Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Prince of Tennis or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The OCs that pop up are mine, and the plot is mine, but other than that, I have no ownership. Cry for me, would you?

This is a semi-BtVS crossover. The characters, as listed below, will randomly appear in chapters, and I will do my best to explain them for the purpose of the occasion.

When something comes along that can't be explained all that well, I will explain it in an Author's Note, but other than that, it will mostly focus on PoT's verse.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel characters (in order of appearance in the story):

Rupert Giles Wesley Wyndham-Pryce

Buffy Summers Illyria

Angel Charles Gunn

Spike Lorne

Pairings: OT5, Golden Pair, Dirty Pair, Silver Pair, Platinum Pair, and the others will explain themselves because I am simply too lazy to put them all here. Granted, almost all of the characters will be paired up in some form or another, so BE WARNED.

"Unto every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Chapter 1: Arrivals

"Welcome," a woman said cheerfully. Her hairstyle was layered to frame her face, and she wore Dior.

I could already tell I would dislike her immensely. I knew that right now in the States, it was morning, and this person was a morning person. Now where had I put my gun?

"My name is Aoi Hanamura," she continued. "I'm the Social Studies teacher." She winked at me, and I had to restrain myself from not running out the door at that moment. "I got to take a peek at your grades, and I can already tell you're going to flourish here." She said conspiratorially, as if we would suddenly end up best buds.

I bit back a snort. As if.

My father brought in the cart that held my heavy luggage, and began to take off the boxes one by one. I had labeled them carefully, and the top box was the one I was already longing to open. He placed them on the floor in front of my closet. While my room was not as large as the one at home, it was still large enough to have my space. My desk and dresser were against one grey wall, and my bed directly across from it. My closet was in the corner, close to the door. The rest of my wall opposite from the door was covered with navy curtains-hmm. I'd have to check that out later.

I also noticed to my relief that I had WiFi connections. That was really important to me-I needed to be able to listen to my ipod and check my email. Even though I considered us to be in the middle of nowhere-really, anything was the middle of nowhere compared to Charleston, South Carolina. Yes, I'm from the South. Yes, I have a Southern accent.

So don't give me crap about it. I love Charleston.

My mother put down the last of my suitcases down on my mattress. "Ms. Hanamura-" I could tell from her tone she disliked this teacher too, but she's too much the Southern Belle to let it known. Only those who know her know her tones. "Is there a reason why Cassandra is being housed in an empty wing?"

That's my name-Cassandra Elizabeth Thompson. Just don't call me Cassie-I'll not only hate you forever, I'll kick your ass from here to Pluto.

For a moment, Ms. Hanamura's too-cheery smile falters. She glances from my parents to me, where I'm leaning against the wall, staring at the (opposite) wall. "Given that many of the students here are male, we feel that it would be best for her honor to keep her living quarters away from the main group of students."

I catch my mother's eye. She can tell I'm about to laugh, and she frowns, though I see her amusement in her green eyes. The boys have nothing to fear from me.

However, the fact that many of the students are male should have tipped me off. I didn't yet realize…

My father, however, while not unaware of my…situation, shall we say, just looked relieved. I suppose he still considers me his little girl.

Hmph.

Ms. Hanamura looked at her wristwatch. It's a Rolex, and I wonder how much they pay the teachers here. I am beginning to suspect she wears this stuff just to surprise and amaze (cough intimidate cough) the people here. I bit back a sarcastic comment, preferring not to tell this teacher that while we come from old money, we are still up-to-date, or at the very least, my mother is on the current trends.

I wonder how this teacher would feel if she looked at my clothes. While I personally hate wearing designer, "Appearances must be kept".

Anyway, the teacher broke up the potentially positive laugh at her expense by suddenly mentioning that dinner is in an hour, and oh-so-apologetically told my parents they would have to leave soon. I noticed that my mother tensed, eyes turning icy. I wouldn't be surprised if my eyes mirrored it-I have inherited my mother's looks, and her temper. My father laid a hand on my mother's arm, a signal that says it's fine. Ms. Hanamura leaves so we can say our goodbyes in private, and my parents enfold me in a hug. I am a little shocked at first, because my parents rarely show physical affection for me, but I return it soon enough.

My mother is weeping. I know she didn't want me to go to school so far away, and at the tender age of fourteen, but the scandal back home decided for me. My mother pulls back, once again Mrs. James Thompson, with no tears visible on her pale cheeks. She smoothes back a stray brown lock that stuck to my forehead, and gently kisses my cheek. "Cassandra, call us tonight, please?"

I nod, choking on tears I refuse to let fall. My father pulls me into an awkward embrace, and I feel him trembling as well. In my hand, away from my mother's eyes, he presses an amulet into my hand. It's cool, and convoluted.

I tuck it into my pocket, and I bid goodbye to my parents as they leave, closing the door behind them.

Once they're gone, I let my tears cascade down my face, making my pallid skin red and blotchy. All too soon, my eyes are dry and I'm unpacking the main box. The first thing I pull out is the part of my life I had to leave back in Charleston. I place the blue-glass frame on the desk, where it will receive the most light, and I smile sadly at the photo. From here, their smile is rather forced, but I know it's only because of how I'm looking at it at the current moment.

I drag my clothes over to the closet, and throw them in the small-well, closet. Hanging from the hooks is the school uniform that the school promised my parents they would provide-light blue polos and black pants. Once I'm alone, I can let loose all of my unsaid comments and I snort. I had discovered the uniform after some digging, and I had brought my own clothes. So take that, all ye believers in uniforms!

Suddenly, a bell shrieks, frightening me out of my wits. When I recover enough to think clearly, I suddenly realize that that was the bell calling us to dinner. My poor ears, having to listen to that horrible sound every day. I grab my jacket from the bed, and leave.

Upon entering the dining hall, I froze. I should have realized it. How could my parents not have told me? Unless they didn't know themselves…

I'm attending an all boys' school.

Oh shit.

Somehow, it seems that fainting and falling onto the cold floor was not the best way to introduce myself. Especially since I now had several people surrounding me. I did my best not to panic-respect the bubble, people! I blinked-my contacts made a last-ditch attempt to glue my eyes shut, but with persistent blinking the contacts lost. Hah. Take that.

I sat up-the people I now realized were teachers backed up a little. Thank you-I need my breathing room, if it's all right with you?!

"Cassandra, are you all right?" an elderly woman inquired.

Apart from being cold and surrounded by people I've never seen, I'm right as rain! "I'm fine, thank you."

Apparently my words didn't convince them. "You hit your head on the floor," a man with light brown hair continued.

Oh…that's why I have the headache from hell. "I'm fine," I repeated. Once I get my painkillers, anyway.

"Are you quite sure?" the elderly teacher said again.

Other than the fact that I am currently a few degrees colder than Antarctica, I am bloody fine! I nod, trying not to wince as my head begins to resemble a drum.

The light-haired teacher has a gleam in his eyes I'm sure I won't like. "Sumire, no time like the present." The elderly teacher nods, an amused twinkle in her dark eyes. "Ms. Thompson, if you are truly fine, then you would not mind having a musical evaluation."

Shit.

"No, of course not." I say defensively.

"Good." He gets up, striding off down the hall. I get up and follow, absently wondering how I'm going to have a musical test without my music. Maybe he wants me to do sightsinging-I can do that. Cheered by this thought, I follow him.

I flop down on my bed, completely exhausted. Mr. Sakaki, as it turned out, was the music teacher, qualified by the Royal Conservatory in London. I stared down at my twitching fingers-they hurt from playing the piano for so long. He had me do several octave jumps, and now they ached. My voice was hoarse from singing for so long-man, he's vindictive. I turn and face my desk, where I placed my music books. He put me in the third level of the Royal Conservatory books, and the combination of light beige and purple reflected light into my sore eyes. I was glad that I had taken my contacts out; otherwise they would be twinging now.

I turn away from the book, turning off my light. My last thought before I succumb into total darkness is that I hadn't called my parents tonight…