The Last Time I Died, Pt. 3
Title: The Last Time I Died
Author: Aeneas
Pairing/Character: Riddick/Buffy
Word Count: About 17,900
Rating: R
Summary: After the defeat of the First Evil, the universe has plans for Buffy.
Spoilers/Warnings: Through Chosen and Chronicles of Riddick.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just play there. All things belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy and David Twohy/Universal, respectively.
A/N: Challenge prompt was - “There is no death, only a change of worlds.” American Indian Proverb, Duwamish. Note to the requester, I tried Angel meeting Riddick first and got completely stuck at about 10,000 words. This was intended to be a much shorter alternate fic when it became apparent that I was going to miss the deadline. Famous last words.
There might have been difference in the shades of black. Or not. Buffy couldn’t tell if her eyes were merely playing tricks on her or if they could actually see the outline of the cave opening. She could feel where the rocks curved away into open space and the narrow ledge.
“Damn men. Always leaving me alone…in caves. With ubervamps everywhere.” Her fingers met empty air, stopping any progress she had thought of making in crawling out of the cave.
Finding the ledge wasn’t difficult but unless she was intending to do a swan dive over the edge, there wasn’t much more to do than lean out into the pitch black and curse silently at the jackass who’d left her. She was up a creek without so much as a teaspoon until the moons showed their sickly green faces and even then, they were barely enough for her to find her way back over hostile terrain to the Bascilica. Throw a few Turok-Han into the mix and things could get ugly before the pathetic sun finally rose.
Rock climbing in the dark was suicidal so she didn’t leave the dark hollow of the cave until the first of the three moons had begun tipping over the far edge of the horizon. It reflected the sickly light from the sun and recast an equally weak glow over the terrain.
She’d considered staying in the cave and feeling sorry for herself until the sun came up or the Turok-Han found her and ate her. Since that wasn’t a particularly appealing alternative she eased out onto the ledge, feeling her way onto her feet with tentative fingers. A spear was better than no weapon at all so she used the remaining length of the tether to tie it up against her back.
Time spent waiting for the moons gave Riddick a significant head start and she’d be hard pressed to catch up. As hardheaded and annoying as he was, she wasn’t too proud to admit that she didn’t want to be alone in this hell. She couldn’t go back to the Basilica without him; Riddick was the only thing that kept Vaako from trying to use her as a pincushion. Of course, he might have been offended enough that he’d throw her to the wolves if she returned.
“How was I supposed to know he was so sensitive? Freaks out over one little kiss.” she muttered. Her face was pressed against the rock and she tried not to choke on the dust she was inhaling, slowly making her way down handhold by handhold.
Sweat had soaked her hair and cut paths through the dirt on her skin by the time her feet were flat on the ground. In the dirty silver toned landscape, she found herself depending more on the feel of the earth beneath her feet and the sounds of wind, water, and rustling grass to gauge her progress toward the dying fire in the distance. She planned to veer to the left, circle around the bluff, and head in the approximate direction of the Basilica; with her fingers crossed that the Turok-Han had decided Riddick was a better target than a tiny, skinny blonde woman.
Progress was agonizingly slow, her feet finding every single rock larger than a pebble to stumble over. Using the spear as a walking stick, she managed to keep from landing flat on her face; grateful for the Necromonger ideal of sensible footwear. The ground turned sandy as she neared the riverbank, making the stumbling less frequent. A familiar crawling sensation slithered up the back of her neck and she stopped dead in her tracks, scanning the darkness for anything that didn’t look like grass shivering in the wind.
She crept as silently as possible in the other direction, gasping involuntarily as she stepped into the icy river. Freezing water tugged at the fabric of her leggings, soaking through and biting into her skin. With her Slayer sense turning into a screaming alarm in the back of her head, she got a good grip on the spear handle and tensed in preparation of an attack.
A low growl from behind spun her around but she could see nothing but shifting shadows outlined in pale silver. Taking a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind of anything as distracting as being terrified.
Standing in the near darkness with cold water up to her knees and at least two Turok-Han surrounding her made her heart race and her stomach sink. The crisis of faith that she had left behind in long forgotten Sunnydale reared its head to laugh at the false calm she had manufactured. With no vampires, there was no sacred calling and no weight of the world driving her into the ground. Being lost in a strange world had made it easy to push her past into the background and merely tread water, never trying to do more than just react to her surroundings.
Terror seemed to abate as she stood her ground, firm in the realization that she was still the Slayer and she would find a way home if it took the rest of her life. She hadn’t let the First swallow Sunnydale without a fight and she wasn’t about to be stuck in a hell with no designer clothes. The door that had brought her here had to go both ways and she’d kept a mental map of where the chasm should lie with respect to the Necromonger base camp.
She found what felt like flat ground to stand on and turned to face the growling darkness. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
The memories of what it felt like to fight a Turok-Han came flooding back as the first creature hit her with the impact of a freight train, knocking her back into deeper water. Splashing water helped her track their movements around her and the light from the moons drew streaks of silver over the surface that swirled around the Turok-Han. It was just enough for her guess what was coming and block their attacks.
Scrambling away from one of them, she barely managed to avoid getting teeth in her neck by twisting the spear around and jamming the end into the monster’s neck. She winced as claws dug into her shoulder but kept twisting until the metal spearhead cut into the tough skin. It wasn’t built like a flat blade, tearing and ripping through flesh rather than slicing neatly, but it did the job. Pressure disappeared suddenly as the Turok-Han burst into dust, sending her tumbling into the water.
Clawed fingers grabbed onto her hair, yanking her far enough out of the river to choke against the water in her throat. She was close enough to smell the stench of death and decay that hung over the creature like the primitive clothing it wore. Tough skin was rough as sandpaper, scraping against her throat as it tried to strangle her. Gasping, ears ringing from lack of air, she slammed a rock into the side of the creature’s head. It howled once before shoving her back beneath the surface of the freezing water. She continued to struggle, pounding against the powerful arms and kicking at knees and ankles in an effort to knock the creature off balance.
The grip on her neck slipped away as she began to lose consciousness, cold water stinging in the cuts left behind by wicked claws. She was vaguely aware of sinking down until her back was resting against the smooth stones along the bottom of the riverbed. Her side collided painfully with something solid and then she was floating up, warm air hitting her face as the water fell away.
There was no growling, only the sound of the wind and her own frantic coughing as she replaced the water in her nose and throat with air. She grabbed onto warm, human skin and didn’t care exactly whose arms were wrapped around her. By the time her entire body was out of the water, she was shivering violently.
“Right about those bastards. They are hard to kill.” Riddick’s voice was such a relief that she clung tighter to him. He kept twisting her from side to side, pulling and prodding her for a reason her numb brain couldn’t comprehend.
“M-m-more?” she asked through chattering teeth.
“Got the third before those two found you. Should’ve stayed in the cave, Slayer.”
“Y-you left m-m-me.” Badly needing the warmth of his body, she refused to let go when he tried to move her arms.
“Hold on.”
He barely needed to encourage her and she didn’t bother wondering how he managed to keep hold of her with all the shivering she was doing. There was no way for her to distinguish consciousness from the periods of time lost to oblivion, each were equally black and numb. In the haze, she tried to ask where they were going but her words fumbled through frozen lips and got lost against his chest. Eventually, she stopped trying to stay awake and let the darkness take her.
Keep reading..."
Author: Aeneas
Pairing/Character: Riddick/Buffy
Word Count: About 17,900
Rating: R
Summary: After the defeat of the First Evil, the universe has plans for Buffy.
Spoilers/Warnings: Through Chosen and Chronicles of Riddick.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just play there. All things belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy and David Twohy/Universal, respectively.
A/N: Challenge prompt was - “There is no death, only a change of worlds.” American Indian Proverb, Duwamish. Note to the requester, I tried Angel meeting Riddick first and got completely stuck at about 10,000 words. This was intended to be a much shorter alternate fic when it became apparent that I was going to miss the deadline. Famous last words.
There might have been difference in the shades of black. Or not. Buffy couldn’t tell if her eyes were merely playing tricks on her or if they could actually see the outline of the cave opening. She could feel where the rocks curved away into open space and the narrow ledge.
“Damn men. Always leaving me alone…in caves. With ubervamps everywhere.” Her fingers met empty air, stopping any progress she had thought of making in crawling out of the cave.
Finding the ledge wasn’t difficult but unless she was intending to do a swan dive over the edge, there wasn’t much more to do than lean out into the pitch black and curse silently at the jackass who’d left her. She was up a creek without so much as a teaspoon until the moons showed their sickly green faces and even then, they were barely enough for her to find her way back over hostile terrain to the Bascilica. Throw a few Turok-Han into the mix and things could get ugly before the pathetic sun finally rose.
Rock climbing in the dark was suicidal so she didn’t leave the dark hollow of the cave until the first of the three moons had begun tipping over the far edge of the horizon. It reflected the sickly light from the sun and recast an equally weak glow over the terrain.
She’d considered staying in the cave and feeling sorry for herself until the sun came up or the Turok-Han found her and ate her. Since that wasn’t a particularly appealing alternative she eased out onto the ledge, feeling her way onto her feet with tentative fingers. A spear was better than no weapon at all so she used the remaining length of the tether to tie it up against her back.
Time spent waiting for the moons gave Riddick a significant head start and she’d be hard pressed to catch up. As hardheaded and annoying as he was, she wasn’t too proud to admit that she didn’t want to be alone in this hell. She couldn’t go back to the Basilica without him; Riddick was the only thing that kept Vaako from trying to use her as a pincushion. Of course, he might have been offended enough that he’d throw her to the wolves if she returned.
“How was I supposed to know he was so sensitive? Freaks out over one little kiss.” she muttered. Her face was pressed against the rock and she tried not to choke on the dust she was inhaling, slowly making her way down handhold by handhold.
Sweat had soaked her hair and cut paths through the dirt on her skin by the time her feet were flat on the ground. In the dirty silver toned landscape, she found herself depending more on the feel of the earth beneath her feet and the sounds of wind, water, and rustling grass to gauge her progress toward the dying fire in the distance. She planned to veer to the left, circle around the bluff, and head in the approximate direction of the Basilica; with her fingers crossed that the Turok-Han had decided Riddick was a better target than a tiny, skinny blonde woman.
Progress was agonizingly slow, her feet finding every single rock larger than a pebble to stumble over. Using the spear as a walking stick, she managed to keep from landing flat on her face; grateful for the Necromonger ideal of sensible footwear. The ground turned sandy as she neared the riverbank, making the stumbling less frequent. A familiar crawling sensation slithered up the back of her neck and she stopped dead in her tracks, scanning the darkness for anything that didn’t look like grass shivering in the wind.
She crept as silently as possible in the other direction, gasping involuntarily as she stepped into the icy river. Freezing water tugged at the fabric of her leggings, soaking through and biting into her skin. With her Slayer sense turning into a screaming alarm in the back of her head, she got a good grip on the spear handle and tensed in preparation of an attack.
A low growl from behind spun her around but she could see nothing but shifting shadows outlined in pale silver. Taking a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind of anything as distracting as being terrified.
Standing in the near darkness with cold water up to her knees and at least two Turok-Han surrounding her made her heart race and her stomach sink. The crisis of faith that she had left behind in long forgotten Sunnydale reared its head to laugh at the false calm she had manufactured. With no vampires, there was no sacred calling and no weight of the world driving her into the ground. Being lost in a strange world had made it easy to push her past into the background and merely tread water, never trying to do more than just react to her surroundings.
Terror seemed to abate as she stood her ground, firm in the realization that she was still the Slayer and she would find a way home if it took the rest of her life. She hadn’t let the First swallow Sunnydale without a fight and she wasn’t about to be stuck in a hell with no designer clothes. The door that had brought her here had to go both ways and she’d kept a mental map of where the chasm should lie with respect to the Necromonger base camp.
She found what felt like flat ground to stand on and turned to face the growling darkness. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
The memories of what it felt like to fight a Turok-Han came flooding back as the first creature hit her with the impact of a freight train, knocking her back into deeper water. Splashing water helped her track their movements around her and the light from the moons drew streaks of silver over the surface that swirled around the Turok-Han. It was just enough for her guess what was coming and block their attacks.
Scrambling away from one of them, she barely managed to avoid getting teeth in her neck by twisting the spear around and jamming the end into the monster’s neck. She winced as claws dug into her shoulder but kept twisting until the metal spearhead cut into the tough skin. It wasn’t built like a flat blade, tearing and ripping through flesh rather than slicing neatly, but it did the job. Pressure disappeared suddenly as the Turok-Han burst into dust, sending her tumbling into the water.
Clawed fingers grabbed onto her hair, yanking her far enough out of the river to choke against the water in her throat. She was close enough to smell the stench of death and decay that hung over the creature like the primitive clothing it wore. Tough skin was rough as sandpaper, scraping against her throat as it tried to strangle her. Gasping, ears ringing from lack of air, she slammed a rock into the side of the creature’s head. It howled once before shoving her back beneath the surface of the freezing water. She continued to struggle, pounding against the powerful arms and kicking at knees and ankles in an effort to knock the creature off balance.
The grip on her neck slipped away as she began to lose consciousness, cold water stinging in the cuts left behind by wicked claws. She was vaguely aware of sinking down until her back was resting against the smooth stones along the bottom of the riverbed. Her side collided painfully with something solid and then she was floating up, warm air hitting her face as the water fell away.
There was no growling, only the sound of the wind and her own frantic coughing as she replaced the water in her nose and throat with air. She grabbed onto warm, human skin and didn’t care exactly whose arms were wrapped around her. By the time her entire body was out of the water, she was shivering violently.
“Right about those bastards. They are hard to kill.” Riddick’s voice was such a relief that she clung tighter to him. He kept twisting her from side to side, pulling and prodding her for a reason her numb brain couldn’t comprehend.
“M-m-more?” she asked through chattering teeth.
“Got the third before those two found you. Should’ve stayed in the cave, Slayer.”
“Y-you left m-m-me.” Badly needing the warmth of his body, she refused to let go when he tried to move her arms.
“Hold on.”
He barely needed to encourage her and she didn’t bother wondering how he managed to keep hold of her with all the shivering she was doing. There was no way for her to distinguish consciousness from the periods of time lost to oblivion, each were equally black and numb. In the haze, she tried to ask where they were going but her words fumbled through frozen lips and got lost against his chest. Eventually, she stopped trying to stay awake and let the darkness take her.
Keep reading..."