Come With Me If You Want To Live

A Terminator/BtVS crossover, thanks to a silly conversation with Kitty. Can anyone have a sensible one with her?


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Length: words

Notes: Buffy and Faith are not Slayers so nothing in the Buffyverse ever happened, except they did move to Sunnydale, why? Because I say so, it’s my fic, no other reason. But we’ll get back to that later in the fic.

I know that Phonebooks are listed alphabetically, therefore Buffy would be at the top as Miss B. A. Summers, but go with me on this. You?re gonna have to otherwise she’d be dead first and there would be no fic. Anyone wanna fight me over this? (((huggles))) That’s all folks.

Further Notes: This got abandoned almost immediately. Sorry.


The girl naked stands slowly, ignoring the sizzling of her skin. They never warned her how much it would hurt. Not that it would have changed her mind.

She brushes the dust off her skin. The dust had once been a protective cream, but had fried in the intense heat.

She looks around, she was in what looked like the industrial part of town—or what was the industrial part of town—it looked deserted now.

She stretches, again ignoring the aches that pain her. Her eyes ache from the sun. She’s not used to the light, only a thick cloud of smoke in the sky and the grey dust that settles on anything.

She draws a deep breath, almost shocked by the purity of the air. Air not infected with the carbon monoxide of the fires that constantly burned. Air not tainted by the stench of death from the continuously burning pyre where the bodies of friends, lovers and comrades lay.

She shakes off the dark thoughts that haunt her and sets off on her mission.

On the other side of town another naked being has arrived. It’s thoughts do not follow the same pattern as the girl’s. The difference in the air is duly noted, data filed away, but there is no feeling of wonderment.

There wouldn’t be. It is less likely to produce feelings than a computer.

It too, sets off on its mission.


Buffy Summers got off the bus and glared at the old dear in front of her. What was it with old people? They never walked in a straight line so you couldn’t overtake them, they always carried something to use as a weapon, like a shopping trolley or an umbrella and they always bitched about the ‘youth of today’s rudeness’. Buffy decided that the youth of today weren’t rude, it was just that old people were just so damned cantankerous that the younger people finally ran out of nice things to say.

The old dear stopped dead and Buffy slammed her shins into the old bag’s trolley. She almost swore, but managed to swallow it and make a strangled gungf sound instead.

“Oh, sorry, lovey. Didn’t see you there.”

Buffy pasted a big fat smile on her face and made an effort to be courteous. “It was me, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry.” Then walked away quickly before she got told the old dear’s life story.

Buffy sighed. She was in a bitchy mood today, it wasn’t the old lady’s fault. It was Scott. He’d left her for a mega witch called Cordelia. She didn’t get it. Ok, so Cordy had money, nice clothes and was, Buffy had to admit, very pretty. But so what? She was a queen bitch. She didn’t have an ounce of humanity in her.

But it got worse. She was two weeks late. She’d done a test this morning and a blue line had appeared. She rubbed her stomach absently. What was her life coming to? She was nineteen, pregnant and a waitress. Oh, well, at least I made some form of a statistic, she thought, trying to jolly herself into work.

“Hey Summers!” Kally cheerfully greeted her.

“Hey Kal.” She grinned, trying to work out what drugs Kal was on. Had to be acid, she’d never seen the girl frown in her life. “What’s happening in the World?”

Kal nodded to the small TV, set up so she could watch and cook at the same time. “Not much, dog saved a man who fell in a lake, a kitten has learnt to bop to Britney Spears and there’s a hamster that can count.”

“Why do you watch this crap?” Buffy asked, pulling on an apron.

“Watching the news is good.”

“Yeah, ok. But local news? Nothing ever happens here.” Buffy frowned at the TV.

The news reporter pulled a serious face. “This just in, the Seasonal Killer has struck once more, so called because of the recent deaths of four women, all sharing the surname of Summers.”

Buffy paled, and hit the volume control.

“The victims so far are Mrs Barbara Summers, Bethany Summers, Beverly Summers and most recently Brittany Summers. The police were reluctant to confirm this, but sources say that these women have been killed in the order they appear in the phonebook.”

Buffy gulped and ran to the phone, knocking pens, pencils and paper flying while she looked frantically for the phone book, finally her hand closed around it. She flipped anxiously through it with shaking hands. She turned to the right page.

There were only five listings for B. Summers in Sunnydale.

She was number five.