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Prelude Buffy was falling through mist. Flat on her back, stretched out, eyes closed, she could feel the cool air buoying her, whizzing up between her arms, along her sides, across the bottoms of her feet. There was no sound. It was perfect silence. Then she slowed, passing through what felt like a gelatinous membrane. It stopped her briefly and she sank into it until it absorbed and surrounded her completely. She was drenched in warm liquid joy and comfort. Love. It was a familiar sensation, one that she had been seeking for so long, like an embrace. Outside her, she heard muffled voices in the background, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She didn’t care. Laughter welled up in her. She wasn’t sure how she got there or where she was, but she knew she was where she was supposed to be and everything would be alright. She was home again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The throne room of the Powers That Be was dim, lit only by the Powers themselves, swirling lights as brilliant as any Earthly jewel, like tiny flickering phosphorescent sea creatures swimming in a gaseous haze. Made up of several members, the Powers were pure energy, existing outside the plane of detectable, measurable time and space. They were the embodiment of ageless goodness beyond mortal comprehension, and yet despite their peaceful nature and inherent benevolence, they sometimes disagreed. From within the churning circle of colors, voices could be heard. A young, soft voice cautioned, “We mustn’t,” and another said, “We must!” A third, older voice said, “We cannot,” and a forth, feminine one sighed, “We can.” A fifth voice, one who was used to settling disputes, called out, “Let the outcast come forth. We will hear what she has to say and make our decision.” And a sixth voice lamented, “We will hear what we already know. She must go back. We have no other.” Oma Desala drew closer to the swirling mass in her brightest white celestial robes. She had petitioned the Powers at the fall of the Chosen One, but only now were they willing to admit her and consider her request. When her non-corporeal eyes fell on the beauty and majesty of the Powers, she knelt in humility. “Holy ones, honored and wise, I have come seeking the Chosen.” “We know why you have come, banished one,” the Powers said in harmony. “Our servant, the balance demon, tells us of Anubis’ growing strength. His evil casts a long dark shadow over the peoples of the Milky Way galaxy. His darkness diminishes her 400 billion stars to such a degree that we know we must act. But we are saddened by this, deeply saddened. The Chosen One is beloved to us. She has served us best of all the Slayers of Earth, and that she is to be torn once again from us is collectively tragic…” Oma Desala raised her eyes again to the Powers and offered, “I have a young apprentice, honorable and head strong. Even now he is embarking on a path that will force me to send him from my side. Perhaps…” But the Powers interrupted, agreeing unanimously, “Yes! You will bind them. He will care for her and she will grow strong again. She will protect him and he will learn forbearance. They will balance each other and return balance to their galaxy.” As they spoke the words, Buffy fell. For what seemed like an eon, she was bitterly cold and she flailed, screaming, fighting against the emptiness. Finally, two strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. Home. This was what home felt like. Path From Heaven Menu Next Chapter |
