The Ravages Of Hell
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,929
Reviews:
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Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,929
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
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.
15
FIC: Ravages Of Hell (15/?)
Angel blinked his way to consciousness. His stomach constricted with fear as he remembered his son and their companions only to relax when a quick glance confirmed that they were likewise battling their way awake.
The next thing he noticed was their surroundings. Somehow they’d been transported to a lush, green forest a million miles away from chilly, dreary Moscow. It was a puzzling although definite improvement. “Where are we?” Groo demanded.
“Well Toto,” Gwen put in, “we’re not in Kansas anymore that’s for damn sure!”
Groo stared at Gwen, his broad brow creasing in confusion. “My name isn’t Toto. I thought we were in Moscow, not Kansas.”
“It’s an Earth saying,” Angel explained. “But the question’s a good one. Where are we?”
“Oh yeah?” he glanced at his very worried looking son. “I’ve got a better one. How was the spell book we used to get here turned to this?” Connor held up a sheet of paper.
In a second he was at his son’s side. “What is that?” he demanded.
“Gee pop,” his son sarcastically drawled. “If it looks like a map, reads like a map, guess what? I’m going with map. The question is to where? I can’t read it.”
Angel glared at Connor. “Where did you get your sense of humour?”
“Not from you, that’s for sure.”
Angel chose to ignore Gwen’s muttered comment. Instead he snatched the map from Connor. Waving away his son’s protests he falteringly attempted to read the map. “It’s a mixture of Latin, Mayan, Sumerian, and Greek,” he said, a combination of Liam’s tutoring and two and a half centuries’ spent researching and reading ancient texts enabling him to read the long-dead languages. “According to this, we’re heading for….” His voice trailed off. Unable to believe what he was translating, he re-read it. “It can’t be…” he whispered.
“Can’t be what dad?” his son queried.
He stared at the teen for a second, stunned by what he’d read. Shaking his head clear, he spoke. “The map,” he looked at it again, “ “it says it leads to Atlantis.”
* * *
Faith groaned as she awoke, her head thumping. “Okay, which asshole slipped a Mickey in my drink?” Blinking her eyes clear, she looked around. The first thing she noticed was her friends crumpled around her, thankfully slowly awakening. “If I ever get my hands on that half-pint Ewok wannabe I’ll rip his fucking spleen out.”
“You know what a Ewok is?”
Faith shot a stunned looking Rona an irritated glance. “Shit girl, child of the eighties remember? I know Star Wars.” ‘Sides, Andy had dragged them all to a showing of eps 4 -6, some sort of bonding shit. She’d gone practically kicking and screaming but once there, she’d watched secretly enthralled by a fairy tale in space.
‘Course that was something no-body would ever find out. Or at least find out and live to tell anyone else her dark secret.
Returning her attention to their current predicament, Faith looked around. Her eyes widened as she realised the steaming jungle they had been in had been replaced by a leafy forest. “Where the fuck have you sent us, Red?”
“I….I,” Faith glanced towards a wide-eyed, pale-faced Kennedy, “t…think I know.”
“Oh yeah?” Faith arched a wary eyebrow. This did not look good. “Ya wanna share with the rest of the class?”
“The spell book turned to a map. A map that leads to Camelot.”
Faith ignored the other girls’ gasps and her own shock to cover it with a joke. “Comealot uh? Sounds like a dirty movie I made back in the day.”
Faith concealed a smirk at the others’ disgust. Best they all think of her as the ass-kicking, tough-talking trailer trash rather than discover the truth of the scared kid who used to steal books about mythical heroes and monsters from the local library while dreaming of her own white knight to rescue her from her own very real demons. There were some things about her past that nobody needed to know.
But a part of her, the scared little dreamer she’d once been, was wicked excited at the thought of seeing the legendary Arthurian castle. “So how do we get there?” she queried, unable to deny the slight note of eagerness in her otherwise nonchalant voice.
* * *
“Brrr,” Buffy shivered as she looked around the icy tundra she and her companions had been teleported to. “I’m from California!” she protested through bluing lips. “The weather here isn’t natural!” She broke off in her rant to look at her companions, including her boyfriend who was staring boggle-eyed at what appeared to be a map. “What’s up?”
The Immortal looked up, his face as white as the snow surrounding them. “We’re in Midgard.”
Buffy blinked. “Okay.” She’d heard the word before, but for the life of her couldn’t think where. “Is that somewhere in South America?” she asked hopefully. She’d always wanted to go there. Although the snow made it unlikely.
“No,” she turned to see Michelle shaking her head in apparent exasperation. “It was the realm of mankind in Norse mythology.”
“Okay,” Buffy said slowly. Now that hadn’t been on her list of places to visit. “Any idea how we got here?” Her question was met with shaking head and shrugging shoulder. Yeah, that was what she expected. Buffy squared her shoulders. “Right. First we find the Trident, then we worry about getting home.”
* * *
“That’s not possible!” Gwen blurted out, eyes wide.
“Do you read Sumerian?” the thief just glared at him. “Guess you’ll have to take my -. Hey!” Angel scowled at his son when he snatched the map away.
As usual Connor ignored him. Instead his son stared at the map. “You’ve got to be wrong.”
Angel sighed mockingly. “A son doubting his father. Oh, the pain.”
Connor briefly looked up from the map to glower at him. Darla’s son opened his mouth but was beaten to it by a puzzled-sounding Groo. “What is this Atlantis?”
Angel dredged through his memories for an answer. “Atlantis is an earth legend. A lost civilisation theorised by an ancient philosopher called Plato. He said that 11,000 years ago there existed an island nation populated by a noble and powerful race reputed to be more advanced than even we are today. It ruled much of the known world but eventually its people were corrupted by their power. Angered by this, the gods sent a massive tidal wave and the island was swallowed up, its location, and history lost forever.”
“Ah,” understanding dawned in the Pylean champion’s eyes. “Like the City States of Tygra?” Not having a clue what Groo was talking about, but guessing it had to amount to more or less the same thing, Angel nodded. “We have such mighty legends in Pylea.” The hybrid looked troubled. “But how do we find the Trident? And how do we return to your dimension?”
Angel groaned. Two very good questions, and questions he didn’t have a clue how to answer. Suddenly Connor spoke, his son’s voice taut. “Oh I’d say we’ve got bigger problems.”
Angel looked around. “Oh boy, oh boy.” Somehow he thought the natives weren’t friendly.
* * *
Buffy gritted her teeth against the whipping winds as she resolutely climbed up a craggy mountain-side. Her once smooth hands had been cut to ribbons by the razor-sharp rocks she clung to while it felt as if she was being flayed alive by the cold. “All in all, I don’t think I was cut out to be a Viking warrior queen,” she muttered. “Shame, I bet I’d look really hot in all that fur.”
Shoving aside her colossal fashion disappointment, Buffy glanced across at the man climbing beside her. “How are you doing?”
Her boyfriend shot her a strained smile. “This is far from the first mountain I’ve climbed, ma belle.”
Buffy noticed that that reply didn’t come close to answering her question but let it lie. After all, it must be hard for her boyfriend, being the non-powered one.
Eventually, she reached the top, climbing over the edge. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of the Immortal’s Armani collar and lifted him onto the top. Next, she looked around. Her nose wrinkled at the sight that greeted her. The barren landscape looked exactly the same as the winter wasteland they’d just left behind. “Hardly worth the effort.”
Buffy climbed off the ground, brushing the snow off her jeans as she did so. Boy was she glad she’d decided on jeans and sweatshirt rather than mini and crop-top. “Everybody okay?” Satisfied by the others’ nods, Buffy started across the tundra.
And stopped dead when two monstrous shapes erupted out of the snow in front of her. “Oh, not good.”
* * *
His eyes shot open as something incredible hit his consciousness. Shrugging off his sleepiness, he struggled out of bed and hurriedly dressed, his heart thumping with the echo of what he’d just felt.
Once dressed, he made his way out of his quarters and down the spiral stairwell to the tiny courtyard beneath. He stopped dead at the sight that greeted him, throat filling with pride as it always did when he saw it. He could live to be a thousand and never tire of seeing it.
In the courtyard, a lithe girl moved through a complex series of sword positions that none of the many renowned warriors he knew could match. At his entry, the young woman stopped and curtseyed. “Greetings, Master.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Greetings, Bronwyn. Your form is as immaculate as ever.”
His charge’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you sir. Do you thing one of the knights might consent to train with me?”
He chuckled and tugged as his flowing, white beard, amused as always by the warrior-maiden’s enthusiasm. She was the third of these girls he’d had the honour of guiding. The first had lasted two years, the second three and a half, but by the grace of god, and with his brethren’s help Bronwyn would last much, much longer. “No promises my sweet child, but we’ll see.” His expression sobered as he remembered the reason he was up at such an ungodly hour. “Keep on with your training,” he instructed. “I must go and meet with our liege.”
“Ah,” Bronwyn nodded sagely. “I had wondered what disaster had dragged my learned teacher out of his bed at such an unlikely hour.”
Shaking his head, he walked away with a chuckle. Such spirit, it was just a shame it was tempered with impudence. He guessed the best of the warrior-maidens would have that spirit. Somehow he found himself hoping that was so. “Good-bye.”
A familiar sense of awe engulfed him as he entered his liege’s vast hall. The chamber’s high walls were adorned with weapons and the colourful banners of all the famed warriors that his master had drawn to him. Those celebrated knights themselves sat at the room’s table, champions all.
But none of them could match their leader, a mighty-thewed man with granite features, coal black eyes, and thunderous eyebrows. At his entrance, the king rose. “Greetings, Mage,” the monarch rumbled.
He dropped to one knee. “Mi’ Lord. I have grave news. Something disturbing has entered our realm.”
“You have sensed this?” the legendary king began to pace at his nod. Finally the ruler turned and looked at the assembled knights. “It seems that evil has dared to strike at the heart of Christendom! Knights of the Round Table, take to your horses and hunt it down!”
Angel blinked his way to consciousness. His stomach constricted with fear as he remembered his son and their companions only to relax when a quick glance confirmed that they were likewise battling their way awake.
The next thing he noticed was their surroundings. Somehow they’d been transported to a lush, green forest a million miles away from chilly, dreary Moscow. It was a puzzling although definite improvement. “Where are we?” Groo demanded.
“Well Toto,” Gwen put in, “we’re not in Kansas anymore that’s for damn sure!”
Groo stared at Gwen, his broad brow creasing in confusion. “My name isn’t Toto. I thought we were in Moscow, not Kansas.”
“It’s an Earth saying,” Angel explained. “But the question’s a good one. Where are we?”
“Oh yeah?” he glanced at his very worried looking son. “I’ve got a better one. How was the spell book we used to get here turned to this?” Connor held up a sheet of paper.
In a second he was at his son’s side. “What is that?” he demanded.
“Gee pop,” his son sarcastically drawled. “If it looks like a map, reads like a map, guess what? I’m going with map. The question is to where? I can’t read it.”
Angel glared at Connor. “Where did you get your sense of humour?”
“Not from you, that’s for sure.”
Angel chose to ignore Gwen’s muttered comment. Instead he snatched the map from Connor. Waving away his son’s protests he falteringly attempted to read the map. “It’s a mixture of Latin, Mayan, Sumerian, and Greek,” he said, a combination of Liam’s tutoring and two and a half centuries’ spent researching and reading ancient texts enabling him to read the long-dead languages. “According to this, we’re heading for….” His voice trailed off. Unable to believe what he was translating, he re-read it. “It can’t be…” he whispered.
“Can’t be what dad?” his son queried.
He stared at the teen for a second, stunned by what he’d read. Shaking his head clear, he spoke. “The map,” he looked at it again, “ “it says it leads to Atlantis.”
* * *
Faith groaned as she awoke, her head thumping. “Okay, which asshole slipped a Mickey in my drink?” Blinking her eyes clear, she looked around. The first thing she noticed was her friends crumpled around her, thankfully slowly awakening. “If I ever get my hands on that half-pint Ewok wannabe I’ll rip his fucking spleen out.”
“You know what a Ewok is?”
Faith shot a stunned looking Rona an irritated glance. “Shit girl, child of the eighties remember? I know Star Wars.” ‘Sides, Andy had dragged them all to a showing of eps 4 -6, some sort of bonding shit. She’d gone practically kicking and screaming but once there, she’d watched secretly enthralled by a fairy tale in space.
‘Course that was something no-body would ever find out. Or at least find out and live to tell anyone else her dark secret.
Returning her attention to their current predicament, Faith looked around. Her eyes widened as she realised the steaming jungle they had been in had been replaced by a leafy forest. “Where the fuck have you sent us, Red?”
“I….I,” Faith glanced towards a wide-eyed, pale-faced Kennedy, “t…think I know.”
“Oh yeah?” Faith arched a wary eyebrow. This did not look good. “Ya wanna share with the rest of the class?”
“The spell book turned to a map. A map that leads to Camelot.”
Faith ignored the other girls’ gasps and her own shock to cover it with a joke. “Comealot uh? Sounds like a dirty movie I made back in the day.”
Faith concealed a smirk at the others’ disgust. Best they all think of her as the ass-kicking, tough-talking trailer trash rather than discover the truth of the scared kid who used to steal books about mythical heroes and monsters from the local library while dreaming of her own white knight to rescue her from her own very real demons. There were some things about her past that nobody needed to know.
But a part of her, the scared little dreamer she’d once been, was wicked excited at the thought of seeing the legendary Arthurian castle. “So how do we get there?” she queried, unable to deny the slight note of eagerness in her otherwise nonchalant voice.
* * *
“Brrr,” Buffy shivered as she looked around the icy tundra she and her companions had been teleported to. “I’m from California!” she protested through bluing lips. “The weather here isn’t natural!” She broke off in her rant to look at her companions, including her boyfriend who was staring boggle-eyed at what appeared to be a map. “What’s up?”
The Immortal looked up, his face as white as the snow surrounding them. “We’re in Midgard.”
Buffy blinked. “Okay.” She’d heard the word before, but for the life of her couldn’t think where. “Is that somewhere in South America?” she asked hopefully. She’d always wanted to go there. Although the snow made it unlikely.
“No,” she turned to see Michelle shaking her head in apparent exasperation. “It was the realm of mankind in Norse mythology.”
“Okay,” Buffy said slowly. Now that hadn’t been on her list of places to visit. “Any idea how we got here?” Her question was met with shaking head and shrugging shoulder. Yeah, that was what she expected. Buffy squared her shoulders. “Right. First we find the Trident, then we worry about getting home.”
* * *
“That’s not possible!” Gwen blurted out, eyes wide.
“Do you read Sumerian?” the thief just glared at him. “Guess you’ll have to take my -. Hey!” Angel scowled at his son when he snatched the map away.
As usual Connor ignored him. Instead his son stared at the map. “You’ve got to be wrong.”
Angel sighed mockingly. “A son doubting his father. Oh, the pain.”
Connor briefly looked up from the map to glower at him. Darla’s son opened his mouth but was beaten to it by a puzzled-sounding Groo. “What is this Atlantis?”
Angel dredged through his memories for an answer. “Atlantis is an earth legend. A lost civilisation theorised by an ancient philosopher called Plato. He said that 11,000 years ago there existed an island nation populated by a noble and powerful race reputed to be more advanced than even we are today. It ruled much of the known world but eventually its people were corrupted by their power. Angered by this, the gods sent a massive tidal wave and the island was swallowed up, its location, and history lost forever.”
“Ah,” understanding dawned in the Pylean champion’s eyes. “Like the City States of Tygra?” Not having a clue what Groo was talking about, but guessing it had to amount to more or less the same thing, Angel nodded. “We have such mighty legends in Pylea.” The hybrid looked troubled. “But how do we find the Trident? And how do we return to your dimension?”
Angel groaned. Two very good questions, and questions he didn’t have a clue how to answer. Suddenly Connor spoke, his son’s voice taut. “Oh I’d say we’ve got bigger problems.”
Angel looked around. “Oh boy, oh boy.” Somehow he thought the natives weren’t friendly.
* * *
Buffy gritted her teeth against the whipping winds as she resolutely climbed up a craggy mountain-side. Her once smooth hands had been cut to ribbons by the razor-sharp rocks she clung to while it felt as if she was being flayed alive by the cold. “All in all, I don’t think I was cut out to be a Viking warrior queen,” she muttered. “Shame, I bet I’d look really hot in all that fur.”
Shoving aside her colossal fashion disappointment, Buffy glanced across at the man climbing beside her. “How are you doing?”
Her boyfriend shot her a strained smile. “This is far from the first mountain I’ve climbed, ma belle.”
Buffy noticed that that reply didn’t come close to answering her question but let it lie. After all, it must be hard for her boyfriend, being the non-powered one.
Eventually, she reached the top, climbing over the edge. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of the Immortal’s Armani collar and lifted him onto the top. Next, she looked around. Her nose wrinkled at the sight that greeted her. The barren landscape looked exactly the same as the winter wasteland they’d just left behind. “Hardly worth the effort.”
Buffy climbed off the ground, brushing the snow off her jeans as she did so. Boy was she glad she’d decided on jeans and sweatshirt rather than mini and crop-top. “Everybody okay?” Satisfied by the others’ nods, Buffy started across the tundra.
And stopped dead when two monstrous shapes erupted out of the snow in front of her. “Oh, not good.”
* * *
His eyes shot open as something incredible hit his consciousness. Shrugging off his sleepiness, he struggled out of bed and hurriedly dressed, his heart thumping with the echo of what he’d just felt.
Once dressed, he made his way out of his quarters and down the spiral stairwell to the tiny courtyard beneath. He stopped dead at the sight that greeted him, throat filling with pride as it always did when he saw it. He could live to be a thousand and never tire of seeing it.
In the courtyard, a lithe girl moved through a complex series of sword positions that none of the many renowned warriors he knew could match. At his entry, the young woman stopped and curtseyed. “Greetings, Master.”
He inclined his head slightly. “Greetings, Bronwyn. Your form is as immaculate as ever.”
His charge’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you sir. Do you thing one of the knights might consent to train with me?”
He chuckled and tugged as his flowing, white beard, amused as always by the warrior-maiden’s enthusiasm. She was the third of these girls he’d had the honour of guiding. The first had lasted two years, the second three and a half, but by the grace of god, and with his brethren’s help Bronwyn would last much, much longer. “No promises my sweet child, but we’ll see.” His expression sobered as he remembered the reason he was up at such an ungodly hour. “Keep on with your training,” he instructed. “I must go and meet with our liege.”
“Ah,” Bronwyn nodded sagely. “I had wondered what disaster had dragged my learned teacher out of his bed at such an unlikely hour.”
Shaking his head, he walked away with a chuckle. Such spirit, it was just a shame it was tempered with impudence. He guessed the best of the warrior-maidens would have that spirit. Somehow he found himself hoping that was so. “Good-bye.”
A familiar sense of awe engulfed him as he entered his liege’s vast hall. The chamber’s high walls were adorned with weapons and the colourful banners of all the famed warriors that his master had drawn to him. Those celebrated knights themselves sat at the room’s table, champions all.
But none of them could match their leader, a mighty-thewed man with granite features, coal black eyes, and thunderous eyebrows. At his entrance, the king rose. “Greetings, Mage,” the monarch rumbled.
He dropped to one knee. “Mi’ Lord. I have grave news. Something disturbing has entered our realm.”
“You have sensed this?” the legendary king began to pace at his nod. Finally the ruler turned and looked at the assembled knights. “It seems that evil has dared to strike at the heart of Christendom! Knights of the Round Table, take to your horses and hunt it down!”