Lost and Found Rated- PG13
(there might be some NC17 parts posted separately) Spoilers-
Buffy: Summary- I’m
fixing everything Joss messed up. How? With a spell, a ghost, some visions, an
awakening, and a revised prophecy. Still don't know what this is about? Well,
then read it and find out. B/S, A/X, A/C, D/C, and maybe F/W (that’s Faith and
Wes. What do you think?) Disclaimer- I
don’t own Buffy or Angel. If I did I wouldn’t have to write this story Ah, this is as
frustrating for me as it is for you. I’d love to just rush into the Spuffiness,
but the story won’t allow me to yet. Argh. Chapter 6-
Searching Dawn played a
trivial part in the spell. She lit the incense. That was the only prop needed,
and it was merely used to stimulate The witch had
explained the procedure to Dawn in simple terms. Dawn fought
the drowsiness that overtook her. It was getting late. She still hadn’t gotten
her homework done, but that seemed insignificant at the moment. She needed to
help her sister. That took top priority. Her eyes were
beginning to close when Dawn instantly
got to her feet. “What did you find? Where is he?” Willow sighed.
Darkness clouded her face and Dawn dreaded the answer she would receive. She
was afraid she knew what it would be. “He wasn’t
there, Dawnie,” Willow softy replied. “He wasn’t in
heaven?” Dawn stared across the room, not knowing how to handle the news. Willow reached
out and touched Dawn’s arm. “He wasn’t in hell either.” That shocked
Dawn and she snapped her head back toward the red-head. Her eyes were wide.
“Huh?” “I couldn’t
find him. He simply wasn’t there.” “Wh-What are
you saying?” Dawn’s voice wavered. The witch
withdrew her hand. She gave the younger female a sympathetic look. “He’s not in
the afterlife, Dawnie.” “And that
means. . .?” Dawn pressed. She was pleading for a reassuring answer. Buffy
needed one. ‘She’ needed one. “Who knows
what that amulet was capable of. When it activated . . . He might be gone.” Frantically
Dawn shook her head. “I’m sorry,
but we have to face facts that Spike’s soul might have deteriorated along with
his body.” “No!” Dawn
quickly stepped back. “I won’t accept that! God, the powers, whatever is up
there wouldn’t allow it!” Willow moved
forward, but Dawn jerked away. “Dawnie . . .” A tear
streamed down Dawn’s face. She slumped against the wall behind her for support.
“I won’t accept it,” she whispered. ************************ Madame Zelda
was a psychic. Or at least that was what her sign said. Paranormal
Communicator, walk-ins welcome. Anya was desperate, and so she was willing to
try anything. The little
séance dwelling was dimly lit with candles and smelled strongly of incense.
There were pentagrams, moons and stars, crystals, and other emblems scattered
around for decoration. The reading table was off in the corner, covered in a
blue velvet cloth. A clear crystal ball, which rested on a holder, sat on the
surface. Zelda herself
sat in a chair, waving her hands over the scrying ball and gazing deep into its
depths. She was older, in her late thirties most likely. Her hair was red, and
in ringlets. She wore a long dress that resembled that of a gypsy. Mutters came
from under her breath that was unrecognizable. Her client was
a woman, younger and very pretty. She sat across from the psychic and watched
intently with belief. Suddenly
Madame Zelda raised her head. “Oh great spirits,” she called up to the ceiling.
“Come, make your presence known.” Anya saw her
chance. “Hi. My name’s Anya Jenkins. I’ve been dead now for a couple of months.
I’ve kind of lost count on exactly how long. I’m an ex- capitalist like
yourself. I saw your sign outside and have come for some help. See, I don’t
want to be a ghost. I left behind this great guy. We were just about to get
back together before there was this apocalypse. . .” The ex-demon frowned. “Hey
are you even listening to me?” The so-claimed
psychic was completely ignoring her. Anya leaned in closer. “Are you deaf!? I’m
a ghost making contact!” “It’s no use.” Anya jumped.
She pressed a hand to her chest. The voice could have given her a heart-attack.
That was if she wasn’t already dead. The owner of
the voice stood by the entrance. He was tall dark and handsome, wearing white
dress pants and a blue silk shirt. Anya had come to recognize fellow ghosts
when she met them, and this certainly was one. He’d been gone quite awhile from
his energy vibe. “What do you
mean? She’s a psychic. She’s supposed to help me. It’s in her job description,”
Anya complained. The other
ghost shook his head. “She’s a fake. A phony.” Incredulously,
Anya eyed the woman. Zelda was now rolling back her eyes and acting to be
possessed. Meanwhile her customer was eating up the performance. Anya was
tempted to attempt actually entering the con-artist’s body and teaching her a
lesson. “How unfair!
Even when I was evil I never took money by false means,” commented Anya. “It is
horrible, isn’t it?” the ghost agreed. He smiled. “Robert Green. And you are?” “Anya Jenkins,”
she answered. “Nice to meet
you. Sorry to disappoint you on Madame Zelda. Don’t worry she’ll learn her
lesson. I came here to give her a good scare.” Anya crossed
her arms. “Serves her right.” “That it does.
So, why did you come here? Seeking to venture off to the hereafter? I know of
this real spirit investigator who . . .” Robert asked. “No,” Anya
interrupted. “I can’t move on. I still have so much to do. You see, there’s
this guy I love that I haven’t received farley enough orgasms from.” Robert blinked,
but otherwise wasn’t effected. “And a
wedding. I deserve a successful wedding. Not like last time. And babies! I want
lots of little people!” “You poor
thing,” Robert whispered. Anya frowned.
“What?” “You still
don’t accept that you’re dead.” “Oh, I accept
the fact. I’m dead. Dead as a doornail. But I’m going to find a way for me to
be resurrected.” “Not
possible,” Robert said. “Is too,” Anya
countered. “I know. I’ve seen it done before. Of course, the circumstances were
a little different. . . But that doesn’t matter. All I need to do is find a
high-performance witch. Preferable a red-headed lesbian, but if I have to make
do with someone else okay.” “Ghosts don’t
come back to life.” It was a simple statement of fact. “How would you
know?” “I’ve been
around. There’ve been a few rumors, but nothing definite.” Anya perked
up. “Rumors? Rumors are good. What rumors?” “I’ve heard
that there was a ghost re-corporealized recently. But there is no evidence.
Plus I heard that he wasn’t a standard spirit anyway.” Stepping
forward, Anya said, “Go on. Tell me all the details.” Robert ran a
hand through his hair. “Well, they say it happened in LA. But you don‘t want to
go there.” “Yes I do. I
can do LA. I was expecting “You don’t
understand,” Robert explained. “I was told that the recorpeal was granted by .
. .” He swallowed. “Wolfram and Hart.” “Oh,” Anya
said. She scrunched up her face. She’d heard of that place. A bunch of lawyers.
She wasn’t really fond of lawyers. “Yeah,” Robert
went on. “They do stuff for others but there is always a price.” Anya shrugged.
“Oh well. I guess I could sell my soul. I’ve been to hell before. Overrated if
you ask me. The flames aren‘t that hot, and there isn‘t that much brimstone.” Robert
narrowed his eyes. He really wasn’t sure what to make of this woman. “Thanks, Rob,”
Anya chirped. “Wish me luck.” With that Anya
headed out the door, intent on making her way to the Las Angeles W&H
branch. “I’m off to
see the lawyers, the awful lawyers of LA,” Anya sang to herself. _________________________________________________ Ok, that last
line was stupid. I had to add it, though. It was too amusing to pass-up. |