I knocked on the heavy library door, the sound echoing down the hallway.
"Come in," Giles's voice called, calm but edged with tension.
I pushed the door open. The smell of old paper and dust hit me, grounding but unsettling.
The room was quiet, almost too quiet. Buffy wasn't there.
Willow sat behind the computer desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard, muttering about "hyena behavior patterns." Giles stood near the long table, stacks of books spread out, his glasses perched low on his nose.
"Damien," he said, voice clipped. "What are you doing here?"
I swallowed hard, stepping further inside, the crimson knife burning against my ribs. "I came to help. They need to be stopped."
Willow froze mid‑keystroke, her lips parting in shock. Giles's gaze sharpened, weighing my words.
The doors slammed open.
Buffy staggered in, her shirt torn, a bruise blooming across her cheek. Her chest heaved, her eyes blazing with fury. In her grip, she dragged Xander's unconscious body across the floor, his limbs slack, his head lolling unnaturally.
Willow gasped, her voice breaking. "Xander! What happened?"
"Giles, open the cage," Buffy ordered.
"Dear Lord…" Giles shoved the books aside and hurried to the cage door, swinging it open. Buffy dropped Xander inside and slammed it shut, glaring down at his limp form.
"He attacked me. Alone. He fought like an animal—stronger and faster. I had to knock him out."
Her eyes snapped to me, sharp and furious. "What is he doing here? I told you—I don't want him involved."
Before I could answer, Willow spun from the computer, her voice urgent but bright. "Buffy, I invited him! He came to help. He saw what the pack did to Principal Flutie. He knows how dangerous this is."
Buffy's jaw tightened, fists clenched. "He's reckless. He'll get in the way."
Willow shook her head, conviction shining. "No. He's already helped me. He stood up when Xander bullied me."
Giles adjusted his glasses, his voice calm but firm. "Buffy, Willow is right. He helped at the funeral home."
Buffy's glare lingered on me, sharp and unyielding. Slowly, her shoulders dropped.
"Fine," she muttered. "He stays."
The cage rattled faintly as Xander stirred, his unconscious body shifting against the bars. Buffy stood guard near him, arms crossed, her eyes sharp and unyielding.
Giles spread more books across the table, his voice steady but urgent. "We must understand the conditions fully. If we attempt to cure xender."
Willow's fingers flew across the keyboard, her face glowing with determination. "I'm cross‑referencing everything—tribal accounts, zoo records, even old folklore. It's all pointing back to the zookeeper. He's not just a caretaker. He's a practitioner."
Buffy's jaw tightened. "Figures. I knew this wasn't just some random animal thing."
I leaned closer to the table, flipping through brittle pages that Giles shoved my way. The words blurred, but the meaning was clear: possession wasn't just infection—it was a binding, a tether to something primal.
Hours passed. The library lights flickered, shadows stretching long across the walls. The silence was broken only by the rustle of pages, Willow's typing, and the occasional groan from Xander in the cage.
"Hyena possession," Gailes muttered, tapping the page. "Rare, but not unheard of. Tribal rituals, primal energy… it can manifest in humans under certain conditions."
I stepped closer, my ribs aching. "So that's what happened to Xander?"
Giles nodded grimly. "It explains his aggression, his pack behavior. The possession amplifies predatory instincts. It makes the victim cruel, cunning, and dangerous."
Willow spun in her chair, her face lighting up. "I found it!" she said joyfully. "There's a record—an old case in Africa. A group of students were possessed after visiting a hyena enclosure. It matches perfectly!"
Finally, Giles straightened, his glasses glinting in the lamplight. "It's the exhibit. The ritual was performed in the zoo. We may find the means to reverse this in there."
Buffy pushed off the wall, her eyes blazing. "Then we go. Tonight."
Willow glanced at Xander, her voice soft but firm. "I'll stay here. Someone has to watch him."
Buffy nodded once, then turned to me, her glare sharp. "Fine. You're coming. Don't get in the way."
The three of us stepped into the night—Buffy leading, Giles clutching his notes, and I trailing at the edge of their circle. The path to the zoo stretched ahead, dark and heavy with silence.
And I knew whatever waited for us inside wasn't just answers. It was the heart of the curse.
The iron gates creaked as Buffy shoved them open, the sound echoing into the emptiness beyond. The zoo at night was nothing like the daytime trip—it was darker, emptier; every shadow stretched long and sharp under the flickering lamps.
We stepped inside. The air was thick with the musk of animals, the faint growl of something restless drifting from the cages. The pavement was cracked and littered with leaves; the signs pointing toward exhibits were faded and broken.
Buffy walked ahead, her shoulders tense, her voice low but biting. "This place already reeks of trouble."
I followed, my ribs aching, the crimson knife burning against my side. "Feels more like a graveyard than a zoo."
She shot me a glare over her shoulder. "Don't talk unless it's useful."
Giles moved between us, his notes clutched tight, his voice calm but urgent.
"The hyena exhibit is this way." Buffy said.
The zoo's pathways twisted like veins, leading us deeper into silence. The air grew heavier, the smell of musk and decay clinging to every breath.
We stepped inside, and the sight froze us in place.
The pack of boys was crouched in a circle on the dirt floor, their eyes glazed, their bodies swaying in rhythm. Their movements were feral and animalistic, as if the hyenas themselves were pulling invisible strings.
And in the center stood the zookeeper.
His face was painted with streaks of blue, shaped into the hollow grin of a skull. His hands moved deliberately, scattering powders into the air, his voice rising in guttural syllables that made the hyenas howl louder.
Buffy stormed forward, her fists clenched. "Stop this! What the hell are you doing to them?"
Giles stepped closer, his voice sharp. "You've bound primal spirits to these boys. Why? What purpose does this serve?"
The zookeeper tilted his head, the painted skull grinning in the lamplight. "Purpose? Survival. I was nothing here—just a keeper of cages. Forgotten. Invisible. But the hyenas… they showed me the truth. Power is not given. It is taken. And with their spirits, I will never be prey again."
The zookeeper's eyes gleamed, his tone calm but chilling. "You see only chaos, but this is an order. The world is ruled by predators. Humans pretend at civility, but beneath the skin they are weak, prey waiting to be devoured."
Buffy's jaw tightened, her voice blazing. "So you turned Xander and his friends into monsters just to feel strong?"
The zookeeper's smile widened. "Not monsters. Hunters. The next step in evolution. They will tear through this town, and I will lead them. No more weakness. No more fear."
The pack snarled, rising from their crouch with feral eyes. Their laughter twisted into growls, their bodies tense like predators ready to strike.
Buffy's voice cut through the tension, sharp and furious. "Then let's break your little pack."
The zookeeper raised his arms, the ritual surging, and the hyenas shrieking in rage.
Buffy lunged first—her fist cracked into his jaw, snapping his head sideways. He staggered, powders scattering, the ritual faltering.
The pack snarled, breaking formation. One boy leaped at Giles, teeth bared. Giles stumbled back, clutching his notes, muttering counter‑chants even as he dodged.
I stepped forward, knife flashing crimson. A feral boy lunged low, claws raking at my ribs. I slashed upward, steel tearing fabric, forcing him back. Another came from the side—I spun, kicking hard, the impact jolting through my aching body.
Buffy spun like a storm, her boot connecting with another boy's chest, sending him sprawling. She grabbed the zookeeper by his collar, snarling, "Tell me how to end this!"
The zookeeper laughed, blood streaking his painted skull. "You cannot end it. The beast is eternal!"
Giles dropped to his knees, scattering the powders, his voice rising in desperate counter-chants. "Buffy! Hold him! Damien—keep them off me!"
The rest of the standing pack lunged toward Gaiels. I met them head-on, knife flashing, sweat dripping into my eyes. One boy clawed at my arm—I twisted, slashing across his sleeve, crimson steel biting close. Another slammed into me, driving me back against the bars.
Buffy slammed the zookeeper into the dirt, her fist hammering into his painted skull. "You're done!" she spat.
But his grin only widened. "You cannot kill the ritual. It lives in him."
"Buffy!" I shouted, my voice raw. "Switch! Protect Giles—I'll take him!"
Her eyes snapped to me, blazing with fury. "Damien—"
"Do it!" I barked, knife flashing crimson in the lamplight. "He's mine!"
For a heartbeat, she hesitated. Then she shoved the zookeeper back, spinning toward Giles. She intercepted the feral boy mid‑lunge, her boot cracking into his ribs, sending him sprawling.
The zookeeper rose, his skull‑painted face gleaming, powder dripping from his hands. His grin widened.
I lunged toward him.
He raised his arms, chanting louder, the skull‑painted grin gleaming in the lamplight. But I slammed into him, driving him to the ground. The dirt exploded beneath us, his powders scattering uselessly.
He laughed even as I pressed the crimson knife to his throat. "You think pain will stop the beast? It only feeds it."
I shoved the blade harder, my voice raw. "End it!"
I slashed down.
The blade tore across his palm, crimson spilling into the ritual circle. The zookeeper screamed, the sound raw and guttural. His blood soaked the powders, staining them, breaking their pattern.
The zookeeper writhed, clutching his mangled hand, his painted skull cracking under sweat and pain. "You fool… you cannot sever it!"
The boys shrieked, their laughter twisting into rage. The pack staggered, their glazed eyes flickering, their movements faltering.
Buffy's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious. "Damien! Don't kill him—we need the reversal!"
The zookeeper writhed beneath me, his painted skull cracking under sweat and blood. Finally, his voice broke, trembling. "You don't understand. I can't; they are bound to me. The spirits… they chose me. They chose them. They will not leave willingly."
I leaned closer, my knife biting into the zookeeper's skin. "So that's the way."
I dragged him up, his blood smearing across my grip. He clawed at me, his painted face snarling, but I shoved him toward the pit.
Buffy's eyes widened. "Damien—!"
The zookeeper screamed as I hurled him over the bars. He crashed into the enclosure, the hyenas swarming instantly. teeth flashing, tearing into him with savage hunger. His painted skull vanished beneath claws and blood.
The pack of boys collapsed to the ground, their glazed eyes clearing and their bodies limp. The hyenas shrieked one last time, then fell silent, pacing in circles as if the bond had been severed.
Giles's chant faltered into silence. He sagged, sweat dripping from his brow. "It's done. The spirits have returned to their source."
Buffy stood frozen, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on me. "What did you do—"