Epilogue: A Change of Plans

"And you're sure the King won't be coming back any time soon?"

It was a tense moment of inquiry for the Watcher, but Giles knew that he had to make sure that the town was safe. It was justified, given how his former pupil showed up at his doorstep at nine in the evening with a bottle of whiskey and claims of news about the King of the Vampires, Giles figured he had a right to be tense. Pouring the whiskey into two glass tumblers, he watched his former student's face with apprehension.

"He's not liable to come back here anytime soon, chief." The magus replied, taking the glass that was offered to him.

"What makes you so sure about that John?" Giles asked, taking a sip from his glass.

"The bastard's been around since before Eden. He's an ancient fuckwit. And ancient fuckwits are all cut from the same cloth when it comes to honor." He answered, reveling in Giles' slight wincing of his colorful language use. "I outwitted the bastard and kicked the rest of his lot out of town. Trust me, he's not gonna be coming back any time soon."

"Well, that's… that's certainly a… comfort to hear."

John nodded to the Watcher's assessment and took another sip of his whiskey. The two Englishmen sat in silence, each cradling their glasses, contemplating what to say next. After a few minutes of quiet, it was Giles who would end up breaking this very British moment.

"John."

The exorcist only gave a turn of the head in acknowledgment.

"Are you really planning to stay in town for the next couple of days?"

Sighing slightly, the magus downed the rest of his glass before taking a moment to consider his answer.

"I don't know really." He said, taking out his pack of cigarettes. "It could be a couple of days. Or weeks. Maybe months."

A faint haze of smoke soon started to fill the room.

"Are you sure that'll be necessary John?" Giles asked, sitting up straight in his seat.

"Hopefully not." John breathing in another hit from his Silk Cut. "But then again, when has hope ever worked out in our favor?"

With those words Rupert Giles sighed and downed the last of his whiskey. He got up and headed toward the table, picking up the bottle of whiskey and bringing it back with him into the living room. He sighed to himself slightly as he reflected on the events of the past few weeks. The series of vampire attacks. Calling his old friend. Discovering the existence of the King. It was madness that felt so close to spiraling out of hand.

It feels just like the old days, doesn't it?

Setting down the bottle on the coffee table next to the letter that John had recovered from Dr. Cameron's office. He had read and reread it so many times that he could practically memorized it. A letter of confirmation, approving the status of Dr. Vestra Cameron to be appointed by the medical board as the new hospital director for Sunnydale General with all legal entanglements essentially being handled by Dr. Cameron's attorney. But there was only one aspect of the letter that had managed to shake him and John to the core: the name of the law firm that represented Dr. Cameron.

In fine black ink, at the very bottom read:

All legal proceedings for Dr. Cameron's approval from interim status to full-time to be handled by Att. Lilah Morgan of Wolfram & Hart.

Taking another sip of his glass, Giles eyed his student warily as he considered the consequences of him staying on the Hellmouth.

It does feel like the old days. And that's exactly what I'm worried about.

Angel had made a fair amount of progress in his recovery, but the whole ordeal still left him scarred and shaken. After all, one simply doesn't forget a thing like Hell anytime soon. In lieu of that, keeping awake at odd hours had become the norm for him.

He sighed quietly, not particularly hungry, nor stressed. The best he could describe it would probably be 'unnerved'. It felt there was something nagging in the back of his head, a footnote amidst the volumes of memories he had accumulated in his long undead life.

And now that footnote seemed to be keeping him awake as he struggled to recall what that name meant to him.

Constantine.

Visions of a Somerset village. Voices whispering that seemed to yield the descriptions of a light unbounded. A flash of blonde hair atop a figure of Georgian wear.

Opening his eyes, Angel sighed quietly. The memories were there, but something seemed to prevent them from springing forward.

Looks like another long night.

Interlude: Dialogue Between Two Soldiers

Faith Lehane expected a quiet night of patrol, but a fluttering of wings announced the arrival of what could only be complications.

"What the hell?"

"Quite the opposite in fact."

"Okay, buddy, you got five seconds to tell me who you are before the stabbing begins."

"Peace, Faith Lehane. I'm not here to harm you."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things. You can call me Emmanuel. I believe you're acquainted with one of my charges."

"Your charges?"

"John Constantine."

"How do you know John?"

"I'm something of a friend. Although, I doubt he'd say as much."

"No surprises there. Look, Manny I've had a long couple of days so either you tell me what you want or you could just piss off back to… wherever it is you're from."

"You'll find out soon enough. But for now, it's important that you listen when I say this: trust him."

"What that's it? Trust him? Are you really pulling this vague, cryptic crap on me?"

"Trust John Constantine. You'll need him. And he'll need you."

And with a smile, he uncurled his wings, their very sight enough to turn any unbeliever. And with a fluttering of his wings, Faith found herself alone again.

"What the actual fuck?"

"And you're sure that he's gone for good?"

"Yes, sir. We checked his hideouts and outposts. All empty."

"And his followers?"

"Gone with him, we suspect."

"Oh, that's a shame. I was beginning to take to the fellow." He bit into his apple. "It's not every day that I meet someone older than me, let alone a king."

"No, I… I suppose not sir."

"Well, then Mr. Finch…" He turned to face his Deputy Mayor. "It looks like we have an opening."

"It looks like it sir." Deputy Mayor Allen Finch smiled back to his boss.

From behind his desk, Mayor Richard Wilkins III skimmed over the file that he had received three days ago. A series of notes from a facility in Northern England, newspaper articles from The Sun, The Telegraph, and The Daily Mail, and a picture of a blonde man in a trench coat looking more than a bit surly.

Maybe a change of plans is exactly what we need.

"Well, then Mr. John Constantine, let's see what you have to offer Sunnydale."

From the office in Los Angeles, the sun seamed to gleam stronger and higher than he expected. It was a change of pace after all the hunting he had done. But out of all the places that he had been because of his job, LA had to be the worst. The endless pain and misery of life disguised under a veneer of joy, happiness, unbounded light. It sickened him to no end.

A single file placed on his desk, was enough to add to his tetchy mood. It had been a risk collaborating with Wolfram & Hart, but it was necessary if any assessment of the situation in the Hellmouth was to be ascertained. The Crisis had shaken their cause to the core and amidst all that chaos was one whistleblower had leaked their most closely guarded secret to the allegiances of Hell.

But thankfully, there was a back-up plan. Technically.

Shifting through the papers, he sighed to himself as he read the fate of Dr. Vestra Cameron.

So much for 'according to plan'.

Pressing the button on his desk, his two lieutenants entered his office. Clad in their organization's white suits, they looked determined and eager to serve.

They better be.

"You called for us sir?"

"Yes. Hoover, Featherstone, it appears that the Hellmouth is compromised."

They looked at each other curiously, apprehension as to what would come next.

"Compromised sir?" Hoover asked, worry laced in his voice.

"Yes. We shall not be receiving aid from Wolfram & Hart any longer."

"And what about the Ascension, sir?" Featherstone inquired.

"As far as we know, it has yet to begin. For now, we shall monitor the situation, but we can no longer actively involve ourselves with the affairs of Sunnydale." He sighed, closing the file on his desk. "As for what we do now, we return to our mission."

At those words, a brief glint of fear struck the two, but they nodded silently. And with a wave of his hand he bade them leave his office.

Turning his seat to face the LA skyline, he frowned once again. Too much had gone wrong, but this time he'd be sure that such interruptions would not happen again.

After all the work he put in taking control, he would not let their organization fail in its mission. The Grail would succeed in restoring order to the world. Genesis would be theirs.

And with that final thought, Herr Starr smiled in his resolve.

Perhaps that is what we needed after all. A change of plans.

And that's the end of 'All the King's Men'! I'd like to apologize first off for taking so long to upload this. I was debating whether or not to put in that final section of the story because it alludes to a hell of a lot more. If you get the reference, then yes that is a part of this crossover AU that I've established. If not, a simple Google search will answer your questions.

There will be more stories, but for now I'm taking a bit of a break from writing within this crossover AU to focus on my personal life. I'll probably start up again sometime around the new year.

Thanks so much to everyone who favorited and commented! Your input and support means a lot!

And I hope you stick around for the stories to come!

- Dollar Day