![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
BtVS fic: "The Raising" (1/2) Dawn/Darla
Title: The Raising (1/2)
Rating: Restricted/Adult/Mature
Characters: Dawn, Andrew, Darla, OFC.
Timeline/Continuity: Takes place in the year 2017.
Summary: Darla gets resurrected. Again. Contains dialogue from Angel 1x22, “To Shanshu in L.A.” taken from the Buffyverse Dialogue Database. Translation found on the BDDb from the Buffy Shooting Script Website. For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslash_minis's "Dawn" round. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flurblewig requested Dawn/Darla, with moonlight and nakedness, and without any of the male vamps appearing.
The Raising
Dawn turned to her niece, uncertainty on her face. “You sure you can do this, Madelyn?”
The nine-year-old girl looked distinctly annoyed, an expression which was reflected in the many mirrors which lined the room. “You keep asking me that, Aunt Dawn. I can do it.”
Dawn nodded, pursing her lips slightly. “I know,” she said at last. “It’s just that these magicks are pretty dark.”
Madelyn Summers put her hands on her waste. “Althanea said it doesn’t work that way, exactly. That sometimes darkness is necessary for the equilibrium.” A voice trained in pronouncing Latin didn’t even stumble over the difficult word. “She said that you of all people should know that. What did she mean by that?”
Dawn didn’t answer. Yes, sometimes darkness was necessary. But that was a Watcher’s job, doing what needed to be done so that her Slayer wouldn’t be corrupted by power. Not that Madelyn was a Slayer, but the principle was the same--if anything it was more important, as Dawn had seen too many times what damage could be done by Madelyn's powers when uncontrolled. If there were any way Dawn could take the burden on herself, spare the little girl the inevitable karmic feedback, she would.
But she couldn’t. And sometimes it was a Watcher’s job to send others into battle, watch them risk their lives or worse while one directed from safety.
Dawn turned to Andrew, who had been blissfully silent the entire conversation. “You ready?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s begin the summoning.”
Andrew began to chant. “This hallowed ground is made ready. His time is at hand. For as it is written he of pure darkness shall come into the light.”
And, in the center of the summoning circle, a demon appeared. “You have the Scroll of Aberjian?”
Dawn nodded, gesturing to the scroll in Madelyn’s hands. The demon nodded and stepped toward the young girl, before being thrown back as he came into contact with the bounds of the warded spell circle.
“You would deny me my freedom?”
“You’re evil,” Dawn said simply. “We don’t trust you. You coöperate, and we’ll just send you back to whatever hell dimension you came from. Otherwise, we kill you.”
The demon pulled himself to full stature. “You believe you can kill Vocah, warrior of the underworld?”
“Angel did it,” Dawn answered simply. “And look into this girl’s eyes and tell me what you see.”
Vocah paused, as he examined Madelyn. “Power,” he said at last. “This girl has great power.”
Dawn nodded. “So shall we start the ritual?”
“Very well,” Vocah answered, stepping back to the center of the circle. “She knows the spell?”
Madelyn nodded, seriously, and opened the Scroll of Aberjian. “We have prepared a holy place in the darkness and anointed it with oil,” she read. “We have taken of the blood of the living and gathered together the living dead.”
Vocah smiled and began his part of the ritual. “As it was written they shall prepare the way and the very gates of hell shall open. That which is above shall tremble for that which is below shall arise. And the world shall know the beast and the beast shall know the world.”
Dawn could feel the Earth itself tremble with the power of the ritual. Vocah continued, “Five are without breath.”
Madelyn responded. “Yet they live.” Her voice was strong, confident, almost defiant.
“Five are without time,” Vocah said.
“Yet they live,” Madelyn repeated.
“Five are without soul.”
“Yet they live.”
Dawn watched as the girl and the demon wove the spell. Would everything go all right?
“Five are without sun.”
“Yet they live.”
“Five are dead.”
“Yet they live.”
There was a pause, in which Dawn nodded, imperceptibly. Madelyn nodded back, her gesture just as subtle, then turned her gaze back to Vocah. An expression of concentration passed over her features, just as the demon erupted in flames. “We had an agreement!” Vocah roared.
Dawn shrugged. “I lied,” she said.
“Abjure,” Madelyn said, her voice a whisper, and Vocah was gone, the circle empty. She turned back to the Scroll and began to read. “Et illi quinque sacrificum,” she read, “est et illi que est mortuus vivet.” And the five shall be a sacrifice, and the one who is dead shall live.
“Dum vita et mors non duas res sed unas sunt,” Madelyn continued. Even as life and death are not two things but one. “In tenebris lux est, in luge tenebrae sunt. Serge!” In darkness is the light, in light is the darkness. Arise!
"Serge! Serge! Serge!"
And the raising was complete. In the center of the mirror-lined room, completely naked, was the woman who in death had been known as Darla.
TBC . . . here.
Rating: Restricted/Adult/Mature
Characters: Dawn, Andrew, Darla, OFC.
Timeline/Continuity: Takes place in the year 2017.
Summary: Darla gets resurrected. Again. Contains dialogue from Angel 1x22, “To Shanshu in L.A.” taken from the Buffyverse Dialogue Database. Translation found on the BDDb from the Buffy Shooting Script Website. For the
femslash_minis's "Dawn" round. flurblewig requested Dawn/Darla, with moonlight and nakedness, and without any of the male vamps appearing.The Raising
Dawn turned to her niece, uncertainty on her face. “You sure you can do this, Madelyn?”
The nine-year-old girl looked distinctly annoyed, an expression which was reflected in the many mirrors which lined the room. “You keep asking me that, Aunt Dawn. I can do it.”
Dawn nodded, pursing her lips slightly. “I know,” she said at last. “It’s just that these magicks are pretty dark.”
Madelyn Summers put her hands on her waste. “Althanea said it doesn’t work that way, exactly. That sometimes darkness is necessary for the equilibrium.” A voice trained in pronouncing Latin didn’t even stumble over the difficult word. “She said that you of all people should know that. What did she mean by that?”
Dawn didn’t answer. Yes, sometimes darkness was necessary. But that was a Watcher’s job, doing what needed to be done so that her Slayer wouldn’t be corrupted by power. Not that Madelyn was a Slayer, but the principle was the same--if anything it was more important, as Dawn had seen too many times what damage could be done by Madelyn's powers when uncontrolled. If there were any way Dawn could take the burden on herself, spare the little girl the inevitable karmic feedback, she would.
But she couldn’t. And sometimes it was a Watcher’s job to send others into battle, watch them risk their lives or worse while one directed from safety.
Dawn turned to Andrew, who had been blissfully silent the entire conversation. “You ready?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s begin the summoning.”
Andrew began to chant. “This hallowed ground is made ready. His time is at hand. For as it is written he of pure darkness shall come into the light.”
And, in the center of the summoning circle, a demon appeared. “You have the Scroll of Aberjian?”
Dawn nodded, gesturing to the scroll in Madelyn’s hands. The demon nodded and stepped toward the young girl, before being thrown back as he came into contact with the bounds of the warded spell circle.
“You would deny me my freedom?”
“You’re evil,” Dawn said simply. “We don’t trust you. You coöperate, and we’ll just send you back to whatever hell dimension you came from. Otherwise, we kill you.”
The demon pulled himself to full stature. “You believe you can kill Vocah, warrior of the underworld?”
“Angel did it,” Dawn answered simply. “And look into this girl’s eyes and tell me what you see.”
Vocah paused, as he examined Madelyn. “Power,” he said at last. “This girl has great power.”
Dawn nodded. “So shall we start the ritual?”
“Very well,” Vocah answered, stepping back to the center of the circle. “She knows the spell?”
Madelyn nodded, seriously, and opened the Scroll of Aberjian. “We have prepared a holy place in the darkness and anointed it with oil,” she read. “We have taken of the blood of the living and gathered together the living dead.”
Vocah smiled and began his part of the ritual. “As it was written they shall prepare the way and the very gates of hell shall open. That which is above shall tremble for that which is below shall arise. And the world shall know the beast and the beast shall know the world.”
Dawn could feel the Earth itself tremble with the power of the ritual. Vocah continued, “Five are without breath.”
Madelyn responded. “Yet they live.” Her voice was strong, confident, almost defiant.
“Five are without time,” Vocah said.
“Yet they live,” Madelyn repeated.
“Five are without soul.”
“Yet they live.”
Dawn watched as the girl and the demon wove the spell. Would everything go all right?
“Five are without sun.”
“Yet they live.”
“Five are dead.”
“Yet they live.”
There was a pause, in which Dawn nodded, imperceptibly. Madelyn nodded back, her gesture just as subtle, then turned her gaze back to Vocah. An expression of concentration passed over her features, just as the demon erupted in flames. “We had an agreement!” Vocah roared.
Dawn shrugged. “I lied,” she said.
“Abjure,” Madelyn said, her voice a whisper, and Vocah was gone, the circle empty. She turned back to the Scroll and began to read. “Et illi quinque sacrificum,” she read, “est et illi que est mortuus vivet.” And the five shall be a sacrifice, and the one who is dead shall live.
“Dum vita et mors non duas res sed unas sunt,” Madelyn continued. Even as life and death are not two things but one. “In tenebris lux est, in luge tenebrae sunt. Serge!” In darkness is the light, in light is the darkness. Arise!
"Serge! Serge! Serge!"
And the raising was complete. In the center of the mirror-lined room, completely naked, was the woman who in death had been known as Darla.
TBC . . . here.