The Ravages Of Hell
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,918
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,918
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.
FIC: The Ravages Of Hell (4/?)
FIC: The Ravages Of Hell (4/?)
Haifa, Israel
Hannah Cohen stifled a yawn as she watched the booming nightclub from across the busy road. Over the past month, six teens had disappeared from the area surrounding the new hotspot in town. The rumour mill had a number of theories including organised crime, terrorists, and just plain runaways.
But she knew the truth. Two nights ago her Watcher and her, she glanced up at the beautiful former American cop stood beside her in the shadows of a book store, had found one of the missing teens in an alley drained of his blood. Vampires. Hannah felt her hackles rise at just the word.
Forcing her instinctive loathing under control, Hannah spoke to her companion. “That car has been sat watching the club for a long time,” she nodded towards a battered, blue-grey hatchback parked across the road, one building down from the club.
“Well done child,” her Watcher nodded, the ghost of a smile flickering across hrt lips. “But don’t worry about them. Just policemen running surveillance.”
Hannah hid a smile, proud of the rare praise from the former detective, Lockley. “But what will we do about them if there’s a vampire outside the club?”
The former cop opened her mouth to reply. Her head snapped to the right at the sound of a car screeching down the road towards them. “What the-.”
Hannah screamed as a gun muzzle poked out of the car’s open window. Bullets jetted out of the gun, ripping through her and her Watcher before the car sped away. Hannah’s last thoughts as she plummeted to the ground was that she’d never get to see inside of the club.
Or her Mamma again.
* * *
Vancouver, Canada
Becky danced eagerly from foot to foot as she observed the depilated warehouse she and her two fellow Slayers were going to raid tonight, a warehouse apparently occupied by a group of 6 – 8 vampires. As a member of one of Canada’s trio of three Slayer and one Watcher teams situated in her home nation’s largest cities of Tronto, Vancouver, and Montreal, she’d been handling such routine missions for just over two years, so tonight’s mission was nothing special. No, the reason for her excitement was some thrilling news her Watcher had shared with them the previous day.
He’d told them that Robin Wood and Faith Lehane, the Council’s mobile troubleshooters, would be visiting Canada’s teams next week. She was going to meet actual legends. True they weren’t actual Scoobies, she’d die if she ever Mr. Giles or Ms. Summers, but they were part of the Sunnydale legend.
“Hey kid.” A hand affectionally ruffled her hair. “Calm down, or there’s no more coffee for you.”
Becky grinned up at the gorgeous, model-like red-head beside her. “Sorry Trish.” Being a Slayer was a hard deal, but it would be a lot harder without Trish and Jo, her fellow Slayers who treated her like a little sister, it would be a lot harder.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready.” Trish nodded at her Watcher, a haughty Quebecer by the name of Jules Fontaine. Once her fellow Slayers had murmured their assent, they crept towards the building.
Once there, Fontaine placed some C4 on the thick double doors. “Step back,” he ordered in the exotically-accented voice she’d originally found sexy until she had got to know the annoyingly conceited French-Canadian. Once they’d all stepped back, Fontaine pressed on the detonator. The door imploded dramatically, propelling splinters into the building. “Inside!”
The three of them and their Watcher burst into the shadowy warehouse, rushing through the building. Trish’s mouth dried with terror as she sensed the demonic presences surrounding them from all sides. Far too many for the small band they believed were here, maybe 25 – 30 in total. They were dead.
Forcing her trembling limbs to steady, she hefted her stake. She swore to sell her life as dearly as possible. A suited vampire stepped out of the shadows and smirked at them all in turn before speaking. “Kill them.”
* * *
Hat Yai, Thailand
Tears rolling down her cheeks and lungs heaving, Sunee pushed her aching body as she ran through the maze-like streets of one of Hat Yai’s many shanty-towns, the fetid, heavy air making sweat pour off her. Her mind reeled as she thought about her friends, her fellow Slayers, slaughtered in a surprise attack on their home. Now, she sobbed deep in her throat as she careered around a narrow corner made even tighter by the refuse dumped there, she was alone and running.
Sunee screamed as the back of a rickety house exploded and an eight-foot biped lizard bounded out to block the way ahead. Sunee backed up as she looked up at the towering beast, her blood chilling as she saw the spade-sized hands that had dismembered her friends and the blood-stained fangs that had fed on their corpses.
Gathering her courage, she drew her sword. The lizard roared before charging her, its hand slamming into the side of head with such force as to break her neck.
* * *
Perth, Australia
Arana smiled at her friends, the two white Slayers who were now closer to her than even her Aborigine friends. But then, she stifled a sigh, her childhood friends were part of her pre-Slayer life.
“You okay Arana?”
She nodded meekly at Louise, the daughter of one of Australia’s most powerful businessmen. “I’m fine,” she answered. How strange that some mystical power would pick her, a dirt poor Aborigine, and Louise, a wealthy white girl, two teens with nothing in common as its warriors.
But the gods had spoken and her people always obeyed. Duty was a harsh mistress sometimes. “Patrol was quiet tonight,” commented Marie, the third of their trio, a buxom brunette who like Carol was three years older than her fifteen but was at least from a similar class as her.
”Yes it was,” Louise agreed as they reached their Watcher’s house, a three storey colonial house in Perth’s comfortably middle-class suburbs. “Calm before the storm probably.” Arana grimaced, silently agreeing with her companion’s appraisal. “Anyway,” Louise irritably flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, Arana abstractedly wondered how anyone could ever be annoyed with hair that looked like flowing gold, “at least we’re home now.” Louise pulled her keys out of her Gucci purse, Arana smiled inwardly as she remembered her friend buying her one, an act of casual kindness that was so like her. She didn’t care about Summers or Lehane, or any of the other Slayers, none compared to Louise in her book. “There it is!” The tall blonde slid the key into the lock and turned it. Arana heard a click, then another click, and then the ground shook as an eardrum-bursting explosion erupted from within their home.
The last thing she saw was a ball of fire rushing towards her.
* * *
Oslo, Norway
Aud coughed, the blood that spurted from her mouth staining the crisp white snow she was laid upon. She shivered helplessly, pain shooting through her body at even the slightest movement but the biting cold winds whipping at her ensuring she didn’t have a choice. She had to wonder what would kill her first, her wounds or the biting cold.
“ARR! YAR! GRR!” The ground shook under the gruff bellow. The shaking only increased under the approach of a pair of heavy feet pounding the ground.
“Well that,” she coughed again and laughed weakly. “Answers that,” seconds later, a sixteen foot tall, massively muscled man with craggy features and a long, swirling beard was stood above her.
“Little one!” her head thundered with the giant’s boom. “You fight well, killed Magne’s brother. But now,” she shrieked as the giant roughly yanked her off the ground. Her head slumped into her chest, blood dribbling down her chest as she breathed rattlingly, unable to resist her adversary. “You die!” Her bones popped as the giant began to squeeze.
Her last thought as death engulfed her was that even knowing about vampires she’d have never guessed the old Norse legends were true.
* * *
Hamburg, Germany
The combined smell of the sewage and salt wafting in from Hamburg’s busiest port made Elke’s nose wrinkle in disgust. Desperate to take her mind off the stench, she turned to her Watcher, a wiry man barely a couple of inches taller than her 5’5. “Dieter,” she was careful to put a whine in her voice and a pout in her lips. “Why do we have to patrol here? It stinks!”
As usual her plea fell on stony ground. “Just because these people work in less than ideal circumstances does not mean they deserve protection from the forces of evil.”
”But why do I have to-.”
“Because Germany’s other Slayers were assigned to other cities.”
“And that,” her heart stopped when a sleekly suited man, no not a man, a vampire, stepped out of the shadows ahead of them, flanked by a quartet of demons she recognised as Polgara demons from her studies. “Is why they MIGHT live through tonight. You on the other hand,” the demon morphed out. “Will die. Kill them.”
* * *
Santa Cruz, Bolivia
Morela ran through the darkened streets, conscious of every noise, every footstep, every slammed door, every raised voice, her heart pounding in terror, images of her murdered Watcher flashing before her. A strangled sob escaped her, she’d loved Pepe, he’d taken her out of one of Bolivia’s cramped orphanages, raised her as his own daughter, and in turn she’d loved him with a child’s love. And now he was dead, sacrificing his own life so she’d have a chance to escape.
Seeing a ten foot wooden fence up ahead, Morela forced herself to concentrate, lengthening her stride as she powered over the fence. Hearing the sound of something whirling towards her, she raised her right hand to ward it off even as she looked towards her.
And screamed as a throwing star ripped through her fingers, chopping two off at the knuckle. Grace forgotten in a world of pain, she hit the dirt-packed ground face-first. It took her a second to steel herself to twist her head and stare in dazed disbelief at her mutilated hand, the blood pumping out of the stumps staining the ground. Gathering herself, she pulled herself up to her knees.
In time to see a double-bladed axe swing at her neck.
* * *
A Private Plane Over The Atlantic
“MY GIRLS!” The red-head’s body arched up, convulsing wildly as she burst awake from her fitful sleep. “They’re killing my girls!”
In an instant Kennedy was by her lover’s side. “Will,” she whispered into the shaking witch’s ear even as she struggled to hold down the wildly twitching red-head, shocked by her strength. “It’s alright.”
”It’s not alright,” fat tears rolled down Willow’s eyes even as she babbled. “My girls! My girls!”
Haifa, Israel
Hannah Cohen stifled a yawn as she watched the booming nightclub from across the busy road. Over the past month, six teens had disappeared from the area surrounding the new hotspot in town. The rumour mill had a number of theories including organised crime, terrorists, and just plain runaways.
But she knew the truth. Two nights ago her Watcher and her, she glanced up at the beautiful former American cop stood beside her in the shadows of a book store, had found one of the missing teens in an alley drained of his blood. Vampires. Hannah felt her hackles rise at just the word.
Forcing her instinctive loathing under control, Hannah spoke to her companion. “That car has been sat watching the club for a long time,” she nodded towards a battered, blue-grey hatchback parked across the road, one building down from the club.
“Well done child,” her Watcher nodded, the ghost of a smile flickering across hrt lips. “But don’t worry about them. Just policemen running surveillance.”
Hannah hid a smile, proud of the rare praise from the former detective, Lockley. “But what will we do about them if there’s a vampire outside the club?”
The former cop opened her mouth to reply. Her head snapped to the right at the sound of a car screeching down the road towards them. “What the-.”
Hannah screamed as a gun muzzle poked out of the car’s open window. Bullets jetted out of the gun, ripping through her and her Watcher before the car sped away. Hannah’s last thoughts as she plummeted to the ground was that she’d never get to see inside of the club.
Or her Mamma again.
* * *
Vancouver, Canada
Becky danced eagerly from foot to foot as she observed the depilated warehouse she and her two fellow Slayers were going to raid tonight, a warehouse apparently occupied by a group of 6 – 8 vampires. As a member of one of Canada’s trio of three Slayer and one Watcher teams situated in her home nation’s largest cities of Tronto, Vancouver, and Montreal, she’d been handling such routine missions for just over two years, so tonight’s mission was nothing special. No, the reason for her excitement was some thrilling news her Watcher had shared with them the previous day.
He’d told them that Robin Wood and Faith Lehane, the Council’s mobile troubleshooters, would be visiting Canada’s teams next week. She was going to meet actual legends. True they weren’t actual Scoobies, she’d die if she ever Mr. Giles or Ms. Summers, but they were part of the Sunnydale legend.
“Hey kid.” A hand affectionally ruffled her hair. “Calm down, or there’s no more coffee for you.”
Becky grinned up at the gorgeous, model-like red-head beside her. “Sorry Trish.” Being a Slayer was a hard deal, but it would be a lot harder without Trish and Jo, her fellow Slayers who treated her like a little sister, it would be a lot harder.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready.” Trish nodded at her Watcher, a haughty Quebecer by the name of Jules Fontaine. Once her fellow Slayers had murmured their assent, they crept towards the building.
Once there, Fontaine placed some C4 on the thick double doors. “Step back,” he ordered in the exotically-accented voice she’d originally found sexy until she had got to know the annoyingly conceited French-Canadian. Once they’d all stepped back, Fontaine pressed on the detonator. The door imploded dramatically, propelling splinters into the building. “Inside!”
The three of them and their Watcher burst into the shadowy warehouse, rushing through the building. Trish’s mouth dried with terror as she sensed the demonic presences surrounding them from all sides. Far too many for the small band they believed were here, maybe 25 – 30 in total. They were dead.
Forcing her trembling limbs to steady, she hefted her stake. She swore to sell her life as dearly as possible. A suited vampire stepped out of the shadows and smirked at them all in turn before speaking. “Kill them.”
* * *
Hat Yai, Thailand
Tears rolling down her cheeks and lungs heaving, Sunee pushed her aching body as she ran through the maze-like streets of one of Hat Yai’s many shanty-towns, the fetid, heavy air making sweat pour off her. Her mind reeled as she thought about her friends, her fellow Slayers, slaughtered in a surprise attack on their home. Now, she sobbed deep in her throat as she careered around a narrow corner made even tighter by the refuse dumped there, she was alone and running.
Sunee screamed as the back of a rickety house exploded and an eight-foot biped lizard bounded out to block the way ahead. Sunee backed up as she looked up at the towering beast, her blood chilling as she saw the spade-sized hands that had dismembered her friends and the blood-stained fangs that had fed on their corpses.
Gathering her courage, she drew her sword. The lizard roared before charging her, its hand slamming into the side of head with such force as to break her neck.
* * *
Perth, Australia
Arana smiled at her friends, the two white Slayers who were now closer to her than even her Aborigine friends. But then, she stifled a sigh, her childhood friends were part of her pre-Slayer life.
“You okay Arana?”
She nodded meekly at Louise, the daughter of one of Australia’s most powerful businessmen. “I’m fine,” she answered. How strange that some mystical power would pick her, a dirt poor Aborigine, and Louise, a wealthy white girl, two teens with nothing in common as its warriors.
But the gods had spoken and her people always obeyed. Duty was a harsh mistress sometimes. “Patrol was quiet tonight,” commented Marie, the third of their trio, a buxom brunette who like Carol was three years older than her fifteen but was at least from a similar class as her.
”Yes it was,” Louise agreed as they reached their Watcher’s house, a three storey colonial house in Perth’s comfortably middle-class suburbs. “Calm before the storm probably.” Arana grimaced, silently agreeing with her companion’s appraisal. “Anyway,” Louise irritably flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, Arana abstractedly wondered how anyone could ever be annoyed with hair that looked like flowing gold, “at least we’re home now.” Louise pulled her keys out of her Gucci purse, Arana smiled inwardly as she remembered her friend buying her one, an act of casual kindness that was so like her. She didn’t care about Summers or Lehane, or any of the other Slayers, none compared to Louise in her book. “There it is!” The tall blonde slid the key into the lock and turned it. Arana heard a click, then another click, and then the ground shook as an eardrum-bursting explosion erupted from within their home.
The last thing she saw was a ball of fire rushing towards her.
* * *
Oslo, Norway
Aud coughed, the blood that spurted from her mouth staining the crisp white snow she was laid upon. She shivered helplessly, pain shooting through her body at even the slightest movement but the biting cold winds whipping at her ensuring she didn’t have a choice. She had to wonder what would kill her first, her wounds or the biting cold.
“ARR! YAR! GRR!” The ground shook under the gruff bellow. The shaking only increased under the approach of a pair of heavy feet pounding the ground.
“Well that,” she coughed again and laughed weakly. “Answers that,” seconds later, a sixteen foot tall, massively muscled man with craggy features and a long, swirling beard was stood above her.
“Little one!” her head thundered with the giant’s boom. “You fight well, killed Magne’s brother. But now,” she shrieked as the giant roughly yanked her off the ground. Her head slumped into her chest, blood dribbling down her chest as she breathed rattlingly, unable to resist her adversary. “You die!” Her bones popped as the giant began to squeeze.
Her last thought as death engulfed her was that even knowing about vampires she’d have never guessed the old Norse legends were true.
* * *
Hamburg, Germany
The combined smell of the sewage and salt wafting in from Hamburg’s busiest port made Elke’s nose wrinkle in disgust. Desperate to take her mind off the stench, she turned to her Watcher, a wiry man barely a couple of inches taller than her 5’5. “Dieter,” she was careful to put a whine in her voice and a pout in her lips. “Why do we have to patrol here? It stinks!”
As usual her plea fell on stony ground. “Just because these people work in less than ideal circumstances does not mean they deserve protection from the forces of evil.”
”But why do I have to-.”
“Because Germany’s other Slayers were assigned to other cities.”
“And that,” her heart stopped when a sleekly suited man, no not a man, a vampire, stepped out of the shadows ahead of them, flanked by a quartet of demons she recognised as Polgara demons from her studies. “Is why they MIGHT live through tonight. You on the other hand,” the demon morphed out. “Will die. Kill them.”
* * *
Santa Cruz, Bolivia
Morela ran through the darkened streets, conscious of every noise, every footstep, every slammed door, every raised voice, her heart pounding in terror, images of her murdered Watcher flashing before her. A strangled sob escaped her, she’d loved Pepe, he’d taken her out of one of Bolivia’s cramped orphanages, raised her as his own daughter, and in turn she’d loved him with a child’s love. And now he was dead, sacrificing his own life so she’d have a chance to escape.
Seeing a ten foot wooden fence up ahead, Morela forced herself to concentrate, lengthening her stride as she powered over the fence. Hearing the sound of something whirling towards her, she raised her right hand to ward it off even as she looked towards her.
And screamed as a throwing star ripped through her fingers, chopping two off at the knuckle. Grace forgotten in a world of pain, she hit the dirt-packed ground face-first. It took her a second to steel herself to twist her head and stare in dazed disbelief at her mutilated hand, the blood pumping out of the stumps staining the ground. Gathering herself, she pulled herself up to her knees.
In time to see a double-bladed axe swing at her neck.
* * *
A Private Plane Over The Atlantic
“MY GIRLS!” The red-head’s body arched up, convulsing wildly as she burst awake from her fitful sleep. “They’re killing my girls!”
In an instant Kennedy was by her lover’s side. “Will,” she whispered into the shaking witch’s ear even as she struggled to hold down the wildly twitching red-head, shocked by her strength. “It’s alright.”
”It’s not alright,” fat tears rolled down Willow’s eyes even as she babbled. “My girls! My girls!”