From : Chihuahua
Date : 16th March 2003
Disclaimer : I don't own any of the TRA:JQ characters and neither do I own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No money is made out of this fic. Don't sue me as I'm not sure I can afford Ally McBeal.
Category : A, JJ-HR, DBN-HR, F, E, JQ/Buffy Crossover
Rating : Parental guidance is advised.
Author's note : This takes place after Season 2 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is my account on what happens and is based fully on my own creativity.
Archiver's Permission: Granted to those who want it. Just inform me on where it can be found.
CHAPTER 2: HUNTERS
NEW ORLEANS
Jonny slapped at a mosquito that had landed on his arm. A slight stubble was evident on his face, lending an unkempt appearance to the once carefree face. It had been a week of continuous train rides, hitching rides and stowing away. On the most part, he was worn out, and all he wanted was a nice place to sleep.
Over the past week, he had been in Baltimore, Arlington, Salem, Chattanooga, Montgomery and finally, New Orleans. He barely stayed more than a day in any place, Salem being the longest. He had slain over ten vamps there.
He had been moving steadily towards the West Coast, aiming for somewhere in California. Most likely in San Francisco. Right now, he was waiting, not too patiently, for his ride to Santa Fe. His duffel was already in the backseat of the silver Chevy. The owner of the car appeared from the restrooms and motioned for him to get in.
Scenery flashed by, as the driver sped on, singing along to some rock channel. Jonny just tuned out and concentrated on the trees and other things go whizzing by. Slightly more than two weeks ago, he had a home. Now, he was running away from everything.
"Where you from, kid?" the driver enquired, breaking the ice.
"Cincinnati." Jonny's answer was short.
"Why you headed for Santa Fe then?"
"I got kicked out of home. I got a job offer in Cincinnati; my uncle offered me a job, so that's where I'm headed." Not even close to the truth, Jonny thought in chagrin.
"Tough, huh?" The driver didn't even seem sympathetic. Probably just trying to make conversation. Jonny cursed the fact that this non-sincere conversation was probably going to carry on for the next few days.
He simply nodded. "Bloody hell! Are there no end of mosquitoes here?" he exclaimed, smashing another one of the pesky bugs on his arm. It was going to be a long journey.
***
SAN FRANCISCO
Nightfall in the city was beautiful. The lights lit up the bay. Only problem was the fog. Jonny ran a hand through his grimy hair, cringing at the feel of it. His skin already felt sticky from the past few days. He had taken a short shower probably three days ago.
A sharp scream shattered the silence like thin ice. Jonny took off towards the direction of the screams. So the vamp action wasn't on the all time low here either. He was now somewhere near the wharf, he could smell the salt in the air. He ducked into an alley, and saw three vampires holding on to young boy. The kid was probably about thirteen. One of the damned creatures maw was already bloody.
"Put him down!" Jonny yelled. Simultaneously, he slammed his left elbow into one of their faces, cracking the nose. The vamp whimpered in pain, but his misery was cut short as Jonny jammed his stake through the heart.
The one with the bloody mouth threw the boy aside and threw a punch at Jonny. The punch was countered easily, and Jonny landed a staggering kick to its midsection. Whirling around, he grabbed the last one and threw him hard into the concrete wall. Just as the vampire bounced back, Jonny held up his stake for it to impale itself upon.
Turning around, he saw the leader running away. Aiming swiftly, he threw his stake at the fleeing figure. The stake spun in the air, hitting its mark. The vamp was dusted even before he knew what hit him.
Jonny turned his attention to the boy. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I think. That was so cool, what you did."
Jonny smiled. The kid was definitely fine. Probably lost a little blood. "Go home."
The boy nodded and took off, his skateboard clutched tightly.
Jonny picked up his duffel and tucked his stake away in his belt. He made sure that it was hidden from sight. His sharp senses detected the attack before it could take him by surprise and he blocked a powerful snap kick, throwing his bag aside in the same fluid motion. In a flash, he returned a powerful roundhouse kick, and was surprised when his assailant dodged the kick expertly, countering with one of her own, which he barely cleared in time.
Jonny threw himself into a back flip, putting some distance between the attacker and him. He assessed her quickly, taking in her build and forming an attack strategy. He would need it, as this didn't seem to be the run of mill type of vampire. She was petite, small even, barely more than five foot two. Definitely not frail, in fact she looked lithe, like some lesser jungle cat. Heck, she was even holding a cat stance right now, awaiting his next move. Blonde hair, from what he could tell in the dim lighting. Funny, her feral features had not taken over… but that didn't make her any less deadly.
As if tired of waiting, she flipped forward, sweeping him off his feet before he could react. Slayer reflexes took over as he propelled his body upwards and forwards with his hands, slamming both feet into her midsection. He landed neatly on his feet and lunged forward to get in a couple of punches before he staked her. She seemed to recover just as quickly and foiled his attack with a quick backhand, which he parried.
"I hate out-of-towners," she muttered, a sardonic grin on her face.
Jonny snickered. "Pot calling the kettle black? You seem pretty far from home, L.A. Girl!"
Then, they were both at it, a spectacle of martial arts and street fighting. She seemed as surprised as he was as each attack was either blocked or parried with ease. Jonny however was getting pissed off… he was taking as much as he was giving, and he just wasn't pleased with it. Let's just end it…
Delivering a stunning back thrust, he whipped out his stake and dove in for the kill. And stopped the wooden edge from going in, just inches above her heaving chest. She had paused her assault too, and as he already saw, she had a stake at his chest too, the splintery end just grazing his tan chest which was exposed due to the fact that the fight had resulted in three lost buttons.
Edging warily, Jonny retreated several steps, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at his opponent, who was also edging away in a vague semicircle. What was a vamp doing with a stake? Were vampires so brutal that they had to resort to using stakes against one another as protection?
"Who are you?" they both intoned monotonously at the same time.
Silence. The scuffle of boots on the damp asphalt seemed loud as the tension mounted.
Finally, Jonny lowered his stake, his body losing the rigid poise it had adopted. "A moment's truce?"
The girl begrudgingly agreed, setting down her stake too. "Now talk!" she barked. "Who or what the hell are you?"
"I would like to know the same thing about you!"
Her arm tensed and she raised her stake. "Don't play games with me Pretty Boy. I'm just a second away from skewering you."
Jonny snorted in response, partially because he had nothing to say. "Alright then, since I'm about to die, why don't you share first? No harm there since you're gonna shish kebab me with your little toothpick anyway."
Even more silence.
Finally she gave up. "Fine! But get ready for some thrashing before I dust you."
Dust me? Jonny's mind was whirring. What did she mean by dust me? Doesn't she know that I'm a Slayer? What is she? Dust me? Unless…
"Name's Buffy Summers. I'm a…"
"Vampire Slayer," Jonny finished.
"You catch on pretty quick."
"No. I mean, yeah, I catch on fast, but I'm not a vamp." He looked at her bored expression. "I'm a Slayer."
Her eyebrow shot up quizzically. "Right… You're a guy right?"
"Last time I checked in my pants, yeah. And so?"
"All Slayers are girls, that's what. It's written in the books."
"What books?"
"The books… ya know, those old ones that smell all funny and stuff." God, I wished Giles were here to explain this stuff.
"Oh well, guess the books were wrong." He flashed her a smile.
"What do you mean the books are wrong, Pretty Boy?"
"Stop calling me that!"
"What? Pretty Boy?"
"Yeah!"
"Then tell me your name!"
Jonny felt a little sheepish at that. "Jonny Quest. He-Slayer, I guess." He tucked his stake back into his belt. Something told him that she was what she said she was, and he had learnt a long time ago to always trust his instincts.
She did the same. "What are you doing here? Ya know, in San Fran."
"Searching. For someone."
"You staying long?"
"Probably not. Just until I find this person."
"You got anyplace to go?"
Jonny shrugged. "Just got here. I'll probably find someplace easy. Me being a Pretty Boy and all and this place littered with those multi-coloured flags." He grinned his lopsided grin at her scandalised expression. "Or not," he added.
She turned and began to walk away. "I've got a place for a while. If you're interested…"
"Offer accepted," Jonny cut in, gratitude obvious in his tone. He would be damned if he had to spend another night in a dilapidated building.
He followed her as she navigated the neighbourhood, as if there was nothing on her mind, but Jonny could see that her shoulders were slightly tensed, a sign that her arms were just a heartbeat away from pulping a vamp. He had been at the receiving end of her punches and he knew that she was pretty generous when it came to dishing out the hard ones.
The made it to a dimly lit building without any hassle. An old, unlit sign indicated that it was a motel… pretty rundown looking. But he wasn't going to complain.
"Well, this is it. My pad." She spread her arms in mock pride. "Kinda dark and dinghy and all, but at least nothing leaks and there is some lukewarm water when you need it."
Jonny nodded. "Nice…"
Buffy sensed that the guy had been raised in far better facilities than this. At least he's not a whiner. Then again, the claim of Slayer-hood pretty much sobered and matured a person. She was speaking from very personal experience here. "Shower's on the left. Just taking a guess, you haven't taken one in a couple of days."
Jonny grinned. "I guess it kinda shows, huh?"
"More like smells. But yeah."
He tossed his duffel to the side and stripped off his jacket and placed it on the bag.
"Are there any extra towels in there?"
She simply nodded and left to give him some privacy. Not that it mattered much as she could pretty much see him from anywhere in the room. He disappeared from sight, into the bathroom, and she began to rethink some plans.
A minute later, she heard the shower gushing. It stopped after a while and a clean looking but very undressed guy stepped out.
"Sorry, forgot my clothes," he explained, stepping towards the duffel. He knelt down and found a change of clothes and retreated back into the bathroom. He emerged moments later, clean and dressed in a baggy pair of drawstring pants and a white T-shirt with ice-blue 'Q' in the front.
Buffy nodded towards a small folding chair in the corner, signalling him to sit. He pulled the chair closer to the bed and raised an eyebrow as he positioned himself on the hard plastic surface.
"Okay, explain…"
He looked surprised. "Explain what?"
"For starters, what's a loaded kid like yourself doing out here by yourself?"
"How do you know I'm loaded?"
She picked up his jacket from the side and handed it to him. "I've been shopping long enough to recognise a genuine Armani when I see one, and this happens to be last season's Fall collection, costing about five hundred dollars in full." She looked him in the eye. "You don't seem like the thieving kind… so explain."
Jonny looked at her with some respect. "Okay, my family's wealthy. So what? Since when was there a caste system in the Slayer hierarchy?"
"Okay. When were you called? As in when did you inherit your powers and all? 'Coz I'm still alive, and that means no other has been summoned to the calling yet."
"I don't know when I was called. I was only told about it a couple of months ago."
"But, your fighting tactics…"
"You mean how is it that I could hold my own against another seasoned Slayer?" When she nodded, he continued, "I've been training for years. Not to kick demon ass but as a survival tool." Seeing her confused look, he added, "Long story, and totally irrelevant to this."
She nodded. That would do, for now.
"As for what I'm doing out here by myself, I'm hunting down a gang of vampires from Maine."
"Why are you hunting them? Under normal circumstances, a Slayer would simply battle evil in her part of the world, not go globetrotting after vamps"
"These one's are special. I've sworn to hunt each and every one of them down. Personal business." He fell silent.
"Chick issues?" she enquired, driving the nail home.
"Yeah, more or less." He straightened up. "Okay, let's talk about you now. Just start by answering the questions you asked me, L.A. Girl."
Buffy glared at him. Then she softened. "I'm not from L.A. I mean I was, a long time ago. Slayer-hood kinda screwed up my life, so my mom and I moved to Sunnydale. The Powers That Be are a nasty set of buggers, and I landed right on top of the Hellmouth. Nice town, till you get to the history part. Apparently the town is resting on top of the Hellmouth, the place where the veils of the realm are weakest. Meaning of course that it's a hotspot for demons and the evil population."
"How long you've been at this?"
"I think I was about fourteen of fifteen. It kinda kicked my teen years into a blurry Hell of fighting and slaying." Her tone was wistful. "I'm here because I need some downtime on some stuff."
He didn't say anything, but he knew she could tell that he understood. Over the years, Watchers had become so accustomed to having girls with superhuman abilities bestowed upon them that over the years, they had forgotten that these were just girls. People, with feelings
"I guess that concludes our show for the night, Oprah!" he said, trying to break the tension the room. He received a wan smile in return. "I'll just scoot over to my corner." He got up and pulled open the creaky closet door and yanked out a couple of extra pillows and two blankets. He laid one down flat as bedding before lying down on the floor. He was out before he knew it.
Buffy gazed at the sleeping figure on the floor for a moment. She knew that there was a lot that he wasn't telling her, but she didn't exactly feel like pushing him for info. She decided to let him come around on his own. Watching the frown that furrowed his brow slightly, she wondered how old he was. It was as though he carried a whole lot more on his shoulders than she did. That being said, she was still puzzled about the entire male Slayer thing. Had the Powers That Be screwed up after Kendra's death and summoned a guy instead. Or maybe he was some kind of vigilante. He did admit that part of his mission revolved around chick problems.
Like he would ever have chick problems, she thought. The guy was extremely good-looking, hot even. A couple of years ago, she knew she would have been interested. But now, his air of mystery irked her a little. The resemblance to Angel was painfully close. Sure they looked different, Angel was all broody and pale but this boy was blonde and from what she could see, he was tan all over. She recognised his type almost immediately, carefree and popular, easygoing with people. Probably smart too. That was why the frown seemed out of place. It didn't seem to fit in the picture.
Then again, a few things seemed to be pretty patchy about him. For starters, the ring and two studs in his left ear seemed oddly out of place now as he slept… not because they looked bad on him, but because the sleeping figure seemed somewhat angelic. A tortured martyr, Buffy thought sarcastically.
Buffy sighed. Things were too complicated for her right now. She got off the bed and changed into a pair of grey sweats and a yellow tank top. Hell, downtime from slaying already seemed to be a distant excuse for her running away. As much as she hated to admit it, she just didn't feel like she could face up to the rest of the gang… even though she had killed Angel. The irony of the situation never escaped her… here she was, the Slayer, the one being in the world who could stand up to the forces of evil, and she was afraid of confronting her own family and friends.
***
A slender figure paced the cracked courtyard, lost in thought. Her copper mane swished every so often, like the tail of a cow at an annoying fly. He could tell from her poise that she was tensed, even angry. He was amused. He found it very titillating when she was fiery.
As he continued to observe her, he felt a presence behind him. Whirring around, all fangs and fists, he came face to face with another of the several women in his life. So to speak, as he wasn't actually alive.
"Ah, here you are. I've been searching all over for you!" his mistress exclaimed. Her English was flawless, with a slight accent giving it an exotic finish. And exotic she was too, with her raven locks, which cascaded in a tumble of curls down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a dramatic contrast against her alabaster skin; dark and expressive, framed with heavy lashes of midnight. Her lips; which were pouting now, were wide and full, and always painted a deep red, as the had been when he had first met her centuries ago.
He gazed at her for a second, letting his eyes trail downwards to the slinky figure in a black dress that might have been the anointing paint they often used on each other in kinkier moments.
"I'm sorry. I was just about to ask Jessie if we were still being followed," he said, a lopsided smile playing at his lips.
She moved closed to him, embracing his softly, pressing her full lips onto his. "Are you sure she isn't just crazy?" she whispered, her lips gently brushing his ears.
"No, she isn't. I've seen him more than once, tracking us."
She pulled away from his, pouting once again. "You should never have claimed her."
"How should I know it would have such a mistake?"
She smiled coquettishly. "I should punish you. In fact, I would like to punish you…" Her words fading off, playing with him. Without warning, she vamped out suddenly, and bit his exposed throat.
He gasped, but did not push her away. He followed her as she led him back to their "love-nest", moaning softly as she worked her bites down his torso.
Jessie watched the two in disdain. She had no idea why Brad had not dumped that old crone yet. Of course she didn't look any older than twenty, she had been turned then, and would forever hold her beauty, unless of course she was killed. That could be arranged. Jessie smiled sardonically.
She redirected her thoughts to her own peril. She somehow she knew that she was being hunted. They were all being hunted. He was pursuing them, relentlessly. She sensed his presence all the time, day or night. She knew he was already in town.
Jonny. The name had once been welcome when she felt afraid. Now, it was the source of her problems… his endless and tireless pursuit of her. It was her fault actually… she had bound herself to him, making it possible for them to share a bond stronger than ever. She had cast it in an attempt to ensure that she would always be aware of his whereabouts. It had been a desperate moment in her life.
How else would she have reacted? He was her boyfriend, and she wasn't willing to let him go just because he was the Slayer. Nobody else had known about his double identity… only her. It made it all the worse that he would come home some nights, bruised all over, with cuts and grazes that made it seem that he had been involved in some gang fight. Which he could very well have been… against a gang of vampires.
It tortured her to not be able to tell anybody about his nocturnal activities. The fear of losing him haunted her, invading her every thought and dream.
Of course he had reassured her that he would be safe. Of course he had told her not to worry. But the fear clung to her every night as she saw him marching off into the night, not wanting the passionate kiss he gave her before leaving to be the last they ever shared.
THREE WEEKS AGO
Jessie checked her watch for the fifteenth time in the hour. It was late, and he was taking much longer than he usually did. The seconds ticked by, the rhythmic sway of the pendulum keeping each second. She checked her watch again, and flicked a glance over to the grandfather clock to see if her watch was off. It read exactly the same, two o'clock.
Jessie hated to admit it, but she was scared. Frightened out of her mind to be exact… She had never so much wanted to tell her father everything, hoping that he could make things go back to the way they used to be. To make sure that Jonny would come home alive… so that they could at least have another day, another night together.
She checked her watch again. Barely thirty seconds had passed since she last checked.
"JONNY QUEST HAS ENTERED THE PREMISES." Jessie jumped at IRIS's mechanical voice. Then, realising what it meant, she ran to the door and waited for him to enter. Jonny had warned her time and time again to make sure that he got through the door by himself… just in case. Of course the fact that he crossed the gate into private property was a good enough indicator that he had not been turned, but he insisted that Jessie not take any chances.
The door opened, but nobody came striding in. Instead, a bloodied and bruised figure crawled through the front door, dragging himself in.
Jessie didn't ask any questions. She helped him up, and with great effort, she managed to support most of his weight on her as they stumbled up the stairs. Jonny made a feeble attempt to flash her his trademark lopsided grin but it evidently hurt too much as he groaned softly instead. They stumbled into his room, Jonny falling heavily onto the lime green beanbag on the floor. He let out a low moan.
Jessie helped him up again, and half dragged him into the bathroom where he slumped to the floor against the shower stall. In the harsh white light, he looked horrible. He was bloody everywhere with pale skin peeping out. His clothes were soiled and bloody, rips in a multitude of places.
Choking back her fear and sobs, Jessie set to work, gently tugging off his jacket before coaxing off the pale blue T-shirt he wore under it. She threw open the medicine cabinet doors, knowing exactly where to find a clean sponge. She had stocked the cabinet with new sponges upon knowing off the horrors Jonny's new calling required him to face and she was thankful she did now.
She soaked the sponge in warm water and proceeded to clean him up as best she could. She sobbed silently as each time she rinsed the sponge, the water would run down bloody and dirty. When she was done cleaning him from the waist up, he looked relatively familiar.
"Hey, Jess!" His voice was a mere whisper, barely louder than her sobs.
Jessie looked up in surprise. She had thought he had passed out from exhaustion. Her eyes met his and he held her there for a second.
"I'm so sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this, every night." His voice was stronger now. Jessie realised with relief that his Slayer healing capabilities were working.
"Shh… not now. You can apologise for all your pigheadedness later on. Now hold still!" she said, managing a small smile. She held an antiseptic soaked cotton ball and began to treat each wound.
"Oww… that smarts, Jess!" he hissed, jerking away.
"Shut up. If you can take all that bashing and make it home alive, the least you can do right now is to shut up and let me finish you up!" she reprimanded.
"So, how do I look?" he asked, gritting him teeth at the end of his sentence when her cotton ball brushed a sensitive spot.
"You mean besides bloody and bruised. Pretty darn handsome."
He smiled at that.
"But more banged up though," she finished. "Done!" She straightened up for a second, and then threw all the cotton balls into the trash.
"Don't I at least get a kiss for keeping Rockport safe for another night?" he asked, a shadow of his usual grin forming on his bruised face.
"You'll get a lot of bandages and band-aids," Jessie admonished. She sighed, it took a lot of guts to sound lecherous when one was obviously in a lot of pain. She knelt down and gave him a gentle kiss, careful to not further injure him.
"Can we do the bandaging back in the room 'coz this floor is really hurting my ass?"
"Can you stand?" she asked.
"I guess." He managed to pull himself onto his feet, with a lot of help from Jessie. Jessie was worried that all the moaning and groaning would wake up the household. She was thankful for the thickness of the walls.
"Anything broken below the waist?" she enquired, suddenly realising that she had forgotten to check.
"Dear God, I hope not!" Jonny exclaimed in mock horror.
"I meant any bones!" she growled. "But I'm glad to hear that you're still 'secure'."
Jonny smirked. "No, bones are all intact. Probably sustained a couple of bruises here and there, that's all."
"Are you sure?" She was glad that he was able to support most of his weight this time as they hobbled over to his bed.
"Admit it. You just wanna check!" He laughed, before letting out a groan when he realised that the sudden movement hurt his ribs.
"Been there, done that." She let him fall back onto the bed. She went back into the bathroom and gathered a few rolls of bandages and a box of band-aids. They were both thankful that the more serious injuries could be hidden under clothes. The rest of the injuries would have partially healed by morning.
"Thank God it's Saturday tomorrow!" he exclaimed, wriggling into a more comfortable position.
Jessie only nodded. She tugged the covers over him. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, which he returned hungrily.
She pulled away after a while. "Not tonight. Go rest."
She left his room, but did not return to hers. She went downstairs and headed for the family library. The pale moonlight that filtered through the tall windows covered the floor with silver squares as she crossed the room determinedly. She knew exactly what she wanted and where to find it.
She had discovered sometime ago that Dr. Quest had a huge collection of arcane texts, including an extensive compilation of journals. She vaguely remembered seeing a journal belonging to an Aztec High Priest.
"IRIS, lights on!" she commanded. The response was immediate and the room was flooded with light. Jessie began to rifle through the rack holding all the ancient texts. She was surprised to see a few scrolls there. Those must have been fairly new. Finally, she found the book she was looking for. She eased it out gently, taking care not to crack the spine. The journal was leather-bound, the leather creased and cracked. Jessie knew from experience that the leather was old, but definitely not ancient. She guessed that it had been compiled and bound by some collector ages ago, to help preserve that delicate parchments that lay inside.
Jessie carried the heavy book over to the large teak table that stood in the middle of the room. She began to leaf though it, handling each page with care. She was halfway through the journal when she found what she was looking for. A binding spell. From what she could translate of the writing, it was an ancient ritual performed upon marriage to bind a wife to her husband forever, so that she would not stray.
Jessie read the yellow page thoroughly, taking in every sentence and every word. She was relieved to find that she understood every word. She silently gave thanks to her mother who had taken her on most of her archaeological digs and thought her all she knew about the ancient civilisations.
The ritual was fairly easy, for something with such a huge effect. Jessie shut the book with iron resolve. She knew what to do, and she was going to do it.
Jessie walked over to Jonny's sleeping form. She watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. In her right hand, she clutched a ceremonial dagger, which her mother had given her on her twelfth birthday. She raised it and slashed a line across her left palm. She bit back her cry of pain.
Gently, she placed her bleeding palm over a wound on his shoulder. This completed the first part of the spell. By the mixing of their blood, there was now a passage for both their souls. Shutting her eyes, Jessie began to chant softly in Náhuatl:
"I summon thee Spirits of old
To hear my plea,
I call to thee to bring to me
The Powers to bind this man to me,
So that we might be
Forever entwined,
For now, and until all eternity."
As she chanted, Jessie saw their connection glow with a bright crimson light. The glow brightened until the room was flooded red. "For now, and until all eternity," she intoned, watching two balls of light rise from the point of contact. A sudden blindness washed over her as the balls merged and separated once again to return to their vessels.
The spell was complete. They were both now joined to each other for all eternity, unless the spell was undone willingly by one alive. Jessie removed her palm and inspected it. It had healed completely, leaving not even a scar. Now, they would always know of each other's whereabouts, and she would never lose him.
***
Jessie stared at her palm blankly. She knew, she would never, could never lose him. He would find her, even if she kept on running. She had brought it upon herself…
To be continued…
Comments anyone? Send them to me at wenxina@hotmail.com