Thanks, 'Nita!

Disclaimer: I own neither BtVS nor the Anita Blake series.

A/N: Alrighty, this was intended to be a Christmas fic, but when FaithUnbreakable requested an Anita Blake crossing (Buffy-centered was a given) this rabid bunny just attacked me! Since I know she doesn't mind a bit of angst, this is her prezzie: enjoy!

[Edit] thanks to soulfulone for correcting my french!

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No-one was there to see the flash of green that came at dusk. The last light of the sun flickered over the river briefly, suddenly turning lime in a brilliant flare that sparkled over the water before coalescing at it's edge.

"Good landing," said the first of the two figures that appeared there.

"Practice makes perfect," replied the second.

They regarded the river and the city beyond silently for a moment before turning and looking at the buildings behind them. The ground was hard and cold, muddy-colored snow clinging tenaciously to a few areas while brown grass blanketed the rest.

"It always looks the same," muttered the first speaker, obviously disgruntled.

The other snorted, "You say that every time. What are you expecting to change?"

"I dunno. The buildings, the trees, something."

Blue eyes looked heavenward for support, finding none, their owner sighed. "Let's go find... whoever it is we're supposed to find. That is, if you still want to go through with this?" She eyed her companion with a modicum of hope.

"I still wanna go through with this, come on." They started walking, picking their way amongst various bits of garbage as they headed towards a few of the more promising-looking buildings. The first speaker shot a side-long grin at her taller companion, "You know, you ask me that question every time." Her eyes, hazel though they looked brown in the fading light, became serious, "What are you expecting to change?"

"Your answer," Dawn whispered, so quietly that even Slayer hearing couldn't discern her reply.

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"Ma petite, I believe it would be best if you came to the Circus this night."

"You know New Year's is always busy for me, Jean-Claude." Anita's voice lowered as she began to grumble, "Lots of crazies thinking that 'the walls between worlds' are thin or something. I'll see you on Tuesday."

"Non, ma petite, you must come tonight."

Something in the vampire's voice gave the Animator pause, "What is it? What's wrong?"

He sighed, "I have felt a new power enter the city. It is... troubling."

She groaned, 'troubling' to Jean-Claude typically translated to 'catastrophic' for her. "I'll be there at ten," she informed him firmly, her boss would just have to stew. The phone gave a soft click as it was disconnected and Anita stared at it in surprise before laughing quietly.

It seemed her bad phone etiquette was catching.

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"We... my sister needs your help."

Anita looked from one woman to the other before raising an eyebrow skeptically, "Your sister?" Her tone was rife with disbelief, causing the shorter of the two women to bristle a little before subsiding at a look from the other.

"Yes," the taller of the two women said evenly, "We're sisters."

Jean-Claude exchanged a look with his Human Servant and they turned simultaneously to study the pair that had shown up out of the blue, asking for help with a 'most unique' problem. Add to that that they had somehow managed to circumvent all of the Circus's security before announcing their presence in his 'office' and you had an alarming, albeit interesting, picture.

Both women were dressed in casual clothing: worn jeans and soft linen-looking blouses, but that was where their similarities ended. The one who had stepped forward as the speaker - Dawn was her name - was old. Her hair was dark gray shot through with white, face finely wrinkled with age, and eyes that held all the experiences of a lifetime of problems firmly dealt with.

The other woman, name as yet unknown, was quite youthful-looking. Anita placed the girl at around Jason's age, maybe a little younger. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a long braid that she had looped over her shoulder as she played with the green ribbon on the end. The woman's face was downcast, but her posture bespoke a fighter. Anita would be willing to bet that she would be able to point out each person in the room - Jean-Claude, Asher, a few wererat bodyguards, and herself - without raising her head.

"In what capacity does your sister require our aid?"

Dawn looked down at her hands, blue-veined and thin-skinned, "My sister needs an Animator, a strong Animator." She looked up and Anita was caught with the intensity of that blue-eyed gaze, "We heard you were the best, bar none. If anyone in this dimen - this city can help us, then it's gotta be you."

Jean-Claude's voice was smooth and blandly curious, a sharp counterpoint to Anita's tense and thinly-veiled suspicion. "And why does your sister need an Animator?"

"Because," a new voice broke in, calm and sweet, "I need to be laid to rest." The blonde looked up at last and Anita stifled a gasp, her eyes - god, her eyes! - were filled with a world's worth of pain and knowledge.

Suddenly the idea of the two women being sisters wasn't quite so ludicrous.

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"So lemme get this straight: these two 'strangers' that Jean-Claude was so worried about are dimension-hopping women with superpowers and one of them has a curse on her so she can't really die die, and she thinks you're the only one who can lift it because her super-old sister set her portal to 'necromancer'?"

Glowering at a bit of his wording, Anita nodded sourly, "Yeah, pretty much." She had been busy packing her secondary raising kit when the blonde wolf had showed up, released from his duties with Jean-Claude for the day to deal with some pack business.

Jason let out a low whistle, "That's pretty strange, even for us."

She snorted, "Tell me about it. Now I have to go head for the river, which is where they originally showed up, because..." A faint grimace overcame her usual expression of mild annoyance, "'The walls between worlds are thin at New Year's.'"

"So, when do we leave?"

"You mean, when do I leave." It was most definitely not intended as a question.

Jason's eyes went wide and puppy-like, "But Anita, when will I get a chance to meet some nice super-powered women? Present company excluded of course."

"Who says they're nice?"

He rolled his eyes, "Anita, anyone who shows up and asks for help instead of demanding it is at least five points higher on the 'Friendly Scale' than practically anyone else you deal with on a regular basis."

"The 'Friendly Scale'?! You actually have a - you know what? I don't even wanna know." She sat back from her packing and gave him a long look while she mentally weighed her options. It came down to the pros and cons of having him there in case something went wrong and the Summers sisters weren't as nice as they seemed versus the comfort of his presence in case something else went wrong - which it almost invariably did.

Jason saw her decision in her eyes an instant before she opened her mouth to say the words, grabbing her round the waist and swinging her into the air before planting a big, smacking kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, 'Nita!"

"Don't thank me until we get back home safe," she called to his retreating back, wiping a bit of Jason-spit off her cheek. Anita scowled, "And don't call me 'Nita!"

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It was almost time, 11:50 PM on the nose and most families were curled up on couches or enjoying parties with close friends. Buffy had no family left except for her sister, and Dawn was right here - still here - against all odds, holding her hand as they waited for the time to come.

Her friends were all gone, dead. Each living to a ripe old age before succumbing to the eventual creep of time, aside from those few who had chosen to go out in a blaze of glory - Faith and, surprisingly enough, Andrew. Her responsibilities were taken care of: her sister had grown into a fine woman, the world was still there, and Slayers now had an average life expectancy of around forty years.

She had served her purpose, fulfilled all destinies left to her and a few that weren't, and lived far beyond all expectations. And that was the trouble. She was still living. Year after year went by and her body retained the smoothness and vitality it had had when she first died and went to heaven.

At first it had been a blessing, not to her - never to her - but to those around her. Giles would never have to see his Slayer die again, Willow would never lose her bestest (female) bud, Xander would never lose his leader, Faith would never lose her Slayer sister, no-one would ever lose their beloved Buffy.

Except she had lost something, piece by piece, year by year, as time and experience wrought what the Council could not and gave her perspective. It had started with her first - her very first - death. Spike was more than a little right when he said that all Slayers were a little in love with death, though this was less prevalent now that the girls were no longer alone in their calling.

Buffy figured that she didn't just love death, she'd married it and adored it and had it violently ripped from her. She and her so-called 'gift' had been separated in an untimely and horrific fashion and then - then to learn that she was to be forever barred from that peace? She had gone to her room and cried for three days straight before summoning up the courage to leave, happy-fun-face firmly affixed like a mask.

She'd waited for everyone she loved and everyone who loved her to die. Person by person, bit by bit, she had drawn away from the mortal world and the attachments of others until only Dawn knew where to find the oldest Slayer on any given day. She would have waited even longer, knowing how much it would grieve her little sister to be the last of the Summers, if not for Dawn's intervention.

Old, already a legend among the Watchers, the gray-haired woman had shown up at Buffy's retreat one gloomy Saturday with a packed duffle and a list of spells. What followed had been a spewing of techno and magic-babble that left the Slayer slightly confused... and excited for the first time in over twenty years.

Dawn had seen her sister's plight and known that nothing in their world would help, she proposed that they should search other worlds with the Key-powers. It was an offer Buffy hadn't been able to refuse. Now here she stood, hand-in-hand with her sister on the shores of a foreign river with a familiar name, waiting to die.

Please, she thought, please let this work.

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End Part One of Two