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The 4400 Slayer

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Summary: What if the Slayer that was killed so Buffy was called didn't die, but was abducted by the people that took the 4400? How is Xander involved and what ramifications does this have for Buffy? For all of them? A BtVS/Angel/4400 crossover of epic proportions

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > 4400, ThefreetodreamFR1821,977032,3085 Oct 055 Oct 05No

The 4400 Slayer

The 4400 Slayer

By freetodream



Disclaimer:

I don’t own anything. Joss, Fox, and Mutant Enemy own Buffy, Angel, and all associated characters. NBC and the people behind The 4400 own them. There’re other people involved in this story, but if I mention them now, I will give away the plot. So they will get their own disclaimer later. I own Thomas Westinghouse and Alexis Duchanel. Sue me if you must, but I warn you now, I don’t have anything of worth.



Vienna Austria 1996

Parry, kick, punch, duck, parry, repeated over and over. Thomas Westinghouse watched as his protégé fought the continuing onslaught of vampires. The 5”7’ brunette slayer had been fighting the demons and other assorted creatures of the night since she was fifteen. A rather late calling, but she had been a protégé of the Watcher’s Council for ten years, when she had come to England. Thomas had been her Watcher for the past two, her previous one dispatched back to England. Poor bastard, Thomas thought as he watched Alexis Duchanel dodge another punch from a rather surly fledgling. He made note in his journal that despite the large number of vampires waiting to have a go, Alexis was doing splendidly. A warm hand on Thomas’ shoulder startled him out of his musings and his note taking. Turning he tried to hide his shock as he came face to face with the head of the Watcher’s Council, Quentin Travers.

“M-m-Mr. Travers sir! What an expected surprise!” Thomas exclaimed, reflexively straightening his tie and running a nervous hand through his auburn hair.

“Mr. Westinghouse. I see your slayer is still fighting. How goes the hunt?” Quentin Travers was a short, stocky, and balding British Aristocrat. His family had been involved with the Watchers council for centuries, given his tenure now as the Head of that society. He was known of his stoicism and his coldness. Thomas tried not to be nervous as his employer sized up his slayer.

“Alexis-I mean Ms. Duchanel is exceeding expectations sir. She is in the midst of clearing out her fifth nest in three days. Quite remarkable really.” Thomas explained, hoping upon hope that Travers would not notice his slip regarding Alexis. Travers was also known for his very strict rule of referring to slayers by last name only. They are things, objects to be used. Not people. Thomas shuddered as he remembered that particularly harsh lecture. He was startled out of his musings again when Travers began to speak.

“So there have been no other episodes since the last one I presume?” He asked.

Thomas visibly gulped. He could not help it. His Slayer’s outbursts were legendary among the up and coming watchers. She’d been having them her first session as a potential at age 7. The episodes consisted of the young woman running away and hurting anyone that dared to get in her way. When she became the active Slayer, the hurting increased however. During her last attempt she had broken the legs of three MI-5 soldiers and almost killed another. Though the Council had done everything to try to quell her desire to leave, including deep hypnosis, the young woman still tried to escape once a month, if not more. It was as if she was not meant to be there at all. Her favorite tactic was to disappear while on patrol. She had in fact, disappeared last week while patrolling Hungary. Luckily Thomas had found her before any of the operatives trailing them had to be notified. Thomas had not even bothered to report the incident.

“I’m not sure what you mean” Thomas asked, worry increasing for his Slayer. Perhaps her disappearance in Budapest had been noticed. Travers sighed and Thomas tensed.

“I know your Slayer ran off last week. You’re supposed to report any disobedience. Why didn’t you?” Travers asked, the coldness creeping into his voice.

“It was easily remedied the next day. If we had left the nests in Vienna and here preying…” Thomas began but stopped when he noticed Travers had stopped listening. Thomas followed his gaze and watched as Alexis was surrounded by more vampires.

“There’s a prophecy about her, did you know? She’s supposed to be the one Slayer that defies the Council and separates herself and goes on to be the longest living Slayer. Do you have any idea what would happen with a rogue Slayer?” Travers asked. Thomas shook his head no, unable to voice his answer, as he watched what he presumed were Master Vampires begin to attack his already tired Slayer.

“It begins with her death at the hands of the Master in Sunnydale, in America. Someone close to her saves her life. According to the prophecy it all goes down hill from there, as the Americans like to say. As Head of the Council, I’m afraid I cannot allow that to happen.” Travers finished, waving his hand. Suddenly Thomas felt a bullet rip through his abdomen and then his chest.

“Why?” Thomas asked, dropping to his knees, fighting to stay upright, for his Slayer’s sake.

“Because you were weak Thomas. You allowed yourself to think of the Slayer as a person, and not a tool. You were a weak link needing to be exterminated.” The final bullet went through Thomas’ neck, and Travers’ motioned to the waiting vampires over. “Make it look good.” He told them. The fledglings wasted no time attacked the slowly dying form of Thomas Westinghouse.

Travers’ turned his attention to the Slayer. She was starting to wane. Travers motioned to the snipers on the rooftop above to open fire when the area surrounding Alexis and the master vampires was engulfed in bright blue light. The vampires were immediately dusted and Alexis was suspended –slowly beginning to rise into the air.

“Open Fire!” Travers yelled. The snipers bullets only ricocheted off the blue light encasing the young Slayer. Suddenly without warning, as quickly as it had appeared, the blue light, and Slayer Duchanel, disappeared. Travers quickly rushed out to where the Slayer had been standing. Turning around in circles he stared up into the night sky. He then motioned to the snipers to take out the remaining vampires. Nothing neither living nor dying would be alive to tell about what really happened to the Slayer. He then took out his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. “Assemble the circle. We need to call a new Slayer. I will explain more when I return.” At least the prophecy regarding this Slayer would not come to be.
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