i BANG /i.
The wooden doors of the convent rattled once again. The monks of the 'Priory Key' had seemed to simply vanish from the world, landing in a remote area of Nepal—but the two gods had found them. Glorificus was by far the more powerful, but they had both come, Glory and Voldemort, ready to go back to their separate dimensions. The nine monks sat in a circle, chanting the words that would create the two keys.
i BANG /i.
The youngest monk, Arahant, stumbled over the fumes of the powerful magic. "Are you…quite sure?"
"Arahant," said Grand Master Arhat sharply. "Glorificus and Voldemort will not be permitted to attack the keys under any circumstances. We all know our duty."
Arahant nodded. He sat cross-legged on the wooden floor desperately trying to remember the Latin to hide the keys.
"Velieris duos keys. Velieris lemma!" began Arhat, letting Asanga and Arahant begin as Arahant slowly recalled the words he had learned early on in case something like this ever occurred—not that anyone had thought it ever would.
i BANG /i.
Arahant shuddered.
"Ex duos filiolus - Glorificus quod Voldemort. Servo lemma tutus! Take lemma ut duos plurimus vox!" the three monks continued as the door splintered and the beautiful goddess and horrid god pushed their way in.
A white source of light shone unbroken throughout the chaos as Glorificus and Voldemort struck through the door. The white light broke into two and shot off across different direction. Arhat sighed. "It will be safe."
"They will not…kill us, will they?" asked Arahant desperately. He had grown up in Nepal, had never seen the rest of the world.
"No, of course not," said Glorificus in her false soothing voice. Voldemort looked at her.
"Avada Kedrava," he said loudly, pointing his finger-stick at Arahant. Arahant collapsed onto the still-smoking pile where the magic to set the key had been done.
"Now," said Glorificus matter-of-factly, as if a murder had not been done, "I think you may be able to help us." She pointed at Arhat.
He was the Grand Master.
"No!" began Asanga, but before he could finish Glorificus reached towards him and placed her long manicured hands on each side of his head. Blue light shone as Asanga screamed and Glorificus closed her eyes, apparently enjoying his pain. When he crumpled in insanity, Glory smiled. "That may just lift your spirits, right? Now…what's your name again?"
Arhat had long since sunk to the floor when Voldemort tortured him for enjoyment. "Arhat," he groaned, not seeing any point to resist. "But I will never tell you where the Keys are."
"Right then," said Glory. "Let's split up, alright? Keys? That means there's two…so Voldemort you go do whatever white-faced mime creeps do, and I'll go find something fun to kill."
"You…will never find them," said Arhat slowly… "They are too…well…protected…"
Willow Rosenberg stood by the swing set as Dawn Rosenberg waited for her to leave, one arm hooked over the chain as she sat sideways on the swing. She was fourteen and a half, but Willow was still taking her to the playground.
"I'm not a kid, Will," Dawn insisted. "Just because iyou're/i the Slayer and stuff doesn't mean I can't sit on a swing by myself. In broad daylight."
"Okay, okay, okay," said Willow exasperatedly. "I'm leaving."
"Got that right!" Dawn called after her. "I'm not the one who's died!"
"Shut up," Willow called over her shoulder. "Just because you're my kid sister doesn't mean I can't use my Slayer powers on you or anything."
"Yes it does," taunted Dawn. "Because I'll tell Mom." She stood up and started walking towards Willow.
"Dawnie," said Willow. "What happened to staying at the playground by yourself?"
"Oh come on," said Dawn, rolling her eyes. "I'm way too old to be at a playground still."
"I used to play at the playground all the time when I was your age," insisted Willow.
"Play? More like Slay," said Dawn.
"I wasn't the Slayer when I was fourteen!"
"So?"
"I didn't kill any vampires! I wasn't that depressed! I was just Miss Nerd-Chick-Who-Had-A-Big-Giant-Crush-On-Xander-Harris," Willow defended herself.
"You had a crush on Xander?"
"Crap. I didn't tell you that?" Willow asked.
"Nope. I'm going to tell him," Dawn threatened.
"You do that…and you'll…be staked from behind!" Willow said, laughing. "Besides, I'll just tell him that you have a crush on him too."
"I do not!"
"Yes you do," Willow said quickly.
"No, I don't!" Dawn was sticking to her story.
"You have for ages, Dawnie."
"No, I haven't! He's like, six years older!"
"But you still have a crush on him," Willow said.
"NO, I DO NOT!" yelled Dawn at the top of her lungs. She was just really hoping Xander wasn't hiding behind a tree or something listening to their conversation. Now THAT would be embarrassing.
The two girls walked off, bantering as sisters usually do. Neither knew that Dawn Rosenberg was the first of the Keys.
Harry James Potter looked angrily on at his sister. "You're a Slayer?"
"You're a wizard," Buffy pointed out to him. "There's not really that much of a difference. And there's no need to say it so loud."
"Right," said Harry. "You're a Slayer…AND a witch."
"Okay, you have a point," said Buffy. "But you're a twenty-five year old wizard. I'm just a meek little twenty-year old."
"I'm the one who defeated Voldemort," said Harry. "You know he's not really dead."
"He couldn't be, Harry," said Buffy. "You didn't destroy all the Horcruxes."
"Buffy, do me a favor and SHUT YOUR MOUTH," bellowed Harry. "You're a bloody SLAYER."
"Yeah, you don't think I was jealous when you got to leave for Hogwarts while I had to stay with Uncle Vermin and Aunt Petuneless?" Buffy asked Harry.
"You could have at least come up with better nicknames."
Buffy grabbed her purse and her willow wand. "I'm leaving."
"GO!" Harry was exaggerating his anger.
"I will," she said. "That's what I was planning on doing."
"Buffy," Harry pleaded.
"What, you think I'm actually mad at you?" Buffy scoffed.
"No."
"Then why are you so mad? I've got to go—look, it's dusk People to see, vampires to slay…" Buffy stared at him.
"Okay, go," he said finally. "Can I come with you?"
"Want to see the Slayer in action? Come on." Buffy tossed him a stake.
"I could go see that other one," Harry said. "You know the one that died and then got resurrected."
"Willow? She's boring. You know I'm way cooler," Buffy said, pulling out a cross and giving it to Harry.
"Have you ever met her?"
"Welll…"
"See?"
The two of them walked out the door in silence ready to Slay. Who knew that someone who was already a Key and a witch could also end up being a Slayer? It was a little much.
Glory was in Las Vegas, partying up with the best of them. Of course, every once in a while she'd suck someone's brains out and render them insane, but that was just a thing of life. No one was likely to suspect her anyway!
A note was passed into her hand through way of a chaos demon walking past. People were giving him odd glances—but they saw what they wanted to.
iSunnydale/i, the note read in carefully neat writing. Glory—or Glorificus—looked straight up. She sucked the brains out of the first person she saw, and got on the next bus to Sunnydale, California.
Lord Voldemort, as he was calling himself these days, had spent a long time searching for the Key. He'd gone as far as to warp time backwards in hope to find her. But that blasted Harry Potter had defeated him and he was a corpse of a shell with no hope of survival.
Except if Glorificus showed up or if he got that potion again, neither of which were likely to happen.
He might be a god, but it was a little hard to figure things out sometimes.
Right now, he was a red flesh of a tiny person wearing black robes that hurt his blistered skin every time he moved.
i Glorificus /i
She was the kind of goddess who messed with people's minds, so of course she was able to send mental telepathy.
Unlike Voldemort.
Voldemort was receiving one now, though, and it was in classic Glory style: i ;) Got the town where Key is! U got yours yet? /i
Glory hadn't thought of the fact that he couldn't respond.
But it infuriated him greatly that the two Keys were walking around happily—and he was stuck here in a lonely mess.
They would die if it was the last thing he did.