Author's notes: This crossover is set in the middle of Season 3 of Buffy, and the ending of Final Fantasy VII:Advent Children. Special thanks to toxictattoo for all his wonderful help. Crit, as always, is welcome.

Disclaimer: FFVII:AC is the property of Square Enix. BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.

Series Summary: In their last moments on Gaia, the brothers are spared their lives only to end up in Sunnydale, bringing a host of problems with them. Xander experiences a new freedom after meeting Yazoo but Buffy grows uneasy as what little of Kadaj's restraint unravels, Geostigma spreads, and the tension reaches its snapping point.

Chapter summary: It starts with a simple graveyard meeting.

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Candles dotted the floor, creating a crisp circle in a darkened room. A light breeze skipped through the curtains and sent candlelight flickering over the walls, revealing glimpses of school pennants, a bed ruffle, a laptop on the dresser.

Willow's chant grew louder as she sat in the middle with legs crossed and eyes closed.

"...I call on the power of the circle of Gaia. Come to my aid."

The wind picked up, rushing around the outer edges of the room. Stray pieces of homework spun and danced in its wake. Willow stretched out her arms in supplication. "Gaia, my goddess, I call on you-"

The wind reached critical speed, streaming Willow's hair behind her as her hands reached towards the far wall in an unseeing grasp.

Her body went rigid. Her eyes rolled back.

The candles puffed out and the wind cut off, leaving only stark silence as she collapsed on the floor.

A scrap of paper floated down softly next to her prone body. As it settled, words scratched their way across the surface.

"As you wish"

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Buffy made her way through the graveyard with only the far-away glow of the streetlights to guide her. She was used to the dark; she lived her life in gloomy alleys and dusty mausoleums, hunting the dark forces of the underworld in a never-ending fight between good and evil. She was singing YMCA under her breath.

She dropped her arms mid-vowel. The sound was slight but her Slayer senses demanded caution. Her nightly strolls had become routine over the last week, staking freshly-turned vamps with a bored plunge of her wrist before moving on. This felt different.

She ducked behind a gravestone keeping her cream pants and peasant top clean with practiced ease. There was more than one figure out there but she had no clue who... or what. If she strained, she could catch the slightest rustling of fabric brushing against leaves. She savored the burst of adrenaline that kicked into gear at the unknown threat.

A lone cricket chirped nearby as her fingers tightened around her stake. She slowed her breathing to open up to the surroundings and plan her next move.

The crack of a twig was her only warning. She whirled in place, her hand smacking flat against the boot aimed at her head. She rocked from the force of the blow. The boy looked like a regular teen but her senses screamed 'demon'. He was too quiet. Too strong. Too fast.

A heave sent him onto his back, and the quietness of the graveyard betrayed only the slightest grunt when he hit the ground. He didn't stay down long. He relaxed into the fall and somersaulted backwards, bouncing to his feet with a speed unusual even for the beasties of Sunnydale.

Predator faced prey, though it was hard to tell which was which.

He was dressed for a rock concert, right down to the black combat boots she'd already met up close and personal. Freakishly bright green eyes, ones that belonged in a battle-scarred lion, not this wiry kid, shone bright behind the veil of hair that covered his face. Buffy's inner fashion maven cringed. Silver hair? Sooo five years ago.

She broke the stand-off with a one-two punch. "Metallica called. They want their costume back."

He dodged each blow - once left, once right – as effortlessly as if she'd been moving in slow motion, then quickly switched to the offensive. She stretched her physical abilities to dodge the blows he was returning her way. Mentally, she flipped through her ever-growing catalogue of baddies she'd encountered in her career.

Not a vamp, or he would have changed by now. Definitely not a ghost by the force of his blows. No dropping body parts, thank goodness, so her night remained blissfully zombie-free.

When in doubt, slice and dice, that was her motto. That, and always buy on sale. Still, it wouldn't hurt to get a better handle on things before she went all Texas Chain Saw Massacre on his ass. She threw out a volley.

"What's the matter? Cranky because your girlfriend used the last of the black nail polish?"

The boy frowned briefly at his clear fingernails but didn't answer, instead jumping to the top of a tombstone to flip gracefully - and gravity-defyingly - over her head. She whirled to keep him in front of her. Definitely not human. She tried to think of any human-like demons that didn't talk but in her experience they always chatted up a storm, what with all the 'grr arghhs' and 'I'm going to kill you's.

She aimed a swing kick at his head. "Cat got your tongue?"

He ducked the kick and finally answered with a smile. "You're good." He followed it up with a flurry of punches that pushed her back against a mausoleum.

"He talks." She leaned back against the building and kicked both legs out at his chest. "Now he dies."

She whipped a stake from her waistband and advanced with determination. Enough small talk. It was time to see just how much damage a stake could do, vampire or not, before his friends showed up.

She was looking for her opening when a voice interrupted.

"Kadaj, why do you fight this-" Buffy caught the disdainful pause by the new arrival as he scrutinized her, "this little girl."

She whirled towards the newcomer, taking in his height and silver hair in a glance. It was like a bad dye-job convention had moved into town. While the one named Kadaj exuded cockiness and the playfulness of a cat toying with its dinner, this one smelled of grease and oil and loud engines that thrummed with power.

"Be nice, Loz." Kadaj's body turned off like the flick of a switch, his whole pose becoming languid. "She's fun."

"I'm not fun!" She bristled then paused. "Well, my friends think I'm fun." Another pause, with a hopeful addition. "Some say wacky even." She shook her head, getting back to the meat of the matter. "But I'm definitely not little."

She thrust her chin up at Loz. "Just because I'm not some tall, freakishly over-muscled, latex-suit, silver-buckle wearing..." She lost track of where she was going but rallied quickly. "Doesn't mean I still can't kick your ass from here to the Sunnydale sign."

Loz brushed at his suit, hurt. "It's leather, not latex."

Kadaj ignored him. "Sunnydale?"

That stopped Buffy and she craned her head between the two. "Um, yeah. Sunnydale? The Hellmouth? Great big center of mystical convergence?" She made loopy gestures with her hands. She didn't say 'duh' but it radiated from every still-outraged pore in her body.

She caught their blank looks and propped her hands on her hips. "Wait. You don't even know where you are?"

Kadaj shrugged, an economical lift of one shoulder. "Not our choice to be here."

The sheer nonchalance of the statement floored her. The situation was starting to reek of a Sunnydale "oops", and Sunnydale oopses were famed far and wide for being anything but simple or logical. And if it couldn't be solved by violence and strong language, then that meant Giles and books and - she shuddered slightly - research. She forestalled the inevitable conclusion for as long as possible.

"Where exactly did you come from?"

The brothers caught each other's eyes in silent conversation. It was Kadaj that answered.

"Gaia."

"Is that by Los Angeles?"

Another round of blank looks answered the question for her.

"Okay, let's skip the written and go right to the end. Why did you attack me?"

"Like I said. You looked fun."

"That's it? No cries of 'I'm going to kill you, Slayer' or 'Your blood shall be mine'?" Her voice went up almost hopeful at the end.

"What's a Slayer?" Loz interrupted.

There went that idea.

She tapped her finger against her chin, at a loss as to how to proceed.

Before she could come up with a plan, a third man strolled up and settled back against a gravestone, ankles and arms crossed. He looked like he was ready for a photo shoot, only lacking the Ferrari to sprawl out on. And more silver hair. She was sensing a theme. She tucked her hand up to subtly tug at her own fight-tousled hair and made a note to ask what shampoo he used.

"No sign of our bikes. Nothing I recognized." He was picking up the thread of a conversation obviously started long before she arrived. "Our phones don't work either. Who's the girl?"

"You first," Buffy shot back.

Kadaj threw a quick head-tilt. "That's Yazoo."

Buffy bit down her laugh. She couldn't exactly take the high ground in the name game, after all. But Xander would have a ball.

"Sooo, you really don't know where you are or why you're here?" Getting no response other than those eerie stares, she sighed. "Chatty bunch. And you don't really want to kill me?"

Loz stood up straighter. "I can if you want me to."

She rolled her eyes and let it slide without answer. "I think we need to see my Watcher."

Kadaj looked out from under his bangs. "Watcher?"

"Yeah, my Watcher. He, um, watches." She bit on her lip. "I do the slaying," she pantomimed with her stake, "and he, well... usually he sits back with a stuffy accent reading books and cleaning his glass-"

She broke off with a sigh at Kadaj's furrowed brow. "He's like my gang leader."

Kadaj smiled slowly. "Let's meet this leader of yours."