Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Live on New Server

Champions, Lost

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: Buffy. Angel. Lost. The Powers that Be intervene when the Light Champions lose the battle with the Senior Partners, and alter reality. Better Summary inside.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > LostBloodCloverFR1534,446021,15816 May 1117 May 11No

The Island, Part II

Disclaimer: Still own nothing from Buffy, Angel or Lost. I’m working on finding dirt on the owners, so I can blackmail them to gain ownership of Faith Lehane, Gwen Raiden and Claire Littleton… wish me luck!

The Island, part II


Violet MacKenzie, known as Vi to her friends, sat in the café nearest the terminal her flight was going to be boarded from, sipping a half cold coffee and picking at a piece of what the cashier had assured her was strawberry rhubarb pie. She had her doubts though, both about the so-called pie and the flight she would be boarding in about an hour. She had never been a fan of flying, and the prospect of the transpacific flight that she was about to spend about 16 hours on, in order to get to Los Angeles to try and make it in Hollywood. She thought back to the confrontation she had with her parents the night before.

They hadn’t taken the knowledge of her plans to move out of Australia very well. Her mother said that running off to chase her dreams of acting were fool hardy and that she was being selfish to the family. Deep down Vi knew that her mother was just afraid to lose her, but the words from her father saying that she would be cut out of her family if she went had set her off on an angry tirade, and in the end she had slapped her father after he alluded to her being a whore and stormed out of her parent’s house. She had gotten into the driver’s seat of the Honda Civic she owned and drove all night from her parents house about 8 hours away from Sydney, arriving at the Sydney city limits at about 4:30 a.m. She first drove to the apartment of an old friend of hers named Kennedy, who had offered to buy her car for five thousand dollars and then gave her a ride to the airport before going to work. Now after an hour and a half of going through customs she was sitting at a 3rd rate airport diner.

She looked up as a scruffy looking man carrying a guitar case with him was led out of the security room across the way, the two officers with him both looking apologetic. The taller of the two is saying something but the guitarist just waves it off, and hurries away from them, taking a seat in the terminal not far from the door to the boarding corridor. She watches him for a few moments, feeling an attraction to him, but when he looks up, she turns away before they make eye contact. She pretended to be engrossed in stabbing at the remnants of the pie for the next several minutes, pointedly ignoring the glares of the two wait staff behind the counter.

She gets up a few minutes later when they announce that they are now boarding Flight 730 to Los Angeles and makes her way over to the gate.



She didn’t know how she was alive, how any of them had survived. She had counted twenty seven survivors out of the eighty that had occupied the fuselage section. The rest were either dead on the beach or had had the misfortune of being sucked out of the plane when it broke apart. She had somehow been thrown from the plane as it rolled down the beach and landed in the water, only her sheer will to live had allowed her to semiconsciously make the short swim to shore. When she was about twenty feet from the shore she suddenly felt someone grab hold of her and begin to pull her along with them, at first she started to struggle in confusion, but her strength failed her and a few moments later she passed out from the shock.

She was resuscitated a few moments later, through CPR applied by the guitarist she had seen at the terminal before. Their first face to face was one that would not soon be forgotten as it had her spitting out the seawater from her mouth all over him has he tried to pull away after breathing air into her throat. She coughed a few more times, drawing deep breaths of air into her lungs.

“Sorry about that.” she rasped, trying to get her bearings. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“No problem.” Her savior replied, and she looked up at him, noticing for the first time that it’s the guitarist. He gives her a small grin, and holds his hand out. “I’m Daniel Osbourne, my friends call me Oz.”

Vi smirked at Oz’s announcement. “Nice to meet you Oz. I’m Violet MacKenzie, my friends call me Vi.”

“Well Vi, why don’t you and I go find some dry clothes? I have I feeling it’s going to get cold soon.” Oz suggests, nodding his head at the setting sun in the distance. “Can you stand?”

Vi flexes her legs out, testing them for a couple seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I think so. Can I get a hand up though?” She takes Oz’s hand in hers as he reaches out and pulls up so she’s standing. “Thanks. Let’s go find those clothes yeah?”


The professional stuntman with the long black trench coat opened the door to the smoking courtyard, occupied by only two others, a tattooed couple off in the corner, talking in low tones between themselves and sharing a cigarette. He sits down on one of the benches on the other end of the courtyard, so as to not cause any problems if the two were as much trouble as they appeared. He pulled out his pack of Marlboros and flicked one out into his hand. He pressed the tip into his mouth and lit the end, taking a deep inhalation of smoke and releasing it through his nose. He looked up as a black man in a business suit entered the courtyard, and walked over to where Spike was sitting.

“Mind if I bum one off you brother?” the man asks, nodding at the cigarette pack poking out of Spike’s side pocket. Spike mulls it over for a brief moment, then pulls the pack out, flips it open and holds it out for the man to take one. “Thanks, been dying for one the whole ride in from Newcastle.” The man says, quickly taking one, before Spike puts them back in his pocket, this time inside the innerpocket.

“Name’s Charles Gunn.” The suit introduces himself. Spike nods and exhales the smoke from his lungs.

“William Pratt.” Spike replies, taking another drag of the cigarette as the two lapse into a companionable silence.


Spike was sitting on the top of the large chunk of plane debris that had once been the fuselage, having climbed up the wing that had broken off half way and was embedded in the sand. He had been overjoyed to have not lost the pack of cigarettes he carried in his trenchcoat, and was now enjoying a fresh Marlboro. He watched as the black man he had seen at the airport smoking courtyard and later on the flight earlier spotted him atop the fuselage and started climbing up the wing. As the other man reached the top Spike could clearly see that he was having trouble keeping himself from sliding down, and moved to the edge, sticking a hand out and helping Gunn pull himself atop the fuselage. Once the lawyer is able to gain his footing, Spike releases him and moves back a couple feet.

“I’m guessing you want another cigarette?” Spike drawls as he sits back down in his previous spot, and pulls out the pack.

“I’ll throw you a Benjamin when we get rescued and back to Los Angeles, that sound good?” Gunn quipped, taking the offered cigarette from Spike and lighting it up.

Don’t worry about it Charlie Boy, way I see it, you saved my pack when you asked for one at the airport.” The stuntman replied.

“How so?” Gunn inquires, now slightly confused.

“Switched pockets mate. My wallet wasn’t as lucky.” Spike explains, showing the front pocket ripped completely off the coat. “Damn pocket got caught on something when I was thrown out of the plane, and tore it off.” He took another drag of the cigarette as Gunn nods, allowing for a few moments of silence. When he looks back at Gunn a few moments later, he notices that the lawyer staring off into the distance over the tops of the jungle trees.

“What?” Spike asks, seeing the surprised look on Gunn’s face. “What is it?”

“Smoke, looks about a mile inland. I think it’s the cockpit.” Gunn says, taking a deep drag as he stares at the distant column of smoke rising from a group of trees near the base of a large hill. Spike stands abruptly and looks in the same direction, seeing the smoke as well.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Spike manages to choke out, through the smoke he forgot he had inhaled.

To Be Continued….

Author’s note: I’m not sure if I will be doing detailed flashbacks past the Island chapter of this. I do plan on eventually come to the flash-sideways part, but that won’t be for some time. The Buffy characters are not meant to mirror the Losties and while characters will die in the story, I haven’t picked an order yet, save for one minor character death so far. Hope you’re enjoying this so far and a special thanks to Vampygal for her review.

The End?

You have reached the end of "Champions, Lost" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 17 May 11.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking