AN: All characters from Buffy and or angel belong to Joss and Mutant film.
I gain no profits from this as it is a work of fan fiction. This is set
after 'Chosen', and only certain elements of Angel season 5 fit into my
world. Please be patient as I do not know how often I will be updating, but
when I have a new part, it will be up. Thank you.
*** AN: This is a rewrite of a fic I started before and was not happy with the way it was turning out. You may recognize parts of it, however, while the main idea remains the same, things are happening very differently then before.
***
Shadows Chosen
***
(2,000 B.C.)
The three sorcerers stood back, waiting for the shadow demon to take hold of the slumped figure chained to the floor of the cave. Their hands glowed with mystical energy, waiting for just the right moment to strike, to take control of them both and fuse the demons powers to the girl's spirit. As the last of the shadow vanished they unleashed their spell, striking the girl. From her, came a primal scream of pain and anger, which bounced off the walls, echoing out into the desert night.
"She is bound to us now. Her powers ours to take when we see fit."
"As we planed."
"We must go now, before the mortal we trained returns."
"Will he know?"
"Only what we wish him to know. He does not know the truth."
"Then let us find our entertainment elsewhere, and leave the tool with him."
***
(1158 A.D.)
The monk watched the figure lying on the cot before him. Listening to the ravings of a mad man was not his idea of helping, but he had to do as the head of his order told him, lest he find himself caring for those even madder then this one. Beside him on the table sat a quill and parchment, waiting to record the next prophesy that the man uttered. So far there was an entire book being filled with the things he mumbled; the Watcher that had been possessed by a spirit of a Slayer.
It was not his place to know what was being said, for the monk did not understand the language spoken, but a spell had been cast on him, allowing him to write the words down as they were spoke. This magic only working because the monk himself was mute, his tongue cut out by a demon when he was a child. He was the perfect man to do this job - he would never be able to tell anyone what he had heard.
As the man in front of him suddenly stilled, he picked up the quill and waited, knowing what was to come.
Thaed, ytiracl, ectsuj llahs Eurt eht, tsol si epoh dna nekorb si tsurt nehw Elituf si edgeloonk dna etal oot sti litnu, ssenkrad eht yb dednilb era ees that esoht. Rewop fo tfigeht kcab ekat llahs dna, dellac yllufgnorw esoht no lleh hsaelun llahs yeht, loot rieht gnisu. Deniod era yeht elihw elbaarenluvni, enil eht fo rewop eht htiw Nesohc Swodahs eht yb def. Llik eht morf rewop gniward, Swodahs ni dekaolc eb lliw Retsam eurt eht. Tsrif eht sa emoceb Eno Nesohc tsal eht, niap dna raer ni nrob cagim eht. Tsaet lamirp eht lorton ot kees Yeht, erised yb derewop, Ssenkrad morf nrob. Detaerc ecno Yrht tahw mialcer ot kcab emoc tsap eht llahs neht. Kcab nevird si Eno eht dna, ynitsed wen a ot esira Nesohc eht nehw.
As the mad man started to thrash again, Brother Vasel picked up the paper and left the cell.
***
(1631 A.D.)
She ran through the forest, the demon only a few yards ahead of her, the blood of its last kill still glistening on its hands. This demon was no different from the others she had faced in her time as the Slayer, and she knew that it would soon pay for killing the family it had just mutilated. Her only regret was that she hadn't arrived in time to stop it.
With a final lunge she tackled it and bought it to the ground. They both rolled down the slight embankment into the warm water of the river. Jumping to her feet, she attacked using her feet and her fists to weaken it, but all the while looking around for something she could use as a weapon. The moon light reflected off a piece of metal and she saw the weapon she was after: a short sword, in the hands of her watcher, who was slipping and sliding down the bank.
He tossed it to her and she reached out her hand, catching easily, thankful for her Watcher's perfect aim. With the hilt of the weapon in her hand, she turned and felt as the blade make contact with demon flesh, only slightly resistant as it passed through bone. Even as she saw the head fall free of the body she felt a tug, and then fire seemed to fill her very being. Looking down, she saw one of the beast's hands as it fell limp from her stomach. In its dying moments it had gotten revenge on her.
What she did not expect was the whisper in her mind as she herself fell to her knee's, one hand holding her up as the other tried in vain to keep the blood from flowing. 'Your death, my life' it whispered as she lost her battle and fell to oblivion.
***
(2004)
The sun dried ground was dark and cracked, creating a mosaic of light brown pieces covering the land as far as she could see. Behind her he waited, knowing he could not interfere, only their to keep her safe from the predators that called this place home; rattlesnakes and coyotes. He could not help but want to hold her; to keep her from facing this on her own, but if it was to work, if she was to find peace with her own power he knew he could not interfere. Such was his job as her Watcher, even one who was only gifted with the title by circumstances that had mad the Chosen One into an army, and those who helped into a scattered few.
Six months ago they had faced the First Evil as it tried to break free from it's imprisonment, and its minions had slaughtered girls around the world. He was a watcher, but only by name; he had no training, none of the expertise or knowledge that was meant to come with the job. He was just there to fill up the hole that the First created when it blew up the Council headquarters. Now, as he settled back in the shade the small canopy of the tent provided, he watched over his Chosen One as she prepared to find her own connection with the past.
She lit the small pile of wood laid out in a circle of sun bleached stones, the fire not for warmth - she was already stripped down to a pair of loose shorts and a training bra, not caring that in most societies this would be considered vulgar, her bare feet crossed under her legs, sitting Indian style, wishing she could sit in the shade as well as the sun beat down on her back and shoulders. How long she sat she did not know, for she was lost in thought, her eyes growing heavy as she watched the smoke rising into the fading light of evening.
As day gave way to night, the flames flickered, red; to yellow, to green, and finally to blue; a dance of wild elements, hypnotic in the simple beauty that was nature, drawing the woman in, until, what seemed like seconds to her, but to the man watching was hours, she fell back, drawn to the spirit plane she sought.
***
'You come seeking the past' the voice seemed to echo in her head, causing her to jump to her feet, her arms raised in front of her, eyes seeking where the voice had come from. 'Slayer!' the voice called once more, from all around her.
'Where are you?" she asked, turning, yet seeing no one.
'I am here, and not here, the past and the future. You seek the truth of what you are. Are you prepared to face what is to come?'
'I need to know what I am, so that I can help the others find there own way.'
'You are the One, the slayer. Alone. Dark. You are me!' the voice hissed, even as she felt something slam into her back, driving her to the ground.
As she rolled over, the weight on her vanished, and she found that the oasis she had first found herself in had been replaced with a dark cavern. She saw, in front of her, a young girl. Her face filled was fear, surrounded by three men in long robes and turbans, each holding a tall staff, beating it rhythmically on the stone floor. They spoke in a language she did not understand.
'This is my past. This is your past. This is the future and the now.' the voice whispered to her once more.
'Who are they?' she asked, turning her head, she spotted the figure crouched in the dark corner, face covered in dried mud and body coiled like a wild animal.
'Your Masters!' the young girl shouted, springing forward, pushing them both out into the open area. Rolling over each other, she soon found herself in the center of the area that the ghost of the past had held. A cold darkness boiled forth from the stones, binding her in place.
'It is time for us to take back our rightful place.' One of the men spoke, turning towards where she lay, his face impassive. His eyes were cruel, uncaring, menacing, even to one such as herself, a Slayer born and caused the first tendril of fear to creep into her soul.
***
He had started to drift off, the heat from the day draining him, when he heard the first sound, a whimper, coming from the woman by the fire. Standing, he took a few steps closer, trying to see what was happening. Seeing her body thrashing, he ran towards her, stopping as he saw the night seem to rise up around her, blackness as dark as nothing he had seen before wrapping around her slight frame, and a scream piercing the night as it tightened.
Lunging the last few feet, he tried to grab a hold of her as the air shimmered, a vortex opening, drawing her towards it. His last thought as he looked up and saw one of the tendrils driving towards his own head was that he had failed her, as he had failed his mother, and then a sharp crack filled the night air and his body dropped lifeless to the ground.
On a rise above, a lone coyote howled at the moon, stopping to sniff the air, the scent of blood drawing it towards the fire it feared.
***
Bonus kudos to any one beside my beta buddy, FallenFaith, check her fic out, who can figure out the prophesy.
*** AN: This is a rewrite of a fic I started before and was not happy with the way it was turning out. You may recognize parts of it, however, while the main idea remains the same, things are happening very differently then before.
***
Shadows Chosen
***
(2,000 B.C.)
The three sorcerers stood back, waiting for the shadow demon to take hold of the slumped figure chained to the floor of the cave. Their hands glowed with mystical energy, waiting for just the right moment to strike, to take control of them both and fuse the demons powers to the girl's spirit. As the last of the shadow vanished they unleashed their spell, striking the girl. From her, came a primal scream of pain and anger, which bounced off the walls, echoing out into the desert night.
"She is bound to us now. Her powers ours to take when we see fit."
"As we planed."
"We must go now, before the mortal we trained returns."
"Will he know?"
"Only what we wish him to know. He does not know the truth."
"Then let us find our entertainment elsewhere, and leave the tool with him."
***
(1158 A.D.)
The monk watched the figure lying on the cot before him. Listening to the ravings of a mad man was not his idea of helping, but he had to do as the head of his order told him, lest he find himself caring for those even madder then this one. Beside him on the table sat a quill and parchment, waiting to record the next prophesy that the man uttered. So far there was an entire book being filled with the things he mumbled; the Watcher that had been possessed by a spirit of a Slayer.
It was not his place to know what was being said, for the monk did not understand the language spoken, but a spell had been cast on him, allowing him to write the words down as they were spoke. This magic only working because the monk himself was mute, his tongue cut out by a demon when he was a child. He was the perfect man to do this job - he would never be able to tell anyone what he had heard.
As the man in front of him suddenly stilled, he picked up the quill and waited, knowing what was to come.
Thaed, ytiracl, ectsuj llahs Eurt eht, tsol si epoh dna nekorb si tsurt nehw Elituf si edgeloonk dna etal oot sti litnu, ssenkrad eht yb dednilb era ees that esoht. Rewop fo tfigeht kcab ekat llahs dna, dellac yllufgnorw esoht no lleh hsaelun llahs yeht, loot rieht gnisu. Deniod era yeht elihw elbaarenluvni, enil eht fo rewop eht htiw Nesohc Swodahs eht yb def. Llik eht morf rewop gniward, Swodahs ni dekaolc eb lliw Retsam eurt eht. Tsrif eht sa emoceb Eno Nesohc tsal eht, niap dna raer ni nrob cagim eht. Tsaet lamirp eht lorton ot kees Yeht, erised yb derewop, Ssenkrad morf nrob. Detaerc ecno Yrht tahw mialcer ot kcab emoc tsap eht llahs neht. Kcab nevird si Eno eht dna, ynitsed wen a ot esira Nesohc eht nehw.
As the mad man started to thrash again, Brother Vasel picked up the paper and left the cell.
***
(1631 A.D.)
She ran through the forest, the demon only a few yards ahead of her, the blood of its last kill still glistening on its hands. This demon was no different from the others she had faced in her time as the Slayer, and she knew that it would soon pay for killing the family it had just mutilated. Her only regret was that she hadn't arrived in time to stop it.
With a final lunge she tackled it and bought it to the ground. They both rolled down the slight embankment into the warm water of the river. Jumping to her feet, she attacked using her feet and her fists to weaken it, but all the while looking around for something she could use as a weapon. The moon light reflected off a piece of metal and she saw the weapon she was after: a short sword, in the hands of her watcher, who was slipping and sliding down the bank.
He tossed it to her and she reached out her hand, catching easily, thankful for her Watcher's perfect aim. With the hilt of the weapon in her hand, she turned and felt as the blade make contact with demon flesh, only slightly resistant as it passed through bone. Even as she saw the head fall free of the body she felt a tug, and then fire seemed to fill her very being. Looking down, she saw one of the beast's hands as it fell limp from her stomach. In its dying moments it had gotten revenge on her.
What she did not expect was the whisper in her mind as she herself fell to her knee's, one hand holding her up as the other tried in vain to keep the blood from flowing. 'Your death, my life' it whispered as she lost her battle and fell to oblivion.
***
(2004)
The sun dried ground was dark and cracked, creating a mosaic of light brown pieces covering the land as far as she could see. Behind her he waited, knowing he could not interfere, only their to keep her safe from the predators that called this place home; rattlesnakes and coyotes. He could not help but want to hold her; to keep her from facing this on her own, but if it was to work, if she was to find peace with her own power he knew he could not interfere. Such was his job as her Watcher, even one who was only gifted with the title by circumstances that had mad the Chosen One into an army, and those who helped into a scattered few.
Six months ago they had faced the First Evil as it tried to break free from it's imprisonment, and its minions had slaughtered girls around the world. He was a watcher, but only by name; he had no training, none of the expertise or knowledge that was meant to come with the job. He was just there to fill up the hole that the First created when it blew up the Council headquarters. Now, as he settled back in the shade the small canopy of the tent provided, he watched over his Chosen One as she prepared to find her own connection with the past.
She lit the small pile of wood laid out in a circle of sun bleached stones, the fire not for warmth - she was already stripped down to a pair of loose shorts and a training bra, not caring that in most societies this would be considered vulgar, her bare feet crossed under her legs, sitting Indian style, wishing she could sit in the shade as well as the sun beat down on her back and shoulders. How long she sat she did not know, for she was lost in thought, her eyes growing heavy as she watched the smoke rising into the fading light of evening.
As day gave way to night, the flames flickered, red; to yellow, to green, and finally to blue; a dance of wild elements, hypnotic in the simple beauty that was nature, drawing the woman in, until, what seemed like seconds to her, but to the man watching was hours, she fell back, drawn to the spirit plane she sought.
***
'You come seeking the past' the voice seemed to echo in her head, causing her to jump to her feet, her arms raised in front of her, eyes seeking where the voice had come from. 'Slayer!' the voice called once more, from all around her.
'Where are you?" she asked, turning, yet seeing no one.
'I am here, and not here, the past and the future. You seek the truth of what you are. Are you prepared to face what is to come?'
'I need to know what I am, so that I can help the others find there own way.'
'You are the One, the slayer. Alone. Dark. You are me!' the voice hissed, even as she felt something slam into her back, driving her to the ground.
As she rolled over, the weight on her vanished, and she found that the oasis she had first found herself in had been replaced with a dark cavern. She saw, in front of her, a young girl. Her face filled was fear, surrounded by three men in long robes and turbans, each holding a tall staff, beating it rhythmically on the stone floor. They spoke in a language she did not understand.
'This is my past. This is your past. This is the future and the now.' the voice whispered to her once more.
'Who are they?' she asked, turning her head, she spotted the figure crouched in the dark corner, face covered in dried mud and body coiled like a wild animal.
'Your Masters!' the young girl shouted, springing forward, pushing them both out into the open area. Rolling over each other, she soon found herself in the center of the area that the ghost of the past had held. A cold darkness boiled forth from the stones, binding her in place.
'It is time for us to take back our rightful place.' One of the men spoke, turning towards where she lay, his face impassive. His eyes were cruel, uncaring, menacing, even to one such as herself, a Slayer born and caused the first tendril of fear to creep into her soul.
***
He had started to drift off, the heat from the day draining him, when he heard the first sound, a whimper, coming from the woman by the fire. Standing, he took a few steps closer, trying to see what was happening. Seeing her body thrashing, he ran towards her, stopping as he saw the night seem to rise up around her, blackness as dark as nothing he had seen before wrapping around her slight frame, and a scream piercing the night as it tightened.
Lunging the last few feet, he tried to grab a hold of her as the air shimmered, a vortex opening, drawing her towards it. His last thought as he looked up and saw one of the tendrils driving towards his own head was that he had failed her, as he had failed his mother, and then a sharp crack filled the night air and his body dropped lifeless to the ground.
On a rise above, a lone coyote howled at the moon, stopping to sniff the air, the scent of blood drawing it towards the fire it feared.
***
Bonus kudos to any one beside my beta buddy, FallenFaith, check her fic out, who can figure out the prophesy.