a Sentinel / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover
by Laura Picken
Hi all! I know, the concept seems a bit contrived,
but I guess you could see this story as an answer to a question
seldom asked in the Buffyverse: "What do the police _really_
think about all these unsolved murders in Sunnydale?" Hopefully,
this whole thing will make sense when I'm done and we'll have
some fun along the way. The folks who've read my work frequently
know that I spend most of my time in the Sentinel universe, but
this is my first attempt at a BtVS fanfic. Hopefully I can do
the kids and Giles justice : ). There's a brief reference to a
character from my Sentinel story "Stage Fright", but
nothing that should be too confusing to anyone.
The inevitable cross-disclaimer: All Sentinel characters belong
to Pet Fly and Paramount, all Buffy-related characters belong
to Joss Whedon and company. I know you'll never get together and
try anything like this for yourselves, so there's no possible
way you'd sue me, right? Right? *gulp* Oh, but anybody else is
Oh, and for those in the Buffyverse who read this story, I'm following
the common trend of naming Ms. Calendar Samantha. Joss Whedon
seems to like his 'Net fans a lot more than some other TV types,
so maybe he'll get the hint and work it into her character
Anyway, on with the show...
As sun-drenched darkness falls
over the cleansed land
demons who walk in daylight
will haunt the Slayer;
destroying those she has been chosen to protect
but forever escaping beyond her reach,
and the land will again
drown in the blood of the lambs.
Then a blessed protector
will descend from the clouds;
not of the hunters
yet separate from the hunted.
He is guided by wisdom and innocence
yet bound by duty and destiny.
His wisdom will guide them,
his gifts will hold them fast;
forcing the demons
to the Slayer's domain
and bringing the light once more.
It was a quiet night in Sunnydale.
That alone was enough to make Buffy nervous.
She knew better than anyone else that there was no such thing
as a quiet night in Sunnydale. Even after she defeated the Master,
she still had to fight two, three, sometimes as many as five vampires
a night. So a quiet night meant that, hopefully, there was nothing
going on, no new prophecies were going to pass, and she could
get on with the business of being a normal, average, everyday
teenage girl whose greatest worry was about whether or not the
boy she liked was going to call her to go out Saturday night.
Yeah. Right. And Elvis was a teenage werewolf.
Every bone in her body was telling her that a night this quiet
meant that something was going to happen. Something not good.
Something that, this time, she might not be able to go up against
[Okay, time to shake off the morbid thoughts for the evening,
Buffy,] she thought, [maybe you should get over to the Bronze
and enjoy yourself for once?] She was dressed in her favorite
party outfit: black boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and her prized
leather jacket. Xander and Willow, her two best friends, were
waiting for her at the Bronze, and she moved quickly and with
purpose, even while her mind was lost deep in thought.
In fact, her mind was lost so deep in thought that she didn't
notice the body lying across the path to her intended destination
until she literally stumbled on it. She tumbled into a forward
roll and came up ready to fight.
Only she felt no cramps.
If a vampire had been there, he was long gone.
She turned around and bent down to take a look at the body. She
touched the skin, and noticed it was clammy and cold. [Yep, this
one's been dead awhile,] she thought. Black hair, brown eyes,
was probably Asian -- she tried to see if she recognized the girl,
but she couldn't place her. She was around the same age as Buffy,
though, so it was a good bet she went to Sunnydale. She turned
the girl's head to get a look at her neck, and dropped the head
in shock at what she saw. The girl had definitely been fed upon,
but if it was a vampire, it was like none she had ever seen before.
Where two bite marks would have normally been on the girl's neck,
there were three--one perfectly placed in between the marks, and
just above them -- like a deadly triangle.
She jumped away from the body and ran in the opposite direction
of the Bronze.
She was heading, full blast, toward the Sunnydale High School
She ran through the school and burst through the library doors
to find her Watcher, a very shocked Rupert Giles sitting at the
main table of the library, books open, looking at her as if she
_was_ a vampire.
Before she could stop to read the expression on Giles' face, though,
she blurted out, "Giles, you're never going to believe what
just happened! I was heading to the Bronze, all right, 'cause
I hadn't sensed any vampires out tonight, and it seemed really
quiet, you know? So I thought I could have maybe a normal night
hanging out with Willow and Xander for once, you know? Anyway,
so I was walking toward the Bronze when I trip over this girl's
body! And I look at her, and it looks like a vampire got to her,
but there were three bite marks on her neck, Giles! What make
three bite marks and sucks blood?!? Do you know, Giles, 'cause
I don't have a clue! And why are you staring at me like I was
a vampire and I was about to have you for dinner?"
Giles composed himself quickly in preparation to calm down the
hysterical girl in front of him. "I'm terribly sorry, Buffy.
I just wasn't expecting anyone tonight. You simply startled me,
that's all. Now, please, just have a seat, take a deep breath,
and start from the beginning, all right?"
She did as Giles requested, and told him the full story. When
she was finished, Giles removed his glasses, as he always did
when he was stalling for time, took a deep breath and cleaned
the glassed thoroughly before replacing them on his face.
Buffy frowned at the use of the now-familiar tactic. "Giles?"
What are you thinking?"
Instead of answering her, he got up and practically ran for the
stacks. Finding the book he was looking for, he brought it back
to the table and set it down. He then ran for his dry erase board
and placed three dots on it, asking, "Buffy, were the marks
on the girl's neck in this fashion?" She nodded. He then
connected the three dots from the center out and sat down, opening
the book and flipping through its pages. When he found what he
was looking for, he leaned back, amazed.
Buffy looked at the title of the book, "Ancient Egyptian
myths and mythology," and tried to read the pages that Giles
had opened to. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a few to many
'technical' terms on the page, so she gave up. "Giles, what's
Giles ran a hand through his hair and sat up, looking at Buffy
in shock. "We have a serious problem on our hands, and I
haven't the slightest idea how to stop it."
Buffy sat down in a chair and stared at her Watcher, confused,
as he explained, "you remember the curse that gave Angel
back his soul?" Buffy nodded as Giles continued, "there
is only one other documented case on record of a group of vampires
receiving a similar curse. Only, this one wasn't a curse, it was
He turned the book around, pointing to a picture that was apparently
from a pyramid. It showed what looked to be vampires--only they
were pictured as walking, unaffected, in bright sunlight, and
on the far right of the picture, there was what looked like the
throne of a Pharaoh.
As Buffy looked at the picture, Giles went on, "there was
a group of slaves in Ancient Egypt that were planning an overthrow
against the Pharaoh Tutankhamen. A group of officials loyal to
Pharaoh went to assassinate the group one night, but instead stumbled
upon a band of six vampires who were feeding on these so-called
'revolutionaries'. Thinking them to be the Pharaoh's guardians,
sent from the gods, they fell at the feet of the vampires and
worshipped them. This group of vampires liked the adulation so
much that they decided not to feed on Pharaoh's officials, and
agreed to meet with Pharaoh himself. When they met with Pharaoh,
he recognized what they were, but, in return for the help they
gave him, he struck a deal: he would find a way to disguise them
from all possible enemies, and in return they would leave Egypt
and never feed on its people again. In return for the blessing
they were given, the group has called themselves the 'Order of
Ra' ever since. After they feed, they pierce their victim a third
time, so that the mark forms a pyramid shape."
Giles concluded, "Well, the blessing must have worked because
no one has been recorded as having seen any member of the group
since, including your predecessors. The only time you'll know
they're around is when bodies like the one you found tonight start
Buffy asked, "but they're still vampires, right? A stake
through the heart will still kill them?"
Giles nodded, but added, "yes, but you won't be able to use
any of your normal means of tracking them. You won't get the cramps,
their faces don't change when they feed--they may even be impervious
Buffy sighed, "then they could be anyone, anywhere in Sunnydale?"
"Just consider it a vacation, Jim," Blair tried once
more to reassure his partner as waited for their rental car at
the San Diego airport. "I mean, what could possibly happen
in a place like Sunnydale, California?" He had been working
on the older man ever since they were drafted for the Police Exchange
Program by Chief Warren. The chief was good friends with the police
chief in Sunnydale, and when the California chief asked if they
could send their best team to learn from Cascade's finest and
Cascade could send their best team to teach Sunnydale's force
a thing or two, Warren agreed immediately, shipping his best team
(at least on paper), Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, off to Sunnydale.
Jim replied, "I don't know, chief. I just keep getting a
bad feeling about this whole thing." From the minute that
Simon told him about their impending trip to Sunnydale, he had
a feeling that this little 'exchange program' was going to be
a lot more than just a 'vacation'. And having Blair continually
try to reassure him that it was no big deal either was not helping.
The older man found it a bit ironic, actually: when he was in
the service, he saw enough to believe that there may be people
who actually possessed a 'sixth sense', but his partner, the long-haired,
neo-hippie, cultural anthropologist who studies heightened senses
for a living, could pass off his 'bad feeling' as no big deal.
He could almost chuckle about it.
If it weren't for the fact that he was feeling like they were
about to dive head first into a war zone. "And what about
all that stuff about Sunnydale you got off the Net? About the
place being known as the 'Mouth of Hell'?"
Blair rolled his eyes. "That was just an expression the Indians
"Just remember that the Chief in Sunnydale thinks that you're
a cop, so watch your step, okay?" Jim rolled his eyes as
they got in the blue Ford pickup for the long drive. The question
about the 'Mouth of Hell' was a strategic move, though, because
it got Blair off of his 'reassurances' and into a prolonged lecture
about the town that went from being known as the 'Mouth of Hell'
to its current incarnation as Sunnydale, California.
Sunnydale Police Chief John Masterson was having a good day so
far. First, he got a laugh from the morning newspaper's report
that declared Washington, D.C. to be the "murder capital
of the world". He had long ago formulated a theory as to
why Sunnydale had never been factored into those 'studies' they
do: the city was too small, so there were fewer people to kill.
If their studies had been accurate, however, Sunnydale would easily
be labeled the 'murder capital of the world': sometimes he had
to deal with two or three bodies a night. Once in a while, he
would see a genuine massacre, sometimes ten or more bodies--usually
at that teen club, The Bronze. The cause of death was always the
same: exsanguination through two puncture wounds at the base of
the neck, right into the jugular vein. It had gotten to the point
where he would see the marks and tell the coroner to not even
bother with an autopsy, just "write up the usual report".
At first he had been frustrated: thinking he had a serial killer
on his hands, he called the FBI for help, but they only laughed
in his face, calling him things like "Van Helsig" and
asking him if he'd ever seen a vampire. After three or four calls,
though, he stopped caring and simply left it to the coroner to
"tag 'em and bag 'em", now listing what they affectionately
called "death by Dracula's kiss" as a major cause of
death in Sunnydale, right up there with heart attacks. So hearing
another major city being called the "Murder Capital of the
World" meant that Sunnydale was still considered the national
crime statisticians' 'best kept secret', so to speak.
It didn't make it any easier, though, to see some poor high school
kid come in with all the life literally sucked out of them. He
was relieved to no end to see the number of bodies start to taper
off over the past year, but then a bunch of them started coming
in with three marks on their necks instead of just two. So he
was extremely happy to see his friend Jack Warren come through
again, letting him send Mitchell and Smithson to Cascade to see
how their Homicide and Major Crimes divisions worked and sending
him Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, who Jack promised had the
"best cases solved record in the entire Department".
Maybe they had some new insight that would help him find out who
was killing these kids.
He noticed the two men walking in as he looked up from his desk.
[So these two are Ellison and Sandburg? Man, if I paired two guys
together like that they'd kill each other within fifteen minutes.]
The two men couldn't have been more opposite from each other.
One was taller, obviously several years older, and screamed ex-military
from the build right down to the haircut. The other was younger,
much smaller, and had dark curly hair so long that Masterson could
have sworn the kid was born at least ten years too late to truly
enjoy the sixties. And the kid's eyes made him think back to something
his wife once told him when they were dating, something about
the eyes being the window to the soul. [If the eyes are the window
to the soul,] he thought, [this kid's eyes are a billboard.]
The older man made the introductions as Masterson got up to shake
both their hands. "Chief Masterson? I'm Jim Ellison and this
is my partner, Blair Sandburg. I was told that you would be expecting
"Yes, yes," replied Masterson, "have a seat."
He motioned for the two men to sit in the chairs in front of his,
and returned to his own seat. "Your Chief Warren told me
very little about you two besides the fact that the two of you
have the best case solved record in your Department." He
also knew they thought they were going to be there to teach, but
it would probably be better to just get right to the point. "Tell
me, Detective Ellison, do you have any experience in dealing with
Blair looked at the man in confusion, and it was all Jim could
do to keep his face expressionless, although [I knew it!] was
repeatedly going through his mind. Out loud he replied, "actually,
yes, we do, Chief Masterson. Why do you ask?"
Masterson pulled a thick and obviously well-worn file from his
desk. As Jim opened the file, he noticed dozens of crime scene
photos from a number of different murder scenes. Masterson explained,
"exsanguination seems to be as common a cause of death here
in Sunnydale as drunk driving. Hundreds of deaths here over the
years, all unsolved. Many of the cases date back to before I came
on here as Chief five years ago. I tried asking the Feds for help,
but all I got back from them were a lot of jokes about arming
my men with wooden stakes. I was hoping you two might have some
suggestions, you know, give me a fresh insight into the case?"
Blair joked, "grab a cross and some garlic and see who runs
Jim glared at his partner, who sometimes had the unfortunate habit
of saying the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time. He then
turned his attention back to the crime scene photos. "When
was the latest murder?"
"Last night actually," Masterson fished through the
more recent files on his desk until he found the one he was looking
for, "Michelle Chen, 15 years old. She was a sophomore at
the high school, on the track team, and an honor student. Well-liked,
but not too popular. The kicker about this one though, is that
it follows a pattern that's only been established in the last
five or six murders or so."
Both Jim and Blair sat up, attentive. "Really?" asked
Jim, "What's changed?"
Masterson handed both men photos of Michelle's neck. "With
the other murders, the blood was drained through two holes in
the victims' jugular. Hence, the vampire jokes. With this group
of killings, though, there are three holes. Also, all of the other
killings happened at night, usually between 10 p.m. and midnight.
Michelle's time of death, as well as with the other three-hole
killings, was around 6:30 p.m."
Blair's eyes grew wide. "In broad daylight?"
Masterson nodded. Jim asked, "that means there has to be
Masterson shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. As far as we
know, no one saw a thing."
Blair thought out loud, "they're probably afraid of ending
up like the other victims."
Jim nodded his head in agreement. "If we're going to get
anywhere, we need to start asking around. I'd say the best thing
would be to go to the High School first."
The other two men nodded in agreement, and Blair and Jim left
to start the investigation.
As the two men left, John Masterson let out a huge sigh of relief.
[They may not be able to find out who killed all these people,]
he thought, [but maybe, just maybe, we can actually get some answers
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