Title: Hammer Time
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and co. belong to Josh
Whedon and other people who aren’t me. Rifts is
owned by some guy… somewhere, some place.
Summary: Well, it’s strange and weird. Should fit in with the rest of my stories. Meh, read it and find out.
Timeline: Set in Season 5… during The Gift
Most weapons can’t think at all, and if they could they could it would be a simple urge to kill. This one was different, created at the very forged the earth it was sentient, intelligent, and had a will of it’s own. It could differentiate between the types of people wielding it, choose to open its power to those worthy and make it difficult for unworthy wielder’s to hold.
Olaf had proven that he could be used by those he didn’t want to even touch him, he had been trapped for millennia within the crystal with the monster that had killed his last Avatar.
~ FLASHBACK ~
His current Avatar was slowing down, losing his ability to control the true power of the weapon. Very soon the man would lose the ability to be his Avatar, and then he would die. He had though this one would last longer, that this one would survive to kill Olaf. It looked as though another one would to the troll, this time unlike any other he had no one to retrieve him.
Just as expected the Avatar form slowly slid off the man, and seconds later he died. As expected Olaf picked me up, as always I weigh myself down. Even I knew it was pointless, the only thing that made it bearable was the fact that my now dead Avatar provided enough time for the troll to be trapped.
~ END FLASHBACK ~
Most weapons had no emotions, they were little more then formed pieces of metal. This one was different though, it yearned for a bearer worthy of it, a person to wield him.. to call forth it’s Avatar. An Avatar to destroy those who oppose their combined wills. He needed to rub out the taint being wielded by Olaf created, he needed to be free once more from it’s prison. Now more then ever he could feel the old one the moment he had been freed from his crystal prison.
The old on walked the earth, still a prisoner here on earth. As she had been back in the days his first Avatar had walked the earth. Back when his Avatar was worshipped as a God, his Avatar had beaten the crazy, exiled goddess back then. Back then they had been together for years and his Avatar had been comfortable with him and he with his Avatar.
He could feel the perfect candidate sitting there, he was always here. He fought things that could easily over power him, had fought Olaf himself. He had been impressed then, Olaf had been impressed. He just wished that he would come over here and pick him up, that’s all it would take. He could join with the man at once, one touch is all it would take. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to stop the insane one again… but it would give these people an edge.
They needed an edge, he could feel the time approaching. He could feel the walls of reality growing weaker, the barriers that kept the forces of hell at bay were weakening. All he needed was the man to touch him, to come over and pick him up…