dragonyphoenix

Title: A Note From a Memory You Never Had
Fandom: BtVS / Fray
Summary: When Fray finds the library, there's a note from Buffy waiting for her.
Rating: PG?
Characters: Fray
Disclaimer: They will be mine, oh yes they will, once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha!
Note: Written for the Fandom Snowflake Challenge: do something outside of your box. While I have written crossovers before, I don't believe most of them have been that well written so I decided that would be my challenge. Of course I'm not sure Buffy-verse and Fray-verse make the best crossover since they are, sort of, the same verse.
Note: Written for a prompt at Open on Sunday – advice/advise – but not posted there because longer than 100 words.
Note: The title refers to a plotpoint from the Fray-verse. Fray's twin brother, Harth, gets her Slayer visions. She doesn't.
Note: I wasn't sure if I should call her Fray (last name) or Mel (nickname). I went with Fray since that's the title of the comic.

The stairwell ended in a dark pit. There was rubble at the bottom, three levels below. Fray knew she'd have to find another way down. Here there was only the one room, huge but empty except for the scraps of garbage that not even the most desperate scavengers were willing to take.

Something – the thing that had called her here – hummed below her feet. Its heavy pull drew her forward. Forgoing her usual caution in her haste, she stepped into the room. The floor tilted slightly. The windows were no longer quite vertical. That was her only warning and it came too late. With a crack like the sound of a downed electrical wire swinging overhead, the floor gave way beneath her.

Her hands touched down on the freshly fallen rubble as her feet hit the floor. The humming, louder now, the humming was so loud she could feel it in her bones. She looked up to see what had called her. Fray grabbed the wooden handle, noting the stake at one end as she ran a finger along the edged blade of the ax. It felt right in her hands as if it belonged to her or, maybe, as if she belonged to it. It felt right but it wasn't, it couldn't be. Whatever this place was, it wasn't the world she knew.

More books were preserved in this one room than Fray had seen in her entire life, but it was the note on the table that drew her. She picked up the note. It was handwritten on paper that had yellowed with age.

Before he

The line slashed across the words didn't hide the blurred text. Fray brushed a finger across the paper. It was dry, of course it was dry, but she could still feel the tears that had been shed long ago.

Giles said I should write a Slayer's Handbook. The new Slayer – he was so sure there will be a new Slayer – will need lore, fighting techniques, the history of the Slayer line. When I asked how we could be sure she'd even get this note, he said this kind of thing works itself out. I might believe that if he were still around to say it again.

So, new Slayer, forget all that crap. When the monsters come, the only thing you need to know is this: slice and dice.

Fray's thoughts skimmed over the pain she read in the words. Losing Harth to the lurks was too fresh. She couldn't take on anyone else's pain. The note fluttered from her hand to the table. Slice and dice. Fray swung the weapon, turning to follow its arc through the room until she was facing the table again. Leaving the note and the books behind, she looked out a window, cataloging handholds she could use to come and go. Slice and dice, huh? The monsters were already here. Slice and dice she could do.