Of Slayers and GodsAuthor:
Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Star Trek are mine. ^^;Written for: TtH August Fic A Day ChallengeSummary: The first thing Buffy realized after realizing that she wasn't dead was that she was standing in some cliched white space made of pure white. With a man dressed in a funky looking black and red jumper.Author's Note:
I'm currently traveling with my family and I am typing this on my mother's iPad. I apologize for any typing errors and promise to come back and do some cleanup once I have a bonafide computer again. ^^;
Of Slayers and Gods
The first thing Buffy realized after realizing that she wasn't dead was that she was standing in some cliched white space made of pure white. With a man dressed in a funky looking black and red jumper and-
"Didn't I threaten you enough last time, Whistler?" she groaned. "What do I have to do to make you realize that I meant
don't have to do anything," the stranger drawled, an amused smirk tugging his- oddly blue tinged- lips up. Whistler winced at the statement, and she thought he looked ready to flinch and run, even more so than the messenger ever had when dealing with her.
"Now listen," he began to protest, but the stranger snapped his fingers and suddenly Whistler was silent. The lips moving, but no sound coming out kind of silent. His eyes widened almost comically and he reached for his throat, and the stranger's smirk grew.
"I was speaking," the man stated, his frown only slightly perturbed by the interruption. His attention was focused on Buffy, though, and with Whistler silenced, his grin returned. His arms extended in a sort of welcoming gesture that the blonde didn't really find all that welcoming, considering the fact that she had no
idea who he was, and she'd just seen him forcibly quiet a very
talkative demon with a snap of his fingers. "Buffy Summers. I've heard so
much about you. You're the talk of the Continuum, you know; a brave new hero in a world that's quite lacking in that department."
"Oh really." The slayer arched an eyebrow at the stranger and crossed her arms over her chest as Whistler continued to grab at his throat to one side of them. "And who exactly are you? Cause I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be impressed or something, but that jumpsuit? So late eighties."
"Not just brave, you've got some wit about you too. I like that in a person, it shows character." The man smirked again, completely unphased by her commentary, and lowered his arms to his side. "You may think of me as a- benevolent god."
"Yeah," she answered easily, her eyebrow raising further. "Not too impressed by the 'god' thing either. I just fought one of those. Didn't end too well for them."
," the man choked out, looking more mirthful than ever before. He recovered a moment later, to scoff, "Glorificus was nothing more than a child dressing up in their mother's grossly oversized high heels. She couldn't compare to even the Powers The Be, the ruling class in your dimension, and they're absolutely pitiful
. Trust me, if she's your measuring stick for god hood, I am off your radar completely."
"And ya know, the whole 'let's trivialize Buffy's fight with a god' thing? Totally not helping your case. So let's try this again: who
spunk. Very nice. But I can do better than merely telling
you who I am, I can show
"Alright, mister avoid-y guy. Since you can't seem to remember your name, go ahead and show me."
A snap of fingers later and Whistler, left alone in the pocket dimension the Powers had leant him to deal with their fallen Champion, lurched forward as his voice returned to him. His eyes darted nervously around the empty space, and he quickly decided that a vacation sounded really
good right about then, before
the Powers realized that said Champion had been kidnapped by another god from a different dimension.