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Learning The Hard Way

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Summary: New Yorks Missing Persons Unit was blissfully unaware of the supernatural...until one of their own wakes up in a sewer as a vampire. Now, they've got to learn all about what he is and fast...before he ends up as dust. Buffy/WAT X-Over

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Without a TraceheartsarewildFR1843,355043,9482 Oct 066 Oct 06No


Disclaimer: I don't own "Buffy" or "Without A Trace"

AN: This is not related to my "New York Slayers" series. It stands completely on it's own.


The wind rustled the trash in the small, abandoned alley. A manhole cover was slightly askew, giving free access to the sewer. A man, drenched in sewer water, slowly climbed up out of it. He was dressed in a suit, but it wasn’t an expensive one. His dark eyes examined the alley around him, and he wiped the water out of his face. He grimaced at the smell. It would take forever to get the smell out of his clothes and hair. His boss would kill him if he showed up smelling like this, though. He sighed. Better get back to his place and try to get the stench out.


“A week. He’s been gone a week,” he heard one of his teammates say as he walked to his door. “How could we not have realized something was wrong?”

“He did call to put in for a vacation,” he heard his boss say. He sighed and fumbled with the keys in the door. The door was yanked open, and he came face to face with his best friend. Was the whole team there?

“Wha…Where have you been?” his friend yelled, grabbing hold of him and shaking him. He grinned.

“Good to see you too…uh…is everyone here?” he asked. His friend nodded.

“Yeah. Man, we were just about to launch an investigation,” his friend said. He saw his boss and co-workers coming out from wherever they were in his apartment.

“Where have you been?”

“We were worried sick!”

“Next time call if you need a longer break!”

“Uh…right…look , I really need a shower…” he began.

“No kidding, man,” his friend said, getting out of his way. He entered slowly, tired. He paused to put his keys down in the small basket he kept for them and his wallet, and he heard one of his co-workers gasp.

“I can…but…Danny, your reflection,” he heard her say. He turned and looked in the mirror above the small table and felt faint with shock.

He, Danny Taylor, didn’t have a reflection.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered.


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