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arfic-l-digest        Tuesday, October 30 2001        Volume 01 : Number 052




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Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2001 09:24:33 -0400
From: "Michele R Bumbarger" <[e-mail]>
Subject: (arfic-l) ADMIN: Test of Auto Archive

Just a test to see if the auto archiving at egroups.com is working.



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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 31 Oct 2001 00:37:40 US/Eastern
From: [e-mail]
Subject: (arfic-l) FIC: Le Jour des Morts, (1/?)

Title: Le Jour des Morts
Crossover/Fusion with: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Authors: Persephone_Elysian
Email: [e-mail]
Archive: Elysia (www.angelfire.com/id2/avalon); Anyone
         else please email and permission will be
         gladly given.
Rating: At the moment R-ish... Will mostly likely
        take  a turn down NC-17 lane before this is
        over with. Fear not, the appropriate ratings will be
        listed should this happen.
Warnings: Violence, language, creepy things, eventual
          lemon.
Pairings:1x2/2x1
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is the property of Bandai,
            Sunrise, Sotsu Agency.  Buffy the Vampire
            Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Twentieth
            Century Fox, (currently) UPN and other
            such companies.  No infringement is
            intended.  Any other characters not found
            in either series, belong to me.  Please
            ask permission before you use them.
Thanks:  A big round of thanks to Anne Olsen, Psycho
         Babble, Keya,and Chele for beta-ing this.
         Special thanks to Anne (for helping me get
         all those Brit-isms down) and to Psycho
         Babble (for urging me to hurry up and get to
         Hee-chan already).

Author's disclaimer:

     This idea has been kicking around in my brain for
half a year now.  I knew I wanted to do a Buffy/GW
story but wasn't sure how to get it around the way I
wanted it.  This story is part fusion, part crossover.
For those of you who have read my other Buffy/Gundam
Wing/Angel crossovers, 'Endymion's Repose' and 'And So
It Goes' should find this quite different from either
of those stories.  This is a look at the Buffy verse
from a different perspective.  As such, I've bent and
played with the Gundam Wing timeline just a smidge (as
well as making the pilots 16 instead of 15 and giving
a new spin on certain characters and their histories)
while trying to incorporate the mythology and feel of
the Buffy-verse. This work is part crossover and part
fusion. I'm not sure how successful I've been but I
thought I'd post what I have so far to list as a
Halloween treat. ^_^

Feedback is craved and will be adored with the proper
amount of gushing.

***
Le Jour des Morts
A 'Gundam Wing'/'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'
       fusion/crossover.
By Persephone_Elysian

Prologue

21 December,
A.C. 179

Colony L-2

'This is truly the night of the long knives, 'Helen
thought grimly as she half-led, half-carried her
stumbling charge through Byzantine streets, one hand
clutching an armful of shaking girl and the other
wrapped around the smooth grip of her 9mm.  Every so
often the pair paused, the girl seeming to bend just a
bit, her face red with some exertion unknown to those
around her save for her grim-faced guardian.  Helen
winced as fingers dug into her arm, already resigned
to bruises and rapidly coming to the conclusion that
if she couldn't find them shelter and very soon, those
bruises would have contusions of their own.  Bruises
in themselves were nothing new; after all, you could
hardly serve as Watcher to the Slayer and not expect
wounds of some sort.  That was part of the job
description.  The squeamish had no business
accompanying the Vampire Slayer into darkness, only
those willing to lay down their lives in service of
the Cause did.  Helen would and had voluntarily gone
into literal and figurative hells for Luna Rohan, the
current Slayer, without flinching.  She had given
herself over to the idea that she might well die in
battle.  Her concern focused more on Luna and seeing
that she had all she needed--to fight, to survive.
The irony of their situation was not lost on Helen.
She had trained Luna, aided her forging into a weapon
against the darkness, honing natural reflexes and
instincts to a razor's edge and none of it mattered
now.  No, Luna was engaged in a very different sort of
struggle at the moment, one that none of her skills
could help her with.  Not for the first time in
several hours, Helen felt fear flutter in her chest,
pecking at her resolve.

"Helen," Luna whimpered, stopping for another of those
interminable pauses that made Helen's heart catch and
her eyes jump around the streets, finger toying with
the safety of her pistol.  The girl seemed to squat
down just a bit, grunting as her hands flew to the
curve of her engorged belly, concealed from the cold
atmosphere and prying eyes by a thick black overcoat.
Her charge's round, delicate face was pinched, cream
skim the color of milk and sheened with sweat.  They
were coming faster, these pauses, far too fast for her
comfort.  It meant they hadn't long and their pursuers
were still out there.

For the first time, Helen felt real and genuine panic
rise in her throat, choking in its weight.  She wasn't
trained for this... Demons, vampires, the odd
sorcerer, yes, but she was not equipped to deal with a
pregnant Slayer being pursued by not only by a nest of
vampires but Watchers intent on bringing the Slayer
back to Earth, back to Headquarters, perhaps to face
death.  And all because Luna Roan had been blessed or
cursed, to be the first Slayer in recorded history to
conceive.

Oh, there had been such an uproar in the Council when
Helen had been forced to report what Luna herself had
reluctantly revealed.  She had deliberated on just how
to broach the subject for nearly a month before
realizing that there was no way to and she'd best come
clean before the changing shape of Luna's body did it
for her.  Just as quickly as the Slayer's condition
had been revealed the order came down from the Inner
Council that the Slayer was to abort the fetus with
all haste.  And she supposed it had been just her luck
to be in charge of the one Slayer since Buffy Summers
nearly two hundred years earlier to openly defy the
Council, then break with it.  Luna would not give up
her child and the Council could not 'afford the wasted
time' it would take her to give birth.  The order
turned into an ultimatum: rid herself of the child or
they would find someone to take her place.  And there
was only one way to replace a Slayer.... Helen
shuddered at the thought.

And so they had left Earth, moving from space port to
space port just one step ahead of both the Watchers
and the vampires the Slayer was now in no condition to
battle.

It was too late to abort the birth as she had been
instructed all those months ago before they fled the
Council's control but she didn't trust Luna's or the
child's fate to her superiors.  Not yet.  Not until
Luna was back in full health.

"Nearly there," Helen made her voice light, despite
the fact that she had no idea where 'there' was.
They'd been walking through this godforsaken place for
several hours already, searching for a spot, some
small refuge for Luna to quit her pains and this child
to be born.  Helen feared if they didn't find that
place very soon, her Slayer might not survive the pain
racking her small form.

At five feet and barely a hundred pounds, Luna Rohan
was not built for childbearing.  Her wispy frame
belied the true power in her limbs, her tiny form
strengthened with the power of the Slayer.  And it was
that strength that carried her now when her petite
body should have fallen over in agony.  True, she had
gained some weight but none of it had stuck to her
bones, instead going to her womb until her belly
seemed monstrous in proportion to the rest of her
body.  She should not have had to spend these last
couple months shuttling from place to place, never
able to rest for more than a few days at a time.
'No,' Helen thought with bitterness, Luna should have
been given a room in Headquarters in London and the
best medical care the Watchers could afford.  She had
served the Council well for nearly a year before this
and this was how they rewarded her.  All the blood
she'd spilled in their name, all those injuries, and
vampires slain... Surely that should have afforded her
some consideration, some sort of sympathy, not this
relentless hounding that might well be the death of
Luna.

And if she were being honest, she could admit to
herself that might very well be what the Council
wanted and intended.  No Slayer since Buffy Summer and
her counterpart, Faith, had ever gone rogue; the
Council had taken great pains to ensure that.  If they
felt it would serve their purpose, they might well
make Luna an example for future generations of girls.
As for herself... Helen harbored no illusions as to
what steps the Council would take against her.  She
had disobeyed orders and worse, aided the Slayer in
disobeying, too.  A reprimand was the least of her
worries.

Oh, well.  There was nothing to be done about it now.
She'd made her bed and she would damn well lie in it.
Her first priority was shelter, followed on its heels
by getting her Slayer some sort of medical attention.
If there was any such thing in this hellhole, she
glanced around the grubby streets and buildings that
would have been condemned anywhere else.

In retrospect, they'd made a mistake--she had made a
mistake in allowing Luna her way and bringing the two
of them to the L2 cluster.  L2 was notorious amongst
the colonies as a haven for criminals and the poorest
of the space colonials.  Those who came to L2 did so
because they had no choice and nowhere else to go.
'Like us,' Helen thought.  Luna had thought that the
Watchers with all their respectability would have
difficulty coming into a place like this.  How she
wished her charge would understand that respectability
was little more than a patina.  The Watchers were
devoted to their fight against darkness and would do
anything, sacrifice anyone to win a war that had been
going on so long now that no one remembered the
beginnings of it.  As she had feared, their hunters
had followed them into this murderous nest and
picketed the few shuttle ports of the colony with
their people.  Unlike the ultra modern L1 or the
lavish L4, L2 was run down, a dead end with few
escapes available.  Those who dwelt in Earth slums
lived like kings compared to some of the denizens of
this place.  Aside from a few parts of the cities, L2
was a veritable backwater hell of its own making.

Again another pause as Luna stopped in the street, her
nostrils flaring as her face strained.  "Helen. I
think...the baby.."

"Try to hold on," Helen repeated her earlier inanity.
Hold on?  How did one hold onto a child trying to
force its way into the world?  Might as well ask space
to warm over and become breathable.

"That... is...easy," Luna hissed through her gritted
teeth, "...for you to say...ohhh."

This had gone on long enough.  They had to find
shelter and they had to find it now.  Anyone who came
after them could wait until this child was born or
else they'd have a bullet in their head to answer to.
Taking her charge by the shoulders, Helen guided her
off the street and over to one of those dingy, barely
functional buildings.  Balancing, she knocked on the
door, restraining the urge to hop from foot to foot in
impatience.

The door opened a crack, a dirty face peeking out at
them.  A dirty *young* face, Helen realized feeling
her stomach drop.

"Yea?"

Realizing this was as much of a greeting as she was
likely to get she put on her best smile.  "We need a
room.  Are your parents around?"

"Ain't got parents," The child's voice was defiant,
daring her to make something of that.  Helen blinked,
at a complete loss as to how to proceed.

Luckily for her, Luna did.  "We need a room," she
grunted, thrusting her stomach out at him.  "We can
pay you for it."

That grubby face brightened then darkened again.  "And
'ow do I know you won't call the police on us later?"

'Us?' Helen thought dully.  'More than one?'  "We
won't report you.  We're not seeking that sort of
attention ourselves at the moment.  Please, we just
need one of your rooms for a few hours and then we'll
be gone."

The door closed and the scrabbling of an ancient lock
became audible before the door was jerked back.  Helen
guided Luna inside, wrinkling her nose as the smell of
unwashed bodies hit her nose.  So many unwashed
bodies, she thought, her eyes drifting over the
children in the room or peeking through the staircase
at them.  There were at least twenty children here,
the youngest not more than four.  Thin, rangy little
bodies with not an ounce of fat on them and hungry,
fearful eyes staring at them, tracking their movements
as they tensed to scatter.

"Oh, God," Luna breathed and Helen was unsure if that
was some soft agreement or another statement of pain.


"'E don't get many visit'rs," the boy who'd opened the
door explained.  He jerked his hand at them.  "C'mon,
you can have the room upstairs."

"I'm not sure she can make it upstairs," Helen
muttered but followed, more or less hauling Luna
upwards now.  A swift look at the Slayer's face told
her she could expect little help there.  It was all
the girl could do to move with her help.

The climb upward was slow torture, fraught with more
pauses that were coming in faster succession.  She had
thought to ask the boy to find a midwife or doctor of
some sort but was beginning to understand that they'd
never get there in time.  She'd have to make do on her
own.

'This is insane,' part of her screamed.  She'd never
done anything remotely like this.  She'd been taught
to slay demons, not deliver babies.  'Get a grip,' she
ordered herself with as much sternness as she could
muster.  Women had been delivering babies for
thousands upon thousands of years.  If they could do
it, then she'd managed somehow.

The room the boy led them to was Spartan, empty of any
furnishings save for a natty mattress on the floor but
it was clean. Thank God for that mercy. After helping
Luna down onto the bedding, she glanced down at the
child, "Could I trouble you for some water and
towels?"

"This ain't the Sheridan," he replied sullenly.  "And
it'll cost ya."

Brat, she glowered at him.  "Fine.  Whatever you want.
Just get me what I need.... Why are you still
standing there?"

"I ain't moving unless you pay," the child thrust his
chin out stubbornly.

Helen resisted the urge to smack him then and there.
"This is important."

"So's this."

After seeing the children downstairs she supposed she
couldn't argue with that.  "Half," she relented.  "You
can have the rest when you get me what I need.
And...What's your name, boy?"

The boy thought it over.  "Deal.  And I ain't got a
name... at least not one pronounceable in polite
company."

He flashed a quick grin then disappeared, the floor
creaking and groaning as he leaped down the stairs at
a full run.  Helen stared after him, before shaking
her head and turning back towards the grunting,
red-faced mother.  She knelt down beside the mattress,
smoothing back some of Luna's soft honey brown hair,
her hand slick with perspiration as it moved those
sticky locks out of her face.  Her amethyst eyes were
fully dilated, bluer in appearance than violet at this
moment; such an agonizing shade of sky colors in her
focused gaze.  Reaching down, she unwrapped one of the
Slayer's hands from her stomach and entwined her
fingers in it with a gentle squeeze to get her
attention.  Helen smiled on the edge of tears herself
as she watched the girl trying to hold back the pain,
denying voice to the sensations that were ripping her
apart.

"It's all right," she soothed.  "You can cry out if
you need to.  I don't think anyone will mind."

"I mind," she huffed, her voice hitching as another
contraction hit her.

"So stubborn," Helen stroked her hair, seeking not to
cry out herself as Luna's small hand clenched around
hers in a crushing grip.  "Always so stubborn.  You
don't have to be strong all the time."

"Yes... I do.  Part of the job descripti--owww," she
whimpered, raising up on her hands just a bit.

"Bollocks to the job then."

"You must be--really scared to say ...something like
that."

'I am,' she thought.  'Oh God, Luna, I'm so very
afraid.' "I am.  I don't want to worry you but this is
new territory for me."

"Same here.  Guess we'll get through this together,
huh?"  It was an attempt at a laugh that was swallowed
up in her greater efforts.  "Can't be any worse than
slaying some vamp, right?"

"Yes, but the vampires are usually trying to get in,
not out."

"Geez, Helen, lighten up a bit.  It's not like I'm
gonna die here or anything," Luna rasped, eyes rolling
upward a bit though the Watcher couldn't tell if it
was in annoyance or in a very real struggle to remain
conscious.  "I mean, wouldn't that just suck?  Dying
in a place like this before I could get back and tell
the Council how full of it they are?  Who says vampire
slayers can't have a career and a kid, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, now you're scarin' me.  Did you just agree with
me on something?"

Helen laughed, a soft sound filled with tears unshed.
"I suppose I did.  Enjoy it while you can.  I'm quite
sure it won't happen very often."

Luna started to speak but it was a shrill cry of pain
that left her mouth, not the snappy comeback she'd
expected.  The girl rocked forward, nearly falling
backwards again as her stomach caught her.  Tears
spilled down her thin face, the amethyst of her eyes
glittering like stones in a stream.  Helen put her
arms around the girl, preventing her wobbling body
from falling either way, the smell of sweat and blood
tickling her nose.  The damp warm body against hers
spasmed and jerked, small sobs of pain filling the air
around them.  Helen held her tightly, swaying back and
forth, speaking but not speaking.  There were words,
Helen was certain of that, but nothing intelligible.
At least, nothing that made sense to her well-trained
ear.  Still, Luna responded to it or seemed to,
burying her face in Helen's shoulder and clutching her
Watcher with bruising intensity.

Everything narrowed down to that connection, the feel
of Luna's body twitching in her arms, soft whimpers
followed by loud cries of agony that cut through her
until she had to shut her eyes, hiding her face in her
charge's sweat-slicked hair and prayed.  For
something, anything, for this torment to end.  Words
that she had not spoken in years ran around in circles
in her mind and she found her eyes drawn to the glint
of a silver cross lying against Luna's chest.  It
twinkled at her in the dimness and her eyes followed
that light, the glint expanding into a glow as she
unfocused her eyes and let her lips throw silent
entreaties out, punctuated by the occasional sound of
comfort.

It was the slamming open of a door that roused her,
her gun coming up to bear before she herself had
realized it.  "That was a very stupid thing to do,"
she informed the boy from before, his small body
frozen with one hand still attached to the doorknob.
"I could have killed you."

His hand flexed, then he let go, as if now confident
that she wouldn't shoot him where he stood.  "Nah, not
you.  You're too soft to shoot a kid like me.
Couldn't live with yerself."

"Don't tempt me."

He shrugged, pushing swoopy blond hair out of his
eyes, nearly dropping the ancient bucket he held in
his free hand.  "You can shoot me but I guarantee
Lucky Lindy ain't gonna help you if you do."

"Who the hell is Lucky Lindy?"  Helen snapped, her
patience at an end as Luna muttered and tossed in her
arms.

"That'd be me."

A dark-haired woman stepped through the doorway,
stopping to touch the boy's shoulder before pushing
him gently to the side.  Lank black hair was swept up
in a tight ponytail and the sheer volume of make-up
and fishnet gave her more insight into this woman's
stock and trade than Helen wanted to know.  "I'm
Lindy," she announced, popping a wad of chewing gum
and slipping out of her threadbare jacket.

"So I've gathered.  Why are you here?"  The gun never
wavered, as it moved towards the more immediate
threat.

The boy rolled his eyes.  "Oh for... Look, you need
help, right?  I'm mean, she's gonna drop a kid any
moment now."

'An accurate, if not the most polite or tasteful
description,' Helen conceded, her lips thinning as she
nodded.

"Lindy's a whore," the boy began without preamble.
"She's had experience.  Lots of it."

"I'll bet."

Lindy rolled her brown eyes.  "God, Solo, remind me
never to let you explain anything ever again."  She
turned her attention back to Helen.  "What he means to
say is that I've been a midwife before.  Not that I
haven't had those other kinds of experiences."

"You're a midwife?"

"Uh huh," Lindy replied cheerfully.  "Sometimes the
other girls get careless, get good and preggers and
can't afford aborting drugs.  I've delivered two or
three kids, including Sol' here."

"Help deliver," Solo corrected, crossing his eyes at
her when the girl stuck out her tongue in his
direction.

Helen stared at her, digesting this rather remarkable
bit of news.  For all her claim to 'experiences,'
Lindy was probably no older than twenty to twenty
five.  As if sensing Helen's skepticism, she piped up,
"Nana Allison taught me how.  She used to let me help
her.  I took over when she died."

"She's the best help you're gonna get," Solo
concurred.  "Unless you're planning on delivering the
brat yerself."

The idea of trying to deliver a baby, any baby, was
nearly enough to send her back into her earlier panic.
She glanced at Luna, but found no aid there.  The
Slayer's eyes were closed, her small body sucking up
harsh, rasping breaths.  'Make a decision, Helen,
before the decision is taken from you.'  "All right.
If you can help--"

"There's a little thing of a fee," Solo began before
Helen waved him off.

"I'll pay the both of you whatever you want.  But if
anything," she waved the gun in front of their
suddenly apprehensive faces, "and I mean anything,
goes wrong here, neither of you will leave this room.
Understood?"

"We got it,"  Solo muttered.  "Geez, relax and give
the lady some room to work."

***

As much as Helen was loath to admit it, Lindy was very
good at what she did.  The girl was quick and
efficient, taking charge after a few seconds of clear
distress.  Moreover, she knew how to keep Solo in
line, mostly by having him run back and to fetching
items, half of which Helen felt certain Lindy didn't
even need.  As for herself, she took up position near
Luna, holding the gun in one hand and the Slayer's
clammy hand in her other.  It was a gesture not lost
on either Lindy or Solo and perhaps it was her
imagination, but it seemed to spur them on.

The labor itself was a long process, with periods
where Lindy actually pulled Luna to her feet and made
her walk around.  To speed up contractions, the girl
had explained.  It was an awkward affair, with Lindy
slipping an arm around her to keep her upright.
Occasionally, the Slayer stopped in the midst of the
room, squatting just a bit as her eyes narrowed in
concentration.  It hadn't taken long after a few of
these sessions for the contractions to well and fully
come on with Lindy's glib announcement of 'the
rugrat's comin!' filling her ears.

Helen had never been part of a birth, had never really
thought of having children and what she had seen thus
far had not impressed upon her the immediate need to
remedy that.  Until Lindy's bloody hands emerged with
a squirming bundle, a few smart smacks rapping the
lungs clean.  And what a sound those lungs produced!
She would be old and gray before the sound of that
howl stopped ringing in her ears.  Luna very near
collapsed, Solo clasping her by the shoulder in a
genuine attempt to keep her upright.  Helen flashed
the boy a smile of gratitude before turning her
attention back to her charge and the tiny body wiped
fresh of blood being handed her way.

"It's a boy," Lindy said, a twinkle in her tired eyes
telling Helen that even she realized how inane that
helpful observation was.

"Helen... Oh, my God," Luna's voice was shaky.  Her
charge's face was drawn, gray but there was something
radiant about her nonetheless.  "Look at him, just
look at him."

Tiny perfect hands flailed out as the child cried, a
glimpse of smoky blue violet peeking through a sheen
of tears before his pale head turned, seeking to
burrow closer to the female holding him.   Luna
appeared confused, trying to turn the child back
towards her.  The babe's cries amplified until Luna
seemed well and truly frightened.  "What's... What's
wrong with him?"

"He's hungry," Lindy replied with resigned patience.
"I think he's hoping you're gonna give him a bite,
Mommy."

"Oh!"  Luna started fumbling with her shirt, and Helen
was actually scandalized by the sight of the Slayer
trying to pull it upward.  She got up, snagging Solo
by the wrist, dragging the protesting boy halfway
across the room before calling over her shoulder.
"Tell her what to do, Lindy, then come talk to me a
minute."

Just outside the door, Solo yanked away from her,
rubbing his wrist and glaring at her.  "What was that
for?"

Helen didn't bother with a response instead leaning
against the wall, using what was left of her energy to
fight back the wave of dizziness threatening to
swallow her.

A few minutes later, the door opened and closed again.
Helen opened her eyes and directed her attention
towards Lindy, who despite the remarkable composure
with which she had handled the birth was now visibly
uncomfortable.  "If you're getting any ideas--"

Helen shook her head.  "One more service and you can
have more than a week's wages."

The girl visibly straightened, with Solo creeping up
behind her.  "What else can I do for you?" Nervousness
replaced by greedy professionalism.

"The baby."

"What about him?"

Helen felt her hands curve around the grip of her gun,
the well-worn handle bringing home the reality of the
situation and what she was about to do.  "I want you
to take him.  I'll pay you whatever you want."

"What? Why--"  Lindy was shocked, her face for once
telling the story of her years.

"Ask me no questions," Helen barked.  "Suffice to say,
Luna and I cannot stay here.  And a baby would slow us
down.  There are people ... looking for us.  If we
dawdle, they will find us.  For the sake of the mother
and that child in there, I am asking you to take the
child and find him a home until such time as we are at
liberty to return and reclaim him."

"But surely--"

"No.  Just yes or no.  There is no more time," Helen
seethed.

Lindy's face hardened.  "Sure but I'm not gonna be the
one to tell that kid in there.  You couldn't pay me
enough for that."

"I'll do it," she nodded, straightening.  Her insides
quivered at the thought of what she was about to
do--separating a mother from her newborn?  It sounded
heartless.  It *was* heartless but what choice was
there?  If they stayed, their pursuers would find them
and God only knew what the Watchers would do with the
child.  And if they tried to escape with the baby, it
was equally likely he would not survive the attempt.
There was no win in this situation, no hope save the
slim chance of a return later, once the Council had
been pacified and shown that Luna could be both the
Slayer and a mother.  For his own sake, the child had
to be left here.  For both their sakes, she had to
steel herself and force Luna to reach the same
conclusion.

'God, please help her to forgive me,' she smoothed her
suit, trying very hard not to think of Luna's radiance
just minutes before.  'Because I'm not sure I'll ever
be able to forgive myself.'

***End of Prologue.



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------------------------------

Date: Wed, 31 Oct 2001 00:39:44 US/Eastern
From: [e-mail]
Subject: (arfic-l) FIC: Le Jour des Morts, (2/?)

Title: Le Jour des Morts, (2/?)
Crossover/Fusion with: Gundam Wing and Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Authors: Persephone_Elysian
Email: [e-mail]
Archive: Elysia (www.angelfire.com/id2/avalon) anyone
else please email and permission will be gladly given.

Rating: At the moment R-ish... Will mostly likely
        take  a turn down NC-17 lane before this is
        over with.
Warnings: Violence, language, creepy things, eventual
          lemon.
Pairings:1x2/2x1
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is the property of Bandai,
            Sunrise, Sotsu Agency.  Buffy the Vampire
            Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Twentieth
            Century Fox, (currently) UPN and other
            such companies.  No infringement is
            intended.  Any other characters not found
            in either series (such as Luna or Sophie
            or Grace, belong to me.  Please
            ask permission before you use them.
Thanks:  A big round of thanks to Anne Olsen, Psycho
         Babble, Keya,and Chele for beta-ing this.
         Special thanks to Anne (for helping me get
         all those Brit-isms down) and to Psycho
         Babble (for urging me to hurry up and get to
         Heechan already).

Author's disclaimer:

     This idea has been kicking around in my brain for
half a year now.  I knew I wanted to do a Buffy/GW
story but wasn't sure how to get it around the way I
wanted it.  This story is part fusion, part crossover.
 For those of you who have read my other Buffy/Gundam
Wing/Angel crossovers, 'Endymion's Repose' and 'And So
It Goes' should find this quite different from either
of those stories.  This is a look at the Buffy verse
from a different perspective.  As such, I've bent and
played with the Gundam Wing timeline just a smidge (as
well as making the pilots 16 instead of 15 and giving
a new spin on certain characters and their histories)
while trying to incorporate the mythology and feel of
the Buffy-verse. I'm not sure how successful I've been
but I thought I'd post what I have so far to list(s)
as a Halloween treat. ^_^

Feedback is craved and will be adored with the proper
amount of gushing.

***

Le Jour des Morts
A 'Gundam Wing'/'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'
          crossover/fusion.
By Persephone_Elysian

Chapter One

London, Great Britain
Earth

AC 195

The monsters were fast, claws slashing outward and
sending her tumbling over garbage cans into the wall
of the alley. Grace Ward, the Vampire Slayer, rose on
unsteady limbs, one hand clinging to the dirty brick
next to her. Her side was burning, the other hand
clamped over a livid set of scratches across her
abdomen. She eased her hand back, disturbed by the way
her blood spilled over her fingers, the blue of her
shirt made stiff and crimson. Keeping on eye on the
pair hovering just mere feet and inches from her,
Grace tried to catch her breath and ignore the fear
threatening to overtake her.

This whole thing had been a mistake from the
beginning. She should have listened to Harry's
warnings about tracking Krelid demons and about how
vicious the buggers could be in a fight but no, she
had to play the mighty vampire slayer, savior of
London and pride of the Council. She'd let her ego,
her pride in cleaning the vampire population out of
London, go to her head and walked right into the
lion's den. 'A den of some kind,' she thought,
remembering the horror of realizing she hadn't just
tracked down one demon but two. 'Two with young,' she
grimaced, still seeing all those dozens and dozens of
eggs tied together in a silken knot like a spider's
nest. She and Harry had torched the nest. At least the
city would be spared a horde of baby demons running
roughshod over it. Had there only been one demon, she
could have handled it. But she hadn't counted on Daddy
slithering in behind her Watcher à

And now Harry was dead. One blood-slicked hand swiped
at the tears that threatened to come. It simply
wouldnÆt do to show weakness in front of the monsters
and there was a very real possibility that if she
started crying now she wouldn't be able to stop.

Balancing on one foot, she let go of her side and
hefted the battle-axe beside her into her hands once
more, amazed at how heavy it seemed all of the sudden.
Or maybe it was just her hands felt numb, far too
numb. She squelched down her rising panic. She was the
Slayer, the Chosen one of her generation and she would
not show fear. Not in front of the monsters, not for
any monster; they should fear her and not the other
way around.

It hadn't always been like this. Once when Grace had
been a little girl, she had feared the monsters.
Somehow she had always known them. They lurked in the
pantry or under her bed and behind the curtain in the
lavatory. They stalked her and she hid or ran. Until
the day Harry came and explained her destiny, until
she had understood that she need no longer fear the
monsters, that it was they who should run from her.
She had hunted them then, hunted them with an
intensity and devotion that had made her Watcher
proud. She had pursued and slayed the vampire
community, destroying its power in her city. She had
rooted out and systematically destroyed any stragglers
and she had freed the night. She had made it so that
people could walk down a London street at night
without the fear of something otherworldly attacking
them. Because all the monsters knew the Slayer walked
and she ruled her city with an iron fist.

Onlyàonly this pair didn't seem to understand that.
Somehow, they had slunk into her city and attempted to
breed. It wouldn't be tolerated. She had never allowed
any vampire to get the better of her and she wouldn't
let this pair ofà of animals do it either.

With effort, she raised the battle-axe and forced her
feet forward, a few tottering steps then into a broken
run, adrenaline forcing her tired legs to pump harder.
The axe fell forward towards scaled purple fleshà

àand sunk deep into the macadam as the thing moved,
fast--faster than she could react. She had a second to
stare at her weapon, mouth opened before something
shifted and then cut through her flesh. Something
coppery and hot filled her mouth, spilling over and
down her chin as she looked down to see a clawed hand
sticking out of her ribs and wriggling. It should have
hurt but it didn't. She didn't feel anything except a
sinking disappointment and sense of guilt.
Disappointment that the monsters had taken back the
night and guilt for failing her post, for leaving her
city open. Those tears that had threatened moments
earlier now came, mixing with the bitter taste in her
mouth as another large hand clamped down on her head.

The alley echoed with the sound of a loud twist
followed by the soft thud of a body.

***

Elsewhere, Duo Maxwell was sleeping. Or trying to but
those damn voices were preventing anything resembling
restful sleep. With his body slumped over a desk, face
buried in the depths of a trig book, Duo's mind was
focused somewhere other than the complex calculations
that had been swimming before his eyes.

The images came swiftly at first. A crucifix, a
cemetery, and a book with a gold title that he
couldn't quite seem to make out. And other things,
too. Faces. So many faces, most of them female. They
were trying to tell him something but the words were
indecipherable, not rising above a droning whisper of
sound. So many girls and all of them seeming to line a
narrow passageway, staring as he went past their eyes
blank and skin grayish in the dimness. The hair on the
back of his neck rose as he realized those empty eyes
were tracking him even though the girls themselves
hadn't moved an inch.

"Umà hello?" he ventured, pausing in front of one, a
slender dark-skinned girl who regarded him with
something close to disdain. He started to say
something else when he caught sight of her throat and
the gash running along most of it, blood trickling
down from the severed vein. He swallowed, backpedaling
a few spaces. And then he was elsewhereàagain.

This time he was in an alleyway, several thumps and
moans of pain making him flatten himself against the
wall, reaching for his gun. Only it wasn't the cool
steel of his revolver that he came away with but the
rough length of wood. He blinked, studying it. A
stake. He tested the point. A very sharp stake. What
the hell was going on here?

The sounds that had drawn his attention before had
stopped and now the silence rose with deafening anger.
He stared down at the stake then clutched it in his
hand, marveling at how right it felt as he crept
closer and around the lip of a building. The space
between was empty save for a body under a street lamp.
Another girl, this one only a little older than he
was, her black-haired head resting just inches away
from her battered body. He looked away, then steeled
himself to walk forward, making a slow circuit of the
area before coming to a stop near the corpse.

He squatted down, whispering. "God, who were you?"

"The Slayer. Or rather she was. Now she's just dead
like the rest of us."

Duo nearly fell forward onto the still bleeding
corpse. As it was, his shoe managed to slip in the
pooling blood and he grunted as his backside connected
with the concrete beneath him. He twisted his head
around for a look, hand tightening on the stake in his
hand as he prepared to leap back to his feet.

Leather and lace filled his vision. White lace, the
kind that clung in all the right places and made the
wearer have an air of virginal sensuality; the kind of
lace that thinned towards the hems until diaphanous
sheerness. White high heels--of the stomp your heart
variety, the strap going high around the ankle to
cinch. The leather jacket was a bit of surprise.
Definitely didn't match the image he was putting
together in his mind. Nor did the crossbow held
loosely in one hand. Something told him that it
wouldn't take much for that lazy grip to tighten and
train on him. Just a flick of one delicate looking
wrist.

China blue eyes studied him, a hint of weary
compassion and surprise registering in them. She
wasn't tall, this girl staring down at him, the space
of breath between her body and his crouched form. He
hadn't heard her creep up on him and he cursed. 'I can
just hear Heero now,' Duo rolled his eyes. 'Baka'
would be the kindest word out of his taciturn
partner's mouth.

He needed time, time to figure out what was going on
and time to retreat. This girl with her wicked looking
weapon was too close for comfort. Thanks to their
impromptu staring match, Duo could safely say that
this girl was somehow different than the others he'd
seen so far. There was a warmth, a spark of
intelligence that he wanted to trust, if anything in
this whacked out dream of his could be trusted. The
silence, almost companionable, stretched and ached to
be filled.

"Nice dress," he commented at last, not able to think
of anything else to say.

The girl rolled her eyes, swiping a curling blond lock
out of her face. "Why does everyone tell me that?"

"Because it's true?" Duo offered. "Are you gonna shoot
me with that thing or can I get up?"

She shrugged. "This is your dream. I guess it all
depends on if you're going to give me a reason to
shoot you, or if you're going to play nice?"

It wasn't exactly a threat. More like a veiled promise
of unpleasant things to come should he choose to
disagree. Rising slowly, he spread his hands apart,
the hand gripping the stake, not releasing the weapon
but keeping it where the girl could see it. Her
eyebrows quirked as she noticed the move.

"Not a total spaz," she commented, her smile suddenly
mischievous. "You're not who I was expecting. I mean,
the braid kind of fooled all of us for a sec there but
you're really not a girl, are you?"

"Do I look like a ... Don't answer that," Duo sighed.
He couldn't even begin to count the times he'd been
mistaken for the 'fairer sex' and it still annoyed him
as much now as it had the first time, the only
difference was he'd stopped smashing people's face in
to prove a point.

"Good thing, too," the girl replied as if she'd heard
him. "Blood and this dress just don't mix. Believe me,
I know what I'm talking about here. Besides, do you
have any idea how long it takes to get blood out of
whites? You might as well throw them away and before
you even have that thought, can it. I'm not here to
play out some sort of porno flick for the benefit of
raging male hormones."

"I didn't even ask!"

"I'm just covering all bases. Heads off any
misunderstandings we might have later. You know, you
get the wrong idea and I have to pound you for the
remainder of this dream instead of doing what I came
here to do."

"Why are you here? And before you accuse me of
anything else, could I catch a name there?" Duo
crossed his arms, then winced as he scratched himself
with the tip of the stake.

The girl clucked her tongue against the roof of her
mouth. "Cute and clueless. I can see why they think
you might need help. I hope I wasn't this bad when I
was first called.

She appeared to think about that for a second before
adding, "But I probably was."

He waited, rubbing his offended flesh.

"Oh, yea. I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers. The Slayer."

"But I thought you said she--" Duo began, glancing
back at the corpse... that was no longer there. He
jerked his head around, searching. Bodies didn't just
get up and walk away, he reasoned. Therefore the dead
girl had to be around somewhere. Right? "Where did she
go?"

Buffy grabbed his arm, preventing him from a more
thorough search and forcing him to meet her firm gaze.
"She's gone. She isn't needed anymore. But you are."

"Me?" He pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Lady, I don't even know what the heck is going on
here. I mean, I was studying trig--"

"Do they still teach that?" Buffy's pert face wrinkled
in disgust. "Is it too much to ask that while battling
the forces of darkness, the Slayer not have to sit
through math?"

"Um, I--"

"I mean, it's not like we don't have enough to worry
about, right? Vampires and demons are hard work.
Saving the world on a yearly basis... you think that'd
earn you some sort of break but nooooooooo," Buffy
continued on, not stopping for breath.

Duo stared, blinking every once in a while. After a
minute or two, Buffy seemed to notice. "What?"

"I just suddenly realized how Heero feels most of the
time."

"Huh?"

He raised his hands in a time out signal. "Okay, this
is gonna seem really silly but ... What *the* hell are
you talking about?!"

"Oh," Buffy seemed embarrassed somehow, pink flooding
her cheeks. "Guess I'm getting ahead of myself, huh?
Now, how did Giles handle this?"

Buffy appeared to think for a moment, chewing her lip
in concentration. Then she shrugged as if to say 'to
hell with it'. "You're the Slayer."

"But I thought you were the--"

"There's more than one," Buffy sounded irritated.
"Just usually not at the same time although that's
another of those rules they tell you not to break that
gets bent a lot. But I'll backtrack a bit. Every
generation has a Chosen One, a Slayer. You tracking so
far?"

Duo nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. This
dream was turning out far crazier than any nightmare
he'd ever had. At least in his nightmares he was
fighting or piloting his mobile suits, not dealing
with some nutty blond babbling on about 'Chosen Ones'
and 'Giles' and stuff.

"The Slayer...slays. Vampires. Demons, too, but mostly
vampires."

"There's no such things as--"

"--vampires," Buffy finished with him. "Been there,
done that. Look, vampires are real and we can stand
around arguing about it but it won't change anything.
I can be just as stubborn as you can, Duo Maxwell. The
point is your number came up and you've been called.
And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it."

"Called by who?" he asked, truly exasperated now.

"The Powers that Be? God? I don't know. No one ever
gave me a good answer on that one. There are a lot of
things they don't tell you," Buffy's face changed,
seeming older, some ancient hurt bubbling out of the
depths of her eyes and threatening to overwhelm both
of them.

Duo felt his throat close up and ache at her
statement. There was something so familiar about it
that he felt her pain, knew it even without knowing
the direct circumstances for it. He opened his mouth,
searching for something, some word that lighten those
eyes just a shade--

- --when a hand gripped his shoulder, tugging him upward
to stare into a different set of blue eyes. Duo
lurched, sleep-choked eyes tearing up and he was
forced to rub them before he could focus properly.
"Huh? Buffy, what the--"

"Buffy?" Heero's eyebrow lifted, his tone holding a
hint of curiosity. "What's a Buffy?"

"Heero?" Duo knew he sounded uncertain, but damned if
he didn't find himself glancing around, part of his
mind wondering what had happened to the alley and the
blond girl he'd been speaking to. Check that--having
an 'Alice in Wonderland' encounter with needing only a
Mad Hatter and a tea party to make the tableau
complete. "Wha-at had happened?"

"You fell asleep. What's a Buffy?"

Duo rubbed his cramped neck, making a face at the
small bit of drool soaking his trig book. "A girl. Oh
man, ewwwww. Do you have any idea how much this book
cost?"

Something flickered in Heero's eyes and there was a
brief pause. "You were dreaming about a girl?"

"Yeah, and that was one fucked up dream, let me tell
you," Duo continued on, oblivious to both the pause
and any change of statement in his partner. He
stretched, wincing as bones popped and muscles
stretched back into proper alignment. "Oh God, I feel
like shit. Is there any aspirin?"

Heero rolled his eyes and rummaged around in one of
the desks. "Maybe if you'd do your homework when
you're supposed to instead of waiting 'til the last
minute, you wouldn't have to stay up all night
finishing your homework."

"Yeah, yeah. Nag, nag. I work better at night anyway.
I'm a night owl or haven't you noticed?" Duo teased,
covering the half-hopeful spark in him that wished
Heero would take notice of something about
him...anything about him.

The war had been on for almost six months and it had
taken less than two for Duo to realize he was
crushing, majorly so, on Heero Yuy. It was the first
inkling he'd had that he might be anything other than
heterosexual. It wasn't that he'd given up girls...
No, he still found himself checking out the opposite
sex and the micro-mini Sela Marsden had been wearing
the other day had almost caused an embarrassing
problem. It was just... No one interested him the way
his homicidal, taciturn partner did. 'What is it about
a man with a gun,' he thought mournfully. 'Maybe
you're wondering if he whips out other things as
skillfully as he does that revolver,' part of him
snickered. Duo sincerely hoped it was just hot in the
room because he really wasn't in the mood to try to
explain why he was suddenly and completely blushing.

"What I've noticed is you slumped over your books most
mornings and then complaining about how your back and
neck ache afterward," Heero replied dryly. "If you
went to bed when most normal people do, you wouldn't
feel so terrible."

Either he chose not to comment on Duo's sudden
embarrassment or he was unaware of it. Probably the
latter, Duo acknowledged. He would have the good
fortune to crush on someone who treated bombs like
tinker toys and had the emotional maturity of a five
year old on occasions.

"I'll keep that in mind, *Dad,*" Duo rolled his eyes.
"Lighten up, please? I stay up all night and still
manage to earn the same grades as you, thank you very
much."

Heero glanced at the laptop his bed. "There might be a
reason for that."

Duo froze, blinking first at the laptop, then at him.
"You didn't?"

Heero stared back, inscrutable as always. 'Damn him,'
Duo felt his temper rise. He was not dumb despite what
some people seemed to think and it'd be a cold day in
hell before he wanted or needed someone to do his work
for him. Street life aside, Sister Helen had taught
him the value of doing a job for yourself and he
wasn't such a mental lightweight that he was unable to
handle anything this school threw at him
scholastically.

"God damn it, Heero I don't need you to fix my grades
for me. I--"

"I didn't."

"--can score just as high as you can. Higher! I demand
that you stop doi-- What?" Duo stopped mid-rant as his
partner's words sunk in. "Then why did you...why would
you say...?"

Not a muscle twitched one way or another. "Gotcha," he
deadpanned.

Duo was somewhat taken aback. Yes, he knew Heero had a
rather wicked sense of humor. He'd been witness to the
Japanese pilot running mental circles around a few of
their thicker classmates but he'd never been on the
receiving end of Heero's dry sense of humor before. Or
had he? He scratched his head. With Heero it was hard
to be sure. Maybe he had and Heero had been laughing
at him before now and-- 'Whoa, whoa, calm down,' he
ordered himself. It wouldn't do any good to get angry
with Heero. He wouldn't get a response for one and for
another, Heero was being friendly. More or less. Or
what constituted friendly for the Perfect Soldier.
Best not to tempt fate and spoil the mood.

He rubbed his face, feeling the tingle of blood
rushing forward as he did so. "I'm too tired for jokes
like that, Heero. Next time, give me a warning label
so I don't fly off the handle, okay?"

Heero shrugged. "If you're tired, then why don't you
go to sleep? Or would that be too easy?"

Duo stuck his tongue out at the sarcasm lacing Heero's
words. "For your information, Monseiur Yuy, I am going
to bed but not because you told me to. I'm actually
pretty damn tired for some reason, wonky nightmares
aside."

"I'm not surprised you had a nightmare."

Duo glanced his way, brow wrinkled in confusion when a
cardboard pizza box was thrust his way. The still warm
scent of cheese and mushrooms wafted towards him and
he inhaled greedily, lifting the box to snag on of the
pieces left over.

"I don't know how you can eat that stuff," Heero
twitched, very nearly shuddering. "And next time you
order a pizza, don't leave the box on my bed. The last
thing I want are grease stains on my sheets."

"Awww, but think of how well they'll go with the blood
stains there," Duo teased, then sobered as he chewed a
cooling slice of pizza.

It was stupid and pointless to get upset over these
things but the truth was he was beginning to hate
being partnered with Heero if for no other reason it
meant he had to see his partner bleed. More than
bleed. He had to see and tend to wounds, broken bones,
and near death brushes that hurt him more inside than
he cared to admit. They were soldiers and soldiers got
hurt, that was just part of the game but he couldn't
rationalize that to himself of late. Not where Heero
was concerned. Heero's life was important, not for the
war or for his Perfect Soldier skills. Heero
mattered...to him. And as much as he hated watching
Heero bleed, it was far worse when he wasn't there to
watch his partner's back. Then he had all the
wonderful joy and pleasure of wondering--wondering if
he'd even see the suicidal jerk again.

'Love sucks,' he decided morose with realization.

"Duo?" Heero leaned over a bit, apparently trying to
get a better look at his downturned face. "You okay?"

Duo went still, his mind and body registering Heero's
close proximity. He peeked out from the fringe of his
bangs, realizing all he had to do was turn his face up
just a bit and they'd be... 'Bad Duo, bad,' he scolded
himself. 'Mustn't do things that will land you in an
early grave outside the mission. Bad...bad... Oh shit,
he's staring at me now. Look elsewhere, dummy, before
he gets a clue.' His gaze slid lower. 'Idiot,' his
mind shrieked as his eyes took a downward stroll.
'That's worse than before.' Duo drew in a quick silent
breath and prayer before closing his eyes and willing
his voice to be steady. "I'm good, Heero. Just gonna
finish my pizza here and go to bed. 'Cause I'm tired.
Reallllly tired. In fact, I'm having trouble keeping
my eyes open."

There were worse things than having a partner who was
too cute for his own good, he reflected later as he
prepared for bed, but not by much.

***

"Welcome back, Duo," Buffy greeted him. The blond girl
was sitting on a weather-beaten tombstone, her legs
swinging back and forth. Gone was the silky virginal
dress from before and in its place were dark jeans and
a tank. A silver cross hung between the hollow of her
breasts.

"Why am I back here?" He demanded. "Heero woke me up--
I know this, youà It's all a dream. You're not real."

Buffy smiled, a cold smirk that marred her pretty
features as she tilted her head. "Really? Then why
don't you tell that to him?"

Duo turned his eyes towards where she was pointing,
somewhere just to the left of them when something
barreled into him hard and fast. He hit the ground
with a grunt, arms rising in a protective measure,
struggling against the heavy, strong body that sought
to pin him down. Dirt flaked onto his face and he
looked up, his eyes widening in horror at the smudged,
animalistic face leering at him. Yellow eyes stared
down at him, a pink tongue licking curled lips with
razor edge teeth grinning down at him. The à thing's
face seemed to lower, Duo's struggles becoming more
frantic.

"Buffy... Buffy, a little help here," He shouted,
squirming as the thing's hands locked around his
wrists, spreading them where they would do little
good.

No response. Duo cried out a few more times but if the
blond girl had been there, she wasn't anymore. The
thing above him chuckled, the statement on its
ridging, twisted face one of clear enjoyment. This
thing was *enjoying* his terror. It was feeding off of
it. Duo swore and fought harder. A hand closed around
his throat, almost gently turning his head to the
side, exposing a clear swatch of fleshy neck.
Goosebumps rippled and streaked over his body as the
body over his seemed to move closer until he could
nearly feel the thing's cheek resting against the
hollow of his throat, its tongue tracing the line of
his carotid artery just before it--

Breath exploded in his lungs as he jerked forward, his
body going from prostrate to upright in 9.10 seconds.
He stopped just short of banging his head against his
knees and sat there, body straining for air, as if he
had been running very hard and fast for a long time.
Resting an elbow on his upturned knees, he ran a shaky
hand through his disheveled, sweat-damped locks. It
was still dark in this place but he was no longer in a
cemetery, clawing at some hellish thing intent on
taking his life. No, this was his room. He was back.
Heero was sleeping obliviously in the bed across from
his. That alone should have made him feel safe but it
didn't. An awful feeling churned in his gut, a sick
sense of realization that told him he would never feel
safe ever again.

"Oh man," he whispered. "That's it. No more pepperoni
and mushroom pizzas after nine ever again."

***End of Chapter One.



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