By Marcus L. Rowland
Short Btvs and Angel crossovers, written for various games on the Twisting the Hellmouth forums. I thought that some of them deserved a wider audience. Non-Crossovers, and stories that don't involve the Buffyverse, have been posted separately. Some of these stories were written for death games, others for games in which characters were brought back to life, or their relationships were destroyed.
All characters belong to their respective creators; this story may not be distributed on a profit-making basis.
By Marcus L. Rowland
It seemed like they'd been fighting for hours, and Gunn was getting weaker by the second. Only Illyria was keeping him alive; somehow she always seemed to know when he was in trouble, and intercept the attacks that should kill him. Spike was somewhere in the mob of demons, still fighting, and Angel was still fighting the dragon. It flew over, screaming, Angel clinging to its neck, blood spraying from the wounds he was hacking.
There was a girl walking through the mob, mostly ignored by the monsters around her. One of them tried to bite her, then seemed to think better of it. She glanced at her watch and shouted "is there someone called C Gunn here?"
"What?" said Gunn. For a moment the fight seemed to be moving away from him. He had a feeling that the monsters were scared of the girl. Maybe she was a Slayer.
"Are you Gunn?" she said, glancing at a yellow post-it.
"What if I am?"
"Can't see anyone else human here..." She touched his arm for a moment, and he felt an odd tingle, then she walked away.
"Wait a minute. Who are you?"
Overhead there was another scream, and the dragon plummeted towards the crowd, Angel's sword embedded in its brain. The monsters scattered, only Gunn was underneath when it hit.
Gunn stood next to the girl, watching Angel leap from the dragon's back and charge at the demons. He could see his feet sticking out from under the gigantic carcasse.
"So what does the C stand for?" asked the girl.
"Charles. And you?"
"And I'm dead? You're... what? Death?"
"I'm a reaper. Kinda help people, make sure that their souls don't suffer too much when they die. Come on, you can't do anything here and I want to get something to eat. This fight's gonna go on for hours, and I'm on a tight schedule."
"Can't believe I got through all that to get squashed like a bug," said Gunn, reluctantly following her.
"That's nothing," said George, "I was killed by a falling toilet seat..."
Crossover with Dead Like Me.
"I must say," said Quinten Travers, "it's unusual to see a member of your community taking an interest in the Watcher's Council."
"I'm afraid I'm not very popular in the wizarding world," said Percy. "I supported Fudge, and I lost my job when the new Minister decided to streamline the Ministry of Magic. Odd how all of his supporters kept theirs. And my family don't like me much because I was sure Voldemort was dead. I decided to see if there was something I could do to redeem myself, to fight evil outside the community."
"Well," said Travers, "You couldn't have joined us at a better time. If you'd like to come through to the council chamber I'll introduce you to the others, then we can get straight down to business." Percy realised that Travers was everything that Fudge should have been; a forthright leader, one he would follow anywhere.
A few minutes later Travers travers said "My friends, these are the times that define us. Proverbs 24:6 "For by wise counsel, you shall wage your war..." Percy was about to cheer when the building exploded. There were no survivors.
His family blamed Death Eaters, of course.
Crossover with Harry Potter.
"Let's see if I've got this right," said Harry. "You've used magic to swap my destiny for this bloke Connor? And thrown them both into another dimension?"
In Quortoth Voldemort looked around a rocky plain under a burning sky, and saw nothing except an ancient-looking jar. There were claw-marks on the rocks around him, and his eyes were watering from the volcanic fumes. He tried his magic. A slight easing of the pain, but it took most of his power, far more than it should.
"Not exactly," said Willow. "I've persuaded the Powers to swap your nemesisisis.. um.. nemeses... um... enemies, but I did it the other way around. You can be killed by Connor or vice versa, but there's no particular reason why you should, certainly no prophecy that says you have to. The 'kill or be killed' thing has gone to Voldemort and Connor's nemesis, Sahjan. It's him that's in the other dimension with Voldemort. He's a little trapped right now, but sooner or later Voldemort will take the bait."
It was three days now, and Voldemort was hungry, thirsty, and scared. The best his magic could do was an occasional bottle of water, a crust of bread. He'd spent most of the previous night hiding from something that looked like a tyrannosaur, only bigger and meaner, that seemed completely impervious to the Killing Curse. He remembered the jar... maybe whoever had trapped him here had left a way out, or a genie to supply his needs while he was here. Voldemort went back to the place where he had arrived, found the jar and smashed it. An ugly-looking demon appeared and said "Thank you, mortal, for releasing me from my cursed prison. In gratitude, I grant you three wishes."
"First, a way out of this accursed world."
The demon looked around and said "Quortorth, huh. Did they really think we'd be trapped here?" He chanted "Lekko najine forkahdio!" Nothing happened. "Crap. I think they've used some serious mojo." He sniffed. "They've used the blood of the Key to seal us in. Okay, we're not going to be going anywhere any time soon. For values of 'soon' measured in thousands of years."
"Then my second wish..." began Voldemort.
"Oh, get real," Sahjan interrupted. "I was just messing with you. I don't do the wish thing."
"Avada kedavra!" Green light flashed from Voldemort's wand.
"Was that supposed to hurt me?"
"The best of it is," said Willow, "Time works differently in that dimension, it's a few days since they got there. Weeks maybe. By now it should all be over."
Sahjan finished tearing off Voldemort's head and looked around. Nothing to eat, unless he could catch a dinosaur, and no way out. He vaguely wondered what wizard tasted like.
Kinda like chicken, he eventually decided.
Crossover with Harry Potter.
"I'm sorry, Connor," said Dawn, "But we really don't have a lot in common. I'm seventeen and you're older than Angel, it just won't work. Please don't call again." She hung up the phone.
"Connor?" asked Buffy, confused. "Older than Angel?"
"Connor's... oh, that Connor, Angel's kid! I split with him months ago. No, that was the other Connor, the Immortal's friend."
"Oh, right. Seems a shame, he was a nice guy and he had a cool sword."
"Buffy," said Dawn, "Life isn't just about swords. Now excuse me while I call Connor."
"The other other one... Hello, John? Yeah, get your ass down here with the phased plasma rifle, we've got some demons to kill... Yeah, love you too, baby..."
crossover with Highlander and Terminator, if it matters...
Nocturne Alley wasn't Draco's favourite place, but sometimes it was the only source for the Dark Magic supplies he needed. That evening he was the only customer in Borgin and Burkes, and he looked around the stock curiously. A Hand of Glory.. endless grimoires, chained and locked to prevent browsing.. black candles.. an ancient sarcophagus in a packing crate, awaiting only the lid, with shipping labels for Los Angeles.
"What's this, Borgin?" asked Draco.
"Very rare and very precious, Master Draco," said Borgin, looking up from the package of herbs he was wrapping for Draco. "The sarcophagus of the ancient god Illyria."
"Doesn't look much," lied Draco. He could feel the magic trapped inside, incredible power. Without even thinking he moved towards it.
"Be careful, Master Draco," said Borgin, "it might not be..."
Draco touched the lid, and a circular opening appeared, showering him with dust. He fell back, coughing.
"What the hell was that?" said Draco.
"Probably an ancient booby trap," said Borgin, pointing his wand at Draco and examining his aura. "Maybe it was once poison, but there's nothing there now."
"You're sure?" asked Draco.
"Quite sure, sir. Nothing there now but an empty box."
Borgin finished the sale and courteously saw Draco out, then locked the door and sat down to work out how he'd tell his American client that he'd need to change his plans. Absently he wondered if Draco would collapse in the street or make it back to the Leaky Cauldron, and regretted the loss of an unusually gullible customer.
Crossover with Harry Potter.
Principal Wood was digging a grave in the cellar of Sunnydale High when he noticed something odd. Small sparks were flickering across the torso of the boy he had found, where he had been cut open, and the wounds were beginning to close.
"What the..?" said Jonathan, groggily looking around the cellar. "What happened to Andrew?"
"I'd imagine he killed you," said Robin. "Fortunately, you appear to have survived the experience."
"I don't understand."
"Some men are immortals. After their first death they recover, and can only be killed by decapitation."
"Extremely lucky," said Wood, swinging his spade to knock Jonathan out. "For me." He chopped down with the spade, and Jonathan's head rolled across the floor. Lightning began to flash and Wood spread his arms to absorb the Quickening. "There can be only one."
Crossover with Highlander.
A bell tinkled.
"Your turn," said Gabriel.
"Me again?" said Michael, aghast. "Why me?"
"Are you questioning the divine plan?" asked Raphael, preparing to deal another game of solitaire.
"Not at all," Michael said hastily. There were some things no sane angel would think of doing. "It's just that... well, the woman's insatiable, we really need more than the four of us to service her."
"The three of you," said the Metatron, pointing out his lack of certain essential components. "I'm just here to take notes and pass on God's instructions. Look, She wants you three to handle it, which is why She's.. um.. modified you a little. She really doesn't want all of Her angels fitted with.. ah... extra components."
"Tell me something I don't know," said Raphael. "That blasted thing dangling down makes really upsets my aerodynamics when I'm flying."
The bell tinkled again.
"Is there really no alternative?" asked Michael.
"Not while the blasted woman's here," said Gabriel.
"And she helped to save the world and gave her life for another," said Raphael, "so we really can't send her down to the competition."
"Look," said Michael. "We can't handle her, and She knows it, She must want us to come up with another option."
"Plenty of people with dangly bits on Earth," mused the Metatron.
"Is that you talking or the voice of God?" asked Michael, wincing as the bell rang again.
"Mostly me, said the Metatron, I don't think She's putting words in my mouth this time. But she isn't saying no."
"Right then," said Gabriel, cracking his knuckles. "One resurrected ex-demon coming right up. Where are we going to send her though?"
"Back to her friends?" suggested Raphael.
"No," said Gabriel, "they've already had too many resurrections."
"That odd dimension with all the mutants?"
"Get real," said the Metatron. "Nobody stays dead there, and she doesn't have any powers."
"Oh, I know a good one," said Michael. "Perfect! Lots of men, and most of them will be very happy to see a woman."
"Not a prison or a monastery," Gabriel warned, "we don't want to cause any riots."
"No, much better than that..."
And so it was that Anya found herself, and a large number of sailors found Anya, below decks aboard HMS Surprise as she rounded Cape Horn. And eventually she, Jack Aubrey, and Stephen Maturin lived happily together ever after...
Crossover with Dogma, Master and Commander