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First and Last

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Summary: After the events of "The Grave" Willow realizes she can't go home, and tries to start over in St. Louis. But can she?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Willow-Centered > Pairing: JasonArieannaFR181221,83604524,91016 Apr 038 May 05No

First and Last

Title: First and Last
Author: Arieanna (
Pairing: W/Jason, so far
Genre: AB/BtVS Crossover
Rating: PG15-R
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, All Buffy and Angel peeps are courtesy of the JossGod and Mutant Enemy. All Anita Blake peeps are property of the Goddess Laurell K. Hamilton and her publishing company. But goddess what I wouldn’t do to own Jason, just for a little while!
Distribution: TTH. And, if you want it, just ask me!! I love to share!
A/N: It’s my first crossover fic with AB and BtVS. Be kind. I tried for a plausible explanation for the different types of vamps, and tried not to be too cliché, but I think it’s been done before. Please be gentle with me. Feedback is like air!!
A/N 2: The time frame for this story is shortly after Cerulean Sins for Anita Blake, between seasons 6 and 7 for Buffy, and seasons 3 and 4 for Angel.


The moon hung high up in the sky, the light of its fullness bathing the world below. It was bright, but cold. There was no warmth in its rays. The creatures that lived by this light knew that. They tended to take their warmth elsewhere. In the blood of living things, the heat of naked skin, or the togetherness of the pack.

The wolf that stood below the moon was here for the warmth of his pack. Small for what he was, but larger than life to unknowing eyes. he longed for that warmth of pack, of family. That was what he needed had left his hometown looking for something. That was what he had found here. That was what he had settled here for. At the moment, though, even that was missing. There was something wrong. The wolf knew it and howled. It was something more than instinct that raised his fur, and his ears. The others, they were slightly agitated, not knowing the reason. It wasn't as if he knew, either. Not really. But he had felt it before. Had run from its pull. It was a part of why he had left.

And he didn't like it, not one bit.

He howled again, drawing one of his brethren forward. The other sniffed at his fur, trying to understand the wolf's agitation.

But there really was no way to explain the feeling. It was cold, it was dark, it was evil.

There was no way to explain the approach of the end of the world.

The wolf sniffed at his companion and took off at a run, knowing that this time would be like the others. That they would be there, they would stop it, just as they always did.

So he joined his friend to seek out the warmth and companionship of the pack. But the hair on his hackles still bristled with the darkness of the night.


She heard a howl, or had she just dreamt it? And it caused her to stir in the night.

The light of the full moon shone down through the window, bathing her and her bed in its cool rays. It reminded her of the past. The moon, something she still kept track of. The bed she slept in, once shared by her friends. The howling that woke her.

It all served to call up images of the past.

That, and the creepy, crawling feeling that tingled up her spine. The sense that it was coming again. The end.

But she wouldn't let it. They wouldn't let it. It was her duty, their chosen commitment, to make the world right again.

The girl's feet were on the floor, and her arms in the sleeves of her robe, before she realized that there was no point in going to where she was going. There would be no one there when she got there. The bed would be empty.

The person she wanted to go to, to talk with, to be supported by, wasn't there. She was across the country, driven there by circumstance, by a chain of events that began in the very room the blonde girl was now standing in.

The girl sat back and wondered what to do next. She glanced at the clock, figured the time difference, and picked up the phone to call him. Not her. Not the person that she desperately wanted to talk to. They couldn't do that. It was something that would be considered a last resort. Calling her would be dragging her back into it, and the blonde couldn't do that. Not until there was no other choice.


Her red hair drifted across her forehead, and stuck to the sweat there, longer than it had been in a while.

She felt it too, that feeling of dread, the one that caused wolves to howl, and girls to wake.

But it was another element to the maelstrom of emotions that was her dream. Such a mix of things. Of terror, of grief, of rage, of destruction. The pain of separation, and the sting of betrayal. It was the last that caused her fitful sleep, and that made the feeling of dread just another element of her nightmare. The world was an unknown land, something entirely different from what she had been led to believe. Led by him. And the betrayal stung. And with it, came a fear. A fear of all of the unknown. A fear of tomorrow.

As one who had once tried to do it with her own thoughts, the redhead felt the approach of the end of the worlds. But as the feeling was so familiar, and something she had once caused in others herself, it became just another element of her nightmare. And it caused nothing more than another toss and turn in her restless sleep.


She stood there, under the full moon, her curls blowing around her face. She glared into the clearing, making sure that all of her pard were safely back where they belonged. A cold wind caressed her, causing shivers down her spine, and her hand itched to draw her gun.

But she didn’t. It wasn’t here, whatever it was, but it was coming. She didn’t know what it was, but it was bad, she could tell.

She shook her head, wondering at her sudden, melodramatic thoughts, and turned to go inside.

She would have to ask the others in the morning. Ask them if there was something to it. If there was, the leopards would have felt it, no?

Until then, she wouldn’t lose sleep over it. She’d battled evil before, she could do it again.


If the wind could have smiled, it would have. But the thing that had caused it could. And it did.

The players in the game could feel it.

The wolf, the slayer, the witch, the necromancer.

They could sense that it was coming. And their anticipation, their nervousness, their fear. It made it all that much more fun.

But there was still work to be done, others to touch, to disturb, to effect. The wind went off to do it, a malevolent laugh carried upon it.

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