Return
of Legends, Bk1: Prophecy’s Curse
By Alex P.
Other Disclaimers – Contains scenes of a loving relationship
between two consenting women. If you have a problem with that (why are you
here?) or it is illegal where you live (I suggest you move to my end of the
gutter...quickly) then PLEASE DELETE THIS NOW !!!!!
Rating – Possible PG-13 to R in some places.
Feedback – Please any comments or suggestions to: keeper444@webtv.net
[[thoughts]]
***flashbacks***
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The
moon was reaching its zenith and Buffy was headed for home. Another slow night
of slaying: only three newbies, and a stray demon whose heart wasn’t really in
it. She would have been bored if her mind hadn't been occupied elsewhere.
Here
it was, June twentieth already; less than six shopping weeks left until their
first anniversary and she had no idea what to get her wife.
[[Geez,
talk about a stereotype,]] the Slayer scolded herself in frustration. [[We’ve
known each other all this time, I can see her thoughts for God’s sake, and I
haven’t the slightest idea what she wants or what would make her happy.]]
The
small blonde was so distracted that she almost didn’t feel her slayer sense
going off like a car alarm. She spun around, trying to locate the threat, but
the unnatural speed of the older vampire suddenly behind her helped him to
blindside her.
Running
at full speed, he collided with her from the side: the blow took her off her
feet and together they rolled across the dewy grass of the small clearing.
They
both regained their feet quickly; spun to face each other, slowly circling,
looking for an opening to attack. Then as if a signal was given they attacked
simultaneously. The vampire tried to grab Buffy by the throat, stopped just in
time by a right cross to the temple.
She
knocked him back a few steps, trying to follow through but her opponent
countered with a side kick that launched her sideways, flying through the air
until she slammed roughly into a crumbling tombstone. She let out a gasp of
pain as she felt a rib give way on impact.
The
vampire noticed her gasp and saw the way she winced as she pushed away from the
granite.
“My,
my, Slayer,” the vampire hissed, his face got even uglier as he attempted a
victorious grin. “Could it be that the Chosen One isn’t as tough as she
pretends to be?”
“Don’t
count on it, Fangs.” Buffy snarled. “I could kick your butt in my sleep with
both legs broken. By the way, who dresses you, a clown?!”
Growling
in fury, the vampire launched himself at the weakened Slayer; enraged by her
disrespectful comment, reacting just as Buffy knew he would.
Sure
of a quick victory, he charged, blinded with anger at her insolence, he made it
easy for Buffy to side step his awkward leap, and she brought a lightning-quick
elbow down on the back of the vampire’s neck.
The
blow, combined with his uncontrolled forward momentum, drove him head first
into the same tombstone she had hit.
His head slammed into the solid granite, the stone cracking under the
impact.
The
stunned vampire rose to his feet and shook his head, trying to clear it. Before
he could regain his senses, the Slayer leapt into air and delivered a scissor
kick that connected with his chin and sent him sprawling to the ground.
She
somersaulted over to land straddling the vampire’s abdomen, and with a flourish
produced a stake seemingly from thin air, driving it into his heart.
Buffy
watched as her opponent disappeared in to a cloud of dust. She felt rather
pleased with the outcome of the fight, until she moved and was reminded of her
broken rib.
It
joined her other forgotten injuries in protesting loudly at her neglect.
Letting out a distracted sigh, she gingerly dusted herself off and slowly rose
to her feet.
Once
again she turned towards home and the red-headed center of her universe, her
eyes glazing over as she once again became lost in thought.
“Where
was I,” she asked herself brightly. “Oh, yeah. What *do* you get the witch that
has everything?”
==============
“Damn
it, Giles, are you *sure* there's nothing we can do?” the red-haired witch
asked for the fifth time. “I mean, there's always been some way around these
prophecies before.” Her tone was that pleading but somehow irritated tone he
recognized so well. “Why not this one?”
“Really,
Willow,” Giles said trying to calm the agitated young woman stalking his living
room. “it’s not as if the prophecy is calling for the end of the world. It just
says that the “prince of darkness” will come to the Hellmouth in search of his
lost love. Why is it upsetting you so badly?”
Willow
tapped the book impatiently. “Are you losing your fabulous, highly-trained
Watcher skills, Giles? ‘He will come in search...’ ” She skipped over a couple
of over-flowery lines, “ ‘And find her at great cost to all’.”
He
blinked, looking at her blankly. Willow gave him an exasperated sigh for his troubles.
“Giles, where have you been the last seven or eight years?” she snapped, unsure
why the ex-Watcher and her wife’s surrogate father was being so obtuse. “Does
the phrase ‘at great cost’ ring a bell?”
Giles
took off his glasses, cleaning the lenses absently as he watched the young
witch - and more importantly soulmate to his Slayer – pacing back and forth in
front of his desk.
He
was sure that the expensive Persian rug would soon have a rut worn through it.
Willow was the picture of frustration: she couldn’t believe that this normally
intelligent man didn’t understand why she was so worried.
“Willow,
please sit down.” he pleaded quietly, attempting to calm the Slayer’s wife,
“I’m sure, if we just sit down and give this some thought...”
The
redhead threw herself into one of his over-stuffed leather easy chairs,
obviously in a mood, her eyes glaring holes through the man behind the desk.
She couldn’t believe how things had changed, usually it was she that was the
voice of calm and reason, reassuring the others, but now she could see the
obvious problems presented by this new prophecy that apparently even Giles
couldn’t.
“Look,
Giles, I know you just aren’t looking,” she said calmly, trying desperately to
get the ex-watcher to see her point. “The prophecy says this ‘prince of
darkness’ will be *led* to the Hellmouth to find his lost love. She will be
found but refuse him at a great cost to all. Isn’t that what it says?”
“Well,
yes, but there is no mention of the Sorceress or the Slayer.” Giles studied the
ancient text in front of him again, flicking the pages, “So I don’t understand
why you are as worried as you are. This is just an obscure prophecy written in
a little known book of bad poetry, by a half mad Romanian monk that spent most
of his short sad life confined in an isolated monastery. The only reason I even have it is one of my
old contacts thought it would be a great joke to show me such mad ramblings. I
only showed it to you because I thought you’d like to see a prophecy that
didn't involve you or Buffy for a change.
So why are you so upset?”
The
Sorceress let out a long suffering sigh and leaned forward, locking eyes with
the normally observant Englishman, hoping that the story-telling techniques
Lugh had shown her would help him grasp what she was saying.
“All
right, now look at this from my point of view,” the frustrated witch said, her
eyes taking on an eerie glow, and her voice sounding like a someone teaching
algebra to a particularly dense child. “First it says he will be *led* here.
But it doesn’t say by whom, does it? And I would think that might be important,
don’t you?”
“Well,
yes but...”
She
held up her hand to stop his premature comment.
“Not
yet, I’m not done,” she warned casually. “Okay, now, it talks about a “prince of
darkness”. I have no idea who that might be. Do you?”
Giles
could only shake his head and wait for her to continue.
“It
would seem to me that it would be pretty important to know who and what he is, don’t
you?” she went on before he could comment again. “Most important, though, and
what bothers me the most is this thing.” Her glowing eyes intensified as she
spoke. “The prophecy speaks of something at a great cost and do you have any
thoughts about who usually pays the great costs on this Hellmouth? The *Slayer*
that’s who, and if my Buffy is hurt because you and your people treated this
like a joke or held *anything* back then I promise you, the Hellmouth will seem
like a resort vacation compared to what I’ll do.”
“Really,
Willow,” Giles protested, unsure of this person with the glowing eyes, “I see
no reason for threats.”
“Oh,
no, my dear watcher,” Willow purred menacingly. “I’m not making threats, this
is a *promise*. I may be sworn not to take a human life, but there are things I
know that would make death seem a charitable gift.”
The
two stared across the desk at each other for several heartbeats judging each
others resolve. It was the ex-Watcher that dropped his eyes first.
“Very
well, Willow. We will investigate this further,” He promised conceding defeat.
“but I hardly see any reason for all this worry.”
“That’s
fine, Giles,” Willow answered softly, “I’ll worry enough for us both.” She
glanced up. “Enough of this for now, Buffy’s here.”
All
further discussion was interrupted when the front door slammed open.
“Hey
guys, I’m home!” the exuberant voice of the Slayer echoed through the
townhouse. “Where’s my honey?”
With
a 100 watt smile on her face the redheaded witch ran out of the study and leapt
into the waiting arms of her beloved wife.
“Hey
babe, how was your night?” Willow asked as she nuzzled Buffy’s neck. “Anything
exciting goin' on out there?”
“Uh-uh,
cutie.” Buffy said between kisses holding her universe tightly in her arms.
“Nothing out there is as exciting as my Wills, not even close.”
The
witch stopped nuzzling and looked into her wife’s eyes.
“You
Slayers say the sweetest things,” she whispered so that only Buffy could hear,
then got serious. “Now tell me where you’re hurt, and don’t try to fool me. I
can feel it.”
The
Slayer winced slightly at her wife's intense gaze, giving up before she was hit
with the dreaded ‘resolve face’.
“All
right, all right, just don’t look at me like that.” She stepped back and rubbed
her side. “It’s mostly bumps and bruises, nothing to worry about.”
She
tried to stop there, but one look at her lover’s face told the Chosen One that
the Great Sorceress wasn’t buying it.
“Okay.”
She knew when she was beaten. “I think I probably broke a rib, but that’s all.”
“That’s
all!” Willow quipped trying to hide her irritation at the Slayer’s evasiveness.
“I think that’s quite enough.”
She
stepped back and quickly examined her lover.
“Well
at least your clothes aren't a complete loss, but that top is totalled.” She
glanced over the rest of Buffy’s clothes quickly, then looked at her tired and
hurt lover and gave her a sultry smile. “Come on home, baby, I’ll run you a
nice hot bath and we'll take care of all those nasty ol’ Slayer boo-boos.”
They
both laughed and wrapped in each others arms headed for the door.
“We’ll
finish this tomorrow, Giles,” Willow called as they went out the door. “Right
now I have a Slayer to bathe.”
“Oooh,
can I have bubbles too?” Buffy asked in her best little girl voice. “I reeeally
like bubbles and maybe a dash of my pretty Willow?”
“Only
if you’re very, very good,” Willow purred teasingly. “Have you been very good?”
They
both laughed, shutting the door behind them with a loud slam. Giles shook his
head and chuckled, knowing the answer to Willow’s question without hearing it.
He enjoyed the two young women’s banter. It made him feel as if there was hope
left in the world as long as they had each other.
Remembering
his promise to Willow, he returned to his study and began searching through his
collection of ancient books and writings to see if he could find any mention of
the Romanian prophecies, this ‘prince of darkness’ or any connection they might
have with the Hellmouth.
His
mind wandered back to his last conversation with Wesley... and how strangely
the nervous little man had sounded as he adamantly insisted that Giles say
nothing about the prophecy to either of his surrogate daughters.
He
only hoped the little twit wouldn't have apoplexy when he found out he’d
already told Willow.
Willow
finally got her beloved wife settled into their large bathtub with bubbles up
to her chin, and after fending off several amorous advances decided to try to
get the house in order.
She
began picking up the clothes that had been discarded in the heat of passion the
night before.
[[How
in Hades did her panties get up there?]] the redhead wondered chuckling as she
pulled a pair of her lover’s best underwear off a blade of the ceiling fan. [[I
don’t think I did that.]]
She
had meant to straighten their bedroom as well, but she should have known
better.
“Oh
Willlllloooow,” Buffy’s voice called lyrically from the bathroom, “I need my
Willlllllooooooow! Come on, baby. I need that magic touch of yours, you know...
like last night?”
Willow
turned to fire off a well though retort about the night before, but was stopped
short.
“You...I...ah...we...whoa!”
was all that came from her college educated mouth. All she could do was stare,
open mouthed at the vision before her eyes.
It
was a sight to fuel a thousand fantasies. There was Buffy - her lover and wife
- standing framed in the bathroom doorway, her considerable charms exposed to
Willow’s suddenly lust filled eyes. Water dripped from her body, giving her an
aura that took Willow’s breath away and drove all thoughts of cleaning from her
mind.
“What
wonderful thing have I done for the Goddess to have blessed me with you?” Her
voice was so soft, almost a prayer of thanks. “You are so beautiful it hurts.”
Buffy
giggled and blushed from her toes to her scalp, driving her wife’s fiery
passions into an uncontrollable inferno.
“Do
you see something you like?” the petite blonde asked smiling shyly
“I
see everything I like,” the inflamed witch growled as she advanced toward the
object of all her desires. “And everything I’ll ever need.”
Her
hands went to the buttons of her blouse as if they had minds of their own, and
began opening the clinging silk garment that soon was on the floor along with
the clothing from the night before - and soon followed by the rest of her
clothes.
“Does
this mean I get a dash of Willow in my bath?” the Slayer asked, her voice
getting husky as her own heat rose in watching her beautiful wife disrobe.
“I
couldn’t possibly deny you anything,” Willow admitted quietly, her voice tight
with emotion and desire.
“I
need you, my Willow,” Buffy purred seductively as she backed toward the
oversized tub piled high with bubbles. “Only you can make me feel this way.
Only you have what I need.”
Willow
slowly entered the bathroom and was being driven nearly insane with lust.
The
power of their love and desire for each other became visible, as Willow’s green
aura began glowing and joined Buffy’s own bluish-white aura intertwining and
swirling around the two Chosen lovers in a dazzling display of their souls
uniting.
Buffy
stepped into the water and held her arms out in an invitation for her Wills to
join her. The young witch didn't think twice before flying to her lover’s arms
to be enveloped in the protective embrace of the very center of her universe.
Willow’s soft lips found Buffy’s and melded to them, her tongue running over
her love’s lips, begging entrance. It was joyfully given: Willow felt more than
heard her red haired lover groan as their tongues swirled around each other in
a dance for dominance.
It
was a long wet passionate kiss meant to stoke their desires until the lust they
had was almost a living thing demanding release.
Soon
the house was filled with the sounds of splashing water and cries and screams
of needs being fulfilled.
+++++++++++
On
the narrow winding road that led through the foothills down to the picturesque
town of Sunnydale, a long black sedan, its once shining surface now dulled by
the dust and film of the thousands of miles it had covered, pulled into a turn
out and stopped.
Its
lights went out and the motor stopped, leaving only shadows and dust filling
the night air.
Only
the ticking of its cooling engine could be heard; the air silent, as if waiting
for the vehicle’s occupants to make the next move.
The
right rear door opened without a sound coming from its well oiled hinges. A
tall gaunt figure dressed entirely in black stepped out and stretched out the
kinks from the hours of travel in the confines of the vehicle.
The
figure glided more than walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked out at
the bejewelled vista that spread out from the base of the cliff toward the sea.
The
tall figure brushed away some imaginary lint from his expensive custom made
Italian suit, then straightened out to gaze out into the darkness looking for
his destiny.
Another
figure exited the sedan just as silently and walked across the gravel to stand
beside the first. He was a shorter, stockier built man also dressed in all
black but not as stylish as his companion. He, too, stared out over the scenic
view; but for a much different reason.
“Is
this the city the demoness spoke of, my Prince?” the shorter man asked, sounding
somewhat confused. “The lights are pretty in a provincial kind of way, but the
city does not look much.”
“Ah,
Victor, you are such an elitist in your Old World views,” the tall man answered
with a slight laugh. “Yes, this is our destination: and I would advise you not
to underestimate the Americans, my friend. There is much more to this little
hamlet than meets the eye.”
“What
could possibly be here that would be of interest to you, my Prince?” Victor
asked looking up at the taller man. “I thought we had everything we needed in
our homeland, now that the Communists are gone.”
“My
dear loyal Victor, how little you know.” the tall man sighed. “This small spec
on the map holds something I have been searching for...seeking for over a
hundred years. The soul of my beloved has been reborn again and resides here.
This time I will make her mine for an eternity.”
“I
see.” Victor answered respectfully, knowing the man he served had suffered over
the years yearning for his lost love. “We must go my Prince, The sun will rise
soon and I want to have you resting comfortably before that occurs.”
The
tall man nodded and turned to follow his traveling companion back to their
vehicle. Just before entering the back seat he turned and took a last look at
the many-jewelled vision that was Sunnydale at night.
“I
have found you at last my love,” he murmured so softly it was almost a prayer.
“This time I will not loose you. Do you hear me, my beautiful Elizabeta? You
will be at my side again, and this time forever.”
He
got into the car and his assistant started the powerful engine, put the car in
gear and left in a cloud of dust that hid the receding tail lights.
++++++++
Buffy
woke up and knew instantly that something wasn’t right. She reached for her
wife, but instead of a warm soft body she found cool, long vacant sheets.
Instantly wide awake, her mind shot to life with visions of the events of a
year ago, just before their wedding.
The
Slayer reached out with her mind attempting to locate her absent lover, but found
nothing.
[[Damn
it!]] she thought in frustration. [[She’s closed her mind to me so I would wake
up, cute. I gotta talk to her about
that.]]
Buffy
thought about calling out to her soulmate, but she knew only her lover’s touch
would calm her now. She slid out of bed and slipped on her robe to go in search
of her missing wife.
When
she failed to find Willow anywhere else in the house, she eventually reached to
the kitchen and found the kettle on the stove still hot. That along with the
combined scents of chamomile and pachouly permeating the air gave the Slayer a
pretty good idea where to find her missing red-headed lover.
She
went to the sliding glass door that led to their patio and smiled slightly when
she found it open.
[[Geez,
she knows me too well,]] she thought, knowing full well that her Wills had left
the door open so she could find her. [[Gods, I love her!]]
With
the silence only the Slayer was capable of Buffy slipped out the door and
padded across the concrete slab to the four-foot wall that surrounded the area
where she could see the silhouette of her lover.
Apparently
lost in thought and staring out at the summer sky, Willow was totally oblivious
to Buffy’s approach.
Not
wanting to frighten her beloved wife - startling the Great Sorceress being
almost as dangerous as sneaking up on the Slayer - Buffy slowed down and waited
until her wife had sensed her presence.
Then
she walked up behind her quiet lover and wrapped her arms protectively around
Willow’s waist.
Willow
hummed in pleasure as she felt the waves of loving concern radiating from her
partner. She leaned against the deceptively small yet powerful body behind her
laying her head back to rest on her wife’s shoulder.
“What’s
up, babe?” the petite blonde whispered into her lover’s ear, her warm washing
over the sensitive organ causing Willow to almost purr in arousal. “Whatcha
doin’ out here?”
“Oh,
it’s that damn Romanian prophecy that Giles found.” Willow groaned, wallowing
in her lover’s protective embrace. “I can’t believe he thinks it’s some kind of
joke. I mean, yeah, we aren’t mentioned by name or anything, but it says
something about a great price, and who always pays the great price around
here?” She didn’t wait for the obvious answer. “*Us* that’s who!”
Buffy
could sense her wife’s growing agitation and tried her best to calm her. She
knew her Wills well enough to know that the sensitive red-haired witch would
make herself sick with worry if Buffy didn’t distract her some how.
“Shhh,
babe," Buffy whispered softly. “Don't let it worry you now. We’ll get the
whole gang over here tomorrow and we won’t stop until we have an answer. Full
research mode, ‘kay?”
Kissing
and nipping her way to the pulse point where Willow’s long beautiful neck
joined her soft white shoulders. The Slayer’s heightened senses reveled in the
taste of her lover’s flawless skin.
“Ummmm...full...research...mode?”
Willow groaned her voice thick with her steadily rising desire.
“Uh
huh.” Buffy answered as she began sucking, licking, and biting at the tender
flesh covering the pulsing artery just beneath that white skin, feeling her
lover’s heart beating faster and faster until she was sure it would burst.
“Promise?”
Willow breathed as the Slayer’s hands slid up to cup her full firm breasts,
her calloused thumbs began teasing the
redhead’s quickly hardening nipples through the thin material of her silk robe.
“Pinky
swear.” Buffy whispered into her lover's ear her pink tongue sweeping around the
reddening organ. “Have I told you how hot I get when you wear this and nothing
else?”
“Mmmm...I
think I heard something about that somewhere.” Willow hissed as she turned in
her wife’s embrace to face her and let her burning eyes rake over the firm athletic
body of the woman that owned her heart and soul. “I see you came to the party
in the same outfit.”
Her
hands began working at the belt that held her wife's robe closed. As soon as
she was successful her long, nimble fingers began roaming freely over Buffy’s
muscular body: dancing lightly over the Slayer’s soft, smooth, tanned, skin
leaving trails of fire with every touch.
Buffy's
senses were reeling as she put a hand behind her wife’s neck, tangling her
fingers through her silky soft red hair and gently pulled the witch’s mouth to
hers.
As
their lips met Buffy slid her free hand down between Willow’s beautifully
shaped thighs, searching through soft red curls until she found her lover’s
hot, now very wet center. Willow moaned into her devouring mouth at the feel of
it; probing caresses found her throbbing swollen clitoris and began circling
the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves, a slim finger searching out the center of
her urgent desire.
They
opened their minds to each other, sharing the impulses and feeling that were
scorching along their nerves throughout their bodies.
“Oh...
my... sweet... Goddess...” Willow sighed as their lips parted and her head fell
back. “I love you, Buffy…”
“I
love you too, my Sorceress.” Buffy gasped as her lover’s hot wet mouth found
and engulfed a hard nipple and began sucking firmly. “If you have me under a
spell, for Goddess’ sake don’t ever release me.”
In
a surge of passion, she swept her wife up and cradled the redhead in her arms.
Willow wrapped her arms around her neck and began nuzzling and kissing, knowing
exactly what it did to her lover.
“No
spells, my Slayer.” she whispered with a smile. “All there is between us is
love.”
Buffy
smiled: without further words, she carried her Sorceress inside and up to their
bedroom.