Fic: Convergent Slayers

[annelise@xxxxxxxxxxxxx]

First Attempt At BuffyFic, please forgive.
Comments/Flames to: ladyvyxen@xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anne-Lise.

--


Oblivious to the storm raging outside the temple, a young woman 
kneels before the humble shrine. She stares at the floor with 
reddened eyes; the only visible sign of her grief. Long ago she 
learned to mask her innermost feelings from others. Kyoko Takahashi, 
nineteen years old, and one of the brightest pupils in her class at 
Hakone school for girls was sick of her life. Endless days of 
schoolwork and chores, looking after her ailing father, and acting as 
the surrogate mother for her younger sister, she wished for the kind 
of life her friends lived. Her mother, Yukio, had died shortly after 
her sister Megumi was born, and the loss affected her now more 
profoundly than she could ever have believed. She'd never been as 
respectful of her mother as she should have been, forever critical of 
her methods and philosophies. And now, circumstances had forced her 
to live her mother's life, and she deeply resented the need.
With a sigh, Kyoko pulled herself to her feet and brushed off her 
fading kimono. No solace for her here; no comfort to be found in the 
trappings of meaningless religion. For a moment, she wondered why she 
bothered to come, and remembers? to get away, just for a little 
while. Aware of the silent emptiness around her, she closed her eyes 
and made an effort to picture her mother's graceful features. She 
could almost feel that gentle maternal touch on her face, a light 
caress, as if to wipe away the tears that begin to fall down her pale 
cheeks. But the ghostly touch is nothing more than her hair caught in 
the wind, and her tears are soon lost in the powerful downpour as she 
leaves to perform her duties. 
"Giri," Her mother's voice echoes in her mind, "must always be 
observed over ninjo." Duty before emotion. So very Japanese.

*

"Megumi?" The sound of a window breaking downstairs brought Kyoko 
round to full wakefulness. More sounds of breaking glass, followed by 
her sister's cry of pain. "Megumi!" Unable to think clearly, Kyoko 
reached out for the bokken from the shelf by her bed. The bokken, a 
wooden training sword similar in shape and design to the katana, 
could still be a deadly weapon in the right hands. At worst it was a 
solid blunt instrument, and its comfortable heft felt reassuring to 
Kyoko. She headed out of her bedroom and into a nightmare.

Her sister lay crumpled on the stairs, sightless eyes gazing into 
oblivion, face frozen in a grimace of pain. The side of her neck was? 
gone, just a bloody flap of skin remained, and lying in Megumi's hand 
was the polished metal of their family katana. Although the angle of 
the stairs made it impossible for Kyoko to see into the room at the 
bottom, she could make out a movement in the shadows. She crept down 
the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible, although every step she 
took sounded unnaturally loud to her sensitive ears. After a seeming 
eternity, she came abreast of her beloved sister, and stifling a cry, 
wrested the katana free from the cool grip. Allowing herself a moment 
to get her panicked breathing under control, she let the rage build 
inside, letting the need for revenge consume her every thought. Only 
then did she continue down those last few steps, entering the main 
room of the house with her ancestral blade held deftly in white, 
almost bloodless fingers.

*

"Ah, Buffy." Giles nodded to his charge as he sat stiff-backed in a 
wicker chair, reading a demonology text and munching on a round of 
toast.
"Hi Giles! Nice warm greets to you, too. What's the what?" Buffy 
flumped down into a more comfortable chair.
"Oh? I was just reading up on Uzgrabel, a minor demon reputed to 
exist on a diet of human tears."
"Tears?" She shrugged. "Seen weirder." She peered at the open page 
on Giles' lap. "But not that many uglier. Is he due anytime soon?"
"Not for awhile? I hope. How did your patrol go last night?" Giles 
let his paternal gaze rove over Buffy's ripped pants and blood-
spattered arms, feeling the usual pangs of worry and repressed 
anxiety. "Not too much trouble, I hope?"
"Rough night." Buffy agreed, helping herself to some of the toast 
off Giles' plate. "I got jumped by some seriously organised vamps. It 
was like that bit in Reservoir Dogs." A pause. "Well, except there 
were no suits. Or music. Or that whole icky ear thing."
"I see." said Giles, who didn't. Pop culture wasn't his strong 
suit. "There could be a new master in town, or a new focus?"
"Or it could be that time of month." Buffy chipped in, just to see 
his reaction. Giles-baiting was almost as good for stress-relief as a 
decent session at the Bronze. "Maybe Willow can do some computery-
type things, find out if any end-of-world kind of stuff is coming up. 
Again." Any excuse to get Willow involved, she thought.
"Maybe. I'll check with some of the usual texts. Why don't you go 
and see what she's up to? I haven't seen her around here lately."
"Will do. Later!" With a wave, she got up and left.
"Oh, and Buffy?" Giles belatedly called after her as the front door 
closed. "You might want to change into some clean clothes first."

*

"Kyoko!" The young kenshin screamed out her name as he advanced 
across the dojo floor, a gleaming katana gripped threateningly in his 
right hand. "Because of you I've lost face before sensei! I challenge 
you to shiniai!"
The young woman, the only other occupant of the dojo, ended her kata 
prematurely with a graceful forward roll. Perspiration irritated her 
sensitive eyes, and she struggled to blink them clear.
"Shiniai, Ataru? Are you mad?" Shiniai, a ritual duel between 
martial artists could end in only one way: by victory through death.
"Hai! It's the only way I may save face now! You cheated me!"
"Never! I beat you fairly! Baka!" Although Kyoko had been taught in 
various complementary martial arts, like all the students of the 
Mugai-ryu, and though she'd experience fighting barehanded against a 
sword, she knew better than to underestimate Ataru's skill with a 
blade. She reached nonchalantly for the decorative wakizashi blade 
from its stand on the dojo wall, not even trying to keep eye contact 
with her opponent in a display of utter contempt for his skill.
Ataru sneered. "You presume to face my father's katana with that? 
that knife?" Barely able to contain his rage Ataru gripped his 
beloved katana blade tighter, knuckles whitening, eyes flashing 
dangerously. Like most kenshin, his father had entrusted his katana 
to him as he reached adulthood; just as his own father had been 
entrusted with his katana when he too came of age. It was a 
reverential possession, and to encounter someone who regarded it so 
lightly was a great insult to his family's honour. The challenge was 
sealed.
"Attend me, Kyoko, or I swear the next breath you take will be your 
last!" Ataru attacked her with rage-fuelled vigour, yet with a skill 
tempered by his vast anger and humiliation. Kyoko found herself 
easily able to defend against his blows so she let herself immerse 
into the lethal dance, letting her awareness withdraw from the fight. 
Her body, no longer controlled by conscious thought but disciplined 
instinct, countered the young swordsman's thrusts with skilful 
parries. Her lithe form, slim and supple from years of training 
performed flawlessly. Like moonlight in motion she slipped between 
Ataru's masterly defences, her chosen weapon singing in her hands, 
providing her with an almost sybaritic pleasure. Steel met steel and 
finally tasted blood. The sword she'd chosen was far more than a mere 
knife. It was a beautifully crafted blade containing nearly a 
thousand folds, designed to be the sacrificial seppuku knife of a 
bushido warrior. 
Although not her offensive weapon of choice, the wakizashi was 
equally deadly to Ataru's katana, and being much smaller, the blade 
was easier to control. Gathering her chi, she focused her strength 
into a vicious swing at Ataru's unprotected neck. Victory through 
death was her reward as Ataru's severed head fell at her feet, and 
she sank to her knees in emotional turmoil, lost somewhere between 
exultation and exhaustion.

*

Willow lay on her bed, enjoying the warmth of the early-morning 
sunlight streaming in onto her face and thought about Buffy, or more 
precisely, the Buffy-shaped hole in her life. What with the 
Initiative, and the usual smattering of vamps, demons and strange 
wibbly things, she'd been a little bit out of the loop the last few 
days. Why did Buffy even bother to keep her around? Well? okay, she 
was research-girl. But Giles was good at that too, if not better. 
Except with computers, of course. She hated being Velma. Her 
depressingly circular thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.
"Knock!" exclaimed Buffy, peering round the door. "Aw. No smoochies 
to interrupt!"
"Smoochies?" Willow's mind fused. "Oh! You mean Tara smoochies. No, 
no smoochies, no Tara."
"Really? Where's she at? I thought you guys were, like, joined at 
the mouth or something." Buffy grinned at her babbling friend. "Oh, 
and Giles said to say he misses you."
"I guess I haven't been around as much as usual. Fade-to-background-
girl, that's me."
"Willow?" Buffy frowned. "What's ailing my favourite Wiccan 
wonderchild?"
Willow's enchanting smile resurfaced for a moment. "Wonderchild?" 
She smiled again at Buffy's `well, duh!' look. "I guess I just feel a 
bit? you know. Useless." The enchanting Willow smile vanished behind 
the rainclouds of her depression.
"Oh Will, come here!" Buffy opened her arms, wanting to give her 
friend the support she needed, just as Willow had given it to her so 
many times before. After Angel, it was Willow who'd helped her out of 
the despair that had consumed her for so very long, and she could do 
no less now for her best friend in her moment of need.
Willow sank gratefully into the hug then leaned her head up, gazing 
into Buffy's eyes for a moment before closing her mouth on Buffy's in 
a sensuous kiss.
Oh my God, Buffy thought, breaking the unexpected kiss. Her eyes 
reflected shock as she backed away, and the betrayed look on her face 
stabbed at Willow's heart. 
"Buffy, I? I'm sorry? I didn't?" Willow fell into full Rosenberg 
Stutter Syndrome as Buffy fled the room, then burst into tears. 

*

"You're the Slayer, my child. Its not merely a title or a 
responsibility, it is who you are." 
"I know, sensei Kobo." Kyoko stretched lithely, hearing a light pop 
in her shoulder.
"Are you sure? You're the Slayer. It is your giri! To abandon your 
duty would be to destroy the very essence of self that makes you 
unique and capable of such prodigious feats! It is the sole purpose 
of your life, the only matter over which death may hold no dominion. 
It is true immortality!"
Kyoko rolled her eyes. She wondered if the other Slayers, those that 
had come before, or were to come after her, had ever been forced to 
suffer such meaningless sentiment at the hands of their Watchers. "I 
understand, sensei."
"It is good that you do. We have an important matter to discuss. 
Attend me, Kyoko."
Attend me, Kyoko. Were those words really so innocently chosen?

*

Outside the door to the room Buffy shared with Willow a war was 
raging, and all of it inside Buffy's head. Torn between losing her 
best friend, gaining a lover, the whole lesbian angle, jeopardising 
Willow's life, wanting? wanting what? She loved Willow. She knew she 
did. But how come she only just realised it? Had she just threw away 
a major happiness chance? Had she lost her best friend? What about 
Riley? *Mental Shrug* Who cared. Tara? Gah! Back to basics, Buffy. 
Fire bad, tree pretty. You love Willow. Willow obviously loves you. 

She decided to think things through in her usual way. Head for 
coffee, give Mr. Pointy an airing, release excess frustration, work 
herself to sleep. 

*

Natsu-gusa ya:
Tsuwamono-domo ga;
Yume no ato.

Kyoko looked down at the delicate script. "Summer grass: Of 
stalwart warriors splendid dreams; The aftermath." She paused. "The 
end of a great battle. How old is this prophesy?"
Kobo paused. "It was penned by our most renowned poet, Matsuo 
Basho."
"Its just a poem, not a prophesy?"
"Iie!" Kobo exclaimed. "It is indeed a prophesy. Basho was haunted 
throughout his life by visions of the future. A more complete 
collection of his works is in our possession than is owned by any 
other collector, and one such prophesy concerns us now." He stopped 
to rummage.

Grim fate averts
For she who bears the blade
that drinks of old revenge.

"Revenge?" Kyoko blinked, a memory of her sister Megumi 
resurfaced. "This prophesy is about me?" Kobo's face remained 
impassive as he produced yet more verses, which she gingerly took and 
read. 
"These words are true?" she demanded. "My death has been foretold?"
"It may be so. The prophesies are indeed clear. The Slayer is to 
take her revenge, averting tragedy, and yet is to die in the 
challenge."
Kyoko drew in a deep breath. "If that, then, is my destiny, I will 
face it as duty demands." She hid her inner turmoil behind the 
emotionless façade she'd perfected over the years.
"However?" Kobo paused to regain his charge's attention. "There is 
another who may equally fulfil these prophesies.
"Another Slayer? I thought I was the only one."
Kobo shook his head. "Unto each generation is a Slayer born, yet 
though few in number, there are a handful of Slayers who fulfil this 
duty at a time." Kobo frowned, reliving a past memory. "Though many 
die young. We're to join such a Slayer in the gaijin land of America. 
She too, has suffered at the hands of the very demon who destroyed 
your family."
"If such is so," Kyoko covered her confusion, "then why are we to 
join with her, if it is to be she who suffers this fate?"
Kobo's demeanour radiated anger and disapproval. "Despite my 
admonitions, her Watcher recorded that he fostered a relationship 
between his Slayer and the demon." He nodded as Kyoko's eyes widened 
in disbelief. "He believed that Angelus had recovered his soul, and 
would therefore not bring about the destruction predicted in Basho's 
prophesies, for if Angelus was unwilling to harm the Slayer, the 
prophesised fate would be averted." He paused a moment in 
thought. "However I do not believe this to be so."
"I do not care if he has recovered his soul or not. He is oni! He 
slaughtered my sister, my father. He shall die by my hands even if it 
means my death. Kami? I swear it shall be so."
Kobo nodded, grim yet heartened. "There is little more I can teach 
you. Your martial skills dwarf my own, and you understand your duty 
well."
"Arigatou, sensei." Kyoko basked in her teacher's praise for such 
was seldom given.

*

Willow was startled awake by a trite knock on the door. She glanced 
at the clock. Two AM.
"Who is it?" she called out. Buffy's blond head peered contritely 
around the door. 
"Buffy? Why the knock. You live here too." Willow's hand nervously 
indicated the dorm. "I'm? sorry about earlier. I guess I was a 
little? overwrought. I really didn't, shouldn't? I?"
"Hey Wills. This is me, remember. Long time best friend? Shall we 
try for that hug again?" Buffy sat on the edge of Willow's bed and 
with a smile, opened her arms to the now wide-awake redhead. Willow 
let herself be enveloped in her friend's arms, grateful she hadn't 
lost that valued friendship. If only this moment would last? Her 
thoughts were shattered by Buffy's hands travelling up her back 
causing her to tilt her head, and before she could frame a query, 
Buffy's mouth locked onto her own and then nothing mattered at all ?
except the sensation.
Aeons passed, worlds ended, but finally it was the need for oxygen 
that caused their lips to part. Buffy's eyes opened to see Willow's 
sultry face, eyes closed, her features arranged in a slow, sensual, 
slavish smile.
"Wow," said Buffy.
"Yeah. That." Willow mumbled, eyes still shut, her chest rising and 
falling. Buffy couldn't help herself, she kissed Willow again, 
roughly, rejoicing as Willow's lips opened to her own like a flower. 
Why had she taken so long to realise her true feelings? No matter. 
Her introspection dissolved in the sudden struggle to be completely 
free of clothing. Buffy couldn't think straight, blood thundered in 
her ears and all she could see was Willow. Her Willow. She exultantly 
savoured the sight of the redhead shrugging out of some extremely 
white panties. Only good girls wear white, she thought incoherently. 
She felt intoxicated.
Buffy's hands roamed Willow's satin skin, caressing her lightly. 
She rubbed the wiccan's breasts so that her nipples stood out, hard 
and quivering. Lowering her head Buffy lightly kissed above Willow's 
navel, and she used her hands to spread Willow's legs, rubbing her 
there. Willow began to pant, and Buffy's fingers came away wet.
"Oh, oh Buffy!" At Willow's exclamation, Buffy nervously lowered her 
head further still, and began to lick, tentatively, along Willow's 
slit. This was it, the last veil in her mind that had kept her from 
seeing Willow as anything other than her treasured friend. This very 
act let Buffy reconcile her true sexuality and feelings. Her 
nervousness finally dissipated, and she began to relax and enjoy 
herself. She was with her lover, and they were making love. Fire bad, 
tree pretty. Why make things more difficult? However?
"Willow?"
"Mm?" Willow fought for breath.
"Spirit willing, experience sadly lacking. I have no idea what I'm 
doing, or if I'm doing it right."
"Oh its right. Its so right." They both wiggled into upright 
positions so they could see each other more clearly.
Buffy suddenly burst out laughing.
"What? What is it?" Willow cocked her head to one side.
"I'm just wondered who'd have the biggest kittens over this, Giles, 
or my mother." Willow dissolved into laughter too. Although she 
really didn't know Buffy's mom all that well, the thought of Giles in 
permanent stutter mode just made her even more hysterical.
"Yep. Giles it is." Buffy agreed, reaching over to caress Willow's 
breast lightly. "I think you've bewitched me."
"No, no I didn't!" Indignation flared momentarily in Willow's eyes, 
then faded as she saw her lover's grin. 
"I know, silly. I've never even seen you do the nose-twitch thing, 
though?" Further words were prevented by Willow's lips kissing her 
smile, which turned into a full-blown smoochies session.
"This," said Buffy as they gazed into each others eyes, noses almost 
touching, "I could do all night."
"But then you'd miss out on the real fun!" Willow grinned as she 
manoeuvred Buffy onto her front. She spread Buffy's thighs and slowly 
slid into the trembling Slayer with two fingers. Buffy's ecstatic 
moans rang in the air, and her hands clawed at the duvet as she 
pressed her mound hard against Willow's hand. 
Willow looked down at her lover's athletic body. The enormity of the 
change in their relationship still hadn't completely sunk in, but she 
didn't care about the consequences. She'd wanted this for so very 
long. Buffy's back was coated in a light sheen of perspiration, her 
buttocks pale globes in the harsh light. Willow kissed one lightly 
and continued her ministrations, smiling as her best friend, her 
love, her Buffy, writhed against the bed in helpless rapture. All at 
once, Buffy gave a cry, and the duvet shredded between her frenzied 
fingers. Willow's own fingers slid out when Buffy's thighs drew up 
convulsively, and the Slayer shuddered in the throes of powerful 
orgasm. 
After a few moments, Buffy settled into the afterglow and regained 
her composure. She looked down bemused at the torn 
bedspread. "Ripped clothes and shredded furniture." She sighed. "The 
bane of Slayers and cat-lovers everywhere." Then, with a perky smile 
she kissed Willow. "Your turn!"

*

Unseen, a figure turned away from the couple he'd been observing. 
Preturnatural eyesight had let him watch their lovemaking despite the 
darkness which shrouded them from casual view. Tears fell unchecked, 
and he looked down at the ornate ring on his hand.

*

The hastily-written note passed under the table during a lecture. 
That staple of education, the bedrock of university romance. Buffy 
had never had one before in her life, and yet she couldn't contain 
her excitement as she opened the note a certain Miss Rosenberg had 
just surreptitiously given her.


The colour of orgasm, 
of the sensual budding flower of my labia, 
of the myriad hues and secretive shades 
that form my deeper, 
penetrated self. 

This vibrant colour floods my senses, 
warms my vision, 
holds me captive. 

As my body arches in your arms. 
Rainbow sparks in an explosion of blush; 
My mind adrift, 
face aflush, 
played out in harmony, 
scintillating flute.

As depth increases, 
needs fulfilled, 
richness pours from welling lust 
as desire forms me into 
a pure note. 

Through pleasure, 
and swells of sybaritic passion 
I longingly gaze at your sensuous lips 
and love you more as, 
my smile kissed and cheek caressed, 
you whisper softly, 
"I love you."

- Willow.


Feeling her face almost glowing, she wrote on the reverse side.


Roses are red, violets blue.
Tonight I want to make love to you.

- Buffy.


She passed the note back, truly happy.

*

End Part 1.