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Awartho Estel (Abandon Hope)

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Summary: AU take on 'Chosen'. What if the Scoobies didn't defeat the First? What if Buffy and Spike found themselves in Middle Earth? Post-RotK. *Sadly, on hiatus.*

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Lord of the Rings > Buffy-Centered > Theme: Post FellowshipTraceFR182842,208824358,02315 Aug 0619 Jul 07No

I Vinui Um i Dhagnir Orthornen


Author's Note: My Sindarin is abysmal. For those of you who are fluent, please ignore my butchery of the beautiful language.

This takes place during the Season 7 finale of BtVS, "Chosen".

For the LotR universe, it takes place after the War of the Ring and Sauron's second, and final, defeat.

I own neither Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor Lord of the Rings.

Any names you don't recognize are either created by myself, or credited to their appropriate owner.

Thanks to Sulien for correcting me on some of the Sindarin. Any mistakes that remain are mine.


I Vinui Um i Dhagnir Orthornen (The First Evil Conquered the Slayer)

The cavern beneath Sunnydale High gave an ominous rumble as pure golden-white light shot from the amulet around Spike's neck, the Turok Han unlucky enough to be in its path incinerated instantly.

But, it wasn't enough.

Even the newly empowered Potentials-turned-Slayers were making no real headway in the army that the First had amassed.

One by one, they dropped to the ground, blood soaking into the dirt, lifeless, death-glazed eyes staring sightlessly into space.

Whatever the amulet was supposed to do beyond that brief flash of light was lost on Spike as he began screaming, searing pain radiating out from where the amulet rested against his chest, suddenly feeling white-hot, as if it were going to burn him alive from the inside out.

Dimly, he heard Dawn scream, and forced his eyes to focus on her direction in time to see the tip of a sword burst through her chest and watch her go limp as the Turok Han pushed her away, already moving on to its next victim.

A roaring sound filled Spike's ears and he turned to find the source, eyes widening as he realized the sound was coming from where the light of the amulet had hit the wall. A white-gold portal was steadily growing, roaring as it occupied more space and the fabric of the universe fought against the unnatural rip in its fabric.

"Slayer!" the platinum vampire's voice was barely audible above the sounds of battle and the sound from the portal, but the blonde girl turned, scythe stained with black blood and dust, her green eyes seeking his icy gaze from across the cavern.

The vampire pointed desperately at the portal, watched the realization that they were in even MORE trouble light the blonde Slayer's eyes, then turned his attention to the Turok Han that suddenly blocked his view, blood-thirst in its crazed eyes.

In the end, Spike used the Turok's own scimitar against it, eyes already scanning his surroundings for more enemies even as his previous foe turned to dust, head separated from its body.

The Turok Han's army was dwindling, but there were still a good fifty of the crazed beasts to put down before they could focus on closing the rapidly expanding portal.

At this rate, by the time they could get to the bloody thing, they'd all have already been swallowed by it.

"Fangless, down!," a voice shouted.

The platinum vampire had barely registered Faith's warning even as he dove to the ground, icy blue gaze meeting the shocked eyes of the Turok who had been creeping up behind him.

Rolling to his feet, Spike felt a tingle of warning a moment before he realized the portal was at his back, less than six inches from where he stood now.

Before he had a chance to move away, there was a flash of movement in the periphery of his vision, and the next thing he knew, Spike was careening through what seemed like pure oblivion.

He was weightless, sightless, there was no sound, and he couldn't even feel his own body, or where he thought the Turok Han was still holding onto him after the wild tackle that had knocked them into the portal.

A moment later, his unneeded breath was driven from his lungs as he slammed into the ground at what felt like fifty miles per hour, the Turok's weight not helping matters any.

The First's minion didn't let Spike get his bearings before he closed meaty, misshapen hands around Spike's throat, squeezing until the blonde vampire wondered if his head would actually pop off under the pressure.

It hurt like hell, but choking wasn't going to kill him.

Annoyed with being pinned by the Turok's greater weight, Spike finally let his demonic visage show. "I'm already dead, you git."

The moment of surprise was enough to allow Spike to throw the Turok off of him and scissor to his feet, cracking his knuckles, amber eyes focused intently on the demon that had caused him to be thrown into this unfamiliar world.

Giving a grin that promised death, the blonde vampire advanced on his enemy. "Didn't say I was on your side, did I?" he drawled, slamming his fist full-force into the Turok's face, knocking the beast back a good ten feet.

Spike glanced around hurriedly in search of something to use as a weapon. Unfortunately, the only thing he could see for miles in three directions was grass and hills, with the shapes of mountains in the distance. The only place to find wood was too far away at the moment for Spike to give the forest more than a passing glance.

That moment of inattention was enough for the Turok Han to close the distance between them and slam its fist into Spike's gut, driving the wind from him and doubling him over to receive a knee in the face, toppling him backward down the slight incline.

Rolling to a stop and getting to his hands and knees, Spike had risen partly when something whistled past his face and slammed into the Turok Han's face, right between its eyes. An arrow.

The First's minion dropped like a stone as Spike turned warily, amber eyes scanning the treeline for the archer as a low growl rumbled from his chest.

He saw nothing.

A crackling sound behind him turned Spike's attention away from the forest as a body fell from the still-open portal, landing heavily and not moving.

The blood-streaked blonde hair drew an anguished sound from Spike's throat as his human mask returned and he scrambled up the hill, gathering the blonde Slayer's slight form into his arms, his entire body trembling as he checked for a pulse, fear sending a rushing sound through his ears until he felt the faint, thready thumping that signified Buffy was still alive.

The scythe was still clutched in the Slayer's hand, and Spike gently pried it from her grip as another Turok Han fell through the portal, scimitar dripping someone's blood onto the grass.

The scythe felt oddly wrong in Spike's hand, but he ignored it as he moved to stand between the fallen Slayer and the Turok Han, snarling as his demonic visage returned to the fore.

"Traitor!" the Turok growled, charging. Funny, that. Spike had started to think they weren't intelligent enough to be capable of speech.

Spike sidestepped neatly, executing a graceful spin that ended with the Turok falling to the ground in two separate pieces, black blood speckling the platinum vampire's face as he ended in a defensive crouch over the unconscious Slayer.

He watched the portal for a few moments, then turned his attention back to Buffy, kneeling and patting her cheek lightly. "C'mon, luv. Open your eyes for me. I know you're still in there," he murmured quietly, golden-amber eyes fixed on her slack face.

A slight whisper of sound caught his attention and he'd half-turned when a rusted bit of rebar stabbed through him from behind, drawing a choked sound of rage and pain from his throat.

Forcing himself to his feet, Spike slammed the sharpened wooden end of the scythe's handle through the Turok's chest, giving a grim smile as the beast turned to dust.

An almost sub-audible groaning sounded, and Spike looked up in time to see the portal shrink, then disappear altogether with a tinny popping sound.

The danger was gone, except for the mystery archer somewhere in the woods, who Spike figured had already had ample opportunity to kill him if it was going to happen.

The platinum vampire collapsed slowly to his knees, blood trickling from between his lips and reminding him that he still had a piece of rebar in his gut, that had apparently punctured some organ he probably wasn't even using.

Bracing himself on one hand, Spike gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as he used his other hand to pull the bit of iron all the way through his body, unable to stifle a low scream as the twisted end shredded his insides on the way through.

Panting for unneeded air, Spike crawled to Buffy's side with sunbursts flashing in his vision.

He collapsed next to her, fighting not to writhe against the pain of his wound, knowing he would heal, and clinging tenaciously to the consciousness that he could feel fading by the second.

Spike clasped Buffy's hand tightly, hoping he'd rouse when she woke. If she woke. The wound on her stomach had long since bled through her shirt, and was soaking into the dirt and grass she lay on.

Turning to watch her face, Spike fought to keep his eyes open as blackness edged into his vision. "We lost," he choked, voice rasping in his throat, a disbelieving tinge to his voice.

They were the good guys. They never lost.

"Slayer, wake up," he managed, squeezing her hand tighter. "Have to go back. Have to stop it," he mumbled, thoughts racing through his head in bits and pieces as he struggled to remain focused and awake.

Her heart was slowing. Her hand was clammy.

Spike growled low in his throat, but it was a weak sound. "Slayer, don't you die on me. You're stronger than this. Fight, damn you. Fight!"

Tears blurred what was left of his steadily fading vision, and he turned his head away, intending to stare toward the distant mountains.

Instead, he found his nose nearly touching a brown leather boot.

Craning his neck, he stared up at the newcomer, taking in the leggings and tunic, then the bow and quiver. Frowning, he forced his failing vision to focus on the person's face. A very pretty person, for a man. With tapered ears.

Blood loss and the injuries he'd sustained from the amulet and being impaled with rebar making him just a bit delirious, Spike frowned. "Your ears are pointed," he observed, then finally lost the battle with unconsciousness.

The bemused archer, Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, stared down at the strange beings that had dropped onto the hill from the strange glowing portal that had since disappeared.

Elladan and Elrohir were never going to believe this.

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