BtVS: Alternate Lives

Who: All involved in the W&H battle
Where: The alley behind The Sugar Shack, then Salacia
When: Wednesday morning, just before dawn

This was it. The more Rupert Giles thought about it... the more he feared that Ash's joke was actually RIGHT. He felt like he was leading his troops to The Alamo. He'd arrived first, followed closely by Ash, who he had open the portal to Salacia. They were all about to go into battle against the forces of Wolfram & Hart. Now... as he watched everyone arriving... he knew it was time. Do or die.

"Well... are we all ready? As much as it pains me to say it... it's time. I want each one of you to look inside... and realize why you're doing this."

He looked around at the gathering troops.

"For some of us... it's revenge. For others, it's the desire to protect innocents. Regardless of your reason.. you need to focus on that. Because once we get there... it's going to get hectic, incredibly fast. We know we're going to be outnumbered... but how badly will depend on Ami's team and how quickly they can bring down the door separating the inter-dimensional bridge from the main arena."

"To all of you... thank you. And please... be safe."

And with that... Giles walked into the portal, knowing the others would soon follow.

Who: Ben, Frost... and a surprise guest.
When: Monday Night
Where: Brightview Cemetary

Who: Harrison & Frost
Where: Barnes residence
When: Tuesday evening

The Barnes Residence, Present Day (2000)
He hadn't moved in five years. Not since that evening when he met true evilness in the world. Their screams still woke him up almost nightly and the burning comfort of Jack Daniels was an almost constant companion, until he decided to be a person that day. It was usually those days that found Harrison Barnes out in the woods and foothills taking pictures to send into the local travel magazines for money. Occasionally, Jacob Mitchell, a long time friend who was a detective downtown would call him if they needed an extra photographer or when Jacob was stuck and needed a "consultant." But that day was not was of those where Harris felt like being a person. And why should he? Their oldest, Gerald, would be 10 today. But Gerald, along with Harrison's wife and daughter were all dead. Dead because of a sick, twisted, evil monster.

The house had gone into disrepair, all except for the essentials. Those, Harris did his best to keep up with. That night, like most, found him conked out in his recliner, a bottle of Jack and a glass of melted ice on the end table next to him. Pill bottles of varying sizes, height, and anti-depressant flavors littered it's surface along with medication for migraines. In short, since the death of his family, Harrison Barnes had turned into a wreck.

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END

Who: Frost, Harrison, & the Barnes family
Where: Barnes residence
When: Tuesday evening

Frost grimaced at the woman. "Cease and desist. Your voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. How was I supposed to know you wanted to keep those teeth? It's not like you were objecting at the time." Well, actually, Mrs. Harrison had objected loudly over and over again. Frost just ignored that part, and gripped the little girl, who wasn't crying but looking wide-eyed and shocky, a bit tighter. "And when momma gets pissed, her toys break."

Harrison moved between the young woman and his wife, trying to put on a brave front for his little girl. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he said, "Please... don't hurt her, she's only three..."

"Oh, she's my little contract, aren't you sweetpea?" Frost patted the little girl on the head, and the little thing started to pout. Apparently she didn't like being called Sweetpea. "Because, Harrison, there is something I want from you. Unfortunately--and you have to understand that from my point of view it's very unfortunate indeed or else I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble--you can't give it to me right now."

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TO BE CONTINUED...

Who: Harrison Barnes, Frost, & the Barnes family
Where: Barnes' residence, the outskirts of suburban L.A.
When: Tuesday evening

The Barnes Residence, Five Years Ago...
The house was secluded, something that he and Heather had wanted when they bought the place a year ago when she'd finally hit it big as Hollywood's leading fashion photographer. Harrison was incredibly proud of his wife and her work. Things were finally coming together; She'd just done a photoshoot and interview for Vanity Fair (or some such magazine) featuring the rise of up and coming working women. Harrison let his wife have the spotlight--he preferred it--while he quietly consulted Hollywood's Star's and Starlet's with psychic advice. His job allowed him to be with his family, something he cherished more than anything. Most nights it would be Harrison who was already home and Heather getting home late, but tonight he had a late meeting with a fresh face in Hollywood. Previously unknown, the decision she'd made based on Harrison's advice, Hollywood wouldn't know what hit them.

Harrison smiled with pride, pulling his car into the winding driveway that climbed up the small foothill the Barnes residence had been built into. Putting the car in park, the man climbed out of the vehicle and paused to take in the landscape; In the distance he could see the glowing lights of Los Angeles and Harrison sighed, a content smile on his face. Turning away from the bright scene to the house, he started toward it until he nearly tripped over several of Gerald's toys. With an amused chuckle, he picked them into his arms with the intention of putting them away.

The house was more like a large ranch-style cabin set in front of a backdrop of woods and trees. He and Heather had agreed before their oldest, Gerald, had been born that they were going to keep their children as grounded as possible if Heather had ever gotten big. The cabin was a perfect basis for that instead of some ostentatious monstrosity.

As soon as his shoe hit the bottom step, Harrison staggered backward in psychic backlash. The toys were dropped as the house mentally screamed at him and once he recovered, Harrison stumbled up the three steps that lead to the porch and pushed through the door. He shouted, "Heather!? Honey!?" Wildly, he looked around the living room, their bedroom, Gerald's room and the nursery. He didn't find his wife or children anywhere.

Pacing in the kitchen, Harrison ran his hand through his hair trying to force himself not to panic. The sound of dogs barking and snarling finally entered his consciousness and the man bolted for the door that lead out back. As he wrenched open the backdoor, he shouted wildly, "Heather!?"

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TO BE CONTINUED...

Who: Frost & Molly
Where: Some dark alley
When: Friday evening

Who: Narcissa & Frost, then Wesley & Gwen
Where: Narcissa's house
When: Thursday night

Who: Killa Flash & Frost
Where: Flash's underground lair
When: Monday afternoon


 Deep beneath the city, the vampiric gangster called Killa Flash was pacing methodically, back and forth, twirling his cane absently in his hand. He was waiting for his newest 'agent' to report back to him, to get her next assignment. Now, he thought... it was time to turn things up.

Agent was not an appropriate term for Frost, though.  It was more like rabid dog.  Point her in a direction and hope she went that way and didn't turn back.  Or get distracted.  But Frost was behaving lately.  Sort of.  She was fitting in her own versions of entertainment where ever she felt like - the boy at the graveyard included - and it was putting her in a decent enough mood.  So Frost walked in without so much as greeting her 'boss' and settled herself somewhere, sprawling on the nearest available surface.  Which, honestly, was probably the floor.

"Frost... there's my gal." He adored her... in that sort of way one would adore their prized attack dog.  "Time to let the Slayers know we mean business... the warning shot got their attention.. but now it's time to put the fear of... well... us into them. Now, tell me, gorgeous... if you're a fresh Slayer, still mostly untrained... what's the smartest thing to take from them to make sure they stay that way?"

Frost yawned lazily, and licked her fangs.  She was sated, for the moment.  "Their legs."

"I suppose I walked into that one. I mean their Watchers, baby." He smirked, knowing damn well he'd have killed others for so much lip. But with Frost? He had a mixture of awe, respect, and juuuust a tinge of fear, which he'd never show.

"Oh.  Want me to kill them?  I wanted to go to a club and stick me some longpig."  Frost pouted.  "Oh, I met one of them in graveyard.  Nasty little thing.  Smelled like ignorance.  I should've taken her legs and tossed them down a sewer grate."

"Good... the more they fear us... the more we defeat them before even engaging them in combat." He went back and forth between talking in an amazingly intelligent combat dialect and talking in the verbiage of a typical gangsta-rapper. "Now... I got a fun lil' game for you, boo. You gon' make a mess of one of the Watchers now. I had Amata do the research, and figure out the easiest target. We found one... that thinks she's far tougher than she is. She'll be a breeze for you to get to."

"How... creative do I get to be?"  Frost was choosy.  If it didn't interest her, she'd probably wander off and do something else completely.  Which was a dangerous prospect for both sides, really, considering that when she was left to her own devices, she tended to do things like burn families alive in their homes and nail priests to crosses.

"Well..." He stroked his beard and grinned evilly. "I need this to be pretty precise... but I'll make you a deal." He knelt down, cupping her chin cutely. "You tear this bitch's heart out, and leave her in tatters where I tell you to... and I'll find you a nice house full of children that you can kill however you want."

"Do I get to eat the heart?"  Frost was fully aware that her habit of eating hearts was disturbing to vampire and mortal alike, but that would hardly stop her in her escapades.  The fact that she'd asked could've, alone, been a sign of respect.  Or maybe she was just being polite.

"Of course... we want them to know you were there, after all." He stood back up, steepling his fingers. "The information on her is on my desk. Kill her exactly as it says on the paper... and we'll be well on our way to wiping out every Slayer in this goddamn city."

Frost gave him a look that clearly stated that she wasn't going to get up without something a little more motivating then a piece of paper.  She was comfortable, dammit.  "What's so fun about an easy watcher, anyway?"

"This isnt about fun, Frost... this one's about winning. The Watchers are all these girls have to turn to. If they start dying? The girls panic. And a scared Slayer becomes an easy slayer to kill." He explained.

"Pft.  That's no fun.  Fine.  I want a pet slayer.  They heal fast, and I'd feed it every day."

"Let's see what we can do. But first... you need to off this Watcher. Don't let me down, Frost... this is your chance to help make sure the Slayer line is destroyed forever."

Frost wasn't altogether sure she wanted that to happen, since it was just plain fun to mess with little slayer girls, but whatever.  "Fine.  But I'mma sticking longpigs at a club after."

"Good girl." Killa Flash grinned at her, a frightening, evil smile. "Go have some fun."

Who:  Frost, Candice
Where:  Graveyard
When:  Late at night

Who: Frost
When: 02:00 - 04:00
Where:  some sleazy motel

Jacqueline Frost - Jack Frost or just Frost to pretty much everyone - was sitting on the top of a house, across the street from watching her own personal bonfire burn to the ground. There was a cigarette in her mouth, burning, but she didn't need to breathe so it just quietly ashed itself and when the wind picked up it glowed a little brighter. There were other people around, on the ground, most looking horrified. But they weren't turning away, they were just rubbernecking. Frost could smell their sweat, and their blood, and their excitement. She could practically read their minds. Thank God. They were thinking. Thank god that didn't happen to us. Firefighters battled the flames with hoses and flashing lights.

See, Frost had built this one all herself. She'd chosen the house because there were bars on the windows. The doors were easy to take care of, too. A few boards here, a chain there, and when done under the cover of darkness no one had noticed. If anyone had heard anything, they didn't say. A little gasoline on the inside, and a burning candle while everyone slept? And FWOOSH eventually. Burn baby, burn. Three children, two parents, one grandparent, and a house.

Merry Christmas kidlings! Frost chuckled to herself and hopped off the roof. She had shit to do.