Title: Destination: Sunnydale
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything you recognize, it all belongs to Joss Whedon and Marvel.
When he falls off the Bifrost, he has a sneaking suspicion that he will end up in Puerto Antigo, New Mexico. That would be characteristic of the Fates that seemed to have taken great joy in tormenting him all his life.
But no, instead he ends up in a small town in California called Sunnydale. It intrigued him. It had a high concentration of magic in the air; he could feel it on his skin as if he were standing too close to an electric fence. It whispered promises to him, of dark and terrible powers that he could harness. It showed him images of Asgard in ruins, of Thor on his knees before him, of Odin in chains.
He shivered, and banished the whispers to the back of mind.
This was old, dangerous, powerful magic, seeped in darkness, powerful and corrupting. It would have allowed him to achieve all that it had shown him, but he wouldn’t be Loki by the end of it, he would exist only as their plaything.
Loki was at least a thousand years old; he had read of this magic, and he would never become a thrall to it. His mind was the only thing he had had in the mighty halls of Asgard, the home of the mightiest warriors, and he was determined to keep it.
He made his way to through the streets, only swaying slightly. His magic was exhausted, having been depleted keeping him alive and safe from the horrors of the dimension between dimensions, and he had not broke his fast for days, too consumed by his plans.
This, he insisted later (numerous times in fact) was the only reason he hadn’t reduced the vampire to dust as soon as it had jumped out at him. As it was, he lurched back in alarm, instinctively raising his arm to shield his face.
It was a monstrous beast, large ridges marring its forehead, yellow, evil ¬looking eyes, pointed fangs.
“Quick! Over here guys!” came a girl’s voice.
There was an explosion of ash, and Loki started coughing as it went into his eyes and nose.
“Are you okay?” asked the same voice, and he looked up to see a young red-haired girl, who also seemed to be slightly…transparent…? Next to her was a gun-wielding soldier, who was regarding the God of Mischief suspiciously.
Loki relaxed as he saw that, he was more comfortable dealing with people’s disdain than their apparent concern.
“Miss Rosenberg, we have to be going now. We still need to locate this Mr. Giles of yours.”
The ghost, for she could only be a ghost, gave a small nod, and glided past him.
“I’m really sorry, but we have to go now.” She said apologetically, “But don’t worry! We’re going to fix this. Just try not to get killed!”
The soldier didn’t take his eyes off Loki as he passed him, and he had the safety off his gun. The latter gave into temptation and long years of habit, and gave him a saucy wink and a smile.
Humming slightly, Loki continued down the street and looked at the various monsters who seemed to be running around, fighting each other.
He could definitely get used to this town.