This is written not in support of Joss Whedon, who is a horrible person and can go suck an egg, but instead as a fan of Buffy and the Avengers. Parallel stories featuring Iron Man and several other characters who'll be shuffled around alternate worlds should be coming soon. :)
This entry picks up at the end of Buffy, Season 5, and at the end of the Avengers (2012). All prior continuity should be intact, but I don't claim to have a perfect memory. Also, it goes without saying, I own none of these characters or settings.
"Dawn, listen to me," Buffy said and turned to face her sister. Her blue-green eyes burned with a fierce intensity, and her entire demeanor had changed. The entire world was falling apart around them thanks to the rift that Glory had opened, but she radiated a certainty of purpose that belied the chaos.
"Listen. I love you," she said, her voice softening slightly as she continued. "I will always love you, but this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell Giles I figured it out. And I'm okay. And give my love to my friends."
Her voice grew stronger again, as she thought of their faces. Buffy couldn't see them, as far below as they were, but they were there. They always had been, and always would be. To Dawn, she said, "You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong."
"Dawn, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it," she said, her eyes locked with her sister's, drinking in the girl's tear soaked face. This, she decided then and there, was the true source of her strength. What did the First Slayer really know anyway?
"So be brave. Live. For me."
The words hung in the air between them. Buffy knew that she was asking a lot of her sister, but she also knew that Dawn was strong enough to carry on without her. She was a Summers. With a final, loving look, she turned away and sprinted down the plank that hung over the rift whose burning brilliance was eating away at the walls of reality.
There was no fear in Buffy's heart, only a fierce determination that blazed like an inferno within her chest. The weight of the world pressed down on her shoulders, heavier than it had ever been before in all the years since she'd been chosen to be the Slayer, and yet it was somehow easier to bear. This was her moment; this was fate.
While all around her, the sounds of chaos and destruction that echoed through the air served as a constant reminder of the danger that she and her loved ones were facing, Buffy never wavered. She leapt from the end of the plank and dove headlong into the brilliant white light. It blinded her, but she kept her eyes open, gaze locked on her goal as she plummeted into it. When she did, the surge of power was like nothing anyone had ever felt before. Every nerve, every atom in her body was set ablaze. It threatened to overwhelm her, but it couldn't. She remained strong, focused, refusing to even scream in pain or fear until at long last, the light faded...
...then, suddenly, for one beautiful moment, she was flying. Free. Buffy's heart raced as she hurtled through the air, cold wind whipping past her with a deafening roar. The sky around her was vast and dark blue, a color that she had only ever seen through the window of an airplane. It was a breathtaking sight, an exhilarating sensation, and she felt a sense of awe as she wondered, was this heaven?
As suddenly as it had begun, her moment of bliss was shattered. She realized with an electric jolt of panic that she was, in fact, falling. A sprawling city loomed beneath her, rushing towards her like a hungry tsunami of concrete and steel. The massive buildings formed a series of man-made canyons that threatened to engulf her. Distant car horns and emergency sirens created a confusing cacophony of noise that grew louder and louder by the second, even as the city grew larger and larger. By the time she fell between those huge edifices, she was screaming.
That, of course, was when the ogre attacked her.
Buffy was not entirely clear on the differences between ogres and trolls, or even if ogres might actually be a thing, but this towering behemoth of green fury seemed to dwarf even Olaf in size and strength. She first became aware of it when she heard a mighty roar from somewhere below, and then it came hurtling up, into the sky to meet her. With a deafening crash, it slammed into a building and then, leaving an explosion of glass and brick in it's wake, launched itself directly at her.
As the monster intercepted her, Buffy felt a surge of panic rise up within her. It's impossibly massive arms easily enveloped her tiny frame in a crushing embrace that squeezed the air right out of her lungs. She struggled with all of her own considerable might to break free, kicking and flailing wildly as the monster leapt from one building to the next. With every passing moment, and every jarring impact, she could feel her strength ebbing away. In desperation, she shrugged her way upwards and headbutted it as hard as she could right on it's massive, broad chin.
It's grip loosened and she could see the confusion in it's green eyes as it looked, really looked, at her for the first time and tried to comprehend what had just happened. In a voice that shook the very air around them, and reverberated through her bones, it bellowed, "WHO YOU?"
"Hi! My name is NOT FOOD!" Buffy said, her pulse pounding with adrenaline as she struck the thing across the the cheek with a comparatively tiny hand.
It recoiled from the blow, more in surprise than from any ability she had to hurt it, and Buffy wriggled free of it's loosened grip. She nimbly avoided it's grasping hands, clinging first to it's nose, it's hair, even it's ears as she struck it repeatedly with a flurry of punches and kicks. When it missed the next building entirely and they fell towards the street below, she scrambled across it's shoulder and tried to leap clear. The behemoth caught both of her legs in one hand, however, and dragged her back, tucking her against it's chest once more moments before they slammed into the city street.
Chunks of asphalt flew into the air in every direction like shrapnel from a missile. The sound was deafening. Buffy found herself laying on the ogre's chest, stunned but relatively unharmed. As she pushed herself to her feet, shaking her head to clear the ringing in her ears, she felt it shift beneath her. Nearly losing her footing as it rose from beneath her, she staggered clear with moments to spare.
Buffy had faced some formidable foes in her time as the Slayer. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the sight before her when she turned to face the beast. It was a towering, green- skinned behemoth of a man, it's massive muscles rippling with unrestrained power as it rose from within the street. The unadulterated rage in it's- his?- eyes told her that she was in trouble. She instinctively reached for her stake, but realized at once that not only would it be utterly useless against such a being, she didn't even have it on her.
"Hey Big Guy," Buffy said as she eyed the hulking behemoth warily, her heart racing as she tried to think of a way of of this. "Don't you have a valley and a bunch of farmers to protect or something?"
The creature let out a deafening roar, making Buffy wince. She could feel the intensity of it's anger as it loomed over her, it's massive body casting a shadow that threatened to swallow her whole. Her voice trembling slightly, she said, "Okay, maybe you're not so jolly."
She felt an otherworldly presence then, something as unlike anything she had ever felt as the monster before her was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Seconds later, a whooshing sound preceded a man who dropped out of the sky and landed between her and the ogre. He landed with barely a flex of his knees, and she caught just a glimpse of his blue and silver breastplate before his long, flowing red cape enveloped him in a dramatic sweep. As the cape settled, she saw his long, blond hair and the hammer he spun in one hand. That weapon positively buzzed with supernatural energy, setting her Slayer senses alight and her teeth on edge.
"Be silent and be still," the man from the sky said as he cast his hand back at Buffy in a forceful, halting gesture. His voice, low and deadly serious, pulsed with arcane power. "The Hulk is a fearsome opponent. You would do well to fall back and observe."
"PUNY BLONDE!" the aptly named Hulk said. His booming voice shook the buildings around them to their very foundations and more debris rained down from the damaged structures above.
Incredibly, the man with the red cape opened his hand and dropped his hammer to the ground where it landed with a heavy thud. He took a slow, patient step forward, his eyes locked on the emerald giant. As he did so, he said in a soothing voice, "Look at me, Hulk. It's Thor. We are friends. Allies."
Then, as if the question had only just occurred to him, he said, "Wait, who is the puny blond? Did you mean her or me?"
The man called Thor sounded genuinely offended, but the Hulk only grunted and shook his head. He paced back and forth, his entire frame twitching and flexing with barely contained power. The ground shook with every step he took, and Buffy could feel the vibrations of it through the soles of her sensible designer shoes. He growled and grumbled, his movements increasingly frenzied, every muscle twitching with barely controlled rage. There was a struggle within him, between his basic, ferocious instincts and a deeper, more primal urge.
As the scene between the Hulk and Thor unfolded, Buffy finally had to chance to take in her surroundings and wish that she hadn't. All that she saw was utter chaos. Cars were overturned and smashed, their metal frames twisted and bent me tinfoil. Flames licked hungrily at the wreckage, sending up plumes of thick, black smoke that stung her eyes and burned her lungs. All along the street, the asphalt was broken and cracked, and huge, gaping holes had been torn into the sides of the surrounding, imposing buildings. The concrete was scorched and blackened, as if it had been blasted with a flamethrower.
Buffy's eyes widened in shock and a sense of dread washed over her. Had their fall done this? Or was it the work of the this 'Hulk?' Or even the man that'd called himself Thor? Whatever or whoever she was up against, it was powerful enough to wreak havoc across an entire city. This was no ordinary situation, and if it was a fight, she wasn't sure that she was even up to the task.
"No, Hulk. No," Thor was saying, his tone all too similar to that often used by dog owners the world over.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder at the Hulk and Thor to make sure that their attention was fixed solely on each other. With a sharp intake of breath, she launched herself into a sprint. Her heart pounded in her chest like the thunder of a thousand horses hooves. She could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins, a primal fuel that pumped new life into her limbs as she darted between the wreckage.
She needed to gain some distance from them, to give herself a chance to regroup and to buy herself time to assess the situation. If these men were responsible for the damage to the city, she would have to stop them. Or, she admitted to herself with a growing sense of trepidation, she would have to try. These were Glory-sized powerhouses, at the very least, and it'd already taken everything she had to take her down.
Had that really been just a few minutes ago?
A faint whistling sound reached Buffy's ears, and her instincts kicked in. With lightning-fast reflexes that had been inherited through generations of the Slayer line and honed further through the years of training she'd endured since being Chosen, she spun on her heel in mid-step and plucked two arrows out of the air with ease. She somersaulted over a third and landed gracefully in a defensive v fighting pose, the weapons held like weapons in her expert hands.
Perched atop an overturned car, the man that'd shot the arrows exuded an air of confident readiness. He was dressed in form-fitting, black tactical gear that hugged his muscular frame and accentuated his strength and agility. His short brown hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his eyes, as piercing as any arrowhead, were locked on Buffy, assessing her with a sharp and calculating intensity. He lowered his bow, a fourth arrow already nocked, signaling for a temporary ceasefire.
"That's not how that usually goes," he said, his tone at odds with his stern face. He didn't seem to be bothered by their surroundings, or by the fact that he'd just fired three arrows at another human, all of which suggested that he was a dangerous man that was no stranger to perilous situations.
Buffy remained still and alert, her own wild-eyed gaze trained on him as she waited for his next move. She said, "Who are you?! And what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"I think I'm supposed to be asking you those questions," he said, his noncommittal answer fanning the fire of Buffy's irritation.
"Look, it doesn't matter," she said and stepped forward, her tone low and urgent. "I don't know what you think you're going to do with the Special Agent Robin Hood thing, but you need to get out of here before it's too late!"
He almost bristled. Then, with a quizzical expression, and a tone full of skepticism, he said, "And why do I need to do that?"
"Because you're in danger!" she said, her frustration mounting as her voice grew louder.
A woman's voice- calm, controlled and cold- cut through the air like a knife. She said, "Is that a threat?"
Something in that tone sent a shiver down Buffy's spine. She turned slowly, careful to keep the man with the bow in her peripheral vision, and narrowed her eyes as she got a look at the newcomer. The woman was clad in a skintight black suit, her fiery red hair hanging loose about her shoulders. She moved with a fluid grace that spoke of years of training and experience. The woman's face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in her eyes that spoke volumes, and made Buffy's heart flutter with nervous anticipation.
"I don't think it was a threat," the man said. He kept his voice calm and reasonable. "It sounded more like a warning."
"Believe me," Buffy said, her voice low and dangerous. "You'll know when I'm threatening you."
The woman tilted her head to one side, studying Buffy with an expression that perfectly matched the calm, cold tone she'd used earlier. The mounting tension between them was a palpable energy that was sure to explode at any moment. It seemed as though they were about to come to blows. The Slayer could feel the electric anticipation building within her, and her muscles coiled in response, ready to strike. Just as suddenly as it had begun, however, the moment passed, and the red-haired woman nodded in acknowledgement.
"I believe you," she said, her voice softening only slightly. "I'm Natasha. What is your name?"
"You don't understand!" Buffy said. Her shoulders wanted to sag with relief, but she knew that they weren't out of the woods yet. She was trying to keep her thoughts together, but all of this, and all of the things that she had just been through, were threatening to overwhelm her. "There's a big, green... thing! And a man with a magic hanmer! I think they're what's tearing up the town!"
The man jumped down from the car and walked closer to the women, putting his arrow back in the high tech quiver on his back. He said, "Big Green is the Hulk. He's on our side, this time. Thor is powerful, but his heart is in the right place. Don't worry, Cap is checking on them?"
The way he said that last name left no doubt that he expected her to know who he was talking about. She could only stare at him helplessly, her expression lost.
"Captain America?" the man said, not missing her reaction. "Steve Rogers?"
"If I have a bell, it isn't ringing," Buffy said.
"Oh, I like you," the man said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's start smaller. My name is Clint. Nat already introduced herself. Will you tell us who you are?"
Buffy hesitated a moment before responding. She said, "I'm Buffy."
"A few hours ago, Earth was attacked by an alien race called the Chitauri," Natasha said. Her gaze was still fixed on Buffy's face, studying her with a different kind of intensity. "They're the ones that caused all of this. Have you ever heard of them?"
"Did you say aliens?" Buffy said incredulously as her eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't believe what she was hearing - it sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie.
Natasha seemed satisfied with Buffy's answer. In a matter-of-fact tone, she said, "Yes," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "They entered our atmosphere through a rift opened by a device called the Tesseract. Does any of this sound familiar to you?"
"Maybe," Buffy said slowly. She furrowed her brown as she thought it over, considering the mad blur of events and the fateful that had brought her here. "Not the Norditrack thing or the Calamari invasion, but there was a rift that I kind of jumped into."
Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance. The latter said, "You jumped into a rift? Why would you do that?"
"To save my sister," Buffy said simply and immediately. Then, with a shrug, "And, you know, the world, I guess."
Clint raised an eyebrow, her words plainly resonating with him. He said, "You jumped into a rift to save your sister?"
"And the world," Natasha said, neither her voice or her tone giving away anything of what she thought.
"It's what I do," Buffy said. "It was my, what, fifth apocalypse? The world is always getting into trouble, and somebody's got to save it. That's usually me."
Clint and Natasha shared another look, communicating silently with each other. Then the red-haired woman spoke up. She said, "Where was the rift you entered?"
Buffy hesitated, sensing that there was more to the question than she immediately understood. Natasha's expression gave nothing away- her face was smooth, her tone clipped and businesslike- but Buffy was more insightful than most people gave her credit for. She could sense an underlying tension behind the other woman's words, an objective that involved the rifts and something that she didn't understand. There didn't seem to be any reason to withhold information, but being kept in the dark had been her least favorite thing for her entire adult life and then some.
"Why is it important?" Buffy said.
"A friend of ours went through the rift on this side," Clint said, earning a hard look that spoke volumes from Natasha. He ignored it and went on, "Hopefully, he came out wherever you went in at."
In that moment, Buffy decided that she liked Clint. Whatever he was, or wasn't, there was an earnestness to him that didn't seem to exist in Natasha. If it did, it was well buried beneath sheets of ice. She said, "It was in Sunnydale, California. Hell, get me home and I'll take you to the exact spot myself. I couldn't forget the way there if I wanted to."
"Thank you," Clint said. He placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "We'll get you home, and hopefully we'll find our friend there."
"Hulk is settled down. At least, so much so as he gets without changing," a new man said as he walked around some of the wreckage, on his way to them. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with short blonde hair and a chiseled jawline. He was wearing a tight-fitting uniform in the colors of the American flag: red, white, and blue. A large shield, in the same color scheme, was strapped to his back.
"Let me guess," Buffy said, looking him over with a half-smile. "You must be 'Captain America.'"
When his bright blue eyes met her, whatever amusement Buffy had felt over the name vanished in an instant. She actually regretted the way that she'd said it. There was nothing silly about this man. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled build beneath his uniform, but he was more than that. There was an aura about him, a sense of authority that demanded respect. She'd seen plenty of people and even a few monsters try, desperately, to be what he plainly, simply was.
As Buffy gaped at him, Captain America said, "And you must be the young lady that that fell out of that portal. I'm glad you're okay. Hulk means well, but he isn't exactly known for being gentle. From what I saw, though, you pack quite a wallop yourself."
"Yup," she said awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "I'm Wallopy. I mean, sorry, my name is Buffy."
"Call me Steve. You'll have to pardon me, but there'll be time enough for us to talk more soon," the Captain said. He turned his attention to Clint and Natasha, and pointed upwards at one of the nearby buildings. "Thor is on his way up to contain Loki. I thought we all might want to join him."
"Absolutely," Clint said with a nod, his expression turning deadly serious once again.
"Then we can focus on finding out what happened to Tony," Natasha said. Her voice was firm and her tone was resolute.
"That's the plan," Steve said. He looked again at Buffy. "You're not a prisoner, but I need you to come with us until we can figure out what happened to our teammate."
"Director Fury will want to debrief you," Natasha said. "We need to know more about what you saw and the rift you entered."
Buffy frowned as she faced them, her mind racing as she tried to process the situation. This was big; bigger than she liked, and getting caught up in it could change everything for her. The Slayer wasn't meant to dress in bright colors and fight aliens, but although these people did, she had never heard of them. Something about that fact planted an icy seed of dread in her stomach. It told her that the situation was going to get more complicated before it made sense. Still, she was Chosen, and she knew that she had a role to play, whether she liked it or not.
"Story of my life," Buffy said, dropping her gaze as her shoulders drooped. She offered the arrows she'd taken to Clint, who took them with a surprised, murmured 'Thank you.'
"What do you mean?" Steve asked, his voice full of sympathy and genuine concern. As with Clint earlier, when she'd spoken of her sister, something in her words seemed to speak to him on a more primal level. He was no stranger to the demands of duty.
She looked up, her blue- green eyes meeting his clear blue orbs, and said, "I guess I mean, 'I'm with you.' Let's go get Lucky."
Captain America stared at her, and for a moment all was silent but for a chortle that escaped Clint's throat. Then, gently, Natasha corrected her, saying, "It's Loki."
"Right!" Buffy said, grinning sheepishly. "I knew that. I was just testing you guys. Let's go get Loki."
On the top floor of Stark Tower, Buffy stepped out of the elevator alongside 'the Avengers.' The catchy name had been coined by the man that she had somehow switched places with in the rift, and the others had decided to adopt it officially. All of them, sans her, moved with practiced precision as they fanned out into the impressively opulent living space of the absent Tony Stark. They each scanned the room for any sign of danger before zeroing in on a figure that was stirring on the floor between the Hulk and Thor.
She almost flinched when she saw the Hulk, and caught her breath when he looked up at her. His face contorted and he snorted once. Then he went back to pacing around the man on the floor as he pushed himself up and into a seated position.
Loki, the supposed God of Mischief, did not look much like a God in that moment. His fair face was battered and bruised, and his fancy green and gold attire was rumpled, torn and disheveled. When he saw the Avengers arrayed before him, their weapons held ready, he offered up a defeated chuckle.
"It seems you're missing one of your number," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and spite. "Where is Tony Stark? I'd like to take him up on that drink he offered me. I do hope he hasn't stood me up."
The tension in the room grew as the Avengers bristled at Loki's words. It was Thor, the air around him carrying the ambient charge of his power and anger, who said, "I would suggest you be silent, Brother. Your army is defeated and soon, and your cell in our father's dungeon is ready to receive you."
"Of course, of course," Loki said, nodding. Then his gaze fell on Buffy and a spark of recognition entered his green eyes. "Oh, what have we here? A lost girl who reeks of the power of the Tesseract and dark secrets? I suppose today's endeavor wasn't a total waste after all."
"You know, for someone that's supposed to be a master of trickery, you just plain suck at reading people," Buffy said suddenly. She walked forward and joined the Avengers, arms folded across her chest as she stared down at him. "If you had any sense at all, you'd know that I'm far from being a lost little girl. I'm the Slayer. Maybe you don't know what that means, but I'm a real good teacher. And you? You wouldn't even be the first God to get that lesson today."
Thor gently touched Buffy's arm with his fingertips. Instantly, she pulled away and looked up at him with saucer sized eyes. He held the hand up, palm out, signaling for peace and said, "As Loki's brother and a Prince of Asgard, I should let you know that I now consider Loki to be in my custody as a prisoner of my father's throne. That being said, if you'd like to hit him a little, rough him up some, it's quite all right by me."
"Thanks," Buffy said to Thor with a broad, bright grin. The brilliance of it vanished as she turned her face back to Loki and raised one eyebrow as of to say 'Well?'
"Oh, don't threaten," Loki said. As Buffy looked at him, she saw something troubled hiding beneath his countenance. "I am hardly at my best, thanks to your new friends, and I feel I may need to be for there is greater trickery than mine afoot."
"What do you mean?" Thor said, his own tone full of concern and suspicion. "What trickery?"
Loki simply met his brother's eyes. With no feigned earnestness, no facade of change, he simply said, "Thor, please. I will submit, I will cooperate, and I will go to my cell even if you do not bother to shackle me. First, however, I would beg simply for an audience with our mother."
"Now, after all that has happened, you wish to speak of Family," Thor said, his brow furrowed as his voice became tinged with frustration. After a moment, he relented and said, "Very well, I will speak to Father."
Loki rolled his eyes, making no attempt to disguise his disdain for Thor. He said, "Speak to Mother, you Dolt, and let her speak to Father, and that will suffice."
Thor regarded his brother, his annoyance and frustration at war with nostalgia and amusement. Asgardians, Buffy surmised, were a people that felt strongly and did little to hide those feelings. Of course, she wasn't one to talk. As she considered this, the God of Thunder said, "Fine. I will speak to Frigga and, if and when she desires to do so, she will speak to Odin. Are we done sparring now?"
Loki nodded resolutely, for once true to his word. He pushed himself to his feet, the weight of his defeat and whatever it was that he'd hinted at, but not revealed, heavy on his slender shoulders. He held out his hands to Captain America, his wrists close together, and said in his eternally mocking tone, "I believe the locals would say 'book me,' Captain."
Steve Rogers walked forward, his own expression. He produced a high tech pair of cuffs from his belt, then studied Loki for a moment before securing them around his wrists. The cuffs glinted in the dim light of the room. As they clicked into place and blue lights lit all around Loki's wrists, he said, "Gladly."
Not the End