"Rio Blanco on the Mouth of Hell"
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Western
by Ironbear
"Judd, that man rode into town trailin' three corpses. He just accounted for two more – and it ain't even noon yet. You arrest him." – Gunsmoke, To the Last Man
Story Blurb: "It started out as a simple evening at home. A pair of movies fresh from blockbuster, a 52" plasma screen TV, and thou. Oh, and the 'thou' braless in a skimpy bandanna top and a stretchy mini-skirt thing that just begged for a hot makeout session... "
Title: "Rio Blanco on the Mouth of Hell"
Author: Ironbear
Rating: PG-13. Maybe R in places, if I get inspired. Possibly X. (Plot? What plot? There was a plot here somewheres, once... ) Seriously. There's full frontal nudity. And full backal nudity. Violence. And language. And Adult Situations before fading to black. Bow-chicka-wow-wow music. You figger out the rating. FR-21 for TtH, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series and characters thereof belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers, 20th Century Fox, and Kazui Entertainment. Everyone else belongs to their respective owners, except for my own original characters. And hey – I'm not greedy about them. Rio Bravo belongs to Warner Bros., Howard Hawks, Jules Furthman and Leigh Brackett, and is based on a short story by B.H. McCampbell. Silverado belongs to Columbia Pictures, Delphi III Productions, and Lawrence and Mark Kasdan. An additional and more detailed list of disclaimers will be listed in the Afterword.
For those of you reading this on Fanfiction dot net, where they frown on lyrics: the intro song is "Rainbow Blues" by Blackmore's Night, and the closing/credits tune is "Show Me the Way" by Styx and Dennis de Young, slightly filked by Yours Truly.
This is a work of derivative fiction. All persons, characters, names, places, locations, entities, personages, and/or deities contained within are purely fictional, or fictional representations thereof, and any resemblance to any real persons, characters, names, places, locations, entities, personages, and/or deities are purely coincidental, or they are used in a purely fictional manner.
Summary: What started out as a simple and enjoyable Friday evening at Cordelia's house, watching movies and making out, takes a sudden and very strange turn when Ethan Rayne gets involved...
Type: Romance and Action/Adventure.
Genre: Western and Horror/Fantasy
Chronology: Between BtVS seasons 2 and 3 (the summer between seasons); the Western takes place around eight to ten years after Rio Bravo, and just prior to the official founding of Sunnydale.
Pairings: Cordelia Chase and Xander Harris
Author's Note(s): This is a crossover idea that I don't believe I've ever seen anyone even attempt before. But once the plot bunny hopped into my mind, it just wouldn't leave 'til it done chewed up all the scenery...
Dedicated to:
Leigh Brackett, who wrote the original scripts for Rio Bravo, El Dorado, and Rio Lobo – among many of the inspirations for this fic and the characters and situations. And Kurosawa, who inspired the Magnificent Seven – another of the inspirations my plot bunny chewed on...
And to the memory of Janet Kagan, whom I think might have enjoyed parts of this. Hell, who might be enjoying it now, if she's reading over my shoulder from wherever she currently dwells in the Summer Country...
Rest ye gentle, and sleep ye sound.
Preface and Foreword: That Stuff in the Front
"Westerns are closer to art than anything else in the motion picture business." ― John Wayne
And now, for a few quick words from our sponsors...
Err, from the author, dammit. I wish we had sponsors – it'd help pay my rent while I write.
Welcome to the set of Rio Blanco on the Hellmouth: the unofficial and unauthorized sequel to Rio Bravo. I'd better list it as "unauthorized". Me, I'm egotistical enough to think I did a pretty fair job of working in the spirit of the original, but Howard Hawks and Wayne might be rolling in their graves right now, and plotting my eternal torments when I show up by the fires. Kurosawa is probably sharpening his katana.
Oh well. Heaven for ambiance; Hell for company. Can't always expect the company to be happy when you show up. ;)
As I noted in the disclaimer, as far as I'm aware, this may well be the only Buffy-verse crossover of its kind. Definitely the only finished one I've yet seen. The primary crossover is Rio Blanco, with slight elements of Quigley Down Under. The secondaries are Silverado and The Magnificent Seven, as one or two of the main characters from each play a prominent part here, albeit under slightly different names.
And there's a host of others at least mentioned, even if not outright crossed in.
Purists will note that I took more than a few liberties with both casting, names, and backgrounds in this story. I will freely and cheerfully admit that wherever needed, I outright swiped characters and dialogue from just about any and every appropriate Western that came to mind, filed off the serial numbers, and bashed to fit and filed to hide. And did judicious – and not so judicious – editing and pastiche of names and backgrounds to give the resulting characters something at least resembling coherent histories for the universe in which I've dropped them.
Anyone who's even close to being as big a Western movie, novel, and television aficionado as I am will probably recognize all of the players.
For those who aren't, there's an expanded list of credits and discredits at the end, in the Afterword. And a cast list.
Purists may also note that I took a few liberties with inventing cartridges and firearm manufacturers that didn't exist in the real Old West. Wah. My Cinematic universe, my rules, and I'll play with it as fast and loose as I want to. Neener-neener.
Quite a few old favorites from the Buffy-verse show up here also, albeit in different guises. Have fun playing "Where's Waldo" – I know I did.
Not gonna eat up a lot of verbiage on Authorial Notes here. You guys are here for the story, dammit, not my ramblings. Feel free to scroll past all this crap and get to the Prologue.
Just one last quick note: My esteemed beta reader and editor, Samantha, has pointed out to me that effectively, I've written a techno-thriller on horseback, with a lot of period specific jargon that readers might not be familiar with. I don't fully agree: I think it's action-adventure in a Western setting, myself. But – it can't be denied that the Old West, shooting, and gun-fighting, are just like say, computers, aviation and aeronautics, and sailing, or fanfiction, for that matter: they have a rich and specialized language of jargon and technical-ese that's grown up in and around them. Jargon that might not make sense to outsiders...
So, in the interests of saving on a lot of "Huh? What dafuq did I just read?", I'm appending a brief glossary of some of the terms used at the end of Chapter One.
Hopefully, readers will find it helpful and it won't be too obtrusive.
I'm pretty sure my love for the genre will shine through. Damn, but I'd love to have done a cover image for this. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any appropriate Cordy and Xander pics, and while I'm a better than fair 3-D artist, my photo manipulation skills suck rocks.
On to the show. Hope y'all enjoy reading as much as I did writing. And now that it's done, I'm off to work on other stories while you're having at it.
Damn, but it's good to be back. ;)
Ironbear
And now... on to the story!
.
Prologue: All the Good Things in Life -
"One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation." ― The Evil Overlord List
Friday, July 17, 1998 – Evening:
Alexander "Xander" Harris put the video tape into the VCR and went back to sit down next to his girlfriend.
Heh. Cordelia's parents were out of town for the weekend – again, those two traveled more than some airliners – and he and she had the place to themselves now that the maid and housekeeper had gone. A pair of movies fresh from Blockbuster, a 52" plasma screen TV, and thou. Oh, and the 'thou' braless in a skimpy bandanna top and a stretchy mini-skirt thing that just begged for a hot make out session.
It just don't get better than that. He grinned. Ok, well, maybe if Buffy wasn't still missing, but hey – can't have everything.
"What are you grinning at, Doofus?" Cordelia looked at him with more curiosity than annoyance as he settled back.
"Oh... " Xander waved toward the TV, and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Movies, house to ourselves, and a really hot looking you. Just thinking it don't get much better."
"Ah." Cordelia nodded. "And I suppose you have designs on this situation?" she arched her eyebrows at him meaningfully.
"Well, yeah, actually."
"Oh. Ok," Cordelia said, nodding. "Well, since you put it that way... " she settled back into the couch with her legs curled up under her and leaned into him. "All right, so – what's for movies?"
"Ah. Continuing your edgimication in the true classics of American cinematic history," Xander said. He leaned forward to snag the remote off the coffee table, picking up the two video tape boxes while he was at it.
"Oh, jeeze." Cordelia snorted, and rolled her eyes. "More? Seriously – you expect to get past first base, you're gonna have to come up with something other than Westerns, Dork."
"Hey – you liked Big Jake and Silverado last weekend," Xander said. "Double feature: 'Rio Bravo', which is not just 'a Western' but The Western, and 'Rio Blanco', the sequel."
"Geeze, again? So – what's with your Duke fixation?" Cordelia said. But her tone was teasing this time. She frowned, "Oh, hey – wait. Rio Blanco? My grandmother is in that."
"Oh, really?" Xander raised his eyebrows and looked at the back of the box, trying to figure out who she meant.
"Yeah. Rachel Westin," Cordelia said, nodding and leaning over to look at it with him. "See?" She pointed.
Xander's eyebrows went even higher. "Wow. Your grandmother is Rachel Westin?"
"Well," Cordelia said, making a vague gesture. "Step-grandmother, actually. Granddaddy's second wife. But she divorced him before I was born... I've only met or even seen her a few times."
"Ok, cool," Xander said, looking impressed. "I mean, I've seen those 'Ballad of Josie Welles' and '50,000 Years B.C.' posters in your bedroom, but... "
"Well, now you know," Cordelia said, smirking. "I didn't realize there was a movie of hers I hadn't seen. She's kind of my inspiration for wanting to be an actress."
Xander smiled and hit 'Play' on the remote, after setting the video boxes back on the coffee table. He leaned back and put his arm around her.
Cordelia faked a yawn, and broke away from the snuggle position, stretching. And watching sidelong as Xander's eyes glued themselves to the movement of her bare breasts under the bandana top.
Men. So very predictable. And generally, so easily controlled...
A couple of hours later, she found she'd actually enjoyed Rio Bravo, a lot more than she'd thought she would. Not that she'd tell Xander that. Not good to have too much enthusiasm about his dorkness's geekier interests. Um, assuming Westerns were geeky. Were they?
"That was actually... not too horrible," Cordelia said, bouncing up from the sofa.
"Um, hummana?" Xander blinked, his eyes glued to the jiggle. Cordelia smirked inwardly.
Let's see him think about Willow or Buffy now, she thought.
"Ah." Xander shook his head, recovering. "So, you liked?"
Cordelia thought for a moment, then nodded. "Not bad. Even if we did miss half of it."
"Naw." Xander smirked. "I hit pause during the steamy make-out session breaks."
"Oh? Wow. You're smarter than you look," Cordelia said, grinning down at him. "But, then, you'd have to be."
"Har har." Xander said, snickering. "You a funny guy, for a girl. You wound me with your words."
"You'll get over it," Cordelia said. "Ok. Bathroom break, and then I'll put some more popcorn in the microwave. You set up for the next one."
Xander nodded. "Aye aye, Captain. After I hit the little Xander's room." He stood also, stretching and smiling at her.
"You know where it is by now."
They headed their separate ways, temporarily. Cordelia resisted an urge to rub her still hard nipples. And ignored her tingly other parts. Damn, but that boy could kiss.
She wondered where the hell he learned that? Not like he'd ever had that much opportunity for practice, outside of demon girls trying to eat or kill him.
And having to take over leading the summer's slaying, with Buffy run away after sending her gone evil boyfriend to hell, wasn't doing badly for his confidence, either. She kind of liked the changes in him.
And he looked pretty salty in those black 'Nighthawk' fatigues, too. Didn't suck.
She paused, hand on the microwave door handle while waiting for it to ding., thinking. This weekend might not be a bad time to ratchet things up to the next level, maybe. Not like they'd have much chance for it otherwise, before school started. Not with her parents coming back Monday to stay for a bit, and her leaving with them second weekend in August for a month in Mexico.
And returning just before senior year started, damn it.
Too bad she couldn't beg off from that little family outing. Daddy wouldn't mind, but Mother... her step-mother would have a very genteel cow.
Mother had already had one of those along with a very genteel snit over her inviting Xander up to their lake house at Lake Cachuma earlier this summer, for a four day Fourth of July weekend of riding and, uh, more riding. Or something like.
If Mother had discovered the steamy after lights out make out sessions with everything but sex once her and Daddy had fallen asleep, that cow would have become a whole herd. Cordelia grinned to herself. Maybe a whole cattle drive, complete with lynching.
Ding!
She took out the popcorn and dumped it in a bowl, putting in another bag to microwave.
After that one dinged, she nuked some butter to pour over it and carried it back into the family room.
"Ok, where were we." Cordelia set the bowl down on the coffee table, within easy reach.
Xander waggled his eyebrows at her, smirking. "About to hit third base?"
Cordelia snorted. "You wish, Doofus." Oh, if only he knew... She settled in next to him, snuggling into his side and pulling her legs up under her.
"Man can dream," Xander said, sighing. He aimed the remote at the VCR. "About ready to go for the Second Feature, then, I think."
"Ah. Yeah, that would be it."
.
City Hall, Sunnydale – the same time:
Mayor Richard Wilkins the Third (and Second, and the First as well) looked at the dapper Englishman standing on the other side of the desk from him, and smiled.
"Well, have a seat," Wilkins said, gesturing to the comfortable guest chairs before the desk. "Please. I'd offer you a cigar," he paused for a beat. "...but then I don't smoke."
There were chuckles from Alan Finch, the Deputy Mayor, and Trask, his... assistant. Alan's chuckle sounded a bit nervous.
"No problem, I assure you," Ethan Rayne said, taking a seat and adjusting the crease in his trouser leg. "Smoking is overrated, anyway, Mr. Wilkins."
"Filthy habit," Wilkins said, his tone of voice agreeable. And pleasant – he always strove to be pleasant.
After all, you could kill more flies with honey and a flyswatter, than with a flyswatter alone... "So. What do you have for me?" Wilkins asked. "And do, please, call me Dick. All my friends do."
"Ah. As you wish, Richard," Ethan said, smirking. "I am a bit curious about one thing, if I might ask?"
"Certainly," Wilkins said, inclining his head in permission. "Ask."
"Why those two individuals in particular? The Harris boy and Ms. Chase, I mean?" Ethan asked, his tone and expression genuinely curious. "While I would be loathe to enact something that would do genuine harm to dear Rupert, he is a Watcher, as such, much more dangerously knowledgeable of the supernatural. And the little redhead is training as a witch, I believe – yet her and her lycanthropic paramour were specifically not mentioned in our arrangement, I note."
Wilkins' other assistant, the lean, dapper Mr. Trask, leaned forward, fixing Rayne with a beady eyed stare. "We do have other means at our disposal for dealing with them," Trask said, his tone quiet and menacing, "none of which you have an actual need to know, Mr. Rayne."
"Now, now, Mr. Trask," Richard Wilkins said, in a chiding tone of voice. "Ethan has posed some excellent and perceptive questions." Wilkins frowned slightly, adding, "A bit too perceptive, perhaps, but that's no reason for us to be uncivil in our responses."
"As you say, Mr. Mayor," Trask said, leaning back in his seat.
Shrugging, Wilkins fixed Rayne with an amiable expression. "As my associate notes, we do have other resources for dealing with those individuals. Not that I anticipate requiring their services, you understand. However... at the moment, Rupert Giles is obsessed with his efforts to locate the missing Ms. Summers, rendering his rather formidable skills a moot point. And Ms. Rosenberg and Mr. Osbourne are non combatants and hardly formidable in their own right – Ms. Rosenberg can barely levitate a pencil, my observers inform me, and her magic is unreliable at best. Mr. Harris, however, is both motivating and leading their efforts to pick up the, ah, 'slaying slack', I believe they're calling it." Wilkins chuckled and spread his hands. "He is also the only one with any semblance of combat and tactical skills – no small thanks to you, I might add. Remove him and the group falls apart before it really hits its stride."
"Ah. I see... " Ethan nodded, and then frowned slightly. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "And the cheerleader? Ms. Chase hardly seems to be any kind of threat, major or otherwise. Well, unless one is managing a clothing boutique, of course. Or her father's credit card company." He chuckled at his own small joke.
Wilkins chuckled back, but politely and perfunctorily, with slightly less mirth. "I strongly suspect that you may be unfairly discounting Ms. Chase."
"Oh?" Ethan gave Wilkins an inquiring look, "How so?"
"Ms. Chase is not nearly the vapid ingenue that most take her for," Wilkins said, smiling. "On the contrary – she is apparently a very intelligent, arrogant, and strong willed young lady. And one who, while she's had a mild slump in that area, is extremely popular and influential at Sunnydale High School. One whom, also, I am informed, is very infatuated with young Mr. Harris."
"Yes?" Ethan leaned back in his seat, raising a bent leg and clasping his intertwined fingers around his upraised knee. "So?"
"So - eliminating her love interest while leaving her might just cause her to turn all of that intelligence, arrogance, perception, and possibly rebuilt influence to the ends of carrying on her young fellow's legacy and wishes while avenging him upon the supernatural populace," Wilkins said. "Not to mention that, suitably motivated, she might turn not only her immediate family's resources upon that problem, but also her extended family's. And possibly even Mr. Harris' rather irascible Uncle."
"Hrmm... " Ethan frowned again, and then nodded. "Oh, of course. Her grandfather: William Randolph Chase the Second. My apologies, I hadn't made the association with those particular Chases until you mentioned it."
Wilkins nodded, still smiling genially.
Trask shrugged and interjected, "So, elementary tactics: remove them both, preferably unobtrusively and mysteriously, and their entire group collapses."
Ethan nodded. "I see," he said, "Well... merely idle curiosity on my part. I really have no personal interest in the fates of any of them, except for possibly Rupert's. Only professional interest in what I have been contracted to accomplish."
"And speaking of your professional interest?" Wilkins raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and made a 'please continue' gesture.
"Ah. Of course," Ethan said, smiling. "Well, as per the terms of our contract, I have been somewhat busy of late."
"Meaning?" Alan Finch asked, glancing at the Mayor nervously.
"Ah. Quite elegantly and viciously simple a thing, actually," Ethan said, smirking. "Your associate," he gestured to Trask, "has observed a habit of young master Harris frequently renting videos from a certain blockbuster near his home before wending his way to his young paramour's. But a simple matter to slip two of my own video tapes – specially prepared of course – into the racks he normally peruses. With a compulsion enchantment to make certain they draw his eye and his interest."
Ethan smiled, adding, "Always so very much easier to add something to a store, rather than to shoplift something away from them."
"And... ?" Mayor Wilkins raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
"And?" Ethan blinked, then his expression cleared. "Oh, yes, quite," he said. "There's a second, milder compulsion on one of the videos to make certain – subtly – that they choose to watch it this evening And that one, my friends, has an enchantment designed to transport them into the world of whatever film they're watching, with suitable additions and editing to fit their presence, mindset, and expectations."
"Hrmm." Wilkins drummed his fingers on the desktop, thinking. Steepling his fingers before him, he frowned. "That's it?"
"Well, yes. Of course," Ethan said. "That should be more than amply sufficient, actually."
"Hrmm." Wilkins frowned. "You know, earlier during the just ended school year, I paid you a rather princely sum," he deliberately mocked Rayne's distinctive British diction and accent, " to make certain that the Slayer and her friends were included in your little costume drama, in the interests of removing her from my area of influence. And even got Principal Snyder to make certain they'd be by to rent or purchase costumes, with a nudge toward your shop."
"Well, yes. I do recall that," Ethan said. "And Ms. Summers and her associates were included, as I recall."
"Um hmm," Wilkins said. "However, they were not removed. Despite my influencing that Spike fellow to make certain of the Slayer's removal." He held up a hand, forestalling any comment or objection from Rayne. "Not," he said, "Entirely your fault. Spike simply wasn't up to the task, apparently. And, not really a bad thing, all in all. Summers and her friends did prove very useful in putting an end to the Judge, and later that Angelus business. Thanks in no small amount to your costuming influence, I'm given to understand."
Ethan nodded, looking puzzled. "My understanding as well. I fear I am failing to see the issue here."
"The issue, my good man," Wilkins said, leaning forward slightly, his fingers once again steeled before him, "Is that now that Buffy Summers has removed herself, I do not need a group of amateur demon hunters mucking about and making themselves a nuisance. I believe that it's time for my associates to take over handling any difficulties that arise, and that there be no one extraneous around to possibly interfere with my plans for next summer."
Trask smirked, and his faced changed, revealing him to be a vampire. "I believe," he said, "that what our esteemed Mayor is saying is that he wants Mr. Harris and Ms. Chase dead – for certain. Not merely lost in a dream world."
"O-or... possibly surviving despite your e-ef-forts," Alan Finch said, nervously. He worked at his tie, loosening the knot.
"Ah. I see," Ethan nodded, giving Wilkins a level, even look. Straight in the eye: Richard Wilkins liked that in a hireling. "I'm afraid that there's been a slight misunderstanding. I am a chaos mage, not a mere assassin, Dick."
Wilkins held up a hand in a stop gesture. "I believe we're back to Mr. Mayor, now, Ethan," he said, pleasantly.
"Ah. Quite so. Mister Mayor, then," Rayne said. "There are no guarantees in chaos magic, Mister Mayor. Especially not when one of the subjects has already been touched by Janus, previously. If it is certainty you wanted, you should have contracted with the Terrakans."
Mayor Wilkins stood and moved casually around the desk, Rayne watching his every move without giving any appearance of doing so. Skilled man, in more than one art. He placed a hand on Rayne's shoulder, standing behind his seat.
Leaning forward, Wilkins said, quietly, "In the future... I'd be very careful about suggesting to me what I should or should not do, Mr. Rayne."
Nodding to himself at the very slight, almost imperceptible start that the chaos mage gave, Wilkins moved back around and sat on the edge of his desk, facing Rayne. He clapped his hands together and said, smiling, "Now. Anyone up for a root beer float? Do tell me more about this non-guaranteed enchantment, Ethan."
Xander slowly came to himself, as though waking up from a drugged fog of some sort.
To find himself up on the crest of a hilltop, looking down on a dirt road some several hundred yards below, with a cloud of dust off in the distance to his right. Approaching.
Up on the crest of a hilltop, wearing a dark brown duster, a hat, and a gun-belt.
Sitting atop a horse.
From beside and slightly to the rear of him, he heard an incredulous gasp, followed by Cordelia's strident, near panicked sounding voice. "Just what the hell did you do, Xander?"