Author: Lucinda
Main Characters: Graham, Willow
rating: pg 13
Disclaimer: I own nobody from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There is mention of Michael Jackson & the Rockettes - I don't own either.
Distribution: Bite Me, please?, NHA, WWW, WillowGraham... anyone else, just ask.
note :words inside colons: are a person over the telephone.

He was still turning over the events of last nights patrol sweep. Forrest had noticed a cave, sort of off the main area, but with a small trail going inside, similar to what game animals would wear into the greenery. But this place was infested with demons, you should never assume that a path was made by something as harmless as small wild animals. They had gone to check the cave, to make certain it wasn't the lair for HST's, which stood for Hostile Sub-Terrestrial, because you couldn't call them demons.

They had been idiots. They should have reported the cave, should have asked and waited for back up before going closer. Except, they had been overconfident. He and Forrest were both highly trained military professionals, armed with state of the art equipment. What could there be to hurt them?

He still didn't know what it had been. It had looked like some sort of modern day Frankenstein's monster, like parts of human and demon and a few bits of electronics had been pieced together and given life. Part of the face had looked human, and even worse, the face had reminded him of one of the Initiative soldiers that had fallen in line of duty that spring. The poor guy had his guts slashed open by something like a bipedal opossum, and had bled to death in the Initiative medical facility. He had also recognized the long bone spike that had emerged from the left arm, running Forrest through like an ox on a spit.

They had recently captured a demon with bone spikes like that, something called a Pollar... no, Polger, wait, a Polgara demon. Buffy had asked about it's habits and motivations, but her questions had been ignored. Dr. Walsh had also been most particular about wanting it with the bone spikes intact, she had claimed it was so that they could research it's 'defensive adaptations' or something like that. The Polgara wasn't in the holding corridor anymore, it had vanished a few days ago.

It also bothered him that the thing that had killed Forrest had seemed to know the exact range and capabilities of their weapons. And the fact that it had what appeared to be a floppy disk drive on it's... his chest. It was obvious to anyone that this thing wasn't the result of nature, or whatever process normally created demons. Someone had deliberately put that thing together. Had deliberately assembled him out of parts from a human being, several demons, and some electronics.

What possible reason could the person responsible have had? Why would a person do such a terrible thing? Build such a creature?

It didn't help that he was under orders not to discuss the 'incident' with anyone else in the Initiative. Orders! Who could he possibly tell that would believe him?

An image slowly rose to the surface of his mind. Green eyes and a soft smile. Willow. He could talk to Willow about this. After all, they had been meeting regularly to study their History, and occasionally discuss a few demons that had been sighted. Maybe she would be able to offer some insight to what sort of person could have built such a thing?

Quickly, before he could change his mind, he called her dorm room on the phone, carefully considering what he would say to her. He had a suspicion that the phone lines here were tapped, permitting even 'private' conversations to be overheard. He didn't want to let anyone else know how much Willow knew about the Initiative.

"Hey, Red." The greeting in itself was something of a code phrase between them. If he called her Red, it often meant that there was a demony question that he wanted to ask her, or something else relating to things that went bump.

:Hey yourself, you tasty cracker. Got a problem with part of your history again? Honestly, how were you passing before I started studying with you?: The words were spoken lightly, but she only called him a tasty cracker when Buffy was around. For some reason the idea of him being a tasty cracker made the Slayer wince, and Willow enjoyed teasing her room mate a bit.

"Yeah. Remember that guy we were supposed to learn about in class today? What's-his-name?" By saying that he had trouble remembering the guy, he was telling Willow that he needed to talk about a particular nasty, instead of a strange location of occurrence. Even to himself, though, his voice sounded a bit... stilted.

:What's wrong? You sound a bit down.: He could almost picture the expression on her face, nibbling the corner of her lip, brows slightly tilted.

"I haven't... Forrest borrowed my notes for my Physics class, and he was supposed to bring them back yesterday. I haven't seen him." He was fairly certain that Willow would know that there was something else bothering him.

:Ah. No problem, met me for coffee at our usual spot, I got a friend in Physics, I can bring you a copy of her notes, and we can talk about that guy from History.: Her voice was thoughtful, and he could recognize that she had gone into problem solving mode.

"Sounds good. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. My turn to buy the coffee. See you, Red."

He had no idea what he would do if he couldn't talk to Willow about some of these things. When he had first approached her, he hadn't had any idea how much he would come to depend on her. He could talk to her about everything, about his family, about how upset he had been at his dad divorcing his mom and running off with a secretary barely older than Graham's oldest brother, about some of the things the Initiative was doing, about this cute girl in his Physics class... anything and everything. She might have been one of the few things that had helped keep him sane while not only hunting things that shouldn't exist, but pretending to be a 'normal college student' while doing so.

He was there, with coffee waiting when she showed up, a sheaf of papers in one hand. She gave a small wave when she saw him, sliding into the seat gracefully. "Hey, you look... horribly upset."

He could only nod. "I know exactly what happened to Forrest. I was there when... it happened. Last night." He could feel the raw grief threatening to overwhelm him, making his voice unsteady.

Passing him the pages, she let her hand rest on top of his. "Here, physics notes in case... since someone may have heard you mention. Now, we're going to talk about our history class for a while, and when you have a better grip, we will go out from here, and go for a nice little walk to somewhere more... private. Okay?" Her eyes were soft with compassion, like warm pools of green.

They talked about their history class for a while, at least, he assumed they did. He was trying to force the pain and grief and confusion into a solid box, strong enough to last for a while. Graham really wasn't paying attention, and he realized that it was obvious when Willow's last words caught his ear.

"... and then the naked green dancing girls went through, doing the Rockette's Can-Can. While they did, Michael Jackson confessed that he's really and truly made out of plastic now."

"Wha... what are you talking about?!? Na... green women doing the Can-Can? Was I that far out of it?" He felt the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the image that her words had conjured in his mind. "Okay, okay. I give, I yield, surrender even. I fling myself on your mercy."

"Good, you actually look like your mind is here in Sunnydale with your body. Let's go for a little walk." She slid out from the table, offering her arm to him. A casual observer might think they were dating.

They walked for a while, chatting absently about the recent weather, the local sports teams, and the current band playing at the Bronze. Eventually, their meandering took them to a residential section, full of impeccable houses along a quiet street. To Graham's surprise, Willow led him up the sidewalk to one, producing a key and opening the door, one hand gesturing for him to go inside.

"Hey... should we be here? Who's place is this, anyhow?" Graham suddenly felt his mind working again, questions piling inside his mind.

"No reason not to be here, I can promise it isn't bugged, and my parents own it. I think they should be in France about now, they were taking about a year to go tour Europe. So, private place to talk. Spill, I promise I'll listen."

"He... we'd split up into small groups, pairs really. We were looking for signs of Hostile activity... something Killed Dr. Walsh. We don't know what, I don't even know how, just that it was inside the labs... Inside our own damn lab. Something killed her, it was violent, it was painful... and it wasn't human. It killed her, whatever it was, and it vanished." He could hear his voice wobbling a bit, shaking with the tumult of emotions, both from now and remembered from last night.

"There was this little cave, with a path leading up to it. We went to check it out, should have called for back up. Didn't... oh God, we thought we could handle anything. It was there, and he came after us, all parts put together like a modern day Frankenstein's monster. He was parts of a man, and parts of demon... I think his arm came from the Polgara that Walsh had us capture for her. But... it had a disk drive on it, like some sort of... walking computer? Remote controlled killer? I don't know... He looked almost familiar, like someone who used to work with us, like he was made from parts of somebody I'd seen before." He needed to understand, had to understand. But, inside, he was afraid.

"So, someone built a monster out of spare parts? They... put together bits and pieces... Whoever it was wanted to build someone without any weaknesses? Maybe the drive was to insert some sort of electronic control programs, sort of like the behavioral chips that your doctors put into vampires?" Her voice was low, as if she didn't want to add to his anguish.

"Essentially. Built him... he was strong, and fast. He just... skewered Forrest as if... it didn't matter to him, there was no emotion. That made it all worse. At least a normal demon would have gloated a little, it would have mattered that my friend was dead. Does that make any sense?" He looked at her, desperate to see some understanding in her eyes.

"Yeah. It isn't that you want him dead, but... to be just... killed and dropped to the side makes it so... empty, like his whole life was just... wasted. I felt that way sometimes, when people got killed." Her eyes glittered with tears, and he knew that she was remembering her own losses, the people that she had cared for.

After a few moments of silence, Willow spoke again, her words slow, as if they were crawling from her lips. "Graham? I think... it sounds like... I think this monster was built in the Initiative labs. He's probably responsible for Killing Dr. Walsh. Someone built him, for some purpose, that probably wasn't in the actual mission statement, and he didn't follow orders, he wasn't under control, and got loose. Maybe even using parts from that guy you think he sort of looked like? I mean, that sounds really sick and twisted and horrible, but... there are people that would do that." Her voice tugged at something deep inside of him, a part that whispered that she was making sense.

"I hate it when something so wrong makes sense. It's unnatural, but... it fits. It fits with all the pieces. God, I wish it didn't fit... you're saying that we built him, that we're the ones who unleashed that.. thing. The Initiative."

"No, not you, not the other soldiers trying to make Sunnydale safer. This had to have been a doctor, one of the researchers. You didn't know, none of you did. How could you have known? But... if you want? I'll do what I can to help stop him." He could tell that she was trying to make him feel better.

"Points for effort. That makes sense, but... it doesn't make it feel better. Forrest is still... and that thing is still loose." His words were heavy with pain.

"You're hurting now because something terrible happened, and your friend is dead. Most of the time, dead is forever. Knowing who built the monster won't bring Forrest back. Destroying the monster won't bring Forrest back. A lot of your pain is because he's gone, not because there's a monster out there that got built in... someone's lab." Her words were filled with such insistent confidence that Graham had no choice but to believe her. After all, Willow was usually right anyhow.

end Puzzle Pieces.