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madimpossibledreamer50 chapters, wow.
~Dreamer~
(EDIT: ...argh I can't count)
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Angel searches for the Arrow on the train...
Word Count: 1549
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
Angel had been hoping that this would be easy.
Since when is it ever easy.
They’d already done a cursory run over the train, at least, the parts they could reach without getting spotted by anyone. That was mostly relegated to the back and the baggage cars, but knowing the love Wolfram & Hart had for misdirection, placing it out of sight of any guards as if it’s unimportant would be the sort of thing they’d do. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to find it that quickly.
At least a blizzard had sprung up, stopping the train and preventing it from reaching its destination, and it also allowed him to move around easier without fear of immolation. Unluckily, that same blizzard had prevented the second team from coming with. Even more of an issue, since that Japanese guy with a hat would've been there, and Angel has a feeling he'd be handy in a fight.
Angel sighs, turning to one of the witches, a girl he’s worked with before, Iona. She’s not much good in a fight, but she can cast a spell to cause them to go unnoticed and another to alert them if anyone’s noticed. The troublesome part will come when they actually find the Arrow, since attempting to remove it will probably be enough to overcome the glamour. He opens his mouth, but she grins. “Got it,” and begins casting.
There’s a reason he likes working with her.
He glances at the other one. The quicker they get off this train with the prize, the better. “You search the front.” She nods, but then pauses.
Iona’s pocket is ringing. This could jeopardize the whole mission, but on the other hand Willow might be calling with a warning, or other essential information…
“Hello?” she answers, trying to seem normal. Her act stutters a bit when she nearly drops the phone. She holds it away from her ear, turns to the other witch. “Mateja, could you hold this for a moment?” She finishes the spell, hands trembling but voice bravely strong. “Okay, you can turn it on to speaker, now, but we can’t talk for long because with stronger spells we’re pushing detection.”
“Hello,” Willow says, but it sounds like she’s been crying. “Remember that thing about some Slayers going to the mansion? Well, we got worried when they didn’t report back, so Andrew and I used a few spells to recon, and we should’ve done that before, because…”
“Because they’re all dead,” Andrew states bluntly, but given the glassy sheen in his eyes, he’s not unaffected either. “We got some magic photos for you so you might have some idea of what you’re dealing with.”
Angel feels the demon in his heart push itself to the surface and growls, holding the Game Face at bay. He doesn’t need that, yet.
The bodies look bloated, waterlogged. Most look like they drowned. Miles from the sea, in the English countryside. There had been the small stream in the back, but it was hardly enough to look like a ship had capsized, or a submarine had flooded.
Angel had been through both. He remembers the damage it can do, particularly to humans. Remembers Angelus using it. He always did like playing with his food.
There are only a few for whom it looks like it was more violent—two with their eyeballs scooped out (which was considered a delicacy for some demon species, but they weren’t usually this careful about removal—this almost looks…surgical?) and one whose body is hardly recognizable, as if she’d been placed in some kind of press and squeezed until she was just one giant mass of blood and bones and chunks of flesh. The last also looks like she’d almost gotten away from the slaughter, since the body is at least outside of the mansion.
“I—I’m sorry, Iona, but…it looks like that last picture is Sachiko. Your vanilla CSI couldn’t probably identify her without the DNA, but magic is a lot harder to fake.”
Iona quickly wipes away the tears. She still has to think about survival, after all, and anything that might draw more than cursory attention to her is counter to that wish.
“We did discover something, besides the mansion—inside—being flooded and the rest of the grounds not. Apparently, she was trying to type a text message before she died, and we can only assume the message was meant for us, or maybe you, since you’re the ones possibly in harm’s way. She never actually sent it, and the phone was completely crushed, so we’re probably the only ones who could’ve gotten it. We never know—he might have teleportation or something, besides the water stuff. There’s only three words—‘water trap eye’."
It could possibly mean just the obvious—the removed eyeballs, the water trap, but if so, there was no reason to send the message, since the magical surveillance would’ve found that, anyway. She’s trying to warn them of something else.
“Is that all?” He’s having trouble keeping a low profile and not just tearing apart everyone on this train besides the two he came with, but even a Master Vampire would have trouble with that much.
Willow pauses, then sighs. “Pretty much. You’re not getting any backup for a while, though—the Russian Slayers are used to blizzards but it still takes them a while to get through one and that’s the only part of the world where the weather can actively interfere with teleportation spells.” She pauses. “Well, maybe besides Antarctica. I haven’t tried to get anybody there before.”
Angel smiles a little. He’s missed talking to Willow, working with her, and it’s not quite as awkward as working with Buffy, even though he misses her, too.
She sees the smile and points a finger at her, mock-menacing. “You be careful, mister. I don’t want to have to tell Buffy about you, too.”
He nods, slightly more serious. “I wouldn’t want that, either.” And he turns the phone off and glances at the other two.
“The spell is on, so we can look now. The sooner we find it and get off this train, the better.”
“Mateja, it’d be better if you could connect us using magic, so the instant that something goes on, we can contact each other without alerting the whole train,” he suggests, and the witch does as he asks. Then they split up.
It doesn’t take long for him to find something, but it’s hardly what he expects.
It’s…he doesn’t even remember the name, but it’s a vampire. A relatively low one. He’d been visiting the LA branch on the day of the battle. Illyria had survived, and so had he, but they were the only ones. Even running away or hiding wouldn’t have been able to protect a lowly vampire from the slaughter, so how had he survived? And what was he doing here, now, boarding the train?
Some answers were required, and Angel knows exactly where he’s going to get them. It’s time for Game Face, now.
“I have some questions for you,” he states, menacing, hands in place to snap the neck and dust him if necessary. The vampire shivers and nods, submissively going the way he’s directed without argument. Scared amber eyes seem even larger behind the glasses. Soon, they’re in one of the luggage compartments.
Angel’s hardly going to let go. He doesn’t trust this vampire.
And with the way the humble manner disappears, the stranger standing up almost unconcerned for the hands around his throat, Angel feels a menace that he usually only associates with fellow Master Vampires, and he panics.
One simple twist would silence the stranger forever, but he doesn’t get a chance. As if by fluke chance, a pipe breaks off the wall, the high-pressure stream of water knocks his hands harmlessly away, then immediately slows to a trickle. And he remembers the warning—water trap.
“I don’t mind answering your questions,” he answers, conversational and polite, “…but I have three questions to ask you in return. I’d like a trade. Fair’s fair.” He sits back against the crate behind him. “The first question is, who else knows about the Arrow? The second question is, what do you intend to do with it? The third question is, where do you want your tombstone?”
Angel can’t find it in himself to speak, and the man sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, was that gauche? Should I have said ‘where do you want your ashes’? But it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, and you want to be remembered as a hero, not just as the vampire.”
“So you’re here for the Arrow, too?” Angel asks, quickly going through his many fights, trying to find the best way to kill this threat before he’s killed in return. He reaches for the spell to warn the others, but finds it missing.
“If you’re trying to contact your friends, I’m afraid it’s of little use,” the man continues, with that smile on his face, and suddenly Angel sees red.
He charges with a roar.
“Well, really, there’s no call for that. We can still be civilized,” the man states with a grin almost as savage, and water rises from the floor, whirling around the man.
~Dreamer~
(EDIT: ...argh I can't count)
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Angel searches for the Arrow on the train...
Word Count: 1549
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.
Angel had been hoping that this would be easy.
Since when is it ever easy.
They’d already done a cursory run over the train, at least, the parts they could reach without getting spotted by anyone. That was mostly relegated to the back and the baggage cars, but knowing the love Wolfram & Hart had for misdirection, placing it out of sight of any guards as if it’s unimportant would be the sort of thing they’d do. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to find it that quickly.
At least a blizzard had sprung up, stopping the train and preventing it from reaching its destination, and it also allowed him to move around easier without fear of immolation. Unluckily, that same blizzard had prevented the second team from coming with. Even more of an issue, since that Japanese guy with a hat would've been there, and Angel has a feeling he'd be handy in a fight.
Angel sighs, turning to one of the witches, a girl he’s worked with before, Iona. She’s not much good in a fight, but she can cast a spell to cause them to go unnoticed and another to alert them if anyone’s noticed. The troublesome part will come when they actually find the Arrow, since attempting to remove it will probably be enough to overcome the glamour. He opens his mouth, but she grins. “Got it,” and begins casting.
There’s a reason he likes working with her.
He glances at the other one. The quicker they get off this train with the prize, the better. “You search the front.” She nods, but then pauses.
Iona’s pocket is ringing. This could jeopardize the whole mission, but on the other hand Willow might be calling with a warning, or other essential information…
“Hello?” she answers, trying to seem normal. Her act stutters a bit when she nearly drops the phone. She holds it away from her ear, turns to the other witch. “Mateja, could you hold this for a moment?” She finishes the spell, hands trembling but voice bravely strong. “Okay, you can turn it on to speaker, now, but we can’t talk for long because with stronger spells we’re pushing detection.”
“Hello,” Willow says, but it sounds like she’s been crying. “Remember that thing about some Slayers going to the mansion? Well, we got worried when they didn’t report back, so Andrew and I used a few spells to recon, and we should’ve done that before, because…”
“Because they’re all dead,” Andrew states bluntly, but given the glassy sheen in his eyes, he’s not unaffected either. “We got some magic photos for you so you might have some idea of what you’re dealing with.”
Angel feels the demon in his heart push itself to the surface and growls, holding the Game Face at bay. He doesn’t need that, yet.
The bodies look bloated, waterlogged. Most look like they drowned. Miles from the sea, in the English countryside. There had been the small stream in the back, but it was hardly enough to look like a ship had capsized, or a submarine had flooded.
Angel had been through both. He remembers the damage it can do, particularly to humans. Remembers Angelus using it. He always did like playing with his food.
There are only a few for whom it looks like it was more violent—two with their eyeballs scooped out (which was considered a delicacy for some demon species, but they weren’t usually this careful about removal—this almost looks…surgical?) and one whose body is hardly recognizable, as if she’d been placed in some kind of press and squeezed until she was just one giant mass of blood and bones and chunks of flesh. The last also looks like she’d almost gotten away from the slaughter, since the body is at least outside of the mansion.
“I—I’m sorry, Iona, but…it looks like that last picture is Sachiko. Your vanilla CSI couldn’t probably identify her without the DNA, but magic is a lot harder to fake.”
Iona quickly wipes away the tears. She still has to think about survival, after all, and anything that might draw more than cursory attention to her is counter to that wish.
“We did discover something, besides the mansion—inside—being flooded and the rest of the grounds not. Apparently, she was trying to type a text message before she died, and we can only assume the message was meant for us, or maybe you, since you’re the ones possibly in harm’s way. She never actually sent it, and the phone was completely crushed, so we’re probably the only ones who could’ve gotten it. We never know—he might have teleportation or something, besides the water stuff. There’s only three words—‘water trap eye’."
It could possibly mean just the obvious—the removed eyeballs, the water trap, but if so, there was no reason to send the message, since the magical surveillance would’ve found that, anyway. She’s trying to warn them of something else.
“Is that all?” He’s having trouble keeping a low profile and not just tearing apart everyone on this train besides the two he came with, but even a Master Vampire would have trouble with that much.
Willow pauses, then sighs. “Pretty much. You’re not getting any backup for a while, though—the Russian Slayers are used to blizzards but it still takes them a while to get through one and that’s the only part of the world where the weather can actively interfere with teleportation spells.” She pauses. “Well, maybe besides Antarctica. I haven’t tried to get anybody there before.”
Angel smiles a little. He’s missed talking to Willow, working with her, and it’s not quite as awkward as working with Buffy, even though he misses her, too.
She sees the smile and points a finger at her, mock-menacing. “You be careful, mister. I don’t want to have to tell Buffy about you, too.”
He nods, slightly more serious. “I wouldn’t want that, either.” And he turns the phone off and glances at the other two.
“The spell is on, so we can look now. The sooner we find it and get off this train, the better.”
“Mateja, it’d be better if you could connect us using magic, so the instant that something goes on, we can contact each other without alerting the whole train,” he suggests, and the witch does as he asks. Then they split up.
It doesn’t take long for him to find something, but it’s hardly what he expects.
It’s…he doesn’t even remember the name, but it’s a vampire. A relatively low one. He’d been visiting the LA branch on the day of the battle. Illyria had survived, and so had he, but they were the only ones. Even running away or hiding wouldn’t have been able to protect a lowly vampire from the slaughter, so how had he survived? And what was he doing here, now, boarding the train?
Some answers were required, and Angel knows exactly where he’s going to get them. It’s time for Game Face, now.
“I have some questions for you,” he states, menacing, hands in place to snap the neck and dust him if necessary. The vampire shivers and nods, submissively going the way he’s directed without argument. Scared amber eyes seem even larger behind the glasses. Soon, they’re in one of the luggage compartments.
Angel’s hardly going to let go. He doesn’t trust this vampire.
And with the way the humble manner disappears, the stranger standing up almost unconcerned for the hands around his throat, Angel feels a menace that he usually only associates with fellow Master Vampires, and he panics.
One simple twist would silence the stranger forever, but he doesn’t get a chance. As if by fluke chance, a pipe breaks off the wall, the high-pressure stream of water knocks his hands harmlessly away, then immediately slows to a trickle. And he remembers the warning—water trap.
“I don’t mind answering your questions,” he answers, conversational and polite, “…but I have three questions to ask you in return. I’d like a trade. Fair’s fair.” He sits back against the crate behind him. “The first question is, who else knows about the Arrow? The second question is, what do you intend to do with it? The third question is, where do you want your tombstone?”
Angel can’t find it in himself to speak, and the man sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, was that gauche? Should I have said ‘where do you want your ashes’? But it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, and you want to be remembered as a hero, not just as the vampire.”
“So you’re here for the Arrow, too?” Angel asks, quickly going through his many fights, trying to find the best way to kill this threat before he’s killed in return. He reaches for the spell to warn the others, but finds it missing.
“If you’re trying to contact your friends, I’m afraid it’s of little use,” the man continues, with that smile on his face, and suddenly Angel sees red.
He charges with a roar.
“Well, really, there’s no call for that. We can still be civilized,” the man states with a grin almost as savage, and water rises from the floor, whirling around the man.