Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS/Castlevania/VanHelsing. They are the property of JW/Konami/BramStoker.
Requiem of Ruin
Chapter 1: Unknown Visitor
Author: Collaborative Works SadJack (Concept & Writer) & Moonstone (Editor & Beta)
August 19th, 1993 11am
Old, that’s how I feel, just old. Maybe tired as well.
I know that my past deeds have made who I am and what I will be remembered for, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the effects of it.
It’s all about time.
Time, yep. That’s what the problem is, time. It’s catching up to me quickly.
At the age of sixty-eight years, I think that it is certain that time will catch me sooner rather than later. I’m not going to last much longer doing this work. I was hoping to pass this on to a son, but by my unfortunate luck I only had a daughter. A stubborn and irrational daughter that I do love, but also one that did not listen well.
I did try to instill what I know into her, teach her what must be done. I know that she could have done it; I’m not ignorant to assume that women can’t do what must be done. I had a wife.
A wife that did hard work and lived fully. She knew what needed to be done, and if I was not able to do it, she sure as hell would.
It still pains my heart knowing that she is gone. I will miss her for however long I have left until I see her again. She gave me a daughter, a family.
Family, that’s what this is about really.
I have lived at my home in Texas since I was born. Sixty-Eight years of a good life. Working hard and finding joy.
Then there is of course that other stuff.
Again, it is about family.
I am the last in line to an old family legacy. One in which I was to face things out of my darkest nightmares, in order to stop a plague of evil from erupting onto the world.
Yeah, I know what you are thinking. Dracula.
Is this guy talking about the guy in the middle of Europe in the weird country where people talk like this?
“I vant to sock vere blud.”
Yep, I sure am, and no it’s not a joke or a derangement of clarity. It is a family duty.
Or curse, I’m still not sure yet.
But that was what I did, what I still do to some extent. I fight the creatures of the night and deter the evil intent. It’s what my father did, and what his father did before him.
That’s where it started for my family, with my grandfather Quincy.
He battled monsters and the darkness in his life just like I do.
Taught how by a famous monster hunter himself, Van Helsing.
He did it until he passed on the knowledge to my father and his brothers.
Then my father did it until his dying day, and he taught me how to do this.
But I am the last of the line, my brother and sister are already dead, and there is no one else to take up the family’s mantle.
Well that was the case at least until last week.
I received a phone call from my daughter after fifteen years of no word, who began to ask me for money.
More than likely for both her and her husband to get even drunk.
But a good thing came about because of it. I learn finally after an hour of drunken arguing that I have a grandson.
After yelling and talks with my daughter, I told her that I would give them the money they asked for, but that I would come to give them it in person. I could not pass up this opportunity to see what could possibly be my last chance to pass on what I know.
So I packed up what I needed for traveling, got into my old truck and made my way to Sunnydale, California.
After three days of easy travel, I finally arrived in the small hamlet of a town and instantly felt a corruption of evil.
‘What could possibly be causing this adverse feeling?’
At that time I had no direct reasoning of what it could have been. But after I checked myself into the best establishment I could find in hotels, the Sunnydale Lodge. I started to use my senses to find what could be the cause.
With an ironic chuckle it led me to the local high school.
Finding that I could not gain entry to the facility do to it being a Saturday, I made my way to my daughter’s home.
When I arrived outside of the address she gave me, I found myself outside of what looked like a run down two story house. The outside walls were dirty and unfinished, most of the windows were broken and boarded over, and the lawn was mottled and dead. Not to mention the three unfinished rusted cars that sat there.
It was to me an unfit place for living, and certainly not place for a child to be.
Knocking on what appeared to be the front door, I heard a commotion of yelling and curses coming from the other side of the door.
After a few minutes of waiting, the door finally opened to reveal my daughter. Deshelved and obviously still drunk to some extent as I could tell by smell of her breath.
“Hi Dad.” She told me as she opened the door to allow me into the house.
Bolstering myself for what I know will be a disgusting experience on my senses; I walked past her and into the house.
“Jessica, how are you?” I ask her as she closes the door behind me.
I watch as she moves past me into what I could only gather as being the living room and starts to nervously pick up some small messes garbage on the dirty floor.
“I’m okay dad. Just been busy and stressed with everything happening with Tony and his job.” She tells me as she clears a space on the couch and gestures me to sit down.
“I can see that.” I tell her as I sit.
I watch as she fumbles with a few more things and sits down in a recliner.
After a few moments of silence she finally looks at me.
“Look dad, I know that I haven’t talked to you in some time. But, well Tony and I have been busy, and I couldn’t find the time to try and get a hold of you.” She tells me and she rubs the tops of her hands in a nervous habit.
Taking a deep breath, I nearly cough at the stench in the room, and ready my words. It has been a long time since I last spoke to Jessica and the reasons of why were clear back then, and is still clear to some extent now.
I thought back then and still do that she was being rash and making bad choices in her life. One was of her choice in a husband, but also her choices on how she was making her life. I always thought that her marriage to Anthony Harris was a mistake. The young man I met so long ago in San Antonio was a rash and belligerent idiot, always more interested in drinking and the wrong kind of women. I had thought that my daughter deserved better, and that she could be more, and I had voiced my opinion to her about it.
It just was that no one was listening.
Now she was living in squalor and married to clearly an unclean, irresponsible, and abusive man. There was almost nothing left of the young women I knew as my daughter. She was really just a shadow of who she used to be.
“Jessica, you couldn’t find enough time to even pick up a phone and ring me. It’s been fifteen years, you must have been able to find some time. I just don’t understand.” I tell her in almost a hollow voice.
I watch as she stands and begins to pace in the room for a short time.
“Dad, I know that I could have found time to call you. But there was Tony and he wanted to have time away from everyone back then, and then we moved here. Then Alexander came, it was just overwhelming. By the time everything came into focus, I found myself in a hole that I couldn’t work out of and it’s just taken all this time to sort things out. Then this thing with Tony happened and well here I am.” She tells me looking anywhere else in the room but at me.
I know that she is lying now; this is the habit that she had when she was a young girl. I know the truth was she did find herself in a hole, and she continued to be there until it overwhelmed and controlled her. Since then she just more than likely drank herself into a stupor to forget and she still wants to.
I dawns on me now that I have truly lost my daughter, and that all she want from me now is money to drink herself into ignorance.
But I still have a chance; Alexander is that if not more. It’s not too late yet to not do what my father did for me.
At that moment I hear a loud yell and a door being banged on.
I can tell that it must be Tony as the one banging on the door. But the next sound I hear is that same door breaking and more yelling.
“You little shit! Do you think you can get away with stealing from me, where are my keys? Huh, you little fuck.” I hear him yell.
I move to go up the staircase to investigate what is happening and turn to see Jessica looking down and away from the noise.
When I turn back to the stair I hear another voice yelling out. One that is cracking slightly and sounding small.
“Dad, I didn’t take anything. Your drunk again, I don’t have your keys, just calm down and I will help you find them.”
As I reach the top of the steps I can see Tony, ragged clothed and staggering, more than likely as Alexander has said drunk. I watch as he stomps his way into what I could guess as Alexander’s bedroom and yell again. As he does I see a set of keys hanging from his jean pocket.
“Bullshit, I know you took them you worthless dumbass thief. Get over here and give them back.” Tony yells.
“But Dad I…” The small voice yells out.
“Don’t you talk back to me you little shit!” I hear Tony yell out.
I watch as he moves further into the room and hear a distinct pop. One that I know from familiarity as a fist connecting with flesh and bone.
I move into the room and watch as Tony moves his arm back to strike out at the young man on the floor again. I move quickly and grab Tony’s arm to stop its decent.
He swings around and throws a clumsy fist towards me.
I bring my hand up quickly and catch his fist in my open palm, then start to squeeze. At hearing bone cracking and Tony yelling out in pain, I force the man down to his knees.
“What do you think you are doing striking a child like that? He is defenseless and cowering on the floor. You are his father, not some Ukraine Prison guard.” I yell at him and push him away towards the door.
As I turn back I can see a young man looking up at me with shining dark green eyes.
From what I can tell he is just under six foot tall but thin and lanky. Must not be more than twelve or thirteen year’s old, and wearing ragged and unruly clothes that look to be bought from a garage sale in to 1970’s. I look at him more closely and see that his shirt is torn. Bruises and small gashes can be seen on his stomach and lower ribs. Looking up I can see a fat lip and a dark purple bruise on his cheek.
I watch as he stands up and looks at me just as inquisitively before moving a step forward.
“Sir, who are you?” He asks me.
I stretch out with my senses and can tell that this boy is my chance. Just by being himself now in this small act of questioning, I can see strength. He is the continuance.
He is my Heir.
Looking the young man in the eyes again, I take a breath and a smile adorns my face.
“My name is Jonathan Q. Morris; I am your mother’s father. Your grandfather Alexander.” I tell him.
Same Day 4pm
After seeing the wounds and bruising on Alexander, I took him as well as Jessica and Tony to the Hospital.
When the doctor asked what happened, I told the truth. I told them that Tony was abusing his son and that Alexander was injured and needed help. I then told them that he attempted to attack me and I had retaliated injuring Tony’s hand.
The doctor just nodded his head and walked away as though it was a normal occurrence.
The influx of evil must be affecting the town deeply; either that or this has become so constant of an occurrence that they just pass it off as normal. If that is the case I am truly angry with the people of this town. If they simply do not notice the bad situations of the world and ignore the pain, then they are no better than animals.
Whatever the case, what happened to Alexander today will never happen again. I will make sure of that.
When the police arrived they came to take a statement of what occurred, and I told them the same as I told the doctor. They nodded just as well and left shortly afterwards.
At this I turned to Jessica and began to berate her on her care of Alexander.
“Jessica, this cannot go on. Tony has clearly been abusing Alexander; I have seen the bruising and the old wounds. How could you let this come this far? No, it doesn’t matter. You have been careless and irresponsible with your son. You must make amends with that, but especially with Alexander.”I tell her as we sit waiting for Alexander to be released.
Thinking through what the implications of today are, I can only hope, that although I saw strength in the young man earlier, that living in that house has not corrupted him in such a way that he cannot see the good people can do.
The only answer I have is to wait and see.
But in order to do that I will have to be here to witness it. That alone leaves me little choice but to stay for as long as it takes to watch Alexander become what I hope he will be.
I turn back to Jessica and cradle her face in the palm of my hand.
“You know that this will stop now. I will be here to stop this from happening from now on. I will be moving here to watch over that young man, and to make sure that he has a stable home. I will not take him from you, however if you wish for my help still I will make a condition of you and Tony allow Alexander to live with me here in Sunnydale. He will not be far, but he will be out of that house.” I tell her as move to stand.
I let out a heavy sigh and move back to the nurse’s desk.
A small buxom sandy haired woman is sitting behind a computer typing away. From the nametag on her shirt her name is Heather.
“Excuse me Heather, but can I ask what the condition of my grandson is? Perhaps if I can see him?” I ask the young lady.
See looks up at me and gives me a small smile.
“Yeah, hold on a second, and I will check.” She tells me.
I watch as she moves off to a curtain and after a couple of minutes comes back.
“Okay, what is happening is that the doctor is bandaging him up and giving him a compress for his jaw. He said the Alexander will be fine, and that he will be ready to go hear in a small while. If you want to visit him the doctor has no problems with that.” She tells me and waves me to the curtain.
I smile at her and give my thanks for the help before I make my way to the curtain.
When I pull back the curtain I see Alexander there alone and holding an icepack to his jaw.
He looks up at me and his eyes grow slightly bigger.
“Umm, Hi.” He says as he fidgets slightly in the bed.
I smile to reassure him some and move to take a seat in a chair next to the bed.
“Hello again Alexander, are you feeling any better?” I ask him.
He continues to fidget some but steadies after a moment.
“Yeah I’m okay. Just you know.” He says as he waves his free hand around in a gesture of irritation.
I can only guess that it has something to do with why he is in the hospital in the first place, and let out a sigh in response.
“I can only guess what you are going through, how angry you may be, or disappointed. But all I can tell you is that if you want to talk about it, I wouldn’t mind listening.” I tell him.
I see him nod slightly and then turn his head to stare at the curtains for a small time. After a few moments, he turns his head back to me and looks me in the eye.
“Are you really my grandfather? Or was that just something I heard from the concussion?” He asks me with a slight jib.
I smile at him and sit up a little more in pride for the questioning recognition.
“Yes I am. I am your mother’s father.” I tell him.
Seeing him nod his head slightly, I nod back in response.
“So…why is this the first time I have seen you? And why didn’t my mom ever talk about you?” He asks me with a confused look.
I let out a deep heavy sigh and move forward some.
“Well, the truth is that I never came to see you before because I was unaware that you even existed up until a few days ago. You parents never told me about you. As for why your mother never talked about me, well I can only guess of one or two reasons why. Either that she was the way I believe her to be now or that she is still angry for me trying to get her to see reason when she married your father. I’m sorry to say that I just don’t know” I tell him.
I see him nod again and then let out a heavy breath himself.
“Well how about you tell me about yourself now that you are here? You look like a stand up guy, and from what you have done so far I can see what kind of a person you are to some point, but I just don’t know you, so tell me.” He says to me.
I have to smile at his words; so far this is telling me that he is what I have been waiting for, my chance to pass on what I know. This bodes well for the future, and I can tell that even though he lived in that house, he was not corrupted by the violence and absurdity.
Now all I have to hope for is that he likes jokes, occasional wise cracks, and long stories.
“Well Alexander, I was born in 1926 on a ranch outside of Houston, Texas. You see my grandfather….”