Title: Paradise Regained (sequel to Lost Paradise)
Part: 1 of ?
Author: Crazed Attourney (Adam).
Rating: UK18 (sex, violence, angst etc).
Archiving: Just let me know.
Feedback: Please…. Pretty please.
Pairing: W/T, B/F (eventually/hopefully), C/A, mentions of T/f, B/R, and K/X.
Spoilers: None really, might want to read Lost Paradise first, hints of Buffy s.4 and Angel s.2, but this an alt. Universe.
Disclaimers: Most of this belongs to the Buffy God Joss Whedon, and any one else he has assigned rights to, whether corporations or individuals. The Morrigu and Daywalkers are mine, but the rest nope all his, making no money (haven’t got any either) so please don’t sue.
Authors Notes: This is a surprise, a sequel. Don’t know how long this is going to take, though I do have an idea as to where it going. So hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: The King is Dead!
The blade flashed upwards, destroying bone and muscle, as it’s sharp edge slide easily across his face.
The blade hardly paused, its’ movements a fluid reflection of its’ masters control, it seemed to burn as fire light glinted over its’ cold grey skin marking its’ final great arc with a strange beauty.
The King’s body jerked once as the sword punched through his golden armour, burying itself with an ear bursting finality into the rough castle walls.
He stared uncomprehending at the crude weapon that had broken him, from its blade still showing the print of the hammer that had forged it to the handle, nothing more than two pieces of wood bound together by frayed leather.
He watched as the light brown leather began to darken with a heavy red rain. He let out a sound he’d never made before: a whimper of pain and fear, as he realised it was his own blood.
The growing numbness exploded into a crashing pain, as a hand filled his vision and jerked the blade free.
The pain jumped again as rough hands pulled him upright.
Eyes, black like his, locked onto his. Though unlike his, which were dull and almost lifeless, these burned with a sad triumph that promised only oblivion.
A hand hovered over his wounded chest.
“No.” He begged.
He wanted to scream as he felt the hand rip into his chest, but his mouth work silently as the pain stole his voice.
Blackness began to shrink his vision, crawling in from all around like the night at a sunset. His dying eyes watched a blood red hand engulf a golden pearl crushing into dust and as the darkness descended for the last time, he could feel the dust tickle its way down his broken face.
The vampire lashed out one final time; he put all of his remaining strength into that blow. It sailed harmlessly over the dark haired girl’s head, and with his balance shot he fell into the awaiting stake.
Giles groaned from nearby, “Bloody Hell.” He staggered awkwardly to his feet.
Faith flipped up into a standing position, “so is that it G-man?”
“Yes I believe that is the entire nest, well done.”
The older Englishmen watched the slayer stop bouncing with excitement, and the look of disappointment that grew on her face.
“I do believe we’ll be able to make it to Jo…Mrs Summers’ to help with the decorating. B-B-Buf…s-s-she. For tomorrow.”
Faith gently squeezed the older man’s arm, understanding the turmoil that crossed his weathered features.
“Umm…Hi Will.” Xander said awkwardly, his hands fidgeting with the tray in his hands.
The redhead hardly seemed to notice his stammered greeting, her eyes still locked on the slumbering form resting their head on her lap; her fingers played, absently with the ends of the sleeping form’s blonde hair, while her face had an almost confused smile, as if it didn’t know whether it should be happy, sad or simply content.
“Willow.” Xander said more clearly.
This time it broke into her reverie. “Oh…umm…hi…hello…what’s wrong?” Somehow she managed to stammer and rush out the confused sentence, at the same time.
Xander smiled, “I brought you some tea, Wesley said it might help, some sort of herbs. So how are you?” He asked the last question nervously.
“I…I don’t know.” She blushed.
“That’s cool.” He nodded.
Silence descended over the two old friends.
“So…” They said at the same time both smiling, the awkwardness slowly disappearing.
Willow took a deep breath and started before her best friend, “how are you and Kate.”
“Really great actually, though she still a bit weird about Dennis.”
“My ghost.” He said as if that explained everything.
“Best flatmate a man can have.” Willow merely nodded, not understanding how Xander could be so enthused about a ghostly lodger. “How’s the old Hellmouth?”
“And what brings you to LA?” He asked again when silence descended onto the conversation.
“She gets out tomorrow, I’m here to pick her up.”
Xander blushed and focused on his feet. He’d forgotten.
“You coming to the wedding?” Willow quickly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long.
Xander brightened gratefully, “yeah gonna be the best man.”
“Summers’ Residence.” Faith laughed into the phone, Giles standing their covered in gaudy decorations had made the whole evening worthwhile. “Soul-Boy, what’sup?”
Its Angel, she mouthed to the watcher, who now had Joyce and Cordelia trying to unpick him from the complicated knot that now engulfed him.
“Great.” She answered rolling her eyes; the souled vampire was his normal monosyllabic self. “Red get there okay?”
“P-pardon?” She stuttered suddenly. “That’s not fucking funny.” She spat loudly; the four other occupants stopped and stared at the Slayer, their amusement over Giles’ predicament forgotten.
“She can’t be.” She whispered, her voice breaking.
The phone fell from limp fingers, Faith began to slide towards the floor.
“Faith? Faith? Faith?” Angel called down the phone, worry creeping into his normally calm voice.
“Angel.” Another voice spoke into the phone, he instantly recognised it as Giles’. “What’s wrong has something happened to…them?”
“No there fine, but…”
“But what?” He could here fear creep into the edges of the Englishman’s voice. “Angel what?”
“The current Daywalker’s name was Tara, she’s human again.” He said quickly.
“Does Willow know?” Giles said, his voice distant.
“Yes they’re together in my lounge, why?”
He was answered by the constant whine of a dial tone.
“My Lord.” The servant bowed.
“Yes?” His master’s deep, rich voice rumbled. He moved his eyes from the silver beauty he held, to the grovelling form in front of him. His eyes flickered with a hint of annoyance.
“Its your father…” The servant choked, “he is dead.”
The grief that passed across the young lord’s face was lost in the triumph that quickly followed.
The court shuffled nervously, as the dark man stood uneasily to his feet.
The man cried, holding his blood and sand encrusted hand up high.
Half stumbling, half limping he moved forwards.
He stopped before a nurse, a squirming baby, wriggled unawares in her arms. His black eyes crinkled with amusement, and his tiny arms outstretched as a new playmate lifted him from his nurses arms.
The small babe was the last of the Royal House, and the royal court held its’ breath awaiting the man’s next move.
“Is the covenant sealed?” He snarled though his eyes did not move from the child’s.
Two figures: one male, one female stepped forward, their bodies a patchwork of blue and gold. “Yes,” they said as one.
“The child is mine, his future is mine to decide, and does anyone challenge this.” The court remained answered, agreeing with its’ silence.
The man nodded.
Turning he approached the great throne, a great mould of bones, precious jewels and fabrics, smiling gently he placed the child carefully onto its soft silken cushions.
“Long Live the King!” He bellowed.
The court watched in stunned silence, before it to began to take up the chant.
End of Chapter One…TBC “Long Live the King!”