The Ravages Of Hell
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,919
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Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,919
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 (5/?)
FIC: The Ravages Of Hell (5/?)
“Gwen?” Angel blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you sugah,” the thief purred.
”Who is this woman, Angel?”
Gwen glanced towards Groo and smirked. “This woman’s too expensive for you, judging from your clothes. Shame,” Gwen licked her lips before turning back to him. “Recognise the brat, but who’s the body?”
“The brat!”
Angel motioned his son to silence. “Gwen, please,” he pleaded. “What’s going on here?”
The striking brunette’s face turned serious. “Not here. Place has been compromised.”
Angel nodded. He could already hear the approaching sirens. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“Gunn’s dead?” Gwen couldn’t believe it. The first, the only, man she’d ever been with, dead.
“I’m afraid so,” Angel confirmed. “Fred and Wes too.” The vampire paused. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” Collecting herself, she nodded. “I heard a rumour about a hit being organised. I wasn’t really interested until I heard another rumour about it being on a Champion. I did some digging and found you were in town, so I headed down to warn you.”
“Thanks,” the vampire said. “Any idea who organised it?”
“No, but it’s big. Five million.”
Connor whistled. “Wolfram & Hart?” the vampire’s son suggested.
“Perhaps,” Angel retorted. “But I’d think they’d have their hands full with putting themselves back together, internal power struggles, and the like.”
“Then who?” Connor queried.
“I don’t know.”
* * *
New York
Riley looked up from the reports he’d been given an hour ago, upon his arrival at a hidden bunker just off from an unused subway tunnel. “Is all this right?” he queried. “Am I reading this correctly?”
He was dismayed when Control nodded. “Ever since the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth, demonic activity has increased at an exponential ra-.”
“Excuse me sir,” Graham’s voice echoed through the cavernous chamber. “Wouldn’t closing the Hellmouth have cut down on the amount of demonic activity?”
“No,” Control shook his head. “In point of fact,” Riley hid a grin. It was phrases like that that made him wonder if the pudgy man they knew as Control was a former Watcher. “We think the Hellmouth acted as a sort of a magnet, drawing the significant players there. Now it’s more widespread.”
There was a few seconds of silence. “And the increase in natural disasters?” asked Sam, her face intent.
“The earthquakes, hurricanes, flash flooding, volcanoes, and avalanches are all indicators of Mother Nature attempting to fight back against hell’s advances.”
“Uh, uh.” Ever the sceptic, Graham raised an eyebrow. “And of course you have proof?”
“Yes,” Control nodded before reaching up to massage a chubby cheek. “A widely discredited prophet, Aramis The Eloquent -.”
“Whoa,” Graham interrupted. “Widely discredited, you,” his friend looked over to him, “heard that right?”
“I heard that,” Riley agreed.
He winced slightly at the glimmer in Control’s eyes. If he was any judge a trap had been well and truly set and triggered. “Widely discredited because of his far-fetched apocalypse prophecy. Which,” Control paused, possibly for dramatic effect, “has now come true.”
Riley winced. “Let’s hear it,” he prompted.
Control read from the papers on the rickety desk between them. “At the mouth of hell, surrounded by many Slayers,” Graham groaned theatrically at the mention of Slayers, “shall the ensoulled member of Aurelius die to save the world. And yet be reborn, only to finally die with a fallen Old One defending the world against The Wolf, The Ram, & The Hart.” Control paled as he continued. “And one year from then shall the final battle commence.”
“That vampire but would be William the Bloody, correct?” Control nodded. Riley winced, any prophecy mentioning Spike; that had to be bad news. “So what are we going to do?”
“The Council have been informed,” Riley heard Graham swore under his breath. “You’ll be on a flight to England in two hours.”
While Graham continued to swear, Riley winced. Graham still held a grudge against Buffy for Forrest dying, refusing to accept that without the Scoobies they’d have all died. He on the other hand had long since made peace with his ex. It was his turn to swear as he realised something, Faith was another matter entirely.
* * *
“Oh crap.”
Noise washing out from the emptying clubs forced Faith to wakefulness. Groaning, Faith pushed herself up to her knees, conscious of the blood dripping down her face from a cut on her forehead. “Shit.” She spat out a pair of teeth before using the near-by wall to drag herself to her feet, sobbing hysterically at the shakiness of her limbs. Noting something gleaming on the ground, she reached down and picked it up before stumbling off.
* * *
“Wood! Wood! Wood!”
Wood groaned at the weak but insistent pounding on his hotel room door. His eyes bulged as they fell on the clock beside his bed. “Four-fifty?” he groaned. Faith was an amazing girl with plenty of great qualities, but her lack of discipline and dedication to her duties was appalling. What was worse was all the younger Slayers idolising her. “Faith! It’s the middle of the night!”
“Please, Woodie, I need help!”
He suddenly recognised the pain and fear in his ex’s voice. Leaping up, he hurried to the door and flung it open. He had a split-second to register the Bostonian’s blood-stained face, her dilated eyes, and misshapen mouth before she fell into his arms. His eyes widened at the ornate dagger jutting out of her back, and the signet ring she’d dropped to the carpet. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “The Order.”
* * *
Heathrow Airport
Kennedy glanced with concern at her girl-friend. During their flight the Wicca had begun to recover, regaining her colour and calm. Still, her eyes were still glazed over. “You feeling better honey?”
Her girl-friend nodded as they passed through passport control, their Council IDs ensuring them priority clearance. “I’ll feel a lot better when we’re at the Council Head Quarters.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
Xander groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness, his head pounding. After counting to five he forced his eyes open. It took him a few more seconds before he was able to focus enough to see his Slayers peering down anxiously at him. He opened his mouth several times before finally managing to speak. “Whooy blihit meez?” The Slayers exchanged puzzled looks, he tried again. “Who hit me?”
Both Slayers flinched at his tone. Finally Rona spoke. “It was me.”
“Damn it!” Pushing aside the vertigo, he struggled to his feet, and glared at both girls. “How could you?”
“Willow made us prom -.”
“Damn it!” Xander slammed his fist into the wall of the cargo plane. He’d thought he’d finally escaped Sunnydale, that he was his own man. But no, he was still helpless Xander, who needed to be kept safe. His heart chilled. “What about Amy?” His companions failed to reply. “Answer me!” he exploded.
“S..she’s dead.”
Rona’s answer hit him like a thunderbolt. Another Sunnydaler dead. When would it end?
* * *
Andrew rushed out of the cottage to throw up in the garden for the third time. Not that Giles blamed the lad. Even battle-hardened veterans were having trouble with the carnage, two of the Council psychics, and an empath were all receiving counselling. Another was in a coma.
“What a mess,” Giles sighed. For him the first shock had faded, to be replaced by his usual cool consideration. Far from all the writings had been translated as of yet, but those that had indicated something bad was on the way. No, something very bad.
“Mr. Giles?” he turned to see his pale-faced personal assistant. “It seems my manliness trai-.”
“Quite alright Andrew,” he soothed while all the time wondering what had possessed him to hire the nitwit in the first place. Oh yes, that was it, pity. “Completely understandable.” The boy shuffled from foot to foot. “What is it Andrew?”
“Um, five minutes before you rang, Wood did. Apparently the Order,” his blood chilled at this blast from the past, “attempted to murder the formerly rogue Miss LeHane. She survived but -.”
“And you forgot to mention it until now?”
Andrew paled at his growl. “Well, with all -.”
“I’m sure there’s some job you should be doing.” He dismissed Andrew from his thoughts as the little plonker scurried away. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his mobile and hurried dialled Wood’s number. “Yes, Robin? I’m afraid I only just got the message. How is she?”
* * *
“Bella, are you sure about this?”
Buffy glared at her boyfriend. “I tend to get snippy when people try and kill me.”
“Oh, does she ever.”
She ignored Dawn’s mutter as they all clambered into the Immortal’s spotlessly white sports car. “Who will have organised this hit?” she pressed, having already asked the question a number of times.
The Immortal sighed. “Very well. Don Franco runs all criminal activity in the country. He’ll have supplied the hit-men if not actually ordered it himself.”
“Why haven’t you closed him down?”
The Immortal shrugged at Dawn’s question. “My responsibilities over the supernatural side of the city leave me little time for more mundane evil-doers.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “That changes now.”
* * *
“I was only 24 hours from Tulsa!”
Oz glanced at his singing companion and smiled. “I suppose the extra two hundred I spent on the car radio was a waste.” Turning his attention back to the road, Oz’s brow furrowed as he considered the possible dangers awaiting them. If nothing else, things would be interesting.
“Gwen?” Angel blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you sugah,” the thief purred.
”Who is this woman, Angel?”
Gwen glanced towards Groo and smirked. “This woman’s too expensive for you, judging from your clothes. Shame,” Gwen licked her lips before turning back to him. “Recognise the brat, but who’s the body?”
“The brat!”
Angel motioned his son to silence. “Gwen, please,” he pleaded. “What’s going on here?”
The striking brunette’s face turned serious. “Not here. Place has been compromised.”
Angel nodded. He could already hear the approaching sirens. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“Gunn’s dead?” Gwen couldn’t believe it. The first, the only, man she’d ever been with, dead.
“I’m afraid so,” Angel confirmed. “Fred and Wes too.” The vampire paused. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” Collecting herself, she nodded. “I heard a rumour about a hit being organised. I wasn’t really interested until I heard another rumour about it being on a Champion. I did some digging and found you were in town, so I headed down to warn you.”
“Thanks,” the vampire said. “Any idea who organised it?”
“No, but it’s big. Five million.”
Connor whistled. “Wolfram & Hart?” the vampire’s son suggested.
“Perhaps,” Angel retorted. “But I’d think they’d have their hands full with putting themselves back together, internal power struggles, and the like.”
“Then who?” Connor queried.
“I don’t know.”
* * *
New York
Riley looked up from the reports he’d been given an hour ago, upon his arrival at a hidden bunker just off from an unused subway tunnel. “Is all this right?” he queried. “Am I reading this correctly?”
He was dismayed when Control nodded. “Ever since the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth, demonic activity has increased at an exponential ra-.”
“Excuse me sir,” Graham’s voice echoed through the cavernous chamber. “Wouldn’t closing the Hellmouth have cut down on the amount of demonic activity?”
“No,” Control shook his head. “In point of fact,” Riley hid a grin. It was phrases like that that made him wonder if the pudgy man they knew as Control was a former Watcher. “We think the Hellmouth acted as a sort of a magnet, drawing the significant players there. Now it’s more widespread.”
There was a few seconds of silence. “And the increase in natural disasters?” asked Sam, her face intent.
“The earthquakes, hurricanes, flash flooding, volcanoes, and avalanches are all indicators of Mother Nature attempting to fight back against hell’s advances.”
“Uh, uh.” Ever the sceptic, Graham raised an eyebrow. “And of course you have proof?”
“Yes,” Control nodded before reaching up to massage a chubby cheek. “A widely discredited prophet, Aramis The Eloquent -.”
“Whoa,” Graham interrupted. “Widely discredited, you,” his friend looked over to him, “heard that right?”
“I heard that,” Riley agreed.
He winced slightly at the glimmer in Control’s eyes. If he was any judge a trap had been well and truly set and triggered. “Widely discredited because of his far-fetched apocalypse prophecy. Which,” Control paused, possibly for dramatic effect, “has now come true.”
Riley winced. “Let’s hear it,” he prompted.
Control read from the papers on the rickety desk between them. “At the mouth of hell, surrounded by many Slayers,” Graham groaned theatrically at the mention of Slayers, “shall the ensoulled member of Aurelius die to save the world. And yet be reborn, only to finally die with a fallen Old One defending the world against The Wolf, The Ram, & The Hart.” Control paled as he continued. “And one year from then shall the final battle commence.”
“That vampire but would be William the Bloody, correct?” Control nodded. Riley winced, any prophecy mentioning Spike; that had to be bad news. “So what are we going to do?”
“The Council have been informed,” Riley heard Graham swore under his breath. “You’ll be on a flight to England in two hours.”
While Graham continued to swear, Riley winced. Graham still held a grudge against Buffy for Forrest dying, refusing to accept that without the Scoobies they’d have all died. He on the other hand had long since made peace with his ex. It was his turn to swear as he realised something, Faith was another matter entirely.
* * *
“Oh crap.”
Noise washing out from the emptying clubs forced Faith to wakefulness. Groaning, Faith pushed herself up to her knees, conscious of the blood dripping down her face from a cut on her forehead. “Shit.” She spat out a pair of teeth before using the near-by wall to drag herself to her feet, sobbing hysterically at the shakiness of her limbs. Noting something gleaming on the ground, she reached down and picked it up before stumbling off.
* * *
“Wood! Wood! Wood!”
Wood groaned at the weak but insistent pounding on his hotel room door. His eyes bulged as they fell on the clock beside his bed. “Four-fifty?” he groaned. Faith was an amazing girl with plenty of great qualities, but her lack of discipline and dedication to her duties was appalling. What was worse was all the younger Slayers idolising her. “Faith! It’s the middle of the night!”
“Please, Woodie, I need help!”
He suddenly recognised the pain and fear in his ex’s voice. Leaping up, he hurried to the door and flung it open. He had a split-second to register the Bostonian’s blood-stained face, her dilated eyes, and misshapen mouth before she fell into his arms. His eyes widened at the ornate dagger jutting out of her back, and the signet ring she’d dropped to the carpet. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “The Order.”
* * *
Heathrow Airport
Kennedy glanced with concern at her girl-friend. During their flight the Wicca had begun to recover, regaining her colour and calm. Still, her eyes were still glazed over. “You feeling better honey?”
Her girl-friend nodded as they passed through passport control, their Council IDs ensuring them priority clearance. “I’ll feel a lot better when we’re at the Council Head Quarters.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
Xander groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness, his head pounding. After counting to five he forced his eyes open. It took him a few more seconds before he was able to focus enough to see his Slayers peering down anxiously at him. He opened his mouth several times before finally managing to speak. “Whooy blihit meez?” The Slayers exchanged puzzled looks, he tried again. “Who hit me?”
Both Slayers flinched at his tone. Finally Rona spoke. “It was me.”
“Damn it!” Pushing aside the vertigo, he struggled to his feet, and glared at both girls. “How could you?”
“Willow made us prom -.”
“Damn it!” Xander slammed his fist into the wall of the cargo plane. He’d thought he’d finally escaped Sunnydale, that he was his own man. But no, he was still helpless Xander, who needed to be kept safe. His heart chilled. “What about Amy?” His companions failed to reply. “Answer me!” he exploded.
“S..she’s dead.”
Rona’s answer hit him like a thunderbolt. Another Sunnydaler dead. When would it end?
* * *
Andrew rushed out of the cottage to throw up in the garden for the third time. Not that Giles blamed the lad. Even battle-hardened veterans were having trouble with the carnage, two of the Council psychics, and an empath were all receiving counselling. Another was in a coma.
“What a mess,” Giles sighed. For him the first shock had faded, to be replaced by his usual cool consideration. Far from all the writings had been translated as of yet, but those that had indicated something bad was on the way. No, something very bad.
“Mr. Giles?” he turned to see his pale-faced personal assistant. “It seems my manliness trai-.”
“Quite alright Andrew,” he soothed while all the time wondering what had possessed him to hire the nitwit in the first place. Oh yes, that was it, pity. “Completely understandable.” The boy shuffled from foot to foot. “What is it Andrew?”
“Um, five minutes before you rang, Wood did. Apparently the Order,” his blood chilled at this blast from the past, “attempted to murder the formerly rogue Miss LeHane. She survived but -.”
“And you forgot to mention it until now?”
Andrew paled at his growl. “Well, with all -.”
“I’m sure there’s some job you should be doing.” He dismissed Andrew from his thoughts as the little plonker scurried away. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his mobile and hurried dialled Wood’s number. “Yes, Robin? I’m afraid I only just got the message. How is she?”
* * *
“Bella, are you sure about this?”
Buffy glared at her boyfriend. “I tend to get snippy when people try and kill me.”
“Oh, does she ever.”
She ignored Dawn’s mutter as they all clambered into the Immortal’s spotlessly white sports car. “Who will have organised this hit?” she pressed, having already asked the question a number of times.
The Immortal sighed. “Very well. Don Franco runs all criminal activity in the country. He’ll have supplied the hit-men if not actually ordered it himself.”
“Why haven’t you closed him down?”
The Immortal shrugged at Dawn’s question. “My responsibilities over the supernatural side of the city leave me little time for more mundane evil-doers.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “That changes now.”
* * *
“I was only 24 hours from Tulsa!”
Oz glanced at his singing companion and smiled. “I suppose the extra two hundred I spent on the car radio was a waste.” Turning his attention back to the road, Oz’s brow furrowed as he considered the possible dangers awaiting them. If nothing else, things would be interesting.