Prophecy Found
Angel unlocked his door and let his unexpected company into his apartment. Buffy shuffled in followed by Spike, then Max. Their sudden battle with the demons left them a little tired. Especially as they really weren’t prepared for it. Angel shut the door behind himself, then moved to find some clean clothes for the others to wear. The demons were extremely messy when they died and they were all covered by little bits of filth and blood.
When Max and Angel had rushed to Cordy’s side at the awards banquet, she informed that she’d definitely had a vision. It wasn’t necessary for them all to go, as she’d seen Spike and Buffy already dealing with it. But they needed help. She gave them the address, then informed them that she and Wes had packed extra clothes for everyone on the chance that their evening might be interrupted. Gunn had already gone to retrieve them. After a few minutes, Angel had changed and was surprised to find Max waiting for him at his car. He’d protested that she didn’t need to go, but she gave him the flippant reply that he’d already asked her to dance. And a fight with a demon seemed to be as close as they’d get that evening. Angel had climbed into the car with her, strangely pleased by her response. And the resolve in him that he would have that dance with her, very soon.
"There should be plenty of hot water, if anyone wants to shower," he spoke easily, as if he did this all the time. Which, in his line of work, actually was often. Buffy lifted up an oozy strand of hair and stared at it in distaste.
"If you wouldn’t mind," she sighed. She looked at her boyfriend. He nodded.
"I’ll get them while you shower," he mumbled. He rose from his seat on a kitchen stool and slipped out the door.
"We’ve got some extra clothes in the car," Buffy explained to the other two. Angel nodded. "Max, did you want to borrow some clothes. I have enough to share."
"That’d be nice, thanks," the brunette smiled. "I think anything of Angel’s would just keep falling off."
"Yeah," Buffy chuckled tiredly. "He is rather large, isn’t he?"
"Hey," Angel protested. "I’m still in the room."
"You can’t be offended when it’s the truth," Max teased. Buffy glanced at them both, intrigued. The two had seemed to get cozier with each other. And in a way, she was slightly jealous. It had always been her place to tease him and be around him after a battle. She bit her lower lip. She really didn’t want to be the ex-girlfriend who moved on with her life, but wouldn’t allow anyone else to.
"Do you mind if I shower first?" the blonde asked. Max inclined her head in permission.
"Let me get the first aid kit first," Angel decided.
"Do you need it?" Buffy asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Angel denied. He turned to his newest friend. "But Max is." Buffy felt bad right then for not even noticing.
"What’s wrong?" she asked the other woman. Max chuckled.
"I’m fine," she tried to assure them.
"You’re bleeding," Angel said forcefully. "I can smell it." Max smirked at him, but refrained from making a comment.
"Damn," Buffy swore softly. She always hated it when civilians got hurt. But then Max didn’t quite fit into that category. "We’d better take a look at it." She nodded to Angel, who moved off to retrieve the first aid kit. Once he was in the bathroom, Max sighed and pulled her shirt over her head, wincing a little as the fabric pulled away from the wound. Underneath, she was wearing a tank top and strapless bra. Buffy moved around the woman to assess the damage. Spike returned then, with a medium suitcase in his hand. He set it down by the door and shut the heavy door.
"Everything all right luv?" Spike asked.
"Oh wow!" was all Buffy could say. Max twisted slightly in her seat. As far as she knew, it was a single flesh wound, barely worth mention. As attuned with her body as she was, she guessed it to be about three inches in length.
"That bad?" she asked, jokingly.
"No," Buffy laughed. "Your tattoo." It amazed her to see the black scrolling letters starting at Max’s shoulders, moving further down, disappearing under her tank top. It was such graceful writing, and it seemed to bring up a familiar ache and intensity in Buffy’s mind. It was important to her for some reason. "This must have taken forever. And pain. Needles ouchie." Since they were both behind her, they couldn’t see the utter terror and panic on her face when Buffy said tattoo. But Angel, emerging from the bathroom, saw it all. He hurried to the girl’s side, wondering if the wound was worse than he’d assumed.
"Max, what is it?" he demanded, his voice low. He dumped the kit on the counter. Suddenly, she twisted around, trying to see over her shoulder. The angle was all wrong and she saw nothing but her wound. She stood and pushed past Angel and ran into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her. They stared at one another, wondering what had set her off.
Max pulled her tank top off and turned so that her back was to the mirror. She turned her head and saw it. It wasn’t the same as the first time. Those markings had randomly appeared over her arms and back. Bits and pieces slowly appearing. Each a precious clue to the larger puzzle. But now, the whole thing had appeared at once. She closed her eyes and her head fell back. She could even pinpoint when it had happened. Earlier that night, when Angel had touched her. He’d pressed his hand against her lower back to help guide her through the tables at the hotel. The tingling sensation that had started there had gone on to radiate through her whole back, but she’d written it off to lust for the vampire. Now she knew better. A few tears leaked from her closed eyes and she slumped back against the counter.
"What the hell is the matter with her?" Spike snorted. Neither Buffy nor Angel could answer. He would have said more, but then they heard Max’s rage.
"No, damn it, no!" she screamed. Something shattered and Angel ran to the door. He rattled the door, but it was locked.
"Max, let me in," he called. There was silence. "Damn it Max, open the door." He couldn’t explain his response. He just felt that she needed him, somebody. She was in pain; he could feel it in his gut. Suddenly, Buffy was at his side.
"Angel, don’t," she warned tersely. She knew him well enough to know that he would break the door down, if necessary. She pushed him away from the door. He hesitated for a moment, then stumbled off to sit on the couch. Buffy knocked lightly on the door after he was seated. "Max, can you let me in?" There was a pause and the door unlocked. Buffy turned the knob and slipped inside, shutting the men out.
Buffy gasped when she saw Max in just her bra, barely taking in the broken mirror. The other woman had a long white scar running down the center of her chest from her clavicle down to her stomach. Buffy shuddered to imagine what had caused it. There was another smaller scar, puckered, on Max’s right shoulder. Max noticed the stare.
"Operation and gunshot wound," she explained succinctly. Buffy nodded. She really didn’t need to know more than that. Max sighed and turned around. She pulled her hair off her back so that Buffy could see the entire marking on her back. "It’s not a tattoo."
"Then what the hell is it?"
"It’s a prophecy."
Buffy gasped. She’d never heard of a prophecy appearing on someone’s skin. And it hit her again how familiar it looked to her. "Has this ever happened before?" Max nodded.
"A…while ago, I had this prophecy appear, bit by bit," Max tried to explain without giving too much away. "But it faded after a day or so. I suppose we’d better get pictures so we can figure this one out." Buffy wanted to ask more questions, but the tense set of Max’s features and body language told her to wait.
"I’ll see what Angel has," she assured her. She slipped out again to make her request. It didn’t take long for him to find a digital camera that Cordy insisted they have. He handed it to Buffy and without a word, the blonde slipped back into the bathroom. Max tried to stay still as Buffy duly recorded every mark present. Max had had to remove her bra and was holding a towel over her front, just for modesty. The two women weren’t friendly enough to be at ease with each other in a social situation yet. This was infinitely weirder. "All done," she finally said. "I’ll take these out and we can have a look. Why don’t you shower and relax. I’ll get you a change of clothes." She slipped out again, and set the camera on the kitchen counter. She knelt then at the suitcase and pulled out an old pair of sweats and one of her shirts. She knocked on the door, slipped the clothes in and shut the door again. She heard the lock turn and went to sit.
"So what the hell happened?" Spike demanded. He joined his girlfriend and old friend on the sofa.
"It wasn’t a tattoo," Buffy sighed. Their long night was getting even longer. Both men waited for more. "It’s a prophecy. She’s had one before."
"What, they just appear on her skin?" Angel asked, puzzled. He’d never run across anything like that in his many long years.
"Does she know what it means?" Spike asked, intrigued. He’d caught a glimpse of it, thinking that it suited the woman.
"I don’t think so," Buffy sighed and leaned her head on Spike’s shoulder. "But it looked really familiar for some reason." She sat up and glanced over at the kitchen counter. "Oh, I took pictures of it. If we can hook up to the computer, we can have a look at this."
"Ah, and here I was thinkin’ you were doin’ somethin’ kinky in there, luv," Spike chuckled, waggling his eyebrows at her. Buffy lightly slapped his stomach.
"You wish," she smiled. Spike licked his lips and she giggled. "Cut it out." Angel stood abruptly and stalked to the counter. He picked up the camera and carried it over to his desk, where a computer sat. He placed himself in the seat and switched the computer on. Buffy and Spike pulled up stools behind him and between the three of them, they figured out how to attach the camera so that they could retrieve and enlarge the pictures.
Max stayed in the shower longer than she felt she should have. Especially since the others needed the same facility. But once she was toweled off and into the borrowed clothes, she felt ready to face them. She was glad that Buffy hadn’t commented on the smashed mirror. But she knew she’d have to confess to Angel and pay to replace it. But then, anyone would understand. It was a freaky thing to see your body being turned into a jumbo-tron, again. She tugged at the cuffs of the sweat pants Buffy had lent her. Her legs were a good five inches longer than the petite slayer, but she wasn’t going to complain. After a quick towel drying on her hair, she left it loose and padded out to the living room on silent bare feet.
The small group had just gotten the images to come up. The first one they saw was an overview of the prophecy. Max stole up behind them and saw the entire damage. She was about to say something, but instead looked at Buffy. "Buffy?" The men turned to look at the blonde as well. She was staring straight ahead, her mouth slightly agape.
Buffy had seen the first picture and it tugged at her memory. She’d glanced up and absently took in Angel’s desk, until her gaze fell on the pencil holder. There was only one remaining and it suddenly hit her. She knew exactly where she’d seen it before. She had a perfect memory of sitting at Jenny Calendar’s desk as Willow tried to tutor her. The pencil had rolled off the desk, she retrieved it. Déjà vu tugged at her and she allowed the pencil to fall again. She’d found the computer disk, given it to Willow and they’d opened it up. It was the last thing Jenny had done for them.
"It’s Angel’s curse," she whispered.
To Curse Anew
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