The Nightstalkers
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,301
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,301
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.
FIC: The Nightstalkers (8/?)
FIC: The Nightstalkers (8/?)
Gunn swung his axe left and right, muscles tightening as he trained, repeating the same set of manoeuvres until they were second nature. And then moving onto the next set. “You always knew how to handle your weapon, Chuck.”
Gunn spun around to face the speaker. He was surprised that despite her flippant remark, the sultry Slayer looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Faith.”
The curvy Bostonian smiled weakly. “We need to talk.”
”Really?” Gunn stared down at the supernatural warrior. “I thought you’d said all you wanted to last night?”
He was again surprised when the Slayer’s face fell. “Yeah, ‘bout that,” Faith bit her bottom lip before continuing. “You were right, I was outta line.”
”Is that an apology I hear?” he mocked.
The Slayer’s ruby lips quirked up into a shit-eating grin. “Nearest I’m ever gonna get to one, ‘least ways,” she retorted. The brunette paused. “I was wrong to break up with you that way.”
“I know you won’t believe it, but the position of my girl-friend is still open,” Gunn replied.
“No, I believe you alright, but,” he was disappointed when the sassy Bostonian shook her head, “you’re a good guy, a real good one, but I was dating you for the wrong reasons. I wanna,” Faith shrugged, “start doing the right thing for the right reason. You get that?” Gunn didn’t but nodded anyway. The Slayer smiled slightly. “You willin’ to settle for friends?”
Gunn smiled. “I think I can manage that.”
The Slayer dazzled him with a dimple-deepening smile. “Wicked.”
* * *
“Anything useful in those books?”
Wesley started at the voice behind him. Gathering himself, he glanced over his shoulder to see the resistance group’s resident witch stood in the doorway of what passed for the mansion’s library\study. “Miss Madison,” he greeted as he hurriedly yet reluctantly put the book down and rose. “They’re an interesting record of Miss. Summers and Mr. Giles’ exploits, but unfortunately don’t provide any useful insight into his mind. The only hints I’ve been able to unearth suggest that ‘Ripper’ is somewhat a regression to Mr. Giles’ ‘rowdy’ youth.” Wesley paused. “One thing that does puzzle me though. In the eighteen months Miss Summers served as Sunnydale’s Slayer she faced a veritable myriad of demons. And yet your own records state you face comparatively few in the past three years.”
The witch’s pretty face twisted into a grimace. “That’s down to Ripper. He likes things to run smoothly, no sightings of unusual demons to alarm the locals, no apocalyptic rituals, and no messy massacres. Any demon that comes to the Hellmouth to cause trouble is quickly dealt with.” Amy paused. “It sounds almost sick, but I almost wish I’d have been a Scooby in the early days. As you know from the diaries, I was involved in two of their adventures, but to face all those demons must have been challenging.”
Wesley smiled fondly at the witch. “I sense something of a kindred spirit.”
Amy reddened. “I’d be interested in hearing about your own adventures with Faith.”
It was Wesley’s turn to redden. “It would be my honour, dear. I feel I should warn you though, my stories are hardly as colourful as Mr. Giles’.”
“Oh I’m sure they’ll be just fine.” Amy smiled. “And the company of someone interested in demonology and magic would be more than welcome.”
Wesley bowed his head slightly. “And I would more than welcome such delightful company.”
* * *
“Tell me where you managed to get the C4?”
Xander smirked at the Slayer’s question. “You heard about the time we faced the Judge?”
The brunette beauty shrugged even as she continued to look through the binoculars fixed on the currently empty road. “He babbles on sometimes, I tend not to listen.”
“Maybe you should.” For the first time the Bostonian looked towards him. “His plan about Lillah worked.”
The Slayer arched a finely mascaraed eyebrow. “’Bout the Judge?”
Xander nodded even as he wondered if he’d scored a point for the struggling Englishman. “During that little incident I broke into an army base with Cordy,” the brunette chuckled throatily, “and stole a rocket launcher. After Ripper attacked the school, me, Percy, and Jonathan went back and stole some supplies.”
“John,” for the first time since he’d met her, there was an uncertain note in the curvy Bostonian’s voice, “he’s on the level, right?”
Xander glanced across at his companion, his wariness about her slightly ebbing with this glimpse behind her carefully constructed armour. “He’s as loyal as they come,” Xander grimaced.
”What’s up, Harris?”
“I wish I could say the same about myself.” His raven-haired companion shot him a suspicious look. Xander shook his head. “No, nothing like that. All the way through junior high, we had a clique – me, Wills, Amy, Jonathan, and Jesse. Amy kinda drifted away from us, but when Buff turned up,” he looked down at the dusty ground, “me and Wills sorta forgot about Jonathan. We were too important for him. We had a mission.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” the Slayer said after a second. “Wes reckons that the important thing is learning from them. He might even be righ-,” the Slayer’s tone turned from contemplative to tension-filled in a micro-second, “fuck, they’re here!”
Xander stared through his one-handed telescope. Sure enough a convoy of dust-grey trucks were heading into the valley he crouched at the opposite end of. Just like Lillah had said, carrying their ‘cattle’ for Ripper’s feeding pens.
Xander smiled grimly. The feeding pens might be impregnable, but the convoy certainly wasn’t. His thumb pressed down on the detonator as the last truck entered the valley.
* * *
Cordelia’s eyes widened as the first truck’s wheels exploded, rubber flying off, and the truck skidding and flipping over to crash down on its side at the valley’s exit. Gathering herself, Cordelia pressed her own detonator.
The force of the explosion lifted the last truck off its back wheels and flipped it over onto its back. The ground shook with enough impact to make the vehicle just in front career off the road and crash into a boulder.
Cordelia smirked as she noted the other three trucks come to stops, stymied by the chaos. Suddenly her ear-piece crackled into life. “Extraction teams are a go!”
* * *
Jonathan’s blood thundered as he joined Larry and Percy in racing down the valley’s slopes to the haphazardly parked lorries, the two football stars’ longer legs and greater athleticism ensuring they were streaking ahead of him.
Reaching the back doors of their target, Jonathan was grateful that he’d had the foresight to suggest they bring bolt-cutters. Reaching up, he snapped through the lorry’s padlocked chain and yanked the door open.
He gasped as the stench from within hit him, the mingled smells of sweat, urine, and faeces almost flooring him. Gathering himself, he peered into the truck, dozens of pairs of frightened eyes gleaming back at him. “Get out!” he yelled, voice squeaking in the tense moment. “Run for it!”
“Jon! Watch out!”
Turning at Larry’s anguished shout, he saw the powerfully-built footballer stake one vampire as another charged past him and towards Jonathan. Deciding he didn’t have time to draw his stake, Jonathan swung his bolt-cutters for all he was worth.
“Runt!” the vampire snarled as he blocked Jonathan’s desperate attack on his upper left arm before stepping in and throwing a right at Jonathan’s head. Jonathan jerked away from the attack, the punch smashing with denting force into the lorry’s door, even as he attempted a snap heel-kick at the monster’s inner knee.
The vampire grunted as he blocked the kick on his thigh. Jonathan gasped as the demon caught him with a dazing backhand slap to the head. “Ummmm,” he groaned as the vampire snatched hold of his throat and slammed him against the lorry.
Back aching, he made for a kick only to gasp as the vampire buried a knee deep into his gut. Vision blurring, he was contemptuously flung to the ground. “Ooooooh,” he muttered as his hair was grabbed and he was dragged back to his knees. His elbow caught the demon in his hip, but failed to stop the vampire from slamming his head against the lorry door with teeth-rattling force.
“That’s my man you’re messin’ with.” Suddenly the hand around his head disappeared and he was covered by descending dust. “Hey,” a pair of gentle hands took hold of him under his armpits and eased him to his feet, “you five by five?” Jonathan smiled dazedly at the Slayer. His heart leapt as his befuddled mind caught up with just what she’d said. ‘Her man?’ “Wicked,” the Slayer beamed at him. “Damn, never thought the smell of burning rubber could get me so wet.” Faith stared at him for a second. “Or maybe it’s the hot as hell company?”
“Ga, ah, uh, uh,” Jonathan babbled.
”Oh yeah baby,” Faith panted with a teasing smirk. “Talk dirty to me, you naughty boy.”
* * *
Ripper stared around the poorly-lit, underground chamber. It was a long room, its entrance guarded by four gun-toting vampires at its surface and another quartet inside the pens with standing orders than nerve be gas released should the outside guard be over-powered. Nerve gas that would kill those raggedly-clothed victims imprisoned in the cells lining the chamber, their forlorn pleas and sobs permanently silenced.
Normally the captives’ useless begging would force a smile from him, no matter the circumstances. Not today though. “All of them escaped?”
The muscular vampire beside him shrugged. “A few stragglers were re-captured, but most of them, yeah.”
Ripper’s scowl deepened at Angelus’ report. Six hundred ‘blood-bags’, an offering from his mid-west subordinate, enough food to keep his Sunnydale army fed for around a month. “How many of the escort survived?”
“Four.”
“Kill them,” Ripper growled. “Then send orders to Winters to have an emergency delivery here by the weekend.”
His companion blanched. ”Six hundred kids off the streets of California in less than three days is tricky.”
“He’ll do it if he knows what’s good for him,” Ripper warned. “I want patrols on all our assets bolstered and everybody on the lookout for likely candidates for turning – soldiers, cops, and martial artists. Before this was amusing, but this is the last outrage!”
Gunn swung his axe left and right, muscles tightening as he trained, repeating the same set of manoeuvres until they were second nature. And then moving onto the next set. “You always knew how to handle your weapon, Chuck.”
Gunn spun around to face the speaker. He was surprised that despite her flippant remark, the sultry Slayer looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Faith.”
The curvy Bostonian smiled weakly. “We need to talk.”
”Really?” Gunn stared down at the supernatural warrior. “I thought you’d said all you wanted to last night?”
He was again surprised when the Slayer’s face fell. “Yeah, ‘bout that,” Faith bit her bottom lip before continuing. “You were right, I was outta line.”
”Is that an apology I hear?” he mocked.
The Slayer’s ruby lips quirked up into a shit-eating grin. “Nearest I’m ever gonna get to one, ‘least ways,” she retorted. The brunette paused. “I was wrong to break up with you that way.”
“I know you won’t believe it, but the position of my girl-friend is still open,” Gunn replied.
“No, I believe you alright, but,” he was disappointed when the sassy Bostonian shook her head, “you’re a good guy, a real good one, but I was dating you for the wrong reasons. I wanna,” Faith shrugged, “start doing the right thing for the right reason. You get that?” Gunn didn’t but nodded anyway. The Slayer smiled slightly. “You willin’ to settle for friends?”
Gunn smiled. “I think I can manage that.”
The Slayer dazzled him with a dimple-deepening smile. “Wicked.”
* * *
“Anything useful in those books?”
Wesley started at the voice behind him. Gathering himself, he glanced over his shoulder to see the resistance group’s resident witch stood in the doorway of what passed for the mansion’s library\study. “Miss Madison,” he greeted as he hurriedly yet reluctantly put the book down and rose. “They’re an interesting record of Miss. Summers and Mr. Giles’ exploits, but unfortunately don’t provide any useful insight into his mind. The only hints I’ve been able to unearth suggest that ‘Ripper’ is somewhat a regression to Mr. Giles’ ‘rowdy’ youth.” Wesley paused. “One thing that does puzzle me though. In the eighteen months Miss Summers served as Sunnydale’s Slayer she faced a veritable myriad of demons. And yet your own records state you face comparatively few in the past three years.”
The witch’s pretty face twisted into a grimace. “That’s down to Ripper. He likes things to run smoothly, no sightings of unusual demons to alarm the locals, no apocalyptic rituals, and no messy massacres. Any demon that comes to the Hellmouth to cause trouble is quickly dealt with.” Amy paused. “It sounds almost sick, but I almost wish I’d have been a Scooby in the early days. As you know from the diaries, I was involved in two of their adventures, but to face all those demons must have been challenging.”
Wesley smiled fondly at the witch. “I sense something of a kindred spirit.”
Amy reddened. “I’d be interested in hearing about your own adventures with Faith.”
It was Wesley’s turn to redden. “It would be my honour, dear. I feel I should warn you though, my stories are hardly as colourful as Mr. Giles’.”
“Oh I’m sure they’ll be just fine.” Amy smiled. “And the company of someone interested in demonology and magic would be more than welcome.”
Wesley bowed his head slightly. “And I would more than welcome such delightful company.”
* * *
“Tell me where you managed to get the C4?”
Xander smirked at the Slayer’s question. “You heard about the time we faced the Judge?”
The brunette beauty shrugged even as she continued to look through the binoculars fixed on the currently empty road. “He babbles on sometimes, I tend not to listen.”
“Maybe you should.” For the first time the Bostonian looked towards him. “His plan about Lillah worked.”
The Slayer arched a finely mascaraed eyebrow. “’Bout the Judge?”
Xander nodded even as he wondered if he’d scored a point for the struggling Englishman. “During that little incident I broke into an army base with Cordy,” the brunette chuckled throatily, “and stole a rocket launcher. After Ripper attacked the school, me, Percy, and Jonathan went back and stole some supplies.”
“John,” for the first time since he’d met her, there was an uncertain note in the curvy Bostonian’s voice, “he’s on the level, right?”
Xander glanced across at his companion, his wariness about her slightly ebbing with this glimpse behind her carefully constructed armour. “He’s as loyal as they come,” Xander grimaced.
”What’s up, Harris?”
“I wish I could say the same about myself.” His raven-haired companion shot him a suspicious look. Xander shook his head. “No, nothing like that. All the way through junior high, we had a clique – me, Wills, Amy, Jonathan, and Jesse. Amy kinda drifted away from us, but when Buff turned up,” he looked down at the dusty ground, “me and Wills sorta forgot about Jonathan. We were too important for him. We had a mission.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” the Slayer said after a second. “Wes reckons that the important thing is learning from them. He might even be righ-,” the Slayer’s tone turned from contemplative to tension-filled in a micro-second, “fuck, they’re here!”
Xander stared through his one-handed telescope. Sure enough a convoy of dust-grey trucks were heading into the valley he crouched at the opposite end of. Just like Lillah had said, carrying their ‘cattle’ for Ripper’s feeding pens.
Xander smiled grimly. The feeding pens might be impregnable, but the convoy certainly wasn’t. His thumb pressed down on the detonator as the last truck entered the valley.
* * *
Cordelia’s eyes widened as the first truck’s wheels exploded, rubber flying off, and the truck skidding and flipping over to crash down on its side at the valley’s exit. Gathering herself, Cordelia pressed her own detonator.
The force of the explosion lifted the last truck off its back wheels and flipped it over onto its back. The ground shook with enough impact to make the vehicle just in front career off the road and crash into a boulder.
Cordelia smirked as she noted the other three trucks come to stops, stymied by the chaos. Suddenly her ear-piece crackled into life. “Extraction teams are a go!”
* * *
Jonathan’s blood thundered as he joined Larry and Percy in racing down the valley’s slopes to the haphazardly parked lorries, the two football stars’ longer legs and greater athleticism ensuring they were streaking ahead of him.
Reaching the back doors of their target, Jonathan was grateful that he’d had the foresight to suggest they bring bolt-cutters. Reaching up, he snapped through the lorry’s padlocked chain and yanked the door open.
He gasped as the stench from within hit him, the mingled smells of sweat, urine, and faeces almost flooring him. Gathering himself, he peered into the truck, dozens of pairs of frightened eyes gleaming back at him. “Get out!” he yelled, voice squeaking in the tense moment. “Run for it!”
“Jon! Watch out!”
Turning at Larry’s anguished shout, he saw the powerfully-built footballer stake one vampire as another charged past him and towards Jonathan. Deciding he didn’t have time to draw his stake, Jonathan swung his bolt-cutters for all he was worth.
“Runt!” the vampire snarled as he blocked Jonathan’s desperate attack on his upper left arm before stepping in and throwing a right at Jonathan’s head. Jonathan jerked away from the attack, the punch smashing with denting force into the lorry’s door, even as he attempted a snap heel-kick at the monster’s inner knee.
The vampire grunted as he blocked the kick on his thigh. Jonathan gasped as the demon caught him with a dazing backhand slap to the head. “Ummmm,” he groaned as the vampire snatched hold of his throat and slammed him against the lorry.
Back aching, he made for a kick only to gasp as the vampire buried a knee deep into his gut. Vision blurring, he was contemptuously flung to the ground. “Ooooooh,” he muttered as his hair was grabbed and he was dragged back to his knees. His elbow caught the demon in his hip, but failed to stop the vampire from slamming his head against the lorry door with teeth-rattling force.
“That’s my man you’re messin’ with.” Suddenly the hand around his head disappeared and he was covered by descending dust. “Hey,” a pair of gentle hands took hold of him under his armpits and eased him to his feet, “you five by five?” Jonathan smiled dazedly at the Slayer. His heart leapt as his befuddled mind caught up with just what she’d said. ‘Her man?’ “Wicked,” the Slayer beamed at him. “Damn, never thought the smell of burning rubber could get me so wet.” Faith stared at him for a second. “Or maybe it’s the hot as hell company?”
“Ga, ah, uh, uh,” Jonathan babbled.
”Oh yeah baby,” Faith panted with a teasing smirk. “Talk dirty to me, you naughty boy.”
* * *
Ripper stared around the poorly-lit, underground chamber. It was a long room, its entrance guarded by four gun-toting vampires at its surface and another quartet inside the pens with standing orders than nerve be gas released should the outside guard be over-powered. Nerve gas that would kill those raggedly-clothed victims imprisoned in the cells lining the chamber, their forlorn pleas and sobs permanently silenced.
Normally the captives’ useless begging would force a smile from him, no matter the circumstances. Not today though. “All of them escaped?”
The muscular vampire beside him shrugged. “A few stragglers were re-captured, but most of them, yeah.”
Ripper’s scowl deepened at Angelus’ report. Six hundred ‘blood-bags’, an offering from his mid-west subordinate, enough food to keep his Sunnydale army fed for around a month. “How many of the escort survived?”
“Four.”
“Kill them,” Ripper growled. “Then send orders to Winters to have an emergency delivery here by the weekend.”
His companion blanched. ”Six hundred kids off the streets of California in less than three days is tricky.”
“He’ll do it if he knows what’s good for him,” Ripper warned. “I want patrols on all our assets bolstered and everybody on the lookout for likely candidates for turning – soldiers, cops, and martial artists. Before this was amusing, but this is the last outrage!”