Pasts and Futures
PG. 12/24/2008.

1. The Map

"But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, lacking nothing." --James 1:4

It's the fourth night in a row that Matt's watched the sun rise out the window of his office and the stacks of books on his desk still don't look any smaller. All these dry, aged academic volumes seem to float past his eyes, indistinguishable from one another, rewarding him only with clouds of dust. But he keeps looking, because he's on to something, because it's here somewhere and if he only pushes just a bit harder...

But in these late, these early hours, with the halls of the college empty and his beard-stubble itching on his cheeks, it's so damned hard to grasp anything. There's so much already inside his head, pages much more eager to be turned than the cracked ones before him.

How did it come to this? A professorship in Theological Anthropology, often set aside for long expeditions in remote forests and urban jungles. A cottage full of relics, on the edge of his small college town. And dreams of eyes of the most brilliant blue...

Matt remembers when he really learned about old things. It was with Stefan Salvatore, in the Fell's Church library. Holding this book that was a piece of history, a book that held so many untold secrets, there for anyone to see if they just looked right.

He remembers Elena's mouth locked on his throat as the antique cloth of her dress brushed against his arms.

Matt had grown up in a town full of secrets, and mystery, and never knew it. But somehow, after he had seen things no one was meant to see, after Elena had vanished once more into the night with Damon and Stefan hovering around her like--well, well, like guardian angels, apt as it may be given his current research--he couldn't bear to be such a secret keeper, not there, not home.

So he worked on his new half-formed plan, with a fierceness he hadn't known lived inside him. He worked hard, in community college, on grants and scholarships. His mom started doing more work for the Church, attending every Mass there was, anything she thought would win him a little advantage. And then, of course, she was gone...and that last bit of catharsis for him was what got him where he needed to be.

And then there was the night he got the call. It was right after he finished grad school, and he was looking forward to sleeping for a good solid month. He'd picked up the phone with a dry-mouthed "Hello," and there was that silky dark voice on the other end: "I have a proposition for you, Mr. Honeycutt." No introductions, no pleasantries, just right down to business. Who could it have been but Damon?

He'd met with both brothers, together, within the week, Damon looking dangerous as usual, Stefan calm and composed but somehow...scarred, deeply, as if by combat.

Matt had not asked after Elena. He never has. There must be a reason why they never speak of her....

"I've been following you, these last few years," Stefan said, and was that just the slightest trace of a blush? Impossible. And they told him everything--what they needed, what they suspected, what they feared, and why he was the man for the job. The showed him the scrolls and texts they'd gathered, related the hearsay that had come their way, and then waited.

He will never speak of some of this, not even to himself. They may have even wiped his memory of the most tricky bits, but if they did, he understands why.

And thus began his quest, and their patronage.

He keeps the university deans off his back by voluntarily taking only a pittance of a wage, in exchange for relative autonomy. He has his classes, his work, even a few small projects of his own, but mostly he does their work. Their great endeavor.

He had never imagined it would take so long...but then again, how long must their kind have lived in their own sort of Dark Ages, over this? Even Klaus seemed not to remember from whence he came.

Matt's snapped out of his reverie, when the small, hand-scrawled map falls onto his desk. He looks at the volume in his hand, the book that has released it from its pages. The Dooms Pronounced by God, it reads. And when he opens the cover, he sees it was only viewed in the library once before: by one William Whitton, with whom Matt is all too familiar.



2. The Farewell

"And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind...to devour one another's flesh, and drink the blood."--The Book of Enoch, 7:3,5

Fast forward ten months from when he found the map. Matt's just returned from visiting William at the home, and his sleeve is still wet from where William wept into it. "You'll finish an old man's work," he had said to Matt, "I know you will."

And Damon and Stefan are waiting for him, all shrouded in black as always. They have promised to wait until he can show them the cave, until they can all three discover it together, and so he can see the apprehension behind their eyes. But he sees, also, something he's never seen before, not this way: a grace, a strength, an otherworldliness that makes him afraid, and humbled. And he does not choose to ignore it, or struggle to defeat it.

He shivers and picks up his suitcase, and they escort him out the door of his home. They will drive to the airport, where there will be a plane waiting, which will take them only a mile or so from their destination.



3. The Cave

"Every angel is terrifying." --"First Elegy," Rainer Maria Rilke

They help him pry off the door, and within, is exactly what he knew would be there--but it's more beautiful, more sacred, than he could possibly have anticipated. And Stefan, Damon, just stand and stare, still not knowing.

"So you see," Matt begins, in his lecturer's voice, "Everything you knew about your origins didn't end up adding up to much. It was like there was a horizon line that couldn't be crossed, before Klaus' time, before the other Old Ones could remember either. So I started over from scratch. I went back to human writings about those times, which aren't exactly reliable. There were so many pieces...."

"Please," Stefan says gently, placing his hand on Matt's arm, "We appreciate how hard you've worked, Matt. Don't apologize for the wait; it's nothing to us. We are forever grateful for your time."

And to his surprise, Matt's eyes hurt, his chest, like he's going to cry, and he realizes he's terrified to tell them, because they won't need him any more. He's gotten so accustomed to their visits, the long chats, the...quiet understanding. And now, and now...to know what he was working for, to know what it means and what it would have meant to his mother, to so many others...and to think of them vanishing like Elena...

But it has to be said, so he continues: "Well, anyway, the thing I really started to zoom in on were your rings. Lapis lazuli, the "stone of heaven." Everything seemed to revolve around that. And I was almost there, and then I found the map to this place." He gestured to the cave, its cathedral-like ceilings, the one shaft of light coming down from an unknown point above, like a benediction. "No one's been here for thousands of years. My source says the map he found was a copy of a copy of a copy, passed down...and somehow even he wasn't able to decipher it."

Matt shrugged. "It wasn't anything special that I did. I'm just in the right place at the right time."

They walk more deeply into the room, toward the carving at its illuminated center.

It's a human form, eyes and forehead tensed by sorrow or pleasure. From its shoulders sprout wings--immense wings, twice the height and width of its body, carved from one immense rockface. And inlaid into its tearducts, cheeks, down its throat and androgynous chest, are little droplets of lapis.

It hands are cupped, and when they near, they see the dried blood that fills the well, see where it has spilled from between cracks in the angel's (yes, angel's, yes) fingers to pool on the ground.

"What is this?" Damon says, in a voice that is hushed and yet intense, commanding. "You'll tell us now."

Matt sighs. "You see, it's not really the stone of heaven, it's the stone that fell from Heaven. Remember that bit in Genesis? "And there were giants in those days"? That's just a little hint for us. But I found it. I found--" He stops and swallows, begins again. "I found the thing they all forgot. I found why you exist!"

And he pulls his most precious bit of research, even more hard-won than the map, from his pocket. It's plain, new white paper; he'd copied it by hand. He unfolds it and reads:

"And lo, the Angels vowed to undertake this thing, and took the daughters of Eve to wife. In those days did great children arise, outshining their parents in might and wisdom. And the Lord God witnessed that they were mightier than the Men He had wrought in His image. He called together His Angels, saying 'Your sons have come to the Earth in defiance of my Will. I shall not Unmake that which is wrought, but forever let ye be punished for your insolence. Your sons shall walk in darkness, until their Time is nigh, and until then they shall not recognize ye, or know their full Power. Your wives shall become the wives of Man once more. And ye shall be banished from the Earth, except by my hand, on my errand.

"And so the great children became secret, and so the Angels wept in Heaven. And so the Earth waits for the appointed day, and for the hour, and for the Time."

Damon and Stefan had drawn close. Stefan was touching Matt's arm, as he did so often, that familiar touch of shared grief--and shared love. Matt's breath caught and his eyes filled, and only when Damon shook him by the shoulder did he remember his place. "Tell it," Damon insisted.

"I think you know," said Matt, clearing his throat. He grabbed Damon's hand before he could take it back, wrapping his fingers around the ring on Damon's finger, deep blue flashing through with gold. "This is the key, just like I thought. It means--it's a message. It's a reminder. A gift. From..." He choked, grasped Stefan's hand too, only really now after all these years thinking about these casual intimacies he now took for granted.

"From your fathers." And he looked toward the immense statue, still not knowing who reall made it, or who was last here. It could have only been humans or else...well, or else none of this would have happened.



4. The Conclusion

"Destiny is an absolutely definite and inexorable ruler." --The Confessions of Aleister Crowley

What happens next? Matt doesn't know, any more than he knows how it really came to this. What steps will they take now? Well, what steps did they take before? Who can say?

What he does know is that after hours in that dark, divine space, he fell asleep with his back against the wall, and woke to being carried out to the starlit night. A ways off, he saw Stefan, tears on his cheeks, face upturned, and knew it was Damon who bore him as if he were a child.

He feels like a child, humbled, and yet exultant.

Damon sets him down on the sand and the three of them face each other, all a little red-eyed, all tired and dazed.

Matt takes a deep breath. "Well...well. I guess it's home for me now, right? My work for you is done." His eyes close involuntarily, and he pictures being a secret-bearer, alone, once again.

But Damon is there, his face as familiar as the moon, as near as breath, and Matt realizes Stefan is just behind him, so vulnerable now--and yet strong.

"Don't be a fool," Damon says, "You're not going anywhere," and Matt can't help it: he leans down to brush his lips against Damon, feeling like he'd offer anything to stay with them, now.

Fin.

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