There are always two...Disclaimer: Star Wars™ universe belongs to George Lucas and co. Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon.
The man was old.
That is not to say that he was physically feeble or frail – his body shape could be a cause of envy to many men much younger than he. Yet the wrinkles of old age and wisdom were gathered in numbers on his face.
The man was alone; in fact, he was busy roasting his supper, when they appeared as quietly and silently as spectres – and in number they were six.
“We got you now!” spoke one of them, and apparently their leader.
“What is the meaning of this?” the old man asked mildly, as he turned to face his intruders. “How dare you intrude on my solitude?!”
“He mocks us!” the leader wouldn’t back down. “Is it not enough for you to be-“
“A Sith? Aye, and you are Jedi. That is enough in these days, I suppose. Still, if you would just to pause in your vain arrogance and to learn what it means to be Darth-“
“Yoda warned us not to listen to you!” one of the Jedi cried to his leader, who needed no encouragement, actually. He activated his sword, and the rest of the Jedi followed suit. Seeing this, the Sith turned on his own sword as well.
“If you attack me, you die,” he stated gravely, but the Jedi weren’t deterred – they attacked.
A lightsaber is a very exciting and attention-demanding affair, and so it wasn’t until three of the attackers lay dead, when the rest of combatants finally noticed that they had an audience, albeit an audience of one – a slim, young woman dressed in outlandish clothing. She appeared to be somewhat dazed and confused, but the look in her eyes already wasn’t something that Jedi liked to see.
The leader of the remaining Jedi quickly calculated about what to do next. He indicated to one of his remaining underlings, who detached himself from the battle and approached the girl.
“You haven’t seen anything,” he told the newcomer firmly, using a mind-trick. “Leave this place and go home.”
The young woman frowned with a look of disgust. “Six attacking one, and an old one at that, is something, all right?” she said crossly, “and I don’t like it when people do mumbo-jumbo on my head for me to do something, either.”
“I don’t know how you resisted the Force, for you do not appear to be Sith, but if you won’t de-part now, you will share his fate,” the Jedi snapped, as he re-activated his lightsaber, swinging it dangerously close to the young woman’s nose.
The latter wrinkled that nose of hers in disgust. “I’m angry now,” she told the Jedi, striking at him with her fists. They were quite small fists, but the Jedi flew back several feet, and fell down with a groan. Still, he immediately got back on his feet and this time charged the young woman with full strength and his lightsaber blazing.
Unfortunately, by now the intruder too had a lightsaber – one of those dropped by corpses, and while she didn’t have the extent of the Jedi’s knowledge, she had the strength, but even more so, she had the speed to dodge, to parry, and to strike. The Jedi never knew where she had hit him.
As the last Jedi corpse dropped to the floor, the young woman stared at the deceased with a mix of horror and despair. “They were human,” she whispered, “just – different.”
“Child,” the old Sith stopped observing the twitches of the last dying Jedi and turned his atten-tion to the newcomer, “they were different, just like you and me. They were Jedi, just like I am Sith, and so, apparently, are you.”
“They were Jedi?” the young woman said, her confusion, apparently, worsening, “but the way they were acting, what exactly they were doing – that’s just like the Initiative...” she paused. “I am sorry, were you saying something else?”
“Your lack of attention span can become a handicap, yet it can be also overcome in time and with proper training,” the old Sith said calmly. “My name, child of the Force, is Darth Plagius, and I am willing to teach you what you need to know about using the Force.”
Two pairs of green eyes, one old with ages of wisdom, one young with the fires of young adult-hood, stared at each other and neither blinked.
“My name, sir or Darth, is Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, and you got yourself a deal.”