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Ficlet(s)

Summary: Various one-shots and plot bunnies that have been begging me to be written.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Buffy-Centered > Ficlet CollectionsyoyoenteFR181414,10231912,09227 Aug 1018 Mar 11No

Supernatural Angel

(Supernatural)

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Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, Star Gate, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Torchwood, or Doctor Who or any of their various characters. I only borrow them for my own amusement.

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“Whistler.” The tone was flat and downright terrifying.

The Balance Demon shifted uneasily, his mind flashing back to her more colorful threats of what she would do with his various body parts, (ribcage hat, bowling ball head, coat rack spine, finger bone baby mobile, demon skin boots). He stiffened his spine and eased back a few steps.

“Slayer.” His tone attempted casual and failed.

Her taking a step towards him had Whistler retreating another two. His hands rose in the universal peace, no harm gesture. “I’m just here to deliver a message, Slayer. You won’t get it if you kill me.”

Buffy stopped her advance and began softly stroking her scythe. “Talk.” The order was soft and menacing.

Whistler eyed her fingers apprehensively before beginning. “You’re tipping the scales-” He cut himself off when a very real, very inhuman growl trickled past her lips.

“Are the minis going to lose their power?” Buffy was having visions of Slayers dying on patrol from suddenly becoming normal again.

“No. You’re tipping the scales. All those little Slayer-tots can go on as they please. But you, you’re a freakin’ super nova of good. You being around is going to give evil another foothold, whether the minis went away or not.” He stumbled to a stop, the completely blank expression on her face causing something to start shrieking danger in the back of his mind.

“Are you telling me to off myself?” Her voice was carefully neutral.

“No!” He practically shouted, then winced at himself. “No,” more softly. “You just can’t be in this dimension anymore. With you gone, the balance should right itself.”

“And where do I go with just a weapon? A hell dimension?” She asked in that same neutral tone. The carefulness of it and her expression telling Whistler she was about two seconds from skinning him alive.

“No, it’s a parallel world, of sorts.” The last part was added in a mutter. “But it has a direct connection with heaven and hell, so a being like yourself won’t tip things. You’ll fit right in. The Powers set up an identity and everything, money, ID-” Whistler cut off his ramble at her raised hand.

“A being?” Finally, that neutral tone was gone, replaced by confusion and indignation. “I’m a Slayer. Human.”

“Er…not exactly.” Whistler hedged, feeling more nervous by the millisecond. “You’re an Angel.” He blurted, completely unmanned by her darkening countenance.

Confusion dominated her expression. “An Ang-?” Buffy was cut off by an excruciating pain in her head. Multiple lifetimes of knowledge reasserted itself into her mind. Connections were made even as she felt herself falling through time and space to land in long grass.

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A howl of incoherent rage sent all animals within two miles dashing away, fearing for their very lives.

Every demon within the state paused and shuddered, not knowing why.

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Whistler winced as the portal closed. His shoulders were hunched, his body tense. He did not enjoy doing that.

Thankfully, though, she was gone. Out of his domain.

And, with any luck, she’d never find a way back.
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