AN: This is Hezza. I know I haven't finished Blade Sire's Return, yet, but this one has been in me for more than a year, I just had to get it typed up. My friend BeraMoon inspired me to write this because of her fic, Stuck in the Past.
Like most of my stories, this one started with a dream. I might include that dream once I'm finished (final chapter), if you're interested, but you won't have to read it for the story to make sense.
Just Enjoy, and, as always, please give me suggestions on the story if I get stuck.
Disclaimer: …. Does anybody ever own any of their fics? I mean, that's the whole point, it's FAN FICTION! As in: based on somebody else's work! … Just a thought … … …
… … … In case you didn't get it, I DON'T own ANGEL or affiliated characters. Joss Whedon rocks!
Contains: Violence, Supernatural themes (Duh)
Later chapters may also contain coarse language and sexual themes.
I might pair Lawson and Cordy up for this one. (I NEVER went for the Angel/Cordy relationship, and not really the Connor/Cordy one either. I think Doyle would have made a nice match for her though.)
Note: By the way, I had to make Cordy the exposition character, sorry. It won't sound much like her when she's doing it (I'm still working on my dialogue skills), but as the Seer she's got to explain everything.
Hope you like it nevertheless, Hezza.
Chapter 1
"She who has been infused with the blood of the ancients and was made a vessel of the primordial essence of life, will have the power to grant life to the walking dead, and strength to the living. Blood is the life flow." The man who spoke was barely more than a mist and a memory; his body long since destroyed. His sister stood beside him, staring into the pool of time. "That which is real may be blurred, altered, and made anew. Distance will pose no challenge to her. Alternate paths and existences can be revealed and made to co-exist and to influence each other."
The atmosphere seemed to be changing, shifting from murky grey to clouded mist, to clear but humid air and back again, rendering the spirits visible one moment and obscured the next. The temperature kept shifting too, from chilly to uncomfortably warm, but there were no mortals around to complain. It had not always been so, not when the spirits inhabited physical bodies. The place was falling into disorder. The vessel would be needed.
More pools appeared beside the first, shimmering and opaque, swirling and flowing into a reality. Drops from the first pool leaked into the others, and the ripples spread. "She is the door, the key, the way," he continued, "She is the spirit, and also the hand that will forge the path, the gateway. She will be the protector, the keeper of balance between realms, the guardian of all realities."
"This will come in time." His sister spoke, and the first pool rippled. "But at the beginning of her journey, she is unprepared, unprotected, barely more than a mortal. She will need guardians. Protectors. Champions. Brother, let us warp time, that she may ensure her own survival by saving her champions, that they may in turn save her younger self."
"Who are the champions?"
"The noblest walking dead, those with souls."
"There were three." The man said. "Two with full souls; one by choice and one cursed. The third was made by the cursed vampire, half-souled, and destroyed by his sire."
"Three there shall be again." The sister told him. "Send her back to the half-souled vampire, to mend his soul and pull him forward to save the other two. Then she shall give them a gift, the means to save her life."
"Yes. The body must live if her spirit is to make use of the Gift, the blood of the ancients."
"She must also have a guide." The sister said. "We shall not be able to speak with her until she transcends."
"Let her have the Seer."
"It shall be done."