Death of TV shows
Part 4: Non-dying canon characters and fan fictions of doom
A Forever Knight/ Buffy/ X-files crossover
Disclaimer: This story includes people from the Forever Knight, Buffy and X- files 'verses. I do not claim any of them, nor am I getting any kind of money for this writing. Although I *would* love to take any of them out for coffee. Well, tea, I don't like coffee. Or maybe hot chocolate. And I don't particularly want to meet Buffy. Anyway: on to the story. __________________________________________ __________________________________________
Death, moving slightly nonexistent music, made a check in her tremendously ragged-looking black notebook. For a moment she hummed along, then decided to sing . . . but no, she wasn't *that* evil.
Okay, yes she was: "Und ich habe viel tun! So, ich werde. . . no, wait, that song was originally in English. What are the words?" she cocked on eye at Janette. "Or do you only know the French? Wait! There was a Latin version also: "Et habeo multam ad agendam! Ergo agam . . . Oh, is it your turn?"
Janette looked at her strangely. Before she could answer, though, Death said: "Janette DuCharme, beautiful, deadly, and now going into fan fiction." She looked up and winked at the woman standing before her. "Have fun." She pushed Janette through a swirling pink portal that lead to a story line, and then moved on to Captain Reese. ___________________________________________________
Mulder and Scully didn't arrive in Toronto until nearly two in the afternoon that day, both feeling rather weary and bored after their lengthy plane ride. LaCroix, after his brief words in the Minneapolis airport, had disappeared, so the agents had ample opportunity to talk about the fact that they knew almost nothing about the case and so it was pretty useless to discuss it. As I said, they were bored.
But almost as soon as they stepped off the airplane, things got a bit more . . . interesting.
"Ah, there you are!" An overly-cheerful voice exclaimed, matching the young man who strode breathlessly over to Mulder and Scully. He wore the typical uniform of the police, but didn't seem to match it well: the smile of his face and snapping of his fingers was just too exuberant to be in place for such and occupation. But it was certainly a 'ray of sunshine' so to speak, even if the sun had yet to show its face that day. "You're right on time – they told me you would be. I'm Alex Lemone, by the way. I assume you are agents Mulder and Scully?"
The two mentioned nodded, reaching for ID. "Oh, that isn't necessary," Lemone said, waving his hand dismissively. "I recognize you – I'm a big fan of your work, by the way. What they let me see, that is, which isn't much. I'll drive you to the station, if you'll come with me."
Mulder raised his eyebrows pointedly at Scully who told Lemone that they usually just rented a car . . . but he wouldn't have any of it. "I was told to escort you there. Anyway, it's an honor, come on!" ___________________________________________________
It was evening and Buffy allowed Nick to put her in that "horribly- unfashionable car" (with ample trunk space) and drive her to the station.
Buffy was feeling more than a little uncomfortable around Nick. He was certainly nice (especially for one in his situation, but kept blanking out. She very much hoped he wouldn't have one of those episodes while he was driving) still . . . Nick was just one of those people who you can just tell know everything about you. It was unnerving. It was as if Nick (whom Buffy, being Buffy, noticed was rather attractive) understood her perfectly, and didn't particularly like certain parts of her. Oh, well, she'd be free of him soon enough.
Nick, on the other hand, was extremely wary of the entire situation. He wasn't sure what was going on, but LaCroix had something to do with it, and *he had to get out of town!* Everything was horribly wrong, and he was *still* stuck with some noisy teenager who somehow knew (and depended) upon him . . . while being illegally in Canada. Though he didn't show it, Nick was close to the point of panicking, and it was all his 800 years of training that allowed him to keep a relatively calm (and flashback-less) head.
Finally, after what seemed much too long to Nick, and an eternity to Buffy, they arrived at the Police Station, and Nick was able to escort Buffy to the police station . . . and was immediately put in a line to wait.
"This has been a very strange week," said one of the officers, who knew Nick by reputation. "A good portion of the staff is gone, and around town more than ten people have been reported missing in the last hour. But it looks like you don't have someone missing – you've found someone."
"Yes," Nick said, turning to Buffy, who was looking curiously around her. "This is Buffy Sommers. She seems to have been knocked out and brought to Toronto under specific circumstances. She claims to remember nothing about traveling here (from California) save someone called . . ."
"Death," Buffy supplied, feeling more than slightly stupid for saying it. But Death had been real! She would have never imagined someone like *that!*
"Okay," the officer said, looking even more tired now. "Come with me, we'll get you sorted out. You can't stay in Canada illegally – and back at your home, you must be another 'missing person.'"
Buffy smiled slightly at the joke. It wasn't a very good one – but from the look of the officer, it had been a long day. And she was definitely not in a position to be anything but diplomatic.
"I have to get going," Nick said, shaking the officer's hand. He turned to Buffy, "Good luck."
Nick quickly left to go to his own office. He very much wanted to leave – he had to leave! He had to get away! – but he also had to find Natalie, and what was going on around here. That came first . . . didn't it? In any case, his legs betrayed him, carrying him straight through the halls to his own desk. ___________________________________________________
*There is no way out,* Natalie thought, staring at the blank wall that had previously serviced as the main entrance. *I am stuck in this hospital alone with a hungry vampire and there is /no/ way out!* Being rather cool- headed, Nat hadn't begun to panic, but she was definitely thinking it might be a good idea.
"What's this," Spike asked, walking forward to retrieve a letter. "To Natalie and William, do not open until you want to open it."
"'Do not open until you want to open it'?" Nat echoed. "I would have thought that'd be obvious. Why would you open something if you didn't want to? And who's 'William'?"
"Me," Spike replied, turning over the letter in his hand. "I think I know who wrote this—the only one who might write something like that." He ran his finger around the words, noting the subtle difference in the shade of black from that of her notebook. "Death. Remember what I told you before? Well, I'm guessing she left this." He ripped the envelope open to reveal a black sheet of paper, neatly folded in thirds. Spike looked at it silently, and then handed it to Natalie who read it aloud.
"Dear Natalie Lambert and William "Spike" No-last-name-unless-I-missed-an- episode,
There are videos in the second cabinet to your left, third drawer down. I got them from the Real World. Enjoy.
-- Death"
"Not very talkative, is she?" Spike asked, already heading to the cabinet. He opened it to reveal row upon row of video tapes, stacked two feet high. "Well, this should be interesting."
Natalie picked up a few tapes, and read their side labels out loud for Spike's benefit. "The X-files? Forever Knight? Buffy the Vampire Slayer? What are those supposed to mean?" She stared down at the words again, and murmured, as if to herself, "Forever Knight? Nick? Why would there be a tape of him?"
"I was wondering the same thing," Spike said, holding up a 'Buffy' tape. "See, I have known Buffy, have for years, and I don't remember anyone ever recording her – certainly not for all these tapes worth!"
"I don't like this," answered Natalie. "But at the same time, I think it's best if we look at these. They could have anything on them! And if someone really has been spying on us for years, I want to know what's there. Spike nodded.
"Right. Where's the television?"
Disclaimer: This story includes people from the Forever Knight, Buffy and X- files 'verses. I do not claim any of them, nor am I getting any kind of money for this writing. Although I *would* love to take any of them out for coffee. Well, tea, I don't like coffee. Or maybe hot chocolate. And I don't particularly want to meet Buffy. Anyway: on to the story. __________________________________________ __________________________________________
Death, moving slightly nonexistent music, made a check in her tremendously ragged-looking black notebook. For a moment she hummed along, then decided to sing . . . but no, she wasn't *that* evil.
Okay, yes she was: "Und ich habe viel tun! So, ich werde. . . no, wait, that song was originally in English. What are the words?" she cocked on eye at Janette. "Or do you only know the French? Wait! There was a Latin version also: "Et habeo multam ad agendam! Ergo agam . . . Oh, is it your turn?"
Janette looked at her strangely. Before she could answer, though, Death said: "Janette DuCharme, beautiful, deadly, and now going into fan fiction." She looked up and winked at the woman standing before her. "Have fun." She pushed Janette through a swirling pink portal that lead to a story line, and then moved on to Captain Reese. ___________________________________________________
Mulder and Scully didn't arrive in Toronto until nearly two in the afternoon that day, both feeling rather weary and bored after their lengthy plane ride. LaCroix, after his brief words in the Minneapolis airport, had disappeared, so the agents had ample opportunity to talk about the fact that they knew almost nothing about the case and so it was pretty useless to discuss it. As I said, they were bored.
But almost as soon as they stepped off the airplane, things got a bit more . . . interesting.
"Ah, there you are!" An overly-cheerful voice exclaimed, matching the young man who strode breathlessly over to Mulder and Scully. He wore the typical uniform of the police, but didn't seem to match it well: the smile of his face and snapping of his fingers was just too exuberant to be in place for such and occupation. But it was certainly a 'ray of sunshine' so to speak, even if the sun had yet to show its face that day. "You're right on time – they told me you would be. I'm Alex Lemone, by the way. I assume you are agents Mulder and Scully?"
The two mentioned nodded, reaching for ID. "Oh, that isn't necessary," Lemone said, waving his hand dismissively. "I recognize you – I'm a big fan of your work, by the way. What they let me see, that is, which isn't much. I'll drive you to the station, if you'll come with me."
Mulder raised his eyebrows pointedly at Scully who told Lemone that they usually just rented a car . . . but he wouldn't have any of it. "I was told to escort you there. Anyway, it's an honor, come on!" ___________________________________________________
It was evening and Buffy allowed Nick to put her in that "horribly- unfashionable car" (with ample trunk space) and drive her to the station.
Buffy was feeling more than a little uncomfortable around Nick. He was certainly nice (especially for one in his situation, but kept blanking out. She very much hoped he wouldn't have one of those episodes while he was driving) still . . . Nick was just one of those people who you can just tell know everything about you. It was unnerving. It was as if Nick (whom Buffy, being Buffy, noticed was rather attractive) understood her perfectly, and didn't particularly like certain parts of her. Oh, well, she'd be free of him soon enough.
Nick, on the other hand, was extremely wary of the entire situation. He wasn't sure what was going on, but LaCroix had something to do with it, and *he had to get out of town!* Everything was horribly wrong, and he was *still* stuck with some noisy teenager who somehow knew (and depended) upon him . . . while being illegally in Canada. Though he didn't show it, Nick was close to the point of panicking, and it was all his 800 years of training that allowed him to keep a relatively calm (and flashback-less) head.
Finally, after what seemed much too long to Nick, and an eternity to Buffy, they arrived at the Police Station, and Nick was able to escort Buffy to the police station . . . and was immediately put in a line to wait.
"This has been a very strange week," said one of the officers, who knew Nick by reputation. "A good portion of the staff is gone, and around town more than ten people have been reported missing in the last hour. But it looks like you don't have someone missing – you've found someone."
"Yes," Nick said, turning to Buffy, who was looking curiously around her. "This is Buffy Sommers. She seems to have been knocked out and brought to Toronto under specific circumstances. She claims to remember nothing about traveling here (from California) save someone called . . ."
"Death," Buffy supplied, feeling more than slightly stupid for saying it. But Death had been real! She would have never imagined someone like *that!*
"Okay," the officer said, looking even more tired now. "Come with me, we'll get you sorted out. You can't stay in Canada illegally – and back at your home, you must be another 'missing person.'"
Buffy smiled slightly at the joke. It wasn't a very good one – but from the look of the officer, it had been a long day. And she was definitely not in a position to be anything but diplomatic.
"I have to get going," Nick said, shaking the officer's hand. He turned to Buffy, "Good luck."
Nick quickly left to go to his own office. He very much wanted to leave – he had to leave! He had to get away! – but he also had to find Natalie, and what was going on around here. That came first . . . didn't it? In any case, his legs betrayed him, carrying him straight through the halls to his own desk. ___________________________________________________
*There is no way out,* Natalie thought, staring at the blank wall that had previously serviced as the main entrance. *I am stuck in this hospital alone with a hungry vampire and there is /no/ way out!* Being rather cool- headed, Nat hadn't begun to panic, but she was definitely thinking it might be a good idea.
"What's this," Spike asked, walking forward to retrieve a letter. "To Natalie and William, do not open until you want to open it."
"'Do not open until you want to open it'?" Nat echoed. "I would have thought that'd be obvious. Why would you open something if you didn't want to? And who's 'William'?"
"Me," Spike replied, turning over the letter in his hand. "I think I know who wrote this—the only one who might write something like that." He ran his finger around the words, noting the subtle difference in the shade of black from that of her notebook. "Death. Remember what I told you before? Well, I'm guessing she left this." He ripped the envelope open to reveal a black sheet of paper, neatly folded in thirds. Spike looked at it silently, and then handed it to Natalie who read it aloud.
"Dear Natalie Lambert and William "Spike" No-last-name-unless-I-missed-an- episode,
There are videos in the second cabinet to your left, third drawer down. I got them from the Real World. Enjoy.
-- Death"
"Not very talkative, is she?" Spike asked, already heading to the cabinet. He opened it to reveal row upon row of video tapes, stacked two feet high. "Well, this should be interesting."
Natalie picked up a few tapes, and read their side labels out loud for Spike's benefit. "The X-files? Forever Knight? Buffy the Vampire Slayer? What are those supposed to mean?" She stared down at the words again, and murmured, as if to herself, "Forever Knight? Nick? Why would there be a tape of him?"
"I was wondering the same thing," Spike said, holding up a 'Buffy' tape. "See, I have known Buffy, have for years, and I don't remember anyone ever recording her – certainly not for all these tapes worth!"
"I don't like this," answered Natalie. "But at the same time, I think it's best if we look at these. They could have anything on them! And if someone really has been spying on us for years, I want to know what's there. Spike nodded.
"Right. Where's the television?"