Title: Floating down unconcerned Rivers
Fandom: Underworld crossover with Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Only for the first Underworld movie and for all seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Summary: He awoke in the same place he died.

A/N: I'm probably going somewhere with this. So there may be more. But this is the first and can be read on it's own. I can only blame this on Michael Sheen and my imagination filled in the rest. The title is taken from Arthur Rimbaud's The Drunken Boat. Please let me know what you think.

He awoke in the same place he died. Sprawled out on the floor in the dilapidated underground, the walls still had rivulets of dirty water and the floor was covered in muck and mud. He blinked and shook his head a little to clear his mind. He sat up slowly. He breathed deeply and tried to remember what he had been doing prior to lying on the ground.

He took another breath. He knew he had a name, but could not remember. Something was terribly wrong. He breathed in again.

There. That was it. A lack. A complete lack of pain. That was what was missing. His chest felt empty without it. He looked down at himself and frowned.

His skin was still pale and taunt over his muscles, but the dirt and the angry lines of silver he expected to see were missing.

He breathed in again and a part of him delighted in the absence of pain, but the animal part of him was wary. He made a movement to stand.

"You may want to take it easy," a soft voice came from nearby. He looked over quickly, losing his balance and falling swiftly into a crouch. His eyes flashed with silver as he took in the stranger.

A young woman with long light brown hair stood in the doorway. He flared his nostrils and frowned. She didn't smell of a threat; she smelled of lavender and camomile.

"You'll probably have some disorientation when you stand," she said. "I know I did."

"You," he tried to speak, instead all that emerged was a growl. He swallowed and tried to speak again and still another growl that to his dismay became a low whine was all he could manage.

The young woman looked sympathetic and took a step closer. He bared his teeth and crouched lower. She stopped and held out her hand, palm down and lowered her eyes with the hint of a smile on her face.

He took in the picture of submission and greeting she offered.

Her eyes still lowered, she said, "It may take you a few minutes to join yourself together."

He closed his mouth and fought the animal side of him that all of a sudden was urging him to butt his head against her outstretched hand. Instead he studied her.

She was medium height with a full figure. Young, to his eyes, no more than twenty-five. Her eyes were brown and rich with compassion.

"Will I do?" she asked sounding slightly amused.

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a semblance of a smile. Then it struck him.

"Lucian," he managed, his voice still rough with a growl.

"Yes," she said nodding her head. "You are Lucian."

He nodded seriously to himself. He looked around the dark dank room. It was so still. And it didn't smell like it should. He concentrated and tried to remember, when it all came to him. He flinched once, then again and again as the images that led up to his death battered his mind.

....the sting of the injection of blood. ...the sad empathy in Michael's eyes. ...the blinding pain and outrage at the shot in the back from Kraven. ...the agony of the silver nitrate. ...the utter satisfaction of stabbing Kraven. ...the gorgeous irony of Selene biting Michael. ...the beautiful anticipation of pain and relief that would finally come with his death.

The wolf inside of him could be contained no longer. He rose to his knees and threw his head back and howled. His throat exposed to the world and his chest full of remembered loss and suffering. He howled out his existance.

His energy and emotions sapped, Lucian slumped to the ground, his palms flat on the floor and his back hunched over. His hair fell in a curtain around his face and he tried to regain control. He breathed. The still present scent of lavender felt wrong in such a dank place, so he looked over at the young woman. The understanding and unshed tears in her eyes took him aback. He furrowed his brow in confusion and looked back down at the ground.

Lucian flexed his fingers. The floor should have been wet with water and muck and instead it was solid. He raised his hands up to look at the palms. They had been stained with silver and blood, he was sure of it. He looked up and stared at the walls. They seemed to shimmer under his gaze. He whipped his head back to stare at the young woman as it finally dawned on him just how incongruous her presence was in this place.

She wore a blue sweater and blue jeans. Her feet were bare and her toenails had the lightest shade of pink polish on them. However, compared to the room, she looked and smelled as solid as anything.

Lucian felt another whine beginning at the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the wolf. Once he felt under control, he opened his eyes and pinned the woman with a glare.

"Am I..." he cleared his throat. "I am dead, correct?"

"Yes," she said nodding. "Yes, you are."

Lucian inclined his head.

"Is this..." he waved his hand limply indicating the surroundings, "heaven?"

"No," she said. "Not at all."

"Right," Lucian said. He took a deep breath. "Then where am I?"

The woman sighed a little.

"I suppose the best name for it is Limbo. This," she said nodding at the room, "is a kind of construct. They had the grand idea that we would feel more 'at home' if we awoke in the place we died."

She shook her head. "I have my doubts about that particular idea."

Lucian blinked and looked at her blankly.

"Limbo?" he said, latching onto the first part of her explantion. "Am I to be judged?"

"Oh, you've already been judged," she said.

He waited. "And, which is it to be, heaven or hell?"

"Well, neither," she said sounding a little surprised.

"Neith..." he started. "What?"

She took a step forward but stopped when Lucian reared back.

"I... May I sit down?" she asked.

Lucian looked surprised and then with a regal wave of his hand said, "It's your place."

"Actually, it's yours," she said with a smile and she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs Indian-style. "But, we'll get to that."

She met his gaze with clear eyes and an open expression on her face.

"You are dead. At least in the most basic of senses. You, as Lucian the physical being who walked about the earth, are no longer alive. However, you have still retained your, I guess the best word is soul," she explained. "And as you have already discovered, you still possess the lycanthrope within you. That is who you have always been, so that's who you remain."

She shifted a little and her fingers fell to play with the cuff of her jeans.

"Where we are now is only a reflection of where you were when you died," she went on. "So a kind of Limbo if you will, before you begin your next stage."

"My next stage?" Lucian repeated.

The young woman nodded.

"You have been Chosen, Lucian," she said simply.

He raised his head a little, sensing the proper noun in that statement.

"Chosen? For what?" he asked flatly.

Here, the young woman looked reluctant to go on, as if she sensed his response would not be favorable. Lucian felt his hackles twitch beneath his skin.

"You've been Chosen to be a Guardian," she said finally.

"A Guardian? Of what?" he asked sharply.

"Well," she said, her hand reached up to tuck a length of hair behind her ear and Lucian was struck by how young she appeared. "The Powers That Be have chosen beings throughout history to guard who they call their most important players. These Guardians keep watch and when needed, help to ensure that the actions of the player move forward as they should."

This last part was said with a hint of bitterness.

"The... Powers That Be?" Lucian said in disbelief. "I thought they were a myth used to explain away coincidence and good luck."

The woman smiled a little. "No, they are as real as you and I."

Lucian raised his eyebrows at her and looked her up and down. She looked puzzled and then said quickly, "I'm real! Honest. I used to be alive, but I died and then I was Chosen."

"You lived," he said absently. "And now you are dead. And I am dead. And I am to be a Guardian."

He leaned back and landed heavily into a sitting position with his knees bent upwards. He rested his arms on top of his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He chuckled wryly.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I know that this doesn't make much sense and..."

"No, no. It makes complete and utter sense," Lucian said, his head still in his hands. "I've been toiling away for centuries. Centuries! And just as I see my plans, my will, my vengeance, come to fruition, I am shot in the back. But instead of peaceful oblivion or even the flames of hell, I get to be a, a, a bloody Guardian Angel?!"

Lucian finished with his head raised skywards and with a shout that felt all the more unnatural in a place that didn't allow an echo. He dropped his head back into his hands.

"Bloody typical," he muttered.

For a moment the only sounds were Lucian's ragged breaths and the young woman's slow and even ones.

"I don't expect you to understand fully what all of this means," she said softly. "I didn't. It will take some time. And ex- exposure to what you are now capable of doing."

Lucian snorted.

"It does get better," she said weakly. "I promise."

"Do you?" he said dryly. "Do you promise?"

He lifted his head and gave her a gaze that had caused grown men to wither under the sheer cruelty of it.

"I've already been a guardian, thanks," he said. "As you can see, it didn't turn out so well. You'll have to forgive me if I'm reluctant to take up such a mantle again."

The young woman frowned, but Lucian continued.

"Did you miss the part about centuries?" he said. "Six of them, to be accurate. All occupied with a war that I didn't begin but was compelled to end. And now, I never shall. My life's purpose, my existance is all but eradicated and now I must follow along like a good little pup and make sure the future kings are kept safe? How utterly, utterly boring."

He glared at the young woman. She glared back, her hands clenched the cuff of her jeans.

"You are right," she said. "And I am sorry that your death came at an inconvenient time. And I am sorry for all of your suffering. But you are aware that more is happening in the world beyond your war? Are you really that narrow minded to believe that the entire world hinges upon the outcome of it? This is only a small blip on the screen as far as most are concerned. Half of the lycans and vampires I know stayed far away from it hoping you would all just destroy each other. All the while, people are dying all over to make sure this realm continues to exist and not be dragged into a hell of the worst sort. This world is made up of so much more than you are even capable of imagining."

Lucian leaned back as something gold and powerful flashed behind her eyes and he realized that maybe there was more to this woman than he first believed.

"I see," he said. The young woman seemed to calm down and she lowered her eyes.

"I don't suppose I have much choice in this matter, do I?" he asked.

"There is always a choice," she said almost by rote. "But, at the moment, no, you really don't."

She looked up at him with a rueful smile and they studied one another.

"So, what now?" he asked in resignation.

"Now, we get out of here," she said. "And I begin to teach you a few of the basics of being a Guardian and a little about our physical manifestations."

"We have physical manifestations?" Lucian asked. "Like what? Ghosts? Poltergeists?"

"That's certainly one way of describing them," she said. "Sometimes we do have to physically intervene in order to assist, so we are able to move things about and have a presence."

"Oh, well, that's good to know," he said, staring at the fake wall in front of him. With a canine-like shake of his body, he stood up. He looked down at the young woman.

"I suppose we should get going," he said. He looked around in distaste. "I no longer wish to remain in these surroundings."

She smiled at him and stood up, reflexively wiping off her jeans despite no dirt being present.

"All we have to do is go through the doorway and then we'll be in the physical realm of the world again," she indicated the door where Kraven had run away into earlier.

"Very well," Lucian said. He paused and looked torn. "Could you... Would it... Are you able to tell me how the battle ended?"

His eyes bored into the wall and would not meet hers.

"Viktor is dead," she explained softly. "Selene cut him down."

Lucian froze at the delicious implications of what she just said. Then he blinked and smiled.

"Good," he said. "And Michael?"

"A beautiful being of immense strength and agility," she said. Then she shrugged. "If you like that sort of thing."

Lucian actually chuckled and looked at her. "It's a lycan thing."

"So I gathered," she replied with a grin.

"So," he said as he looked at the door. "We just walk through there and my next stage begins?"

"Yep," she said. "That's it. You'll need to hold my hand for the first bit, so I can guide you a little."

She held out a pale hand with delicate fingers. He wondered if she had ever played the piano.

"So," he asked as he went to take her hand. "Do you have a name?"

Their hands met and a warm feeling of connection spread through Lucian's body.

"Oh, yes," she said as she looked in surprise at their joined hands. She looked up at his face and smiled. "My name is Tara."

Then she turned and led him through the door.