All Over Again
Title: All Over Again
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them.
Spoilers: Up to Season Six for BTVS, though I'm changing a lot of stuff. And up to both movies for the Mummy.
Summary: Light reading on the Hellmouth is always trouble . . .
Notes: This story was in part inspired by Wic's Visionary Kiss, which is a lovely little story. Go read it, eena commands you :).
Notes2: No evil Willow for this fic. Her and Tara broke up after the events of Tabula Rasa and they did not get back together. Um, the Trio was all arrested in Seeing Red.
"Hey, look at this!"
Xander Harris looked up, squinting at the book being waved in his face by one Dawn Summers. The young girl looked postively gleeful as she plopped down beside him, shoving the book in his direction.
"What is it?" Xander mumbled, taking the large text from her hands. He was surprised to feel how heavy it was, running his hands over the hard cover. It was odd, and old looking. There wasn't any paper in it, the pages nothing more than black stone slabs with drawings scrawled all over it.
"They look like hieroglyphics," Dawn returned, looking at the book in his hands in earnest. "I swear, it is the coolest thing ever! Giles always had the coolest stuff hidden from us."
Xander was a little more reserved in his excitement. He frowned, shifting it in his hands, looking at the side bindings.
"Why would Giles have something like this?" the dark-haired man mused. Dawn shrugged, scrambling to her feet and dragging Xander along with her.
"I don't know," she returned simply. "But I found it in this weird box thing, shoved under the wolfsbane in the storage room. There was some other stuff in there, papers and an address book."
"Address book?" Xander repeated, falling into step behind the teenager as she led him down to where the book had been found. Dawn only nodded in response.
"But the weird thing is, there was only one phone number in it," she shook her head, turning to shoot him a look. "It's an England number. No name, just the number."
"Are you sure all this belongs to Giles?" Xander questioned. "Maybe it's Anya's or even Spike's. Lord knows he was always creeping around in here."
Dawn shook her head, motioning for Xander to keep following her as they hit the bottom step. She wove her way around the stacks of inventory, stopping at the back. She pointed to the box she had found. It was a ratty old box, looking like it had been through hell and back.
Dawn dropped to her knees in front of it, pulling Xander along with her. She opened the box, shoving an address book into his hands. The book looked worse than the box, yellowed pages hanging out and the cover worn and frayed. He flipped through the book, coming to stop at the one number in it.
"It's Giles's writing," Dawn offered. He nodded, recognizing the Watcher's distinct scrawl. He personally thought that Giles's had handwriting worse that chicken scratch, so it was easy to recognize. He turned his attention to the other stuff, frowning at the papers she pulled out.
"What are those?" he asked. She handed them to him with a wide smile, practically bouncing in excitement.
"It's like a dictionary," she explained, pointing out the various drawings and words on the page. "See? All the symbols in the book."
Xander squinted at them, looking between the book in his hand and the pages. He shook his head, putting both down on the ground.
"Weird, but so not good enough reason to get off research," Xander smirked at the young girl. "I have work to do, and you're still supposed to be working off your debt to Anya."
Dawn pouted, pulling the items closer to herself.
"I am working it off," she protested. "I was stocking up stuff, just like I'm supposed to, and I found this. As a good employee, I thought it was my duty to see what it was, and make sure my employer knows about it."
"Really?" he laughed, shaking his head. "This has nothing to do with shirking your responsibilities?"
"None at all," Dawn grinned. "This is a bonafide mystery we have on our hands. We should get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible."
He rolled his eyes, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
"We'll work on it," he promised her, rising to his feet. "But later. As for now, you finish whatever job Anya told you to do, and I'm going back to finding our rather blue and slimy new friend."
Dawn made a face at the mention of the new demon on the block. She pouted up at Xander, gesturing to the book again.
"But what if it's important?" she whined futilely. He only grinned, putting all the things back in the box and hefting it up in his hands.
"Then it's a good thing we have it in our hands," the man joked. "After all, we are the good guys. Who else should have important things?"
Dawn huffed, turning back to the piles of inventory she still had to finish.
"You realize that you're no fun, right Xander Harris?" she called out to the retreating young man.
"Of course," he retorted. "But I'm a whole lot better than Anya. So unless you want to invoke her wrath, I suggest you get to work little missy."
"Little missy?" she repeated incredulously, turning to fix him with a look only to find him already halfway up the stairs. She frowned at his retreating figure, folding her arms across her chest as she looked down at the work Anya had alloted for her.
"Rather look at the book," she muttered to herself. "Maybe I could have finished translating it."
Shrugging to herself, the teenager set back to work, hands skimming over the treasure box she had found but kept from Xander in her pocket. The box was pretty, but strange. And it appeared to be some sort of key thingy. She knew that, for she had sprung the latch and saw the ridges release from the top. The ridges she had matched up to the ones on the front of the book she had found as well. The same box she had used to open the box about an hour ago when she first found it, when she had first tried to decipher the hieroglyphics on it.
The first few symbols in the book which she had translated from the dictionary like pages she had found in the box with it. The first few words that set into motion things the young girl could not have forseen . . .
He felt consciousness return to him, a few fleeting images entering his mind's eyes. He remembered the falling rocks, the hands gripping his hands. He remembered her, the one he loved, fleeing from him in terror. He remembered his anger . . .
The roar erupted from his lips, the sound muffled by the mounds of sand on top of him. But the creature known as Imotep would not be stopped by even that obstacle. With fire in his heart, rage in his mind, he began to claw and shift his way through it all, one goal on his mind.
This time he would succeed. This time no one would stop him. This time, he would bring the world to its knees.
And then he would destroy it.
A rather rugged young man woke from his bed, confused at the strange and ominous thoughts flitting through his sleep. He frowned, sitting upright as he tried to sort through all the things he had seen.
There had been sand and blood, decay and life, all mingling together. There were many people running around, horses racing about, and flashes of red hair. He had heard strange things, roars from an unidentifiable source and cries from a chorus of throats. And then he had heard the strangest thing of all, singing. A soft little melody, the words foreign to him, being sang out with a sweet voice. It was soothing, the song and the voice, but it confused him by its presence among the chaos.
On a whole, nothing that he understood. He shrugged, chalking it up to the drinks he had enjoyed with his friends earlier that evening. He laid back down, closing his eyes in preparation for sleep. Just the effects of the alcohol, nothing to worry about.
But he didn't understand what it had to do with him, a destiny passed on down by his ancestors. A fate, linked to that of evil and good, a force that made him a deciding factor in the eternal struggle of the two. He didn't know that it did mean something, something very important to him.
But he would soon find out.