One Man's Hell

[maryperk73703]

Is another Man's Heaven. During the fight with the Circle of the Black Thorn, Spike and Illyria fall through a portal into another dimension where they find a surprising occupant. Crossover with Highlander, written for vampgaia. Thanks to Shadow for her Highlander help.

Chapter 1

Illyria looked up from the fight just in time to see the half-breed Spike hurling through the air towards her. They stumbled backwards when the vampire hit her body. Both of them fell through an unnoticed vortex. Darkness overcame both the vampire and the god as they were forced out of their own dimension and into another one.

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Elizabeth sat back in her chair as she watched the band on the stage. She had called herself many things over the centuries she had been alive, but she always tried to stay as close to her original name of Buffy as she could. She had been in this dimension for more than several millennia, longer than she could even imagine possible. Her memories of her life prior to this dimension were bittersweet for her. Elizabeth imagined that her family and friends were long since dead or dust as the case might be. In this hell – and she couldn’t bring herself to call it anything else – she was one of the immortal, one of the few supernatural beings to exist there. There were no vampires, no demons, and certainly no Hellmouths.

Elizabeth had been unable to find a way home. The rudimentary magic of the dimension had been unable to accommodate her needs, and she had long since given up on going home. As she sipped her drink and listened to the music, her thoughts drifted to the bleached blond vampire she left behind. She hoped that he had found a little bit of happiness in his life.

A big ugly man named Trucker Ward entered the bar. His eyes scanned the room until he saw Elizabeth. He had felt a nearby immortal, and he had plans on taking his or hers head. Elizabeth’s petite stature gave Trucker confidence that he’d be able to defeat and behead her with ease. Trucker swaggered over to the table.

“Let’s rumble,” Trucker snarled at the blond, using his trademark come-on.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. She gave the man the once over. “I came in for a drink and to listen to some good music. I’m not in the mood to fight tonight.”

“You call this punk crap good music?” Trucker sneered. “Just for that, you deserve a good beheading.”

Elizabeth looked at the stage. The cover group was playing a song she knew was familiar to her. It was one of the ways that she stayed connected to her old life and those she missed. “An old friend liked this kind of thing.”

“Whatever,” Trucker growled. He glanced around at the other patrons before he leaned over the blond. “Now if you don’t want these nice innocent people to get hurt, I suggest we take this out to the alley.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Been there, done that. You have no class.” However she rose to her feet anyway. She signaled the bartender, and she left some money on the table to cover her drink.

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“I can not feel the usual magic that resides from where we were before,” Illyria commented. She looked around at the buildings of the city. “We appear to be in Los Angeles.”

“I don’t feel anything either,” Spike said softly. “You might want to be Fred for awhile. Hollywood has always attracted the weird humans, but I think you’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

Illyria nodded in compliance. The half-breed had a good idea. She morphed into her host body. “Hi, Spike,” Fred said in a chirpy voice.

“Hi, pet.” Spike looked around before he sniffed the air. It smelled like Los Angeles that was for sure. However, the air lacked the usual demonic scent that always lingered in the background. On the other hand, the vampire caught a familiar scent. It was off enough that he had problems placing I, but it was something he recognized. “Something smells familiar though,” he informed his companion.

A clash of swords stopped any further comments.

Both Spike and Fred looked towards the dark alley. They were pretty sure that swordplay wasn’t the norm in such a modern looking city. Spike signaled for Fred to follow him, and they walked towards the very familiar sounds.

When Spike saw the combatants, his jaw dropped. “Buffy,” he whispered. The last he knew the Slayer was in Rome being romanced by the Immortal.

“No one is allowed to interfere, bitch,” the ugly man snarled at his opponent.

Elizabeth glanced at the newcomers. She didn’t recognize the female, but she recognized the memorable feel of vampire tingles at the back of her neck that she hadn’t felt in over 5000 years. When Elizabeth first arrived in this hellish dimension, she’d found an artist to make her pictures of the ones she left behind. Every hundred years or so, she would commission new paintings of her friends and family. Luckily, she found that in her new existence her memory was much more efficient than it had been in the last one. Elizabeth recognized the bleached blond hair and long leather duster that very closely resembled the one she had at home in her gallery. Wouldn’t he be surprised to find out exactly why his painting was always so accurate?

Elizabeth gave Trucker Ward a feral grin. “Don’t worry, scumbag. Spike won’t get in the way.”

“Slayer,” Spike said with a returned smirk. “Don’t hurt the human too much.”

“I’m not human, you puny punk,” Trucker roared. “I am one of the Immortal. I will be the only Immortal.”

“I’m immortal too, wanker.” Spike slipped into his game face, and he bared his teeth at the man. He didn’t care that things were different in this dimension. He wasn’t intimidated by that pillock, and he wanted the other male to know that fact.

Trucker let out a shriek. The punk turned into a monster before his very eyes. What the fuck was this punk? Tucker realized that neither female was surprised or alarmed by the changes in the smaller man’s appearance. Then it dawned on Trucker what the bleached blond monster had called the bitch he was fighting. He turned frightened eyes on the young woman holding a sword. “He called you the Slayer. You’re older than …. than Methos.”

“Yeah, but I look good for my age,” Elizabeth huffed. “No bat face or cloven hands for me.”

Trucker gave Elizabeth a strange look as he backed away. She was weird. Her friends were weird. He was scared to death. No one escaped the Slayer. Many of his comrades had gone off in search of the elusive immortal, but not one of them ever returned to tell the tale. Hell, no one had even known the Slayer was a female. Everyone assumed a title like Slayer was for a large, fierce giant of a man.

Trucker must have whispered something about no one escaping the Slayer, because the punk monster let out a chortle. Trucker glanced at the creature.

“I escaped, but I have my manly good looks going for me,” Spike said with a laugh.

“Wasn’t your manliness,” the Slayer said with her own chuckle. “You escaped only because I let you, William.” She stepped forward, swung her sword, and loped off Trucker’s head. “There can be only One.”

Spike and Fred jumped back when lightening shot out of the sky, and it shot through the falling body. It hit everything electrical in the immediate vicinity including the three supernatural beings. Something within the electricity caused them all to experience not only the dead man’s life but each others’ too. Together they all fell to their knees.

Elizabeth let out a gasp. “I don’t know who that bitch was that used you, Spike, but it wasn’t me. I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“You ended up here when you jumped,” Spike grunted. He inwardly cursed himself. “I couldn’t tell the difference.”

“You wanted it to be me,” Elizabeth replied. She climbed back to her feet, went to the body to wipe off her sword, and sheathed the weapon in a hidden scabbard. “I don’t blame you, Spike.” She went over to help the vampire to his feet.

Spike looked at the Slayer with a look of horror. Who the hell had Willow pulled out of Heaven if not their Buffy?

Elizabeth reached up to cup Spike’s face. “You really do love me? Can you still love me? I’ve missed you so much, Spike. It just wasn’t the same without you by my side and at my back.”

“Buffy,” Spike whispered. His hand reached up to touch the hand on his face. He knew that this Buffy probably wasn’t in love with him, but centuries of living had changed her to the very core of her being and beliefs. Her view on good and evil was irreversibly changed from the Buffy she had been when she had sacrificed herself for the world.

Illyria stood up. With a tilted head, she looked at the sky. “You did not find a portal home because they are all closed up too tight to open. We are trapped here. If my calculations are correct, Wesley exists here. I can learn to be happy.”

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Angel glanced around the battlefield with a grim look on his face. Gunn had fallen early on, and now Angel lost sight of both Illyria and Spike. Things certainly didn’t bode well for him. There were still several open vortexes spilling demons out into the streets of Los Angeles. At least with Spike out of the picture the Shanshu prophecy might finally be his despite signing it away.

“You are such an idiot, Angel,” Willow’s voice echoed through the broody vampire’s head. “What is it with you and starting apocalypses?”

“Willow?” Angel looked around while trying to find the red-haired witch.

“I’ve closed the portals up tight. Nothing’s getting out or in,” Willow replied. “You’re lucky I was meditating and was able to help you.” She popped into sight next to Angel.

“Why now and not when Fred was dying?” Angel asked in a petulant tone. “I called, and no one would help.”

Willow’s eyes opened wide. “No one mentioned your call to me.”

“I talked to Giles,” Angel replied.

“You should have called me directly.” Willow’s hands fluttered in the air. “I’m not associated with Giles or the others anymore. They’re all weirded out, especially Buffy.”