Buffy belongs to Joss. Star Trek is Gene Roddenberry's creation, though this particular flavor owes much to Abrams, Orci, and Kurtzman.I just like to play in their sandboxes now and then.
This wasn’t how she’d pictured it. Then again, when was life ever the way you’d pictured it? Especially your own. She’d expected to die in space, not be rescued. Hell, she’d expected to die on Earth. There was an Earth in this dimension, too. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or not. Didn’t really care to find out, either.
The year had taken care of that. Even assuming this was still her dimension and she hadn’t been magicked to a different one, it was still 2387. Three hundred years after she could reasonably expect to find anyone she knew other than Angel, or possibly B, still alive. Three hundred years.
And she didn’t look a day older. Wouldn’t, either. She hadn’t understood the medical babble, even what little of it Ayel had been able to translate into what he called Federation Standard. (Faith had discovered medics sounded about the same no matter what language they spoke.) But the upshot was that aging processes in her body had slowed to the point that they couldn’t be detected.
Hearing it had been a shock. But thinking about it, there was only one explanation. The magic had done this. With magic, you never got something for nothing. In this case, she was betting the trade was everything she’d known for immortality. Well, the kind of immortality that came from knowing you’d never die of old age. She had a suspicion she could still be killed. Sort of like a vampire. But still a Slayer.
crew had adopted her when she’d explained that her whole family was dead. She was pretty sure they assumed she was the victim of a space wreck, and it suited her to let them think that. It was far easier than trying to explain. Especially since most of them didn’t speak Standard and her Romulan was non-existant. Or had been, anyway. Ayel had decided she should learn. Bemused, she had let him try to teach her. Thus far she’d only picked up a few words, half of them curses, but he didn’t seem frustrated by her lack of progress.
Romulans, it transpired, were a long lived species. While far more emotional than their Vulcan ‘cousins’, they could be patient. A few words in a few weeks didn’t bother Ayel at all. He was confident she would improve, and he had plenty of time.
And so, it seemed, did she.