Title: Destiny Denied, Chapter. We have NO idea which chapter this is. 10?
11? Who was responsible for remembering which chapter we were on???
Author(s): Specks, Nina, and Ky
Rating: This chapter is PG-13 (for language/violence) but there will, Ky hastens to assure, be NC-17 in upcoming (and clearly labeled) sections.
Summary: AU, folks... Everyone has a destiny, even though Buffy and Angel have long been denied theirs. A changing of the guard causes history to be rewritten and proves that, in the end, no one (yes, Joss and Marti, we're looking at you!) can alter what is destined to come to pass...
Spoilers: This *is* AU, but there are references to AtS and BtVS through out the story.
Disclaimers: Brace yourselves, folks, this may come as a shock to some of you: We are *not* Marti or Joss or David Greenwalt. As a matter of fact, we're not any one(three) in any way involved with the shows, the networks, the production companies, the actors, their agents... yada, yada, yada. We're just some B/A fans, having a little fun with these characters while their owners are off making money with them.
Feedback is a welcome thing and can be sent to: themochabitcas@aol.com
Authors Notes:
Thanks
We would like to thank the three people that actually read this story, DB for the lost weight (it looks good on ya' sweet cheeks, now work on that six pack!), paper clips for their invaluable service in the organization of paper, Post Its for their multi coloredness, Nina's minions for bringing Friday and Bubblicious for making bubbles so. licious. Individually, Specks thanks coffee, The Wondrous Penguin (who is real, much to everyone's surprise. ::waves at Penguin::), the eye candy in creative writing class (clearly, Ky is having a bad influence on Specks), Ky for her wacky. yet sage advice. Guess you could call it advice, or doesn't she seem to be SMOKING something LIKE sage? ::hides:: Which she never does. Ever. OK, once back in college... FINE. Seven or eight times in college. OK, she went out with a dealer... It explains a lot, doesn't it? ::runs away:: Nina would like to thank Ky, Specks, and Jade for cushioning the blow as she fell out of the fandom, the x-over writers on the web who've eased the transition, the BEACH, and especially thanks B, for being so tolerant. Ky thanks Diet Coke, Specks for letting her live vicariously through her, Cosmopolitans and Nina for Live Journal, calm advice about tags, life saving skills, and being. Perfect! Finally, Ky would like to invoke the Amber Alert system. The Hot Half Nekkid Jogger Man (HHNJM) that runs past her work place daily has been missing for a week. Please, if anyone sees HHNJM wandering the streets with a lost look on his face, contact Ky at Kyria2b@aol.com. She'll be sure to come pick him up. (
CHAPTER NINE (Lucky for us Nina is on the ball!)
("Would you like anything else to drink?" the blond stewardess asked sweetly.
Angel ignored the hint of black lace peeping out as the stewardess 'unconsciously' fingered another button of her white blouse open. Instead he kept careful eye contact and nodded no. A look of disappointment flashed across the blond's face before being covered by a plastic smile. Red flush crept up her slim neck and with flustered movements, the woman moved on to the next row of seats. The vampire scowled, lines creasing a forever, youthful brow momentarily as a voice whined close by.
"She didn't even ASK if I wanted one," Wesley grumbled, "Quite unprofessional."
Angel stifled a groan and closed his eyes while deftly pressing the buttons to recline the chair as far back as possible. This equaled a mere two inches of recline in this metal tube of death. not that anything could really hurt him, he mused as he noted that long legs were not an asset in air travel. neither was the idiot next to him. For the first time, buying one of those personal compact disc contraptions seemed to be an attractive idea. It would effectively drown out the droning in his ear. Thanks be to the Powers that his years of meditation skills began to kick in, and the soul worn vampire tried to mentally prepare for meeting the new slayer letting Wesley's voice fade into the background.
It was always such a challenge hiding a vampiric nature from the naturally astute warriors. And this one was reputed to be the strongest in history. Christ.
Such a strong warrior would undoubtedly be a large, finely tuned machine. Images of an unattractive muscle bound German slayer made a dreaded appearance in the ½ demon's consciousness as he wondered how ugly she'd be. Kendra was unusually attractive for a slayer. Typically, slayers were large, androgynous creatures. something like a female Henry the 8th. and there was no way to make a female Henry look good.
".I do not understand why Trevor's thought it would be hard to win the loyalty of the current slayer. They are tools of the council. She will simply do as she is told," Wesley's nasally British twang interrupted; as the oblivious man missed Angel's attempts to sleep.
"Don't underestimate a slayer, they are crafty creatures," Angel growled pushing a hand impatiently through tousled hair.
"They are tools, and female tools at that!"
The Power's Warrior choked back a snort not wanting to explain the double entendre that brought uncharacteristic laughter from a stoic façade.
After all, he mused, a creature such as himself didn't deserve to laugh. His lack of control cost Kendra her life. One brief showing of his true face, and Kendra was dead. Maybe the moron sitting next to him was punishment. Because of his 'family's' past laxness with slayers, the Council had sent Wesley Wyndem Price along to keep an eye on things. To put it plainly, Price was a nark. What the Brit couldn't understand was Angel's newly open wound would make for an even more "lax" Watcher than his so called ancestors. Kendra's face flashed through his mind, he tried to shut out the images of the fallen slayer without success.
The sun had lorded over the soft, blue sky of Jamaica it's golden fingers curving into every nook and cranny of the small paradise. Thousands of scantily clad beach goers stretched long lean limbs as they lounged lazily by the clear blue waters. Excited children played with their counter parts, splashing towards shallows only to quickly turn retreating from surging surf. back to more familiar landscape. Career women on vacation sashayed leisurely along the boardwalks and nearby restaurants, shopping and taking in the sights. Reggae music could be heard blasting in every corner as the natives plied their trade in jewelry and tacky souvenirs. And a vampire lay at ease for the first time in many years, soaking up the rays. After all this time, he was beginning to believe he made a difference.
All in all Jamaica was every vacationer's small idea of paradise. That is until they ventured out unescorted at night. Night was a time when vampires stalked their prey; pouncing on relaxed vacationers. The only thing preventing the small island from becoming a vampiric breeding ground was the Slayer. Kendra to be more specific; and she was the reason Angel was now on said beach wearing nothing more than a Speedo.
Kendra had survived the Cruciamentum upon her eighteenth birthday, just as the other slayer Buffy had. The only reason the Council had left Buffy alive after she'd passed was because they were banking on the fact that Kendra wouldn't make it. But both slayers had survived, and the council was furious. Instead of taking the loss in stride, they had hired the Order of Taraka. Even now he counted his blessings that he'd decided to go to *that* particular meeting. It was the only reason he had been forewarned of the Council's actions. The minute he'd heard, Angel had packed his bags and boarded the next flight to Jamaica. He'd been here three days now and not a peep from the order. That worried him, he knew that they would strike soon, and it was making him jumpy.
Beneath half closed eyes, Angel tracked the movements of the Slayer. It was incredibly convenient for him that the Kendra lived by the beach, easier hunting grounds he supposed. But whatever the reason, it allowed him to keep an eye on her, considering his vampiric sight and hearing. Right now the Slayer was asleep, at her most vulnerable. It was the best time for the Order to strike, and he was determined that when they did, they would have more than a Slayer as their opposition.
A sudden unmistakable flicker of reflected steel caught his eye. So, it was time. The assassins were half a block away, and Angel was determined to get to Kendra before they did. Rising he grabbed the duffel bag at his side and disappeared into a nearby shrubbery. Three seconds later he reemerged, this time wearing his signature black leather. Beneath his duster was a literal arsenal. Angel arrived at the beach house just in time to witness three assassins enter the house.
Kendra was awakened from her slumber by the faint sound of footsteps. Still groggy, she barely rolled out of the way as a katana sliced the bed spread where her body had been a second ago. Coming fully awake, she took in her surroundings. Six blue skinned demons with dead eyes stared back at her from beneath black cloth. For a breath everything stopped. then hell broke loose.
Punching, kicking and literally fighting for her life, Kendra made it to the door, only dimly aware that in the midst of it all someone else had joined her fight. Back to back with her mysterious savior, she fended off razor kabanas with a wooden bedpost she'd ripped off. Whirling the post like a well-constructed staff, she held her own against three assassins. She knew she would be overwhelmed soon, for the odds were definitely against her, but she refused to give up. Thrusting, punching and kicking, she felt a sudden rush of euphoria as she saw the door. Freedom! Escape! It was so close, just a meter away. Then she made the mistake of looking back, at the face of her comrade in arms. What she saw shocked her, fangs protruded from a ridged forehead of a demon she hunted every night, but it was day. The shock of it was enough to slow her down for just a second. A second was all the assassins needed. With a practiced flick of its wrist, the demon nearest to Kendra sent her to oblivion.
Angel watched in horror as his charge fell. In that moment time seemed to go both too fast and too slow. Too fast for him to save her, and too slow for him to escape the prolonged agony on her face before it froze in death. With a roar of defiance, Angel ran towards his fallen Slayer, cutting down any and all that stood in his way. The bones of the murderers cracked as he broke necks and ripped off heads. All without any acknowledgment of what he was doing. In his mind there was only one goal, to get to his slayer. Even though he knew deep down that it was a hopeless cause, a disbelieving part of him could not comprehend what had already happened.
Suddenly time retuned to its proper pace and everything seemed to speed up. Upon reaching Kendra's side, he was confronted the true impact of his actions. Kendra was dead and it was all his fault. Had she but continued forewarned without looking back everything would have been fine, yet even then in that split second when their eyes had met, Angel had known all was lost. Had known that the only reason she had hesitated was because of him. It did not matter that she would have been dead anyway without him. The only thing he could comprehend was that he had failed. Failed in his scared duty, failed to fulfill his destiny, failed Kendra.
In the silence of the night, Angel had mourned the lost slayer. Yes, he had destroyed every one of her killers but it would not be enough. Cradling the still human in his arms, Angel brought her to the beach. Placing he on a wooden raft, he let it sail. She'd always wanted to see the world; her watcher's diaries had reported that. And perhaps if the wind was merciful it would sail her to her destination. Standing there in dawn's twilight, Angel came to a decision. The Watcher's Council had done this, and there was no doubt in his mind that with this success they would use the Order to destroy the other Slayer. They needed to be stopped, and he was determined he would be the one to do it. It was the least he could do, to give Kendra Justice. Taking a photo out of his pocket, he glanced at the image of himself forty years older. His "father". It seems it was time to return to talk the Council into letting Angel Donovan's son to take his rightful place in Sunnydale as the slayer's new watcher.
Apologies We apologize to underused botanical terms (acrogenous in particular), androgynous creatures, double entendres for the bad one used in the story, narks, who have a function in society as annoying as it may be, natives who sell tacky souvenirs, blond stewardesses, any man that has been sent to do a woman's job, females whom NEVER should be referred to as tools, trolls for getting compared to Snyder, anyone who has ever let the nice young men in clean white suits take them away, the fuddys and the duddys, the mice who really rule the world, whoever's really elaborate dream of someone's house pet this life is and finally for the negative way in which German women were portrayed. Sorry Grandma, I can still come for Easter Dinner. Right? Right???
Author(s): Specks, Nina, and Ky
Rating: This chapter is PG-13 (for language/violence) but there will, Ky hastens to assure, be NC-17 in upcoming (and clearly labeled) sections.
Summary: AU, folks... Everyone has a destiny, even though Buffy and Angel have long been denied theirs. A changing of the guard causes history to be rewritten and proves that, in the end, no one (yes, Joss and Marti, we're looking at you!) can alter what is destined to come to pass...
Spoilers: This *is* AU, but there are references to AtS and BtVS through out the story.
Disclaimers: Brace yourselves, folks, this may come as a shock to some of you: We are *not* Marti or Joss or David Greenwalt. As a matter of fact, we're not any one(three) in any way involved with the shows, the networks, the production companies, the actors, their agents... yada, yada, yada. We're just some B/A fans, having a little fun with these characters while their owners are off making money with them.
Feedback is a welcome thing and can be sent to: themochabitcas@aol.com
Authors Notes:
Thanks
We would like to thank the three people that actually read this story, DB for the lost weight (it looks good on ya' sweet cheeks, now work on that six pack!), paper clips for their invaluable service in the organization of paper, Post Its for their multi coloredness, Nina's minions for bringing Friday and Bubblicious for making bubbles so. licious. Individually, Specks thanks coffee, The Wondrous Penguin (who is real, much to everyone's surprise. ::waves at Penguin::), the eye candy in creative writing class (clearly, Ky is having a bad influence on Specks), Ky for her wacky. yet sage advice. Guess you could call it advice, or doesn't she seem to be SMOKING something LIKE sage? ::hides:: Which she never does. Ever. OK, once back in college... FINE. Seven or eight times in college. OK, she went out with a dealer... It explains a lot, doesn't it? ::runs away:: Nina would like to thank Ky, Specks, and Jade for cushioning the blow as she fell out of the fandom, the x-over writers on the web who've eased the transition, the BEACH, and especially thanks B, for being so tolerant. Ky thanks Diet Coke, Specks for letting her live vicariously through her, Cosmopolitans and Nina for Live Journal, calm advice about tags, life saving skills, and being. Perfect! Finally, Ky would like to invoke the Amber Alert system. The Hot Half Nekkid Jogger Man (HHNJM) that runs past her work place daily has been missing for a week. Please, if anyone sees HHNJM wandering the streets with a lost look on his face, contact Ky at Kyria2b@aol.com. She'll be sure to come pick him up. (
CHAPTER NINE (Lucky for us Nina is on the ball!)
("Would you like anything else to drink?" the blond stewardess asked sweetly.
Angel ignored the hint of black lace peeping out as the stewardess 'unconsciously' fingered another button of her white blouse open. Instead he kept careful eye contact and nodded no. A look of disappointment flashed across the blond's face before being covered by a plastic smile. Red flush crept up her slim neck and with flustered movements, the woman moved on to the next row of seats. The vampire scowled, lines creasing a forever, youthful brow momentarily as a voice whined close by.
"She didn't even ASK if I wanted one," Wesley grumbled, "Quite unprofessional."
Angel stifled a groan and closed his eyes while deftly pressing the buttons to recline the chair as far back as possible. This equaled a mere two inches of recline in this metal tube of death. not that anything could really hurt him, he mused as he noted that long legs were not an asset in air travel. neither was the idiot next to him. For the first time, buying one of those personal compact disc contraptions seemed to be an attractive idea. It would effectively drown out the droning in his ear. Thanks be to the Powers that his years of meditation skills began to kick in, and the soul worn vampire tried to mentally prepare for meeting the new slayer letting Wesley's voice fade into the background.
It was always such a challenge hiding a vampiric nature from the naturally astute warriors. And this one was reputed to be the strongest in history. Christ.
Such a strong warrior would undoubtedly be a large, finely tuned machine. Images of an unattractive muscle bound German slayer made a dreaded appearance in the ½ demon's consciousness as he wondered how ugly she'd be. Kendra was unusually attractive for a slayer. Typically, slayers were large, androgynous creatures. something like a female Henry the 8th. and there was no way to make a female Henry look good.
".I do not understand why Trevor's thought it would be hard to win the loyalty of the current slayer. They are tools of the council. She will simply do as she is told," Wesley's nasally British twang interrupted; as the oblivious man missed Angel's attempts to sleep.
"Don't underestimate a slayer, they are crafty creatures," Angel growled pushing a hand impatiently through tousled hair.
"They are tools, and female tools at that!"
The Power's Warrior choked back a snort not wanting to explain the double entendre that brought uncharacteristic laughter from a stoic façade.
After all, he mused, a creature such as himself didn't deserve to laugh. His lack of control cost Kendra her life. One brief showing of his true face, and Kendra was dead. Maybe the moron sitting next to him was punishment. Because of his 'family's' past laxness with slayers, the Council had sent Wesley Wyndem Price along to keep an eye on things. To put it plainly, Price was a nark. What the Brit couldn't understand was Angel's newly open wound would make for an even more "lax" Watcher than his so called ancestors. Kendra's face flashed through his mind, he tried to shut out the images of the fallen slayer without success.
The sun had lorded over the soft, blue sky of Jamaica it's golden fingers curving into every nook and cranny of the small paradise. Thousands of scantily clad beach goers stretched long lean limbs as they lounged lazily by the clear blue waters. Excited children played with their counter parts, splashing towards shallows only to quickly turn retreating from surging surf. back to more familiar landscape. Career women on vacation sashayed leisurely along the boardwalks and nearby restaurants, shopping and taking in the sights. Reggae music could be heard blasting in every corner as the natives plied their trade in jewelry and tacky souvenirs. And a vampire lay at ease for the first time in many years, soaking up the rays. After all this time, he was beginning to believe he made a difference.
All in all Jamaica was every vacationer's small idea of paradise. That is until they ventured out unescorted at night. Night was a time when vampires stalked their prey; pouncing on relaxed vacationers. The only thing preventing the small island from becoming a vampiric breeding ground was the Slayer. Kendra to be more specific; and she was the reason Angel was now on said beach wearing nothing more than a Speedo.
Kendra had survived the Cruciamentum upon her eighteenth birthday, just as the other slayer Buffy had. The only reason the Council had left Buffy alive after she'd passed was because they were banking on the fact that Kendra wouldn't make it. But both slayers had survived, and the council was furious. Instead of taking the loss in stride, they had hired the Order of Taraka. Even now he counted his blessings that he'd decided to go to *that* particular meeting. It was the only reason he had been forewarned of the Council's actions. The minute he'd heard, Angel had packed his bags and boarded the next flight to Jamaica. He'd been here three days now and not a peep from the order. That worried him, he knew that they would strike soon, and it was making him jumpy.
Beneath half closed eyes, Angel tracked the movements of the Slayer. It was incredibly convenient for him that the Kendra lived by the beach, easier hunting grounds he supposed. But whatever the reason, it allowed him to keep an eye on her, considering his vampiric sight and hearing. Right now the Slayer was asleep, at her most vulnerable. It was the best time for the Order to strike, and he was determined that when they did, they would have more than a Slayer as their opposition.
A sudden unmistakable flicker of reflected steel caught his eye. So, it was time. The assassins were half a block away, and Angel was determined to get to Kendra before they did. Rising he grabbed the duffel bag at his side and disappeared into a nearby shrubbery. Three seconds later he reemerged, this time wearing his signature black leather. Beneath his duster was a literal arsenal. Angel arrived at the beach house just in time to witness three assassins enter the house.
Kendra was awakened from her slumber by the faint sound of footsteps. Still groggy, she barely rolled out of the way as a katana sliced the bed spread where her body had been a second ago. Coming fully awake, she took in her surroundings. Six blue skinned demons with dead eyes stared back at her from beneath black cloth. For a breath everything stopped. then hell broke loose.
Punching, kicking and literally fighting for her life, Kendra made it to the door, only dimly aware that in the midst of it all someone else had joined her fight. Back to back with her mysterious savior, she fended off razor kabanas with a wooden bedpost she'd ripped off. Whirling the post like a well-constructed staff, she held her own against three assassins. She knew she would be overwhelmed soon, for the odds were definitely against her, but she refused to give up. Thrusting, punching and kicking, she felt a sudden rush of euphoria as she saw the door. Freedom! Escape! It was so close, just a meter away. Then she made the mistake of looking back, at the face of her comrade in arms. What she saw shocked her, fangs protruded from a ridged forehead of a demon she hunted every night, but it was day. The shock of it was enough to slow her down for just a second. A second was all the assassins needed. With a practiced flick of its wrist, the demon nearest to Kendra sent her to oblivion.
Angel watched in horror as his charge fell. In that moment time seemed to go both too fast and too slow. Too fast for him to save her, and too slow for him to escape the prolonged agony on her face before it froze in death. With a roar of defiance, Angel ran towards his fallen Slayer, cutting down any and all that stood in his way. The bones of the murderers cracked as he broke necks and ripped off heads. All without any acknowledgment of what he was doing. In his mind there was only one goal, to get to his slayer. Even though he knew deep down that it was a hopeless cause, a disbelieving part of him could not comprehend what had already happened.
Suddenly time retuned to its proper pace and everything seemed to speed up. Upon reaching Kendra's side, he was confronted the true impact of his actions. Kendra was dead and it was all his fault. Had she but continued forewarned without looking back everything would have been fine, yet even then in that split second when their eyes had met, Angel had known all was lost. Had known that the only reason she had hesitated was because of him. It did not matter that she would have been dead anyway without him. The only thing he could comprehend was that he had failed. Failed in his scared duty, failed to fulfill his destiny, failed Kendra.
In the silence of the night, Angel had mourned the lost slayer. Yes, he had destroyed every one of her killers but it would not be enough. Cradling the still human in his arms, Angel brought her to the beach. Placing he on a wooden raft, he let it sail. She'd always wanted to see the world; her watcher's diaries had reported that. And perhaps if the wind was merciful it would sail her to her destination. Standing there in dawn's twilight, Angel came to a decision. The Watcher's Council had done this, and there was no doubt in his mind that with this success they would use the Order to destroy the other Slayer. They needed to be stopped, and he was determined he would be the one to do it. It was the least he could do, to give Kendra Justice. Taking a photo out of his pocket, he glanced at the image of himself forty years older. His "father". It seems it was time to return to talk the Council into letting Angel Donovan's son to take his rightful place in Sunnydale as the slayer's new watcher.
Apologies We apologize to underused botanical terms (acrogenous in particular), androgynous creatures, double entendres for the bad one used in the story, narks, who have a function in society as annoying as it may be, natives who sell tacky souvenirs, blond stewardesses, any man that has been sent to do a woman's job, females whom NEVER should be referred to as tools, trolls for getting compared to Snyder, anyone who has ever let the nice young men in clean white suits take them away, the fuddys and the duddys, the mice who really rule the world, whoever's really elaborate dream of someone's house pet this life is and finally for the negative way in which German women were portrayed. Sorry Grandma, I can still come for Easter Dinner. Right? Right???
