Dresden Files: Never Hired a Wizard
Buffy compared the words on the shop's door with the ad from the phone book, then raised a hand to knock.
The door jerked open immediately, revealing a tall, lean man with disheveled dark hair, deep eyes, a bruised cheek-- and a hockey stick in one hand that fairly crackled with energy.
He looked disreputable, in a cute older guy sort of way; he was also apparently expecting trouble. Buffy didn't care. He was the first person she'd found in this reality to give her any hope she might ever get home.
"Harry Dresden, Wizard-For-Hire?" she asked him, and smiled.
National Treasure: Never Stole Historical Documents
"Tell him Gates has done it," the mystery caller insisted. "I tried to keep the discovery secret, but Ben would have none of my methods; I've been arrested. The Alexandria scrolls have been recovered, but they will be public knowledge unless you act quickly. I've done my part; now it's your turn."
Buffy frowned as the caller hung up, then stalked down the hall to interrupt Giles' meeting.
Giles paled as she repeated the message. "Ian was Council black-ops," he said. "He's been hunting those scrolls for years. The knowledge they contain..."
"So, road trip?" Buffy concluded.
"Indeed," Giles sighed..
Mystery Men: Never Donned a Cape and Tights
Buffy gritted her teeth as she shook Mr. Furious' hand.
Something about Calling all of the Slayers at once had cascaded over, awakening natural metahumans as well. Until recently there'd been so few no-one had realized what they were; now, the world had changed.
Unfortunately, along with useful superheroes, they'd ended up with plenty of these guys, too. Second tier. Wannabes. Who Buffy had to hobnob with to cover for the Slayers' true natures.
"I am a ticking time bomb of fury!" the dork announced, squeezing her hand.
She squeezed back. Harder. "Vampire Slayer," she replied with a strained smile.
Peter Pan: Never Followed the Piper
The thing about Neverland, Buffy mused as she stood over the demon's corpse, was that it was always accessible to boys who never wanted to grow up. Always. All they had to do was believe, and get lost in the right place.
Enter Andrew, hero of the hour. The trickiest part of the whole procedure had been capturing the fairy that came to collect him and relieving her of enough pixie-dust for the trip. Flying here? Easy. Finding her baby boy? She'd simply followed the trail of destruction.
And now? Pan would never carry off anyone else's sons, ever again.
Equilibrium: Never Lost Her Passion
The worst thing about Prozium was how easy it made everything.
The Watcher's Council had mostly sat out the Third World War; it had been a human-centric action, and they'd had their hands full deterring demonic scavengers. Afterward, they'd found themselves barred from the new, ultra restrictive Librian government, and had needed a pair of hands inside.
Buffy hadn't wanted anyone else to bear the burden. And now-- she wasn't sure she'd be able to give it up.
No fear. No grief. The ability to do anything necessary without guilt.
It scared her more than anything else she'd ever faced.
NEXT: Never Stalked a Clairvoyant
The thing about the future is-- every time you look at it, it changes, because you looked at it. And that changes everything else.
Except in a few rare instances. Like this one. No matter how many times Cris Johnson scanned the next two minutes, he always crossed the path of the short, blonde woman with the designer clothes and aggressively-held wooden blade. But she wasn't attacking him--
He walked further, then looked again. No, the guy behind him--
Who kept exploding into dust. Surprised, but intrigued, Cris kept moving forward, curious to see what else this future might hold.
Reign of Fire: Never Founded the Kentucky Irregulars
The Slayer had always been a creature of twilight, of shadows and swift movement and the stalking of monsters.
But even the Slayer-- even hundreds of Slayers-- could not defeat the threat that erupted out of London five years after Sunnydale fell. The single dragon in L.A. had been formidable; whole flocks of them-- impossible.
When the radios fell silent, Buffy was trying to find Dawn in Kentucky. Her search failed, though she rescued others along the way and taught them what she knew of survival.
It wasn't enough to save them.
But it was enough to save the world.
PotC III: Never Sailed Aboard the Flying Dutchman
It was over in the blink of an eye. Buffy's third death was heralded by an explosion, a rush of wind, and then falling, falling out of the sky.
The next thing she knew was a kind, strong face, framed by a bandana and loose dark hair, above a scarred, leanly muscled chest. She stared for several seconds, then blinked as she realized she was in the ocean, and he in a ship alongside.
"Will you serve?" he asked gently.
It wasn't heaven, but-- this time, she hadn't been ready to die.
"Yes," she said, and reached for his hand.
Transformers: Never Met an N.B.E.
Buffy stared up-- and up-- at the Watcher's Council's official contact with the latest nonhuman race to visit Earth.
"You did not just say that," she exclaimed, disbelievingly. Then she turned to the enormous, yellow-plated being's human associate-- a gangly teenaged boy younger than Dawn-- and gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. "Tell me he didn't just say that."
Sam shrugged. "I know it's hard to believe, I thought they were Japanese or something at first--"
"But robots?" Buffy interrupted with a groan. "Giant alien robots from outer space? Andrew is never going to let us live this down."
Die Hard IV: Never Bonded with the Boys in Blue
Buffy sighed, feeling a headache coming on as Giles argued with their visitor. He was the father of one of their new Slayers. More than that, he was a national hero, a cop who knew more than most about the nature of sacrifice and duty and only wanted to protect his daughter.
"Mr. McClane," Giles insisted, "our Watchers are highly trained--"
"Lucy is going out there without me over my dead body," McClane replied through clenched teeth.
If only more of the Slayers' fathers were that supportive.
"Giles," Buffy murmured, and laid a hand on her own substitute-father's arm.