The Nightstalkers
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,305
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,305
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of its characters. . Nor do I intend to make any profit from this story.
12
FIC: The Nightstalkers (12/?)
Faith forced his face into an inscrutable mask as she entered the building’s well-lit lobby. She knew she looked the bomb, even with her normally free-flowing locks tied up in a bun, her nervous eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses, and her usual biker wear exchanged for a pair of high heels, short black skirt, and matching jacket over a cream white blouse.
She was gambling on so many factors she could hardly keep count. First she was gambling that security was lax on account the vamps would figure you’d have to be dog-shit loco to try and break into the place. Second that no-one recognised her. Third, that despite and because of her looks, none of the demons would dare touch her, figuring she must be the property of Winters. Fourth, that when and if she got to Winters’ office she was able to find something to use as a weapon against him. Fifth, that she got out without anyone raising the alarm.
All in all, she was beginning to think she was nuts for even trying this.
“Too late to change my mind now.” Faith as she strode into the brightly-lit, mirror-walled elevator, grateful that it was empty.
Her heart fell when a figure stepped into the elevator just about as its gleaming doors were about slide shut. The vampire, a small, rat-faced beady-eyed demon, leered at her. “Hi babe, haven’t see you around here before, I know ‘cause I’d have noticed you.”
Faith tensed as the vampire neared. Her gaze moved to the camera in the upper right corner. “Yeah,” she quickly remembered her cover-story. “Last week I was livin’ on the street, then Mr. Winters saw me and hired for his personal staff.”
“Lucky Mr. Winters,” the vampire’s leer widened. “Mr. Winters’ security is very important to us. I’ll have to check you for weapons.”
Faith gritted her teeth as the vampire approached. Telling herself she’d endured far worse, she put up with the vampire’s clammy hands on her, stroking, squeezing, and groping. But if he showed her just an inch of fang, camera or not, he was dust.
The demon didn’t pull away until the doors opened. “No weapons,” the vampire smirked. “Just a body that could cause whiplash.” The vampire slapped her behind. “The boss gets all the prizes.”
Cheeks flushed, Faith hurriedly straightened her clothes before climbing out of the elevator and heading down the corridor, following the directions Lillah had given them. The corridors were plushly decorated with a thick sky blue carpet, minimally furnished reception areas, and wood panelled walls decorated with abstract paintings.
Faith swallowed as she reached a door with a brass plaque with ‘Mr. Winters’ inscribed on it. After a second she raised her hand to knock, then shook her head before opening the door.
The demon looked up from behind his tidy desk, eyes irritated. “Doesn’t anyone knock in this day and-.” The vampire’s expression changed from irritation to pleasure. “But of course, you don’t need to knock. Did personnel send you up?”
Faith forced a meek nod. “Yes, Mr. Winters.”
“Excellent, I’ll have to send them a commendation. Please,” the demon gestured to the empty seat opposite him, “sit down.”
“Sure.” Faith smiled seductively as she slinked across the office, eyes alighting on the steel letter opener on the desk. As she’d hoped Winters had unwittingly supplied the very weapon she’d use to kill him. Faith leaned over the desk, entrancing the man with her cleavage. Then she scooped up the letter opener and slashed it across the demon’s throat. There was a half-second of shocked realisation in his eyes and then he burst into dust.
Faith stared down at the dust settling on the demon’s leather-upholstered chair. She stiffened at the sound of the office door opening behind her. Twisting around, she saw a willowy blonde stood in the doorway. “Is Mr. Winters not around?”
“No.” Faith schooled her face into a puzzled expression. “Sorry. I’ve just brought him a load of contracts to sign from Personnel, but no joy.” Faith slide past the blonde and strode out. Now all she had to do was get out.
* * *
Virginia Bryce inspected the couple sat opposite. The female of the couple was pretty enough but it was the male who intrigued her. English, well-educated, and eminently knowledgeable about the world’s shadowy under-belly. She’d have bet her considerable fortune that he was a Watcher. However his companion couldn’t be the Slayer, she didn’t match the description in anything except age and gender.
She was more than a little tempted by the standing reward Ripper had offered for the capture of any Watcher. But even more enticed by the mystery just what had brought the Watcher here, to the very edge of Ripper’s stronghold. “Mr. Richard Turpin, your credentials seem very impressive. However you haven’t told me just why you require our services.”
Instead of answering, the Englishman looked around her office. “A most impressive place you have here. And yet you’re so young.” Mr. Turpin directed his gaze back at her. “But then your father wasn’t expecting to lose the reins of power quite so suddenly.”
“If I hadn’t killed him he’d have sacrificed -.” Virginia’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”
The Englishman’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, my name’s Wesley Whyndham-Pryce and my companion is,” the man was interrupted by the door crashing open and a group of youths striding inside, “Amy Madison, a Wicca who has been holding down your mystical defences ever since you lowered them to let us in.”
Virginia scowled impotently. “Do you know who I am?” she seethed.
“I think,” the Englishman smiled politely, “I’ve already established that we do. And this gentleman,” Wesley pointed towards a pepper-grey haired powerfully-built man leading the interlopers, “is Xander Harris.”
Virginia felt the world slow and the colour drain from her face at the mention of the world’s most feared resistance leader. “W….what do you want?” she stuttered.
“You’re not a witch, but I know your father spent decades collecting every conceivable magical artefact,” Amy said. “And I know he bought a Magica Poder Petros in the early nineties. We want it.”
”W…what for?” she asked.
“That’s not important.” Xander smiled coldly. “Is it?”
* * *
“Are you okay?” Jonathan opened the door as his girl-friend approached his car.
“Five by five,” Faith replied as she climbed into the car. His girl-friend snorted as he looked at her legs when her skirt shifted up as she sat down. Faith ruffled her hair. “Look I’ll keep the outfit if ya like, just drive, hon.”
* * *
“’Kay,” Faith stared at the strangely pulsing yellow globe sat in the centre of the resistance group’s lounge table, their of-course day-light journey back to Sunnydale completed just minutes ago, “you’ve got my attention. What the hell is this thing?”
“In its simplest terms, it’s a magical amplifier,” Amy replied. Faith stared bluntly at the witch. That was simple? “A witch or wizard casting a spell can use this to temporarily increase their power by siphoning power off from a number of lesser-power mages. In this case,” Amy smiled apologetically, “Wesley, Michael, and Jonathan.”
“And this is to drag this Holtz jabroni through time?” Amy nodded at her query. “’Kay, but how will you know where to find him?”
“I already know around when Holtz was taken. Somewhere in the 1770s-.”
“So really specific then,” Xander uttered the comment a second before she could.
“I’m not a Time-Lord, Xander,” Amy half-smiled then shrugged. “I’ll start in ’73, after his last recorded encounter with Darla and Angelus, and work from there. Then, when I find a trace of Sarjhan’s essence.”
“Whoa!” Faith interrupted. “Run that past me again?”
“Every demon has an essence, an unique smell if you want.” Faith’s brow furrowed and her mouth opened. “Only magic-users can sense them,” Amy hurriedly added before continuing her explanation. “And find when he took Holtz. I’ll follow his trail, take Holtz and bring him here.”
Faith’s head began to ache. “”’Kay, but ain’t Sarjhan likely to be a little, ya know pissed, at having Holtz taken?”
After a second Amy nodded. “Yes, but he’s incorporeal in his current state, so his powers are limited. As long as I avoid a direct confrontation, I should be okay.”
“Incorporeal?” Faith asked.
“Non-solid,” Wesley supplied. Faith stared at her Watcher, seeking further clarification. “Like a ghost.” Faith nodded in understanding. “But what about this Magic-Amplifier? Is it dangerous to use?” Wesley and Amy exchanged troubled glances. “Talk to me?”
“It’s not dangerous for those supplying the power,” Amy eventually replied. “At worst, the could be burnt out, unable to access magic. But for the person using the power,” Amy’s face tightened, “if they lose control, the backlash from the combined power could tear them apart.”
Risky. Faith looked around the room. Realising everyone was looking at her, she shrugged. “If you think this Holtz is worth it, do it.”
* * *
“It burns! Ahhhhhhh! It burns!”
Ripper chuckled as he lay on his bed, his new companion lying in his arms, her hands idly stroking him as he responded in kind. Joy Joy on the other hand was hanging upside down from the ceiling, her body welted and bruised from Tara’s enthused ministrations, tears streaking the dead Slayer’s face. “You’re a rare expert,” he complimented the vampire, “ a real artist.”
The naked beauty giggled and fluttered her long eyelashes. “Anything to please the mighty Ripper.”
Ripper playfully slapped the New Mexican’s behind. “You pleased me four times. You’re a girl of rare talents”
Tara smiled bitterly . “You wouldn’t have said that if you’d met my pre-turning self. What a meek pathetic mouse I was!”
“Lyle said you were a runaway,” Ripper commented for want of something to say.
His companion’s nose wrinkled disdainfully. “I was a runaway alright, a runaway from life, my magic, my family, everything.” Tara giggled. “But I taught my sweet father the error of his ways.”
”Oh really?” Ripper rolled over to face the curvy beauty and began kissing her neck, Joy Joy’s sobs ringing like music in his ears. “Do tell?”
Faith forced his face into an inscrutable mask as she entered the building’s well-lit lobby. She knew she looked the bomb, even with her normally free-flowing locks tied up in a bun, her nervous eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses, and her usual biker wear exchanged for a pair of high heels, short black skirt, and matching jacket over a cream white blouse.
She was gambling on so many factors she could hardly keep count. First she was gambling that security was lax on account the vamps would figure you’d have to be dog-shit loco to try and break into the place. Second that no-one recognised her. Third, that despite and because of her looks, none of the demons would dare touch her, figuring she must be the property of Winters. Fourth, that when and if she got to Winters’ office she was able to find something to use as a weapon against him. Fifth, that she got out without anyone raising the alarm.
All in all, she was beginning to think she was nuts for even trying this.
“Too late to change my mind now.” Faith as she strode into the brightly-lit, mirror-walled elevator, grateful that it was empty.
Her heart fell when a figure stepped into the elevator just about as its gleaming doors were about slide shut. The vampire, a small, rat-faced beady-eyed demon, leered at her. “Hi babe, haven’t see you around here before, I know ‘cause I’d have noticed you.”
Faith tensed as the vampire neared. Her gaze moved to the camera in the upper right corner. “Yeah,” she quickly remembered her cover-story. “Last week I was livin’ on the street, then Mr. Winters saw me and hired for his personal staff.”
“Lucky Mr. Winters,” the vampire’s leer widened. “Mr. Winters’ security is very important to us. I’ll have to check you for weapons.”
Faith gritted her teeth as the vampire approached. Telling herself she’d endured far worse, she put up with the vampire’s clammy hands on her, stroking, squeezing, and groping. But if he showed her just an inch of fang, camera or not, he was dust.
The demon didn’t pull away until the doors opened. “No weapons,” the vampire smirked. “Just a body that could cause whiplash.” The vampire slapped her behind. “The boss gets all the prizes.”
Cheeks flushed, Faith hurriedly straightened her clothes before climbing out of the elevator and heading down the corridor, following the directions Lillah had given them. The corridors were plushly decorated with a thick sky blue carpet, minimally furnished reception areas, and wood panelled walls decorated with abstract paintings.
Faith swallowed as she reached a door with a brass plaque with ‘Mr. Winters’ inscribed on it. After a second she raised her hand to knock, then shook her head before opening the door.
The demon looked up from behind his tidy desk, eyes irritated. “Doesn’t anyone knock in this day and-.” The vampire’s expression changed from irritation to pleasure. “But of course, you don’t need to knock. Did personnel send you up?”
Faith forced a meek nod. “Yes, Mr. Winters.”
“Excellent, I’ll have to send them a commendation. Please,” the demon gestured to the empty seat opposite him, “sit down.”
“Sure.” Faith smiled seductively as she slinked across the office, eyes alighting on the steel letter opener on the desk. As she’d hoped Winters had unwittingly supplied the very weapon she’d use to kill him. Faith leaned over the desk, entrancing the man with her cleavage. Then she scooped up the letter opener and slashed it across the demon’s throat. There was a half-second of shocked realisation in his eyes and then he burst into dust.
Faith stared down at the dust settling on the demon’s leather-upholstered chair. She stiffened at the sound of the office door opening behind her. Twisting around, she saw a willowy blonde stood in the doorway. “Is Mr. Winters not around?”
“No.” Faith schooled her face into a puzzled expression. “Sorry. I’ve just brought him a load of contracts to sign from Personnel, but no joy.” Faith slide past the blonde and strode out. Now all she had to do was get out.
* * *
Virginia Bryce inspected the couple sat opposite. The female of the couple was pretty enough but it was the male who intrigued her. English, well-educated, and eminently knowledgeable about the world’s shadowy under-belly. She’d have bet her considerable fortune that he was a Watcher. However his companion couldn’t be the Slayer, she didn’t match the description in anything except age and gender.
She was more than a little tempted by the standing reward Ripper had offered for the capture of any Watcher. But even more enticed by the mystery just what had brought the Watcher here, to the very edge of Ripper’s stronghold. “Mr. Richard Turpin, your credentials seem very impressive. However you haven’t told me just why you require our services.”
Instead of answering, the Englishman looked around her office. “A most impressive place you have here. And yet you’re so young.” Mr. Turpin directed his gaze back at her. “But then your father wasn’t expecting to lose the reins of power quite so suddenly.”
“If I hadn’t killed him he’d have sacrificed -.” Virginia’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”
The Englishman’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, my name’s Wesley Whyndham-Pryce and my companion is,” the man was interrupted by the door crashing open and a group of youths striding inside, “Amy Madison, a Wicca who has been holding down your mystical defences ever since you lowered them to let us in.”
Virginia scowled impotently. “Do you know who I am?” she seethed.
“I think,” the Englishman smiled politely, “I’ve already established that we do. And this gentleman,” Wesley pointed towards a pepper-grey haired powerfully-built man leading the interlopers, “is Xander Harris.”
Virginia felt the world slow and the colour drain from her face at the mention of the world’s most feared resistance leader. “W….what do you want?” she stuttered.
“You’re not a witch, but I know your father spent decades collecting every conceivable magical artefact,” Amy said. “And I know he bought a Magica Poder Petros in the early nineties. We want it.”
”W…what for?” she asked.
“That’s not important.” Xander smiled coldly. “Is it?”
* * *
“Are you okay?” Jonathan opened the door as his girl-friend approached his car.
“Five by five,” Faith replied as she climbed into the car. His girl-friend snorted as he looked at her legs when her skirt shifted up as she sat down. Faith ruffled her hair. “Look I’ll keep the outfit if ya like, just drive, hon.”
* * *
“’Kay,” Faith stared at the strangely pulsing yellow globe sat in the centre of the resistance group’s lounge table, their of-course day-light journey back to Sunnydale completed just minutes ago, “you’ve got my attention. What the hell is this thing?”
“In its simplest terms, it’s a magical amplifier,” Amy replied. Faith stared bluntly at the witch. That was simple? “A witch or wizard casting a spell can use this to temporarily increase their power by siphoning power off from a number of lesser-power mages. In this case,” Amy smiled apologetically, “Wesley, Michael, and Jonathan.”
“And this is to drag this Holtz jabroni through time?” Amy nodded at her query. “’Kay, but how will you know where to find him?”
“I already know around when Holtz was taken. Somewhere in the 1770s-.”
“So really specific then,” Xander uttered the comment a second before she could.
“I’m not a Time-Lord, Xander,” Amy half-smiled then shrugged. “I’ll start in ’73, after his last recorded encounter with Darla and Angelus, and work from there. Then, when I find a trace of Sarjhan’s essence.”
“Whoa!” Faith interrupted. “Run that past me again?”
“Every demon has an essence, an unique smell if you want.” Faith’s brow furrowed and her mouth opened. “Only magic-users can sense them,” Amy hurriedly added before continuing her explanation. “And find when he took Holtz. I’ll follow his trail, take Holtz and bring him here.”
Faith’s head began to ache. “”’Kay, but ain’t Sarjhan likely to be a little, ya know pissed, at having Holtz taken?”
After a second Amy nodded. “Yes, but he’s incorporeal in his current state, so his powers are limited. As long as I avoid a direct confrontation, I should be okay.”
“Incorporeal?” Faith asked.
“Non-solid,” Wesley supplied. Faith stared at her Watcher, seeking further clarification. “Like a ghost.” Faith nodded in understanding. “But what about this Magic-Amplifier? Is it dangerous to use?” Wesley and Amy exchanged troubled glances. “Talk to me?”
“It’s not dangerous for those supplying the power,” Amy eventually replied. “At worst, the could be burnt out, unable to access magic. But for the person using the power,” Amy’s face tightened, “if they lose control, the backlash from the combined power could tear them apart.”
Risky. Faith looked around the room. Realising everyone was looking at her, she shrugged. “If you think this Holtz is worth it, do it.”
* * *
“It burns! Ahhhhhhh! It burns!”
Ripper chuckled as he lay on his bed, his new companion lying in his arms, her hands idly stroking him as he responded in kind. Joy Joy on the other hand was hanging upside down from the ceiling, her body welted and bruised from Tara’s enthused ministrations, tears streaking the dead Slayer’s face. “You’re a rare expert,” he complimented the vampire, “ a real artist.”
The naked beauty giggled and fluttered her long eyelashes. “Anything to please the mighty Ripper.”
Ripper playfully slapped the New Mexican’s behind. “You pleased me four times. You’re a girl of rare talents”
Tara smiled bitterly . “You wouldn’t have said that if you’d met my pre-turning self. What a meek pathetic mouse I was!”
“Lyle said you were a runaway,” Ripper commented for want of something to say.
His companion’s nose wrinkled disdainfully. “I was a runaway alright, a runaway from life, my magic, my family, everything.” Tara giggled. “But I taught my sweet father the error of his ways.”
”Oh really?” Ripper rolled over to face the curvy beauty and began kissing her neck, Joy Joy’s sobs ringing like music in his ears. “Do tell?”