DISTRIBUTION: Fever of Fate, Charity's site, The New Place, anyone else, please ask!
SPOILERS: Wild at Heart and Sense and Sensitivity
RATING: R
CONTENT: Willow/Angel, violence, strong language
SUMMARY: Willow and Angel's past lives catch up to them
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Joss's.
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~Prologue~
Sunnydale....
The dream came in flashes of images. Nothing solid, but a sense of dread descended over her body with each passing vision.
The first images were of an apple orchard and of two small children playing beneath the branches. The second set was of the same apple orchard and the same children, now teenagers, sitting beneath those branches. From then the images got violent and bloody. The male child went off to war and fought many battles, leaving the visions of him bloodstained. The female child began her training in the open pavilions within the orchard. She grew powerful and respected, but also the tiniest bit feared.
The final image was the one that shook her the most. The two childhood friends faced each other again under the branches of the now bare orchard. Words were exchanged, but she could her nothing. As her heart began to speed up and her heartbeat clatter in her veins, the male raised his sword and brought it down across his friends chest. All the magic in her body was not able to stop the blow, and she fell to the ground, blood staining the branches.
Willow shot up in bed, gasping for what little breath she could take in. Deep within her mind she knew, she had been that woman, the one who had died at her friend's hand. But the identity of the male scared her even more.
"Angel," she breathed.
Los Angeles....
Doyle doubled over as pain laced through his body, starting at his temple with the signal that one of his visions was beginning, but instead of remaining in his head as before, the pain slowly trailed throughout his form. Flashes began racing through his mind. Apples....a sword....a feeling of betrayal....a redheaded girl with love and trust shining in her eyes....a glint of steel....then the flash of bright red as blood seeped into the ground. Finally, a name was whispered through his mind as the pain subsided. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool linoleum of the office floor. He felt comforting hands rubbing his back as Angel held forth a cup of whiskey.
Doyle grabbed the liquor and downed it in one gulp. He leaned back on his heels, enjoying the warmth as the alcohol flowed through his body. He glanced up meeting Angel's worried eyes.
"Willow," Doyle stated, repeating the name that had been whispered in his vision. The half-demon's eyes narrowed as he saw worry and pain flash in his bosses eyes. This new case, Doyle suddenly realized, had just become personal.
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