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Three Little Words

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Summary: How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it’s always important to say them correctly.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > Evil DeadKoohiiCafeFR15412,533091,86519 Mar 1131 Mar 11No

Ren Faire Reject

Title: Three Little Words
Author: Koohii Cafe
Rating: FR15
Fandom: BtVS/Evil Dead Trilogy
Disclaimer: Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Evil Dead are mine. ^^;
Summary: How important could three little words possibly be? Buffy Summers and Ash Williams are about to find out exactly how much three tiny words can do, and why it’s always important to say them correctly.
Author's notes: Comics? What comics? >.> This is set post season 7 for Buffy, and just as Ash tries to go home at the end of AOD.



Ren Faire Reject



“Oof!”

Buffy Summers went down with a rather undignified squawk as something large, heavy, and vaguely man-shaped hit her like a ton of bricks, stake flying from her hand as her back hit the ground beneath her, her head following with a sharp crack. The vampire she’d been about to dust froze, staring in shock for a second, before taking off. Smart vampire. A pained groan escaped the blonde. Damn, her head had hit the ground hard. At least there hadn’t been a headstone behind her? Grimacing at the thought, she tried to raise her hand to rub at her head, and it took barely a millisecond to realize that she couldn’t move; her arm, as well as the rest of her, was trapped under whatever it was that had hit her.

“Ooooow.”

And it was moving. And groaning. Or rather, he was groaning, because he was warm and heavy on top of her, and as her gaze ran down the both of them, her night vision crisp and clear, it was very obvious it was a he. A very handsome he. Dressed in something that looked like he’d just walked out of a renaissance faire.

Did they have renaissance faires in England?

“Did anyone get the number of that truck?” He was muttering under his breath, apparently unaware that he was laying on top of a person, his left hand rubbing the back of his head like she wanted to hers. She could see him frown as he shifted, his eyes squinting in the deep darkness of the cemetery, looking up, around, any way but down, and she’d had enough. Time to get his attention and get him off of her. He felt human, at least, so the slayer settled on a safe route, putting a good deal of strength into lifting her knee beneath him, dislodging it from where it had been trapped beneath his legs.

“No, but- not really with the caring. More with the wanting to get you off me.”

“Holy shit!” Quickly, hurriedly, and almost suspiciously fast, the man scrambled backwards and back onto solid ground. Buffy didn’t think about it too much, instead pushing herself up with a wince, supporting herself on one elbow as she rubbed her head, her legs still sprawled out in front of her. The man crouched a foot or so away, staring at her warily, as if he was waiting for her to sprout a second head, and she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t the one who had come out of nowhere and let the stupid vampire get away.

“Take a picture,” she frowned, and content that her head would be fine, she rose to her feet. “It’ll last longer.” He mirrored her actions, standing as well, and her gaze narrowed as she got a better look. He was wearing some kind of weird gauntlet on his right hand- it reminded her of that glove Faith’s crazy Watcher had been after, kind of, but hadn’t they destroyed that?- and was that a chainsaw strapped to his back? Her second look at his clothing confirmed her earlier opinion. The gauntlet might have been part of the costume, but the chainsaw?

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, and her gaze jerked back up to his face. “Seems to me like you’re taking a pretty good stare yourself.”

Definitely handsome, despite the wicked looking scars that decorated his face. Or maybe, in addition to. Somehow, she had the feeling that without them, he’d look a little too baby-faced, and there was something about him that screamed of masculine pride and virility.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re actually pulling that look off, or if you just look like a renaissance reject. Gotta say though, the chainsaw? Kinda ruins the effect. I don’t think they had those way back when.”

“You’d be surprised.” The words were muttered, and without the aid of her Slayer hearing, she wouldn’t have been able to make them out. As it was, they just confused her, and she let them slide when he spoke up, louder this time. “What can I say, sweetheart? I make this look good.”

“Oh please,” Buffy rolled her eyes. Unconsciously, they had begun to circle each other, their movements somewhat predatory, ready to strike if the need to attack or defend came. She itched to have the stake she’d lost back in her hand, or to pull the Scythe from its holster on her back, but for the moment, she refrained. “Ego much?”

“‘Sides,” he continued, shrugging off her side comment with an easy smirk. “You’re the one with a huge honkin’ ax. Want to tell me why you’re carting that thing around a graveyard?”

“Want to tell me why you’ve got a chainsaw, and why you knocked me down and let that- that mugger get away?” she countered just as easily, refusing to let him get the better footing. It seemed to work, as he looked torn suddenly, between glancing in the direction the vampire had taken off, and defending himself.

“Now you look here,” he sputtered, apparently deciding on the latter. “I didn’t do anything to you, I just- I just fell, and happened to stumble into you.”

“From where, the sky?” Her voice was dry and laced with disbelief; she still had no idea where he’d come from, only that he’d hit her with a pretty good amount of force. She didn’t quite expect the sarcastic remark to make him sputter even more, and one eyebrow arched. What the hell was going on with this guy? “Okay, look. Who are you? Where did you come from, and why are you dressed like that in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of the night? And don’t give me some bullcrap story about renaissance faires, because I’m pretty sure they don’t have those here, and even if they did, it wouldn’t be in the cemetery this late. Because if you don’t make with the ‘splainy, I’m going to pull out my trusty little cell phone and call the cops. Or- whatever they call them this side of the Atlantic.”

“Whoa, whoa,” and he was putting both hands up, palms toward her, in the universal sign of surrender. Quickly, it seemed, he regained his composure, a more serious expression crossing his face as he watched her closely. “Chill out, lady. Name’s Ash, and-”

“Buffy!” Turning at the sound of her name, she was just fast enough to catch the flash of light that accompanied the teleportation spell Willow had come to be fond of recently. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the guy- Ash- jump, but all her attention was for Willow at that moment; there was a serious business tone to her friend’s voice, matching the look on the witch’s face as she hurried over. “Is everything alright? I just felt a huge surge of like, major mojo, right where I knew you were patrolling, and- it was bad stuff, Buffy. Like, evil, end of the world, almost Hellmouth-y bad. I was worried, since you were out here all alone, so I came as fast as I could. Did anything happen?”

“Whoa, Wills, slow down.” And, crazy getup and chainsaw or not, she forgot about Ash as she focused on her friend. “Hellmouth-y bad? Here? I haven’t seen anything like that, and I think I know what a Hellmouth opening looks like. Been there, cratered that. You sure it was here, and not somewhere else?”

“Well, not so much an actual Hellmouth as just- that was the level of evil it felt like. But it was definitely here. Giles is on the phone with the coven now, trying to see if they can find anything out.”

“Alright. Head back to Slayer Central and rally the troops. If there was something that bad working magic, we need to be ready. It’s not supposed to be apocalypse season yet, but some bad guys just don’t respect the calendar.” With that, she made little shooing motions at the redhead. They’d spoken in hushed enough terms the man shouldn’t have been able to hear, but the sooner Willow vamoosed, the sooner she could get back to sorting out the stranger. Unfortunately, however, her friend seemed to have other ideas.

“Uh uh. No way, missy, am I leaving you alone with a big bad possibly on the horizon. Giles and the others can handle stuff at Headquarters. I’ll be your witchy back up in the field, and-” It was at that moment that Willow finally turned, and there was a sudden squeak as she caught sight of Ash. “I- is that- a chainsaw?”

“Yeah. I was just-”

“Just about to explain where your little friend came from?” Buffy turned with a glare to look at him. Apparently he’d taken she and Willow’s conversation as an invitation to come closer, and he now stood within hearing distance. There was a strange kind of set to his jaw that looked familiar, and it took the blonde a moment to realize why; it was the same look she’d seen in the mirror, when something bad had happened and she knew she had to step up to her responsibility, no matter how much she wanted to run. Her green eyes narrowed a little.

“Aren’t you the nosy one? That’s none of your business, so you can just back off. Willow was getting ready to leave.” Her tone was steely, just daring him to say or do anything else.

“Buffy!” And then, glancing back at Willow, she was faced with her doom. Apparently the witch hadn’t stayed startled by the chainsaw for long. “Resolve face, Buff. I’m definitely not leaving you alone with a chainsaw wielding maniac.”

“Hey!” There was a wounded look on the man’s face, which both women promptly ignored. He wasn’t finished though, the almost pout fading back into that serious expression. “Look, I don’t know you two from Adam, and I should probably be running in the opposite direction as fast as my feet can carry me.” He paused, muttering under his breath quietly enough that even Buffy could barely make out the “I’m going to regret this,” then sighed and pushed on. “You said bad magic. What kind of bad magic?”

“And you care why?” She wasn’t sure what it was, but Buffy felt snappier than usual. Something was making her edgy and twitchy, and that was never a good sign. Without waiting for a response, she slid her eyes closed. There was something… her ‘spidey’ sense was tingling.

“Get down!”

Buffy reacted instinctively, grabbing Willow and yanking both of them down flat onto the ground. Two horrifically loud shots flew through the space their heads had just occupied and if it hadn’t been for the definitively inhuman howl that sounded behind them, she would have glared at Ash. As it was, she moved, keeping one hand on her friend as she dragged them away from the source of that noise. Her other hand reached for the Scythe. Only when they’d gotten several feet away did she let go of Willow, whipping the familiar blade into her hands with the sing of metal and turning to look.

It was one of the more grotesque things Buffy had ever seen, and that was saying a lot, given how long she’d been slaying. It might have started out as human, but now its pale skin was sloughing from its body, rotting and decaying before her very eyes, looking like the most classic of Hollywood style zombies, with bloated features and flat white eyes. The stench though, and the gurgling as some kind of vile white fluid sprayed from the shotgun wound in its chest was unmistakably real. Beneath the gurgling there was another sound, a rasp almost like the thing was trying to speak, and it was slowly getting louder.

“Deadites.” The sharp word came from Ash, and both women tore their eyes away from the monster to stare at him for a moment. The look on his face was grim, his eyes harsh and angry as he popped open a sawed off shotgun Buffy hadn’t even noticed before, stuffing home two new rounds.

“Dea-wha?” she echoed, turning to stare at the thing once more. Behind her, she could hear Willow beginning to chant softly- hopefully some kind of spell to either protect them or kill the creature. Its ‘voice’ was getting louder, although it was impossible still to make out the words, and it took a halted step toward them.

“Kandarian demons that possess people.” An audible click followed the statement as he snapped the shotgun shut, and this time Buffy did glare at him.

“You mean there’s a person in there? They’re possessed and you just shot them?” Her voice was incredulous as she stared in disbelief at first the creature, then the man.

“Yup. And I’m going to shoot them again, or they’re gunna kill us. Get outta the way.”

“Oh hell no,” Buffy growled in response, making a swipe for the gun. Amazingly, despite her speed, he jumped back and out of reach, keeping the stupid thing firmly in his grasp as he growled back. God, she hated guns. Angry, she trusted Willow to deal with the demon as she rounded completely on the man. “If there’s a person in there, I’m not going to let you kill them!”

“Baby, any person in there is long gone by now. Once they’re taken, they’re history; dead, departed, never coming back. Now either take that nice shiny ax of yours and dismember the damn thing, or get the hell out of my way.”

Promisssssssed… Chosssssen… One…

Buffy,’ Willow’s voice echoed through her mind.

Not now, Wills,’ she sent back quickly, her eyes trained on Ash. ‘Do whatever you have to, to keep that thing at bay, but don’t kill it.

“So says you,” Buffy shot back out loud, being sure to keep her body between his line of fire and the demon. “But I’ve seen possessed people come back. And I’m not letting you kill a human. Sorry, part of my job description.”

Joooooin ussssss…

Buffy-

“You ain’t never seen anything like this, I don’t care what your job description is! Now back off so I can kill the damn thing!”

We’re gonna get you~ we’re gonna get you~

Buffy!

What, Will-” Frustrated, she turned quickly to look at her friend. “Oh…” What she found was a shimmering yellow barrier that had surrounded the three of them; outside the barrier what had originally been a single demon had become more than she could count at first glance. It was only Willow’s constant chant that kept the barrier up and the demons held back. Behind her, Ash huffed.

“For God’s sake… I toldja.”

“So. Not. Helping.” Buffy glared, thoroughly irked by the little smirk he gave her in return. She hefted the Scythe somewhat nervously as she turned to take in the demons that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Had there even been this many people nearby to possess?

“Graveyard,” Ash supplied, and if he didn’t stop smirking like the cat that ate the canary, she was going to hit him, demons or no. “Which, probably means they’re not possessed people, just possessed dead bodies. So now can I shoot ‘em?”

Yup. She was going to hit him. As soon as they got out of this mess. Because, at this point, she was pretty sure it was a ‘they’ kind of situation. Smug bastard or not, if she and Willow got out, she couldn’t just leave the guy there.

“Willow, can you teleport us out of here if we keep these things off you?”

Teleport? Hold on just one minute, sister-”

“You. Shut up.” The wounded look he gave her tugged the corner of her lips up into a smirk, then she was all eyes on Willow, who nodded sharply as she continued to chant. Buffy nodded back, turning to look at Ash. “Alright, here’s the plan, and don’t even think about arguing with me. On the count of three, my friend’s going to drop that shield. Do anything you have to in order to keep these things from getting to her; she’s our ticket out. If they get to her, we’re toast.”

“And what about the Deadites? You gonna to just let them run free?” He met her gaze head on, an eyebrow cocked as he jerked his head at the demons on the other side of the barrier. She had to give him points for that much at least. “They’ll kill anyone they get their bony little hands on, and turn them into more Deadites.”

“Got it covered. We’ll send in a team once we get out of here, to take care of these things.” When he frowned, but didn’t argue further, Buffy slipped into a defensive stance, adjusting her grip on the Scythe. “On the count of three, Wills. One… Two… Three!”

The barrier went down and chaos ensued.
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