldiers, or…"
As she trailed off his eyebrows hitched upward and he said, "You don't believe this guy actually summoned demons, do you?"
Shrugging she said, "Not in the classical sense, Sir."
He paused, then, "Care to elaborate?"
She drew in a deep breath, "Well-"
"In small words."
She couldn't help smiling, and said, "Right, Sir. Small words." After a moment's hesitation she said, "You remember the quantum mirror?'
"Actually I've been trying to repress."
"Right. Anyway. The quantum mirror provided a connection to other quantum realities, other universes, in effect. Theoretically there is a different quantum universe for every possibility. The mirror we encountered seemed to be limited to those universes that were closely related to our own, but not all possible universes would be so closely related."
"Sooo you're saying that somewhere back at the early side of time something caused one of these universes to turn out so that there were demons in it?"
"Uh… basically, yes."
"What?" He asked at her tone. "I watch Sci-Fi."
"Really?" She glanced through the window into the isolation room. "I would of thought that you got enough of that at work."
"What can I say, I love my job…" He trailed off as the door opened.
Janet stood in the doorway and at the expression on her face Sam felt a shiver of foreboding ripple through her.
"We think they're dying."
SG-1 glanced at each other around the table even sparing a glance at General Hammond as he addressed the Doctor's statement. "You think?"
Janet looked at him and said, "Sir, the Goa'uld is being poisoned by a substance in Mr. Harris's bloodstream. It appears to be a type of protein crystal."
Sam sat up straight, "Protein crystal? How'd that get in his bloodstream?"
"The wounds on his back. The corpse of the previous host had wounds with traces of the same substance."
Jack said, "Those looked like claw wounds to me."
Teal'c nodded his agreement, "As they did to me, O'Neill."
Janet blew out a heavy breath and said, "That raises another issue Colonel; the protein crystals are clearly of an organic nature, but there is not species on earth that produces these kinds of protein formations."
"Doctor," the General asked. "Are you telling me that we have another unknown alien loose out there?"
"That's what it looks like, Sir."
"Oh for crying out loud!" Jack said. "Sir, permission-"
"In a moment Colonel. Doctor, finish your report."
"Under ordinary circumstances the substance would kill Mr. Harris in a matter of minutes. However the Goa'uld is preventing this, however involuntarily."
"Ah," Daniel raised a finger. "Involuntarily? When a Goa'uld takes a host it heals any injuries the host has. Why would this case be involuntary?"
"Because it's the Goa'uld's presence, not any action on its part, that's helping."
"Holy Hanna!"
Everyone at the table looked at Sam.
"What?" Jack asked.
"It's acting as a filter, Janet, isn't it?"
Janet nodded at Sam and at other people's confused looks she said, "A Goa'uld derives sustenance form the host's bloodstream, thus any substances in the blood pass through the organ designed to do so. Unfortunately for the Goa'uld it's own body tissues don't appear to be able to deny the entry of this protein crystal."
"It's soaking it up like a sponge, Sir." Sam said.
Jack shared a glance with Daniel and then looked back at them, "And this for the Goa'uld is bad?"
Janet nodded and said, "Very. The Goa'uld appears to be increasingly incapacitated. Physically speaking, it's paralyzed, which is probably why it hasn't tried for a new host."
"Oh, sorrow."
Janet directed a stern glance at the Colonel and continued, "However, aside from the immediately beneficial side-effects of the Goa'uld's presence, none of this is having a good effect on Mr. Harris. His vital signs have been steadily weakening."
"We then, let's hurry the Tok'ra along. Tell them to get their snakey little asses over here and get the Goa'uld out."
The General made a quelling gesture to Jack. "We've been trying to Colonel. But they haven't contacted us yet."
Janet returned all of their attentions to her with the comment, "It may not even be possible to remove it."
"Why?" Sam asked. "The Tok'ra have done it on numerous occasions."
"With modern Goa'uld, yes. But there are a number of physiological differences in this Goa'uld. Enough to classify it as a separate species, an earlier one."
"Holy Hanna."
"You know," Jack said to Teal'c. "Whenever she says that I know I'm not going to understand at least half of it."
Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
"Sir, this…" Sam stumbled, seemingly at a loss for how to explain. "This Goa'uld is old."
"Yeaaah."
"Jack." Daniel interceded. "Old in a "Your father was a Neanderthal kind of way."
"Oh. So you mean… old."
"Yes, Sir." Sam said. "Evolution like that takes tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of years."
Teal'c added his two cents with, "It is said, that he was the first Goa'uld to subjugate another being."
"Well," Jack said. "That was a bad trend to start."
"Sir there is one more thing." Janet seemed hesitant.
General Hammond nodded, "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Part of the full battery of test was a genetic profile of Mr Harris, and part of SOP is to run it though the database."
SG-1 looked at each other; yeah that was SOP. Why was it important?
"You found a match?" Hammond ventured.
"A partial match, indicative of an immediate familial relationship."
Sam asked, "Who's he related to?"
Janet paused then said, "You, Sam."
After a second of stunned silence she continued, "And since he's definitely not your father, and I know you haven't had children… The man in that bed down there is your brother."
"They look nothing alike!"
Colonel O'Neill's disbelieving exclamation still echoed in her ears as Sam sat, staring though the security glass at the occupant of the isolation room. He was right, they didn't. Hair color, skin color, build, they were all different. And they were all irrelevant.
Because the tests didn't lie. She'd gone over them herself, not that she didn't trust Janet, it was just that something like this... she had to see it, hold it in her hands.
She shook her head, turning away from the glass. He was 24. That meant...
It must have been just a couple years before mom had died.
Her dad had had an affair.
What did she feel about that? Anger? Confusion? The only thing she seemed to be able to dredge up was numbness.
Sighing she looked back to the laptop screen. It displayed the latest test results from Alexander. His vital signs were at very low levels, fluctuating occasionally. The Goa'uld… was perplexing. It vital signs, after dropping sharply earlier, had leveled out and were remaining stable. But its tissues still appeared to be assimilating the protein crystals. Everything she knew of Goa'uld physiology said that it should be dead, yet they were continuing to read brain and other biological activity.
On the up side, its paralysis seemed to be continuing. It had even stopped its involuntary muscle movements. Of course that lead back to her original question: how was it still alive?
She needed better instruments. MRI's, ultrsounds and x-rays could only get just so much detail. The Tok'ra had portable equipment that would do the job. Her dad could get his hands on it given a couple hours.
What was she going to say to him? Hi dad. How was the weather on Aucton? Oh, and why'd you have an affair? How do I know? Well, you forgot to tell me about my brother. No not Mark, the other one. And, see, that's actually why we called you. He's playing host to the most feared Goa'uld in history.
God. She was spending too much time around Colonel O'Neil. His sarcasm was rubbing off. If-
Her train of thought broke as the door opened and Teal'c stepped through.
"Teal'c."
"Major Carter."
After a moment under his scrutiny she shifted her gaze uncomfortably away toward the figure in isolation. She heard him move and after a moment his solid presence took up position beside her.
The silence stretched on as the Jaffa stood, patiently, exuding a faint air of waiting.
Damn. He was doing it again.
Teal'c cold pry anything out of SGC personnel simply by looming silently, nearby, waiting. The man had the patience of a rock. It made sense, of course, when she actually thought about it; he was twice as old as anyone else on the base.
Right now she knew he was just concerned. But she really didn't want to talk about it.
He didn't move.
"I'm fine, Teal'c."
"Indeed."
Somehow that word managed to be both a statement and a question. She sighed.
"Have the Colonel and Daniel left yet?" Maybe she could distract him.
"They have," he said. "O'Neil appeared most irritated at the prospect of returning to the museum. I believe he does not expect to find the second alien."
She shrugged. "The teams didn't find anything on the original sweep of the museum."
He resumed his silent vigil.
Okay, so distraction wasn't going to work. She could out wait him. Really.
She sighed. "How am I supposed to feel about this Teal'c? Suddenly I have second brother, and I learn that my dad was cheating on my mom!"
"One is indeed cause for consternation," Teal'c's voice was quiet. "But is not the finding of family a cause for joy?"
She opened her mouth meaning to say... something, but found herself closing it a moment later, unable to respond to Teal'c's words.
"Off world activation!"
Sam nearly dropped the soldering iron as the alert blared through the PA system.
None of the teams were due back now.
She unplugged the tool and quickly exited her lab. Those rushing to their assigned security stations populated the hall and she dodged various bodies as she headed for the gate room.
She made it just as the wormhole disengaged. Over the heads of the marine detachment she could see her father and another Tok'ra, Freya, walking down the ramp toward General Hammond, who had just reached the bottom.
Great. She was in no mood to deal with Anise. Not after the last couple days.
"George." She heard her father say as she neared.
He turned to her, opening his arms for a hug. "Hey, Sammy."
Her return embrace was a little stiff. As he released her he paused, holding her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
How did she start this conversation?
Helplessly she glanced at General Hammond.
General Hammond said, "Jacob, let's take this up to the conference room." He hesitated for just an instant. "We have a bit of a… delicate, situation."
The General moved away and as she turned to follow her stomach knotted as she saw her dad glancing at Freya, a puzzled look on his face.
George looked down the table as Jacob, Freya and Major Carter took seats. He noted that not only had the Major chosen to sit opposite her father, but that, aside from the brief laps in the gate room she was maintaining a poker-face.
Jacob glanced away from his daughter's face toward him, and George knew his friend well enough to read the growing concern in his face.
"The message didn't say much." Jacob said leaning forward. "What is this about?"
George was silent, thinking about how to phrase this. He'd prefer not to have the second Tok'ra present, as a good part of what was about to be said dealt with family concerns, but considering the nature of Mr. Harris's boarder, that wasn't an option.
"Jacob," he started. "Dr. Jackson came across some texts on P3X-1378, a world the natives referred to as Ruscha."
Jacob straightened at the name.
"I see it's familiar."
Jacob nodded, "It was Ra's. He used it as a… well, landfill, basically. He would use it to discard what he considered waste, both animate and inanimate. Periodically he would blast the planet clean of what life had managed to gain a foothold there. The Tok'ra have never been there, too dangerous without any real reason."
George nodded; Ra's use made sense from the evidence they had found. Switching tracks, he asked, "What do you know about Abeth Ushi?"
Both Tok'ra reacted like they'd been goosed by a cattle-prod.
"A some fact, some rumor." Jacob's face was a mix of confusion and worry. "What does he have to do…" He trailed off a look of horror creeping onto his face.
Freya spoke up, asking, "The text's that Dr. Jackson found, do they refer to the Old One?"
George glanced toward Major Carter and for a moment her guarded gaze met his. "Yes," he said. Turning his eyes back to the Tok'ra. "Most specifically, the location of his prison."
Jacob's chair creaked alarmingly as his hand clenched own on the armrest. Freya's eyes flared with a sudden glow and she shot to her feet.
Jacob made a stop gesture with one hand. "Chadoth kree!
Anise said, in a protesting manner, "Ashta'n yeth-"
"Sit." Jacobs voice had all the tension of a tightly drawn piano wire. "Down."
Slowly Anise sank back into the seat.
Jacob's hands were trembling as he turned back to look at Sam and then George. "Jesus, George. Tell me you didn't go looking for this guy."
"We'd already found him, Jacob." George said. "A group of archaeologists unearthed his sarcophagus fifty-three years ago. It was packed away in storage and no one ever-"
Jacob's expression had once again grown horrified. "He was on Earth?"
George nodded. "And currently is in an isolation room on this base."
Jacob had gone alarmingly pale and Anise was shifting about in her chair, obviously agitated.
Major Carter half stood, reaching toward her dad even as George voiced his own concern. "Jacob?" Could a Tok'ra pass out?
Jacob raised a hand warding off his daughter's assistance. "George, you have to let us take him." At George's hesitation he said, "If not us, the Asgard, the Nox, anyone. You can't hold him; you have no idea what he is."
"I think that from Dr Jackson, Teal'c, and yourself I'm getting an idea."
"No." Jacob shook his head. "Selmac remembers this guy, George. You have no idea. You've grabbed hold of a dragon by the tail."
Anise spoke with "You must-"
Jacob cut her off. "Anise!"
She rounded on him. "We do not know where Asha is!"
George felt his eyes narrow, "Asha?"
Jacob held Anise's gaze for another second then turned back to him. "His Queen. She disappeared just before the System Lords managed to imprison Abeth Ushi. There have been rumors, over the millenia, of her searching for him. If she finds out he's here..."
George met Jacob's eyes. Concern for them and fear were the two things he saw. He sighed. "There are some complications, Jacob. There was a second alien present when Abeth Ushi was released from his sarcophagus. It killed his host, which he then abandoned for another nearby person... Your son."
Jacob froze in his chair. His head turned to Sam and he said, as if he could barely force the name out, "Mark?"
The Major shook her head. "No, dad."
His gaze shifted back to George.
"Your other son, Jacob."
Confusion played across his face. "What are you talking about?"
Major Carter gave a brittle laugh. "You didn't know. God, dad. You have an affair and you-"
Now was not the time or place for that. "Major."
She chocked off her flow of words, swallowed, and said, "Sorry, sir."
Jacob was staring at his daughter in confusion.
George made a decision and got to his feet. "Jacob, perhaps it's best if we show you."
Sam clenched her hands behind her, fingernails biting into skin as her dad stared through the glass at Alexander. He's been silent throughout Janet's explanations and now he was just standing staring at the still form in the bed.
A slight motion caught her eye and she glanced over to see the look of utter loathing on Anise's face as she stared through the glass as well. No need to ask what she saw.
But what did her dad see? His face was unreadable.
When her dad spoke it was so softly she almost didn't hear him. "He looks like your grandfather."
She felt her heart clench. He admitted it that easily? "I can't believe that you-"
"I didn't!" There was a hint of anger in his face as he turned toward her. "I would never have cheated on you mother, Sam. Never.
She gestured at Alexander. "His existence says differently. Mom didn't have any other children."
"I can't explain him, Sam. Not yet." Her dad looked to General Hammond, who was standing at the back of the room. "George I need to send Freya and Anise back for some equipment. We need to understand exactly what's happening with Alexander and... Him."
The General nodded. "Agreed, but she tells the minimum amount of people necessary about him."
Her dad's head dropped for a second and his eyes flashed and Selmac said, "Only the High Council, Anise. No one else."
Anise tore her eyes away from Alexander to look at her Selmac and nodded.
As the door closed behind the Tok'ra Sam asked, "Are you sure it's a good idea to send her back?"
"I know you dislike Anise, Samantha. But she understands how important this is." The Tok'ra was silent for a moment, then she said, "Your father is telling the truth."
Sam looked at the figure on the bed and didn't reply, though her gaze flickered briefly to Teal'c who once again was standing guard in the room.
After a moment she heard a soft sigh that was definitely her father and not Selmac.
The wind blew though the standing stones, brushing over the holes drilled into them, the resulting wails giving voice to an eerie chorus. The monoliths sat on a cliff, the very edge of a mountain range as it marched near to the sea. Far below the ocean moved, restlessly. It threw itself against the base of the cliff with a mindless patience that spoke of its inevitable victory. One day it would wear away enough of the base that the rocks above would tumble into its embrace, in a future time far beyond any human life.
But the woman standing at the edge of the cliff was not human.
She stared toward the horizon where a gas giant, it's massive ring system washed crimson in the last of the day's light, crept beneath the horizon. She paid the sight little attention.
The questioning voice of her First Prime came from several paces behind her. "Majesty?"
Not taking her eyes from eyes from the gas-giant as it reached the halfway point in its descent she said, "He awakened, T'heru. Somewhere. The long sleep the children and the Shol'va bound him in has failed."
She could feel his mind flicker with surprise, uncertainty and a touch of excitement. She could sense he had not expected this to come in his lifetime. He asked, "Is it, then, time?"
"Perhaps." She turned away from the horizon and met his gaze. Her host was tall, nearly able to meet his eyes on an even level. "Yet something still restrains him."
Once again his emotional tint changed, taking on a slight shade of surprise.
Appropriate. What, indeed, could restrain her beloved against his will? Few things. And one had been used. Its hold had now been broken and could not be used again. So, what?
"I do not know," she said. T'heru blanched and took a step back as her voice caressed the next word. "Yet."
Giles set the bookmark in place and gently closed the book. Putting it on the table he removed his glasses and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Giles?"
Dropping his hand and raising his eyes brought a fuzzy blond blob into his line of vision. Blinking, he replaced his glasses and the blob resolved itself into the person of his onetime charge and surrogate daughter, Buffy.
His eyes dropped down to where her hands were extended toward him, holding a steaming cup of tea.
"Marvelous." Maybe bringing her to England hadn't been the disaster that he'd thought. "Thank you, Buffy."
He blew on it and took a sip even as she seated herself on the other side of the table and peered over the mound of books at him.
"So," she said. "You figure out what that prophecy meant?"
He sighed. "In part. The dialect is ancient and I've been having a spot of trouble finding the proper references for it."
"But part, huh?"
"Yes." He picked up a sheet of vellum with the hand that wasn't occupied with the teacup. "The prophecy seems to refer to some sort of awakening. It mentions something about the "Old Night" and a time before the "Reign of the Gods." He shrugged apologetically. "I'm afraid what I have is a bit fragmentary as of yet."
"Okay. So, awakening, old night, and reign of gods." She nodded. "Check. That it?"
"Unfortunately, no. Those are the uplifting parts."
"Oh. Well then, yay?"
"It also says something about abandoning hope but I'm rather at a loss, as it seems to be referring to a specific person having to abandon hope. Someone having had to do with the "awakening."
"Buffy started to nod again but paused mid motion. "Had?"
"That is the disconcerting part." He set the vellum down. "This prophecy, like others you've encountered, was very specific about the date."
"Hate those." She grimaced. "I know I'm going to be sorry for asking, but, when?"
"Two nights ago."
She froze, staring at him, then, "That's not good."
"No." He shrugged. "But I'm assuming that since the world hasn't ended, the seas turned to blood, or the sky rained fire, that we might have some leeway."
They both paused, Buffy glancing one way, and then another.
He waited for several moments and when nothing happened said, "Hum."
Buffy looked back to him and said, "No demons jumping out. Nothing blew up." She grinned. "I think I like leeway."
"Actually," he said, introspectively. "I was rather expecting… something to happen when I said that. Tempting fate and all."
"What? Life not been exciting enough for you?"
"Well, you must admit that life off of a hellmouth can be somewhat less engaging."
"Ooo, enter Giles the adrenaline junky."
He cleared his throat "Let's not push fate too far. If you would contact Willow, Faith, Wood and Xander, we should start pooling our resources. It's always best to be prepared against the unknown. And, in spite of the… lull, the prophecy does seem to point toward something serious."
Buffy practically bounced out of her chair, grinning. "All of the gang together again?"
He was forced to smile at her enthusiasm. It would indeed be good to see all his children again. "So it would seem."
"Coolies."
As she reached the door he said, "Buffy?"
She stopped, half turning. "Hum?"
He spoke softly. "Thank you for the tea."
Jack slipped in through lab door. The General had said he'd find Carter and Jacob down here running scans of their guest. He just hoped that Anise wasn't here too.
As he stepped further into the room he came into view of one of the workstations and the Tok'ra in question glanced up at him.
D'oah.
She didn't say anything to him, just looked back to the computer screen. Her expression was of a person positively wigged out.
Hum. Maybe this Old Night guy wasn't all bad.
Shoving his hands further into his pockets he meandered deeper into the room. Well, no Carter, but there Jacob was.
He was seated at the main workstation. The computer screen in front of him was filled with scientific gobbly-gook. His attention was riveted on the screen.
When Jack was directly behind him he said, "Whatch'ya doin'?"
Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin.
Jack concentrated on looking innocent as Jacob turned and glared at him. "Do you mind? Selmac is agitated enough as it is."
Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Selmac, huh?"
"Hey," Jacob tapped his head. "If you saw the memories she has about this guy, you'd be nervous too."
"Sir?"
Jack turned at the sound of his 2IC's voice. "Carter."
The Major was holding a small stack of files, which she set down on one of the lab tables as she asked, "Back already, Sir?"
"Yup."
He cocked his head, studying her. Her body language was off. Tense.
After a second of silence she asked, "Did you find anything?"
"Nope."
She seemed uncomfortable. What was going on?
Jacob's voice came from behind Jack. "Is that the result of the background check?"
Carter's eyes flicked toward her dad and then skittered back to Jack's face as she answered, "Yes."
Oh. That was what was wrong.
Well, that was between the two of them. Though if it really started to screw with Carter he'd offer to give Jacob a good ass kicking. Hum. Though, Jacob had the snake now. That could make it a little harder.
Regular Air Force plus snake vs. Special Forces.
He considered that.
Nah. No contest.
"Sir?" Carter was looking at him with a question in her gaze.
He realized he was grinning. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking amusing thoughts."
Her face did that "I don't want to know" look. "Right."
"Anyhoo." Best to change subjects. "Background check?"
He watched her shift gears. "Yes, sir. I just received it."
He looked at the six-inch thick stack of paper. "All of that?"
"Yes, sir."
Okaaay. He wandered over to the stack, picked up a folder and began to page through it. "Hey!"
"What is it?" Jacob had risen from his seat and moved to the table.
Jack turned the folder so they both could see. "It reads like mine."
Massive sections of text were blacked out.
Carter picked up another folder, as did Jacob.
Pages turned, and after a moment. "This one's the same," Cater said. Jack shot a questioning look to Jacob, who said, "Ditto."
"Carter," he said after a moment's silence. "What's a civilian doing with a file looks like it came straight out of Spec Ops?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."
They both looked at Jacob.
"Don't look at me. I don't know any more than you do."
Jack opened his mouth to make a comment about keeping track of what your kids are up to when Anise interrupted.
"Jacob."
Jack turned with the other two. Gah. That metallic voice always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"What is it Anise?" Jacob asked.
"I've completed the genetic analysis."
"And?"
"He is your son."
Jack felt Carter shift next to him.
Anise caught it too because her gaze turned to the Major. "The analysis indicates that, in fact, you and Alexander share both parents."
The word came from both Carters at the same time. "What?"
Jack raised both eyebrows. Well, well. The plot thickened.
"Gershaw."
The Tok'ra turned at the voice and studied the younger Tok'ra who approached. He almost seethed with some unexpressed emotion. "Yes, Temec?"
"Is this truly all that you intend to do?" Temec flung one had back to point in the direction of the council chamber. "We cannot simply wait while the Tau'ri-"
Gershaw made a violent silencing gesture with her hand and, glancing around, pulled him into an empty side chamber. "Prudence, Temec! What is said in council remains with there. It is not to be bandied about in the corridors!"
Temec took a deep breath and then said, "The Tau'ri are less than infants when faced with the Old One, Gershaw. Their insistence on trying to keep him within their primitive facilities endangers us all."
Gershaw felt her eyes flash as her partner's irritation joined with her own. "I understand the danger far better than you, Temec. I was there. You have only those memories passed on to you. The decision is made."
She turned on her heel and swept out of the room.
Temec stared silently after Gershaw for long seconds. Then he whispered, "No old woman, not better than me."
His eyes closed momentarily, as if listening to a voice within, then his expression hardened and he said, ""Then we are agreed."
Moving with deliberate purpose he exited the room, making for the ring transport to the surface, and from there to the stargate.
"You know what I don't get?"
Sam turned part of her attention away from the computer screen and turned it to Colonel O'Neill. "What?"
"If the System Lords were so afraid of what this guy might do, why didn't they just kill him?" The Colonel gestured carelessly with the soldering iron. "I mean they went through all the trouble of imprisoning him. But if they were so terrified why didn't they use the permanent solution to the problem when they had the chance?"
Sam shrugged; she had considered that question. Before she could voice her theory her dad spoke up from behind her, saying, "They did."
She turned toward him, even as the Colonel said, "Well, then why'd they stick him in a sarcophagus to bring him back?"
Her dad shook his head. "They didn't."
Her mental "What?" was echoed by the Colonel's, "Huh?"
Sighing, her dad leaned back against the lab table. "They did kill him, but they didn't resurrect him. Somehow he managed it himself."
She traded a glance with the Colonel. "How?"
"No one knows."
She ventured, "Some sort of engineered spontaneous regeneration?"
Her dad gave a snort. "A biological system doesn't regenerate from being reduced to its component molecules, Sam."
"Component molecules?"
"Yeah, it was kinda hard to miss," her dad shifted his gaze to the Colonel, as he continued. "When one of the Old One's allies betrayed him, he was vulnerable for a brief time. Ra, Sokar, Anubis, Yu, they all instantly threw their fleets at him. They reduced him and the planet he was standing on to an expanding cloud of plasma. Three days later he re-appeared. Alive. Fortunately for the System Lords, he… came back on a planet that was controlled by Ra."
Sam asked, "Could he have escaped-"
Her dad was already shaking his head. "The System Lords had a actual sensor lock on him, specifically, when they attacked, he was on the planet when it blew. The Tok'ra don't know exactly what happened after he re-appeared. Just that Ra managed to capture him. Since they couldn't permanently kill him, and from what information we dohave, they tried several times, the only option they had left was to imprison him. So…"
As he trailed of the Colonel said, "So here we are."
"Yeah."
Willow picked up the phone on the second ring. The familiar flicker of psychic energy told her immediately who it was and she said, "Hey, Buffy. I got the ticket, I'll be arriving in London at-"
"Willow."
That one word was all it took to cut her off and to tell her something was wrong. Cold seeped into her gut and a sudden trickle of uncontrolled magical energy flitted over her skin.
Buffy seemed to be having trouble getting any further so she prompted her, "Buffy?"
"Xander's missing."
Cold turned to ice and the trickle of power became a flood.