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Carpe Noctem

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Carpe Noctem". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: Crossover between Buffyverse and Alias. A mysterious orgnization called the Watchers is recruiting young women. Sloane sends the team to find out why. post series buffy, 4th season Alias

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > AliasVampireConfuserFR1848,8480197,0247 Jan 078 Jan 07Yes

Chapter One

Carpe Noctem
Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership of either the Buffy franchise, or Alias. Joss Whedon and J.J. Abrams respectively have all claims to them.
Summary: Crossover between Buffy and Alias. A mysterious organization called the Watchers is recruiting young women. Sloane sends the team to find out why.
Post series Buffy, 4th season Alias.

Chapter 1

Sydney sprawled on the dance floor, sliding a bit before coming to a stop. She reached up with one hand and felt her stinging mouth. Her hand came away wet. The blow had split her lip. Above her, the demonic visage of her attacker leered down at her.

“Ready to scream yet?”

“Oh there’s gonna be screaming.” She growled. A quick kick of her legs flipped her back to her feet, and a spin brought her fist into his hideous face. The thing staggered back, probably more from surprise than anything, she guessed. Fortunately there was more where that came from.

“Syd!” Vaughn called, fighting his way through the panicking club patrons. He could just make her out between the heads of several Goths. He was going against the current of terrified civilians heading for the exits. But suddenly one face in the crowd stopped moving. And it did not look human.

“Worry about yourself pretty-boy.” She said, grabbing his neck and opening her mouth.

Nadia rained blows down on her opponent, who thus far had yet to put up much of a fight.

“Bloody hell woman!” the bleached blonde British sounding…thing bellowed. “I’m a by stander here!”

Nadia merely quirked a skeptical eyebrow before sending a devastating kick at the man before her, which never connected. He moved faster than she’d thought possible and suddenly had her leg in an iron grip.

“I said,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “To knock it off!” With a shove, he heaved her over the bar, sending her crashing into the shelves.

Sydney saw stars from the head-butt and wavered. Her assailant grinned again and closed in, seizing her arms and pinning her wrists behind her back. “Dinner time. Thanks for helping me work up an appetite.” She gasped as she felt his teeth sink into her throat.



Sydney Bristow pelted down the street, barely keeping her quarry in sight. “Six months of reconnaissance, thousands of tax-payer dollars, all to find Virgil Hastings and pin down a location for the son of a bitch, and this mystery woman comes out of no where and cuts off his head with a damn battle-axe!” she thought, following the fleeing murderer down an alley.

Not that she was shedding any tears over the man’s death, he’d been selling weapons to various terrorist organizations for years, not to mention a strange fascination with eight year old boys. But tonight they could have caught him in the act, gotten him and his contact, and then milked the bastards for all the intel they were worth. All down the drain because of one vigilante.


Sydney’s quick reflexes allowed her to get her arms up in time to block the trash-can that the young woman had swung at her, but the force of the impact knocked her off her feet, sending her splashing down in a puddle of what she hoped was only water. Damn, the bitch was strong.

“Ain’t goin’ back.” Was all the brunette said as she ran off again.

“God damnit!” Faith cursed, hearing the woman begin her pursuit again. “Six months tracking that Keilar Demon, thousands of hours of research, and I wind up in a bad spy movie!”

How the hell was she to know that the CIA had been after that guy? Hell, she’d done them a favor, he would have wiped out any normal people that tried to take him alive.

On the other hand, once she managed to ditch her pursuer, she’d have one hell of a story to tell Buffy. How many Slayers could say they’d managed to kill a major bad ass Demon in Human Disguise, and have the soon to be meal say, instead of thank you, “Freeze, CIA”?

IF she managed to lose her pursuer, she amended. This lady was one persistent bugger.

“Bugger? Damn, been talking to Rupert too many times.” She dodged into another alley and leaped onto a dumpster, scaling a short wall into someone’s backyard. No good, she heard the sounds of pursuit anyway. And was that a siren?

A searchlight slammed onto the ground to her left, looking for her. “Son of a Bitch!” she felt like screaming. This was not her year. First her boyfriend, her first ever steady boyfriend, disappears after a recruiting mission, along with his entire flight. Now this.

“We’ve got her Sydney.” Dixon said over the comm., aiming the searchlight from the chopper. “Heading west towards the warehouse district.” He watched the girl run full out, longer than anyone he’d ever seen maintain that kind of pace.

“I think we’ve finally brought her to ground.” He smiled. “She just entered a warehouse, number-“

The explosion was blinding, and could have been deafening had they been on street level. The pilot barely managed to keep the chopper from veering from the shockwave.

“Oh my God…”

Sydney looked in shock at the enormous blaze before her. Her back felt raw from where the blast had knocked her flat on the street. Her wig lay right where she’d been standing when the shockwave had hit her.

“Dixon,” she asked quietly. “Was that the warehouse she just went into?”

“Yes.” Came the answer.


Willow cried out in pain as the amulet she wore around her neck burned.

“Willow what’s wrong?” Kennedy asked, her face pinched with worry.

“It-it’s Faith.” Willow whispered. “She’s…” she looked at the now cool amulet. “She’s gone.”


Sloan looked at the assembled team solemnly before continuing his briefing. Sydney was taking the failure in Brussels hard, though he, Dixon, and Vaughn had assured her there was no reason to blame herself.

A picture of the girl who had killed Virgil Hastings was showing on the view screen. A mug shot from an arrest 4 years ago.

“We’ve identified the explosive used in the bombing in Brussels as a modified version of the plasma charge the Covenant attempted to procure last year.” He began.

“How could the Covenant have gotten hold of one?” Vaughn immediately wanted to know. “We have the only ones and the inventor is in custody.”

“We don’t know that it was the Covenant.” Sloane told him. “It’s possible that Ms. Lehay had one on her, and knowing that escape was impossible, chose to end her life rather than face capture, and a return to prison.”

“Do we know for a fact that she’s dead?” Jack asked.

“We’ve identified the corpse through dental records.” He answered.

“I see.”

“This all leaves us with a new problem.” The briefing continued. “Virgil Hastings was our last link to the Harbingers of Skulls. Much as it pains me, we’re going to have to shelve that case until further intel becomes available. However, Faith’s interference in the op. has called to our attention a new possible threat.”

As he spoke, photos of each person appeared on the screen behind him. “Buffy Anne Summers, her sister Dawn Summers, Rupert Giles, Alexander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, Robin Wood, and Andrew Wells. Along with the Dear Departed Faith, they form the inner circle of a group calling themselves the Watchers.”

“The Watchers?” Jack said, surprised. “I thought they were wiped out in 2002?”

The others nodded. Vaughn knew that The Watchers had been low on the CIA’s threat list, but were still kept under close surveillance. He didn’t know much about them however, as he’d been assigned to the Alliance case.

Through their association with SD6 and it’s own Watch List, Dixon and Sydney both knew that the Watchers were a group of Occult Scholars based in London.

“Just so everyone is on the same page,” Jack said. “The Watchers were a secret society of Occult Scholars based in London. They had probably the largest library of related texts in the world.”

“Let me guess,” Sydney said. “You know this because you got a Rambaldi manuscript from them?”

“Almost.” Sloane said. “I had agents infiltrate their organization in case they did have anything Rambaldi related. They did not. They did however have a secret agenda. Primarily, as I said, they were scholars. But they also, had been recruiting young women.”

“Recruiting them for what?”

“Assassins.” Sloane said simply. “The intel I managed to gather suggested that The Watchers believed that the world was populated by Demons. The purpose of these girls was to combat these forces.”

Sydney was appalled. “That’s insane.” She whispered. “How old were these girls?”

“Sometimes they were infants when they were taken.” Sloane said quietly. He knew Sydney must be thinking of Project Christmas, a government program to train children as sleeper agents. One such subject had killed Syd’s best friend three years ago. Even Sydney had been subjected to it once upon a time.

“The Watchers only ever sent one girl at a time. When one fell, they were ready with another.” He cycled through various photographs, each one more recent. It ended with the photos of Buffy and a black girl side by side. Then the black girl was replaced with Faith. “Several years ago that changed, when they briefly had two agents in the field at once.” He ran down a quick bio on Buffy Summers, born and raised in California, recruited by the Watchers in high school…arson, suspected homicide, suspected accessory to homicide, suspected domestic terrorism…

“What did she have against high schools?” Marshall asked. “I mean, my school was no picnic, I got picked on every day, and about once a week I’d get beat up, maybe a swirly or two…” he realized everyone was staring at him.

“Marshall.” Jack said.

“I just mean, I never tried to burn down or blow up my school.”

“Ms. Summers, during her stay in Sunnydale California recruited Mr. Harris and Ms. Rosenberg to the cause.” His story continued, how Buffy’s handler, Rupert Giles had gotten a job as the school librarian, Faith’s emergence and subsequent murder charge, for which she’d turned herself in a year later, only to escape from prison and re-join the Watchers’ cause.

“Lastly, Mr. Wells, suspected homicide, armed robbery…you get the picture.

“In 2002, the Watchers were supposedly wiped out. Either by a splinter group, or by another organization entirely we don’t know. Their headquarters was bombed, and the girls they’d recruited were killed. Mr. Giles and these others however survived. And they seem to have stepped up their agenda significantly. Instead of one girl at a time, they seem to be raising an army. Over 40 girls so far, from nearly every corner of the globe.

“Mr. Wells and Mr. Giles appear to have set up a training facility in England. Ms. Rosenberg has recruited several girls in South America, Ms. Summers and her sister have been spotted in Rome. Mr. Harris, as I’m sure you’ve heard was recently involved in a hostage situation in Africa.

“But we don’t have to go overseas just yet. We think we have the name of their next target. Ms. Juliana Miller of Washington DC, 16 years old.” A surveillance photo of a young woman in full goth regalia appeared behind Sloane. “She frequents a club called Nation, every Thursday night. Nadia, Vaughn, Sydney, you’re on point. Locate Ms. Miller and keep an eye on her. Tag her with a tracer if possible. For now this is merely a threat assessment matter.

“The Watchers have more potential to be a threat to National Security than they have in the past. If any of the inner circle show up, apprehend them. Otherwise, just keep an eye out, ID any possible contacts. Above all keep Ms. Miller safe. Whatever this army their recruiting is for, let’s try to keep anymore Alison Dorens from being created.”

To Be Continued...
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