Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-05-12 12:03 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2010-05-12 12:03 am
Lindsay - Myxo-What?
Fandom: Buffyverse/CSI:NY/Supernatural
Title: Myxo-What?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lindsay Monroe and Buffy Summers
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse Prompt: Myxophobia
24hour_themes Prompt: 07:00 ~ Hope, improved insight and perspective.
Content Warning: Spoilers for 510: Abandon All Hope
Summary: How Lindsay met Buffy.
Author’s Note: Part of my Devil Town series . This is basically Lindsay’s backstory for the series, but it also follows “Help Me.”
Disclaimer: I do not own. They all belong to Joss, Zukier and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
The Monroes had always been hunters by trade.
Granted, out in Montana, hunting was a generally accepted profession, so long as you didn’t specific exactly what you were hunting. Hunting deer, rabbit, whatever other wild game happened to cross your path? Acceptable. Ghosts, demons, vampires? Not so much. That only brought you problems, so when the Monroes went on “hunting weekends” they kept the kind of game they were looking for out of the picture.
For the most part, Lindsay was happy with that life. They were normal when they needed to be, and they helped people. But after her friends were murdered when she was fourteen, it soon became evident that just hunting wasn’t enough. Things that go bump in the night weren’t the only things that could be evil. People had it in them too. It wasn’t long before she was aiming for the police academy and the crime lab, wanting to keep her feet planted in both worlds as best she could. For a while she succeeded, and was happy in that success, but eventually she started wanting more, and wanting out of Bozeman. She just didn’t expect her ticket out to come in the form of a tiny blond with super strength.
Or while she was covered in slime.
It had been a Wendigo. They usually didn’t make it this far into town, but less people seemed to be hiking and camping lately, so they were starting to make their way towards civilization more. This particular Wendigo had made its way into a warehouse just outside the business district of Bozeman, and when the coroner’s office started getting wind of the deaths, Lindsay made her way out there to take care of it. She was very surprised to find that she wasn’t alone in that respect. And that the person who was there moved in a way she had never seen before. She mostly manned the flamethrower, but the blond? She was fearless. And clearly not afraid to get messy.
Even if she would complain about it afterwards.
“These were new shoes,” she pouted, pulling off the heels she was wearing and holding up where they were covered in Wendigo blood. “Man, this job is hell on the clothes.”
Lindsay just watched her with a bit of a laugh, starting to shake off the blood that was still wet on her clothes. “Tell me about it.” She paused for a minute, before extending a slime covered hand. “Not the best handshake, I know but unless you have myxophobia—Lindsay.”
“Buffy. Myxo-what?”
“Myxophobia. Fear of slime.”
“Oh. No, I got over that in the first year. You have to in this job.” She shook Lindsay’s hand before giving her a smile. “You handled yourself pretty well out there.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Wendigos are pretty commonplace out here. Hunters learn how to take care of them from a young age. Though—I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone take ‘em like you.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re conditioned to be a supernatural killing machine, some things go without saying,” she said with a shrug. She watched the skeptical look on Lindsay’s face and raised an eyebrow back. “I’m a Slayer?”
At that, Lindsay’s eyebrows went up. “So those are real?”
“Yup,” Buffy nodded, hands sliding in her pockets. “They are very real, and there are quite a few of us. I’m surprised you haven’t run into one of us sooner.”
“Yeah, well—I don’t get out of Bozeman much,” she sighed, slipping the flare gun back into the waistband of her jeans now that it’d had cooled down some. “The only supernatural I’ve dealt with is whatever’s right here. Besides, my job’s here so traveling’s not really in the cards.”
“Job?” Buffy glanced down and Lindsay knew she caught sight of the badge on her hip. “You’re a cop.”
“CSI, actually,” Lindsay nodded. “So the nerd cop.”
“Nerd cop, huh?” Buffy nodded. “Interesting.”
She shrugged. “Keeps me interested.” She glanced around, looking for some sign of Buffy’s car as they walked out. “If you want a ride back to the center of town—”
“I’d love one, actually.”
***
Five years later, Lindsay was standing outside an interrogation room in New York City, staring at something she knew that at best, wasn’t good. The NYPD now had a Slayer and two men who were supposed to be dead. One of them, Sam Winchester, she wasn’t sure how important he was yet. The other was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.
She didn’t know much about him. He was already dead when she met Buffy, and what she did hear was a mixed bag of different information, some good, some bad and none of it consistent. But the fact that he was supposedly back from the dead and sitting in her interrogation room wasn’t a good thing. Not by a long shot. She glanced to the side for a moment, making sure that no one was around, nor were they coming, before pulling out her phone and quickly dialing a number. It was seven in the morning, but she figured Buffy would be up.
“Buffy? We have a problem.”
Title: Myxo-What?
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lindsay Monroe and Buffy Summers
tamingthemuse Prompt: Myxophobia24hour_themes Prompt: 07:00 ~ Hope, improved insight and perspective.Content Warning: Spoilers for 510: Abandon All Hope
Summary: How Lindsay met Buffy.
Author’s Note: Part of my Devil Town series . This is basically Lindsay’s backstory for the series, but it also follows “Help Me.”
Disclaimer: I do not own. They all belong to Joss, Zukier and Kripke. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
The Monroes had always been hunters by trade.
Granted, out in Montana, hunting was a generally accepted profession, so long as you didn’t specific exactly what you were hunting. Hunting deer, rabbit, whatever other wild game happened to cross your path? Acceptable. Ghosts, demons, vampires? Not so much. That only brought you problems, so when the Monroes went on “hunting weekends” they kept the kind of game they were looking for out of the picture.
For the most part, Lindsay was happy with that life. They were normal when they needed to be, and they helped people. But after her friends were murdered when she was fourteen, it soon became evident that just hunting wasn’t enough. Things that go bump in the night weren’t the only things that could be evil. People had it in them too. It wasn’t long before she was aiming for the police academy and the crime lab, wanting to keep her feet planted in both worlds as best she could. For a while she succeeded, and was happy in that success, but eventually she started wanting more, and wanting out of Bozeman. She just didn’t expect her ticket out to come in the form of a tiny blond with super strength.
Or while she was covered in slime.
It had been a Wendigo. They usually didn’t make it this far into town, but less people seemed to be hiking and camping lately, so they were starting to make their way towards civilization more. This particular Wendigo had made its way into a warehouse just outside the business district of Bozeman, and when the coroner’s office started getting wind of the deaths, Lindsay made her way out there to take care of it. She was very surprised to find that she wasn’t alone in that respect. And that the person who was there moved in a way she had never seen before. She mostly manned the flamethrower, but the blond? She was fearless. And clearly not afraid to get messy.
Even if she would complain about it afterwards.
“These were new shoes,” she pouted, pulling off the heels she was wearing and holding up where they were covered in Wendigo blood. “Man, this job is hell on the clothes.”
Lindsay just watched her with a bit of a laugh, starting to shake off the blood that was still wet on her clothes. “Tell me about it.” She paused for a minute, before extending a slime covered hand. “Not the best handshake, I know but unless you have myxophobia—Lindsay.”
“Buffy. Myxo-what?”
“Myxophobia. Fear of slime.”
“Oh. No, I got over that in the first year. You have to in this job.” She shook Lindsay’s hand before giving her a smile. “You handled yourself pretty well out there.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Wendigos are pretty commonplace out here. Hunters learn how to take care of them from a young age. Though—I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone take ‘em like you.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re conditioned to be a supernatural killing machine, some things go without saying,” she said with a shrug. She watched the skeptical look on Lindsay’s face and raised an eyebrow back. “I’m a Slayer?”
At that, Lindsay’s eyebrows went up. “So those are real?”
“Yup,” Buffy nodded, hands sliding in her pockets. “They are very real, and there are quite a few of us. I’m surprised you haven’t run into one of us sooner.”
“Yeah, well—I don’t get out of Bozeman much,” she sighed, slipping the flare gun back into the waistband of her jeans now that it’d had cooled down some. “The only supernatural I’ve dealt with is whatever’s right here. Besides, my job’s here so traveling’s not really in the cards.”
“Job?” Buffy glanced down and Lindsay knew she caught sight of the badge on her hip. “You’re a cop.”
“CSI, actually,” Lindsay nodded. “So the nerd cop.”
“Nerd cop, huh?” Buffy nodded. “Interesting.”
She shrugged. “Keeps me interested.” She glanced around, looking for some sign of Buffy’s car as they walked out. “If you want a ride back to the center of town—”
“I’d love one, actually.”
***
Five years later, Lindsay was standing outside an interrogation room in New York City, staring at something she knew that at best, wasn’t good. The NYPD now had a Slayer and two men who were supposed to be dead. One of them, Sam Winchester, she wasn’t sure how important he was yet. The other was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.
She didn’t know much about him. He was already dead when she met Buffy, and what she did hear was a mixed bag of different information, some good, some bad and none of it consistent. But the fact that he was supposedly back from the dead and sitting in her interrogation room wasn’t a good thing. Not by a long shot. She glanced to the side for a moment, making sure that no one was around, nor were they coming, before pulling out her phone and quickly dialing a number. It was seven in the morning, but she figured Buffy would be up.
“Buffy? We have a problem.”
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