Title: Le Jour des Morts, (1/?)
Crossover/Fusion with: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Authors: Persephone_Elysian
Email: Persephone_Elysian@yahoo.com
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.
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

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 …

And now Harry was dead. One blood-slicked hand swiped at the tears that threatened to come. It simply wouldn’t 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.

Only…only 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 of… 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 flesh…

…and 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.

"Um… 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 elsewhere…again.

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."


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, you… 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 … 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.