Summary: [One Shot] This is her penance, for meddling with things far beyond her control.
Disclaimer: I do not own the materials used in this fanfiction. I make no claim to either Star Wars or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor any of the characters within.
When she lived she was a Champion. A warrior of Powers that Be. She fought for good and light and love. She fought for as long as she could with everything she had and when that was no longer enough, then she died for it. Again and again and again.
Now she is dead and she lies for balance.
Lies to fix what she broke and make darkness equal the light they brought to earth. This is her penance, for meddling with things far beyond her control. For thinking she could change things that had been set in magic and in blood.
With a word, a sentence, a speech, sometimes less, she sentences others to lifetimes of suffering.
She will sentence a galaxy to darkness. Trillions to death. Millions to slavery. Several to a lifetime of anguish over those they could not save. Sentence children to grow up without their mothers, without their fathers.
She has done it before. And will do it again.
She closes her eyes and breathes deep. When she opens them, she is elsewhere, standing before several who are and will be what she once was. In itself, that is hard enough.
“And there will be a chosen one,” she says and hates herself. “He will be a son of suns and will bring balance to the galaxy.”
They gape at her and believe. Believe so deep, so hard, that this will become a prophesy written in stone. It will survive a thousand wars, a millennia or more.
It is a false prophesy, carved with false hope.
With it she has sentenced one man to darkness. To a lifetime of unwanted, unfounded expectations. To be without love, denied freedom. To grow up without his father, to watch his mother die, and to kill his wife.
And Buffy Summers has done it all for her friends.