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Summary: Aliens predicting the end of the world? Sounds like a job for Buffy.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Knowing(Current Donor)stemplarFR1311,097041,1502 Nov 092 Nov 09Yes
Crossover between Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Knowing (2009).

I own neither of these.


Looking down at the piece of paper in her hands, Buffy found it hard to believe that it was fifty years old. The paper, it seemed, predicted a series of major disasters. Or so Giles had told her. As far as she could see it was a load of numbers scrawled on two sides in pencil with no particular meaning.

They were on their way to meet the guy Giles said had brought it in to him.


“Hi, John Koestler,” the man said. He was in his forties, and had floppy hair and a kind of manic energy about him.

John stuck his hand out; Giles shook it, Buffy was a step behind so did not. It seemed as if she had been assumed as the secretary once again.

“I understand you have a prophetic text?” Giles started. Direct.

Buffy zoned out his explanation about how the numbers, if properly delimited, showed when a certain number of people were going to die. Crazy college professors with too much time on their hands. He didn’t even know what all the numbers meant. Admittedly, cranks didn’t usually come in the form of astrophysics experts from MIT, but it took all sorts.


Two days later, Buffy found herself eating her words, and watching Giles take the call from the not-so-crazy professor. Seemingly, he had been right about his prophetic text, and one of the disasters had happened where he was. The numbers he hadn’t identified, it seemed, represented the where.


John had a house that Buffy found herself wanting to call ‘well appointed’. It had a kind of old-world feel to it, without any actual authenticity. Still, not where she expected an astrophysics expert to live.

The boy, who was introduced as Caleb, made things difficult. In so far as up to now Buffy was sure John wasn’t entirely sane. The fact John was a father meant he had responsibilities. She tried to stop from sneering at John as she could smell the tell-tale odour of whiskey.

Another ‘disaster’ was predicted for New York. Damn.


Never one to pass up a good prophecy, Buffy found herself walking around the city block where the disaster was scheduled to take place. Giles had assured her that there was no magical interference. The coven had been involved, so that to be alright.

The city was busy. But there wasn’t any obvious sign of pending doom.

There was only one other place something would happen, and if she didn’t believe in them, Buffy could have sworn it was an unlucky coincidence that a subway entrance happened to be where her disaster was scheduled.


In recent years, Buffy had found she felt herself become increasingly like a villain in a bad spy film.

She was dirty; her clothes charred and spattered with blood; people around her lay dead or dying. Somehow, though, the eighty tons of flying subway carriage had not killed her.

She survived for another day.


The discovery that, yes, the predictions John had arrived at, were accurate seemed to have thrown Giles and the elder researchers into flux. For Buffy, prophecy was grist to the mill.

Predictions though were the least of Buffy’s troubles: At first she had thought she was going mad. But, the whispers wrapped themselves around her mind and seduced their meaning to her. She wasn’t getting the whole message, but she was pretty sure that they were predicting that ‘everyone else’ would die.

The end of the world.

She knew who left the message; the question was though, how did they know?


Six years ago Buffy was sure she would have told Giles about the impending disaster. They would have researched the problem, found any number of magically related solutions, and gone in and saved the day.

The trouble was, this wasn’t that kind of problem.

As soon as the announcement was made on the news, Buffy knew there was nothing that any of them could do now to save the situation. Seemingly something no one had taken seriously, a gigantic solar flare, was going to eviscerate the surface of the planet.

They talked about finding underground shelter. It wasn’t going to be enough. She knew what was going to happen. She had seen it.


Being angry didn’t help anyone, but it sure as hell made her feel better. And, she thought she had the right to be mad at someone. She had spent the best years of her life defending these people against the supernatural. Now everything was going to die thanks to something as mundane as a sun spot!

At least she had someone to be mad at. Buffy had figured out who was responsible for the whispering predictions of doom that infringed on her mind. They looked human; but they weren’t, of that she was sure.

Giles would be proud of her. She had honed her senses and followed them back to some desolate part of the country.


They were there, and they knew she was too.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Buffy taunted.

To her disappointment they came out and didn’t appear to be particularly frightened or intimidated by her.

However they spoke messed with her head. They were telling her things. Explaining, she supposed. Perhaps they did it to ease their consciousnesses of knowing about what was to come and doing nothing about – then again, maybe they were just showing her the courtesy of an explanation. Whatever the reason, her head felt like it was ready to split in two.

When it came down to it, they wanted something: her.


She recognised the boy crying as Caleb – he had a girl with him who was pretty in a kind of youthful way. He was talking about something with his dad. Both of them looked upset.

“Hey,” Buffy said, walking away from the others.

“Buffy?” John said back, confusion written across his face.

Buffy watched as Caleb wandered past her.

“Aren’t you going?”

“I can’t. I can’t hear them,” John explained.

“Oh,” Buffy said. She couldn’t argue with that really. There were only so many places. They didn’t have the technology to stop the sun from flaring from time to time. It made sense to take those who could understand them.

“And you?” John asked back.

“They want me,” Buffy explained.

And, they did. They had explained to her how the children of man would need a protector now more than ever. She had been chosen. Not as though that was news.

“Goodbye,” Buffy said, glancing around.

The End

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