Twist of Fate: Chapter 14
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days all ceased to hold meaning for Buffy Summers as she sat in the small room, cloaked in silence and grief. She was lost to everything and looked more the part of a small child than the Slayer, curled into a small ball on the floor, her eyes open and unseeing. In the moment of understanding of what had happened, with no one there to help her through the pain, she shut in on herself, locking herself in a place where no one could hurt her.
Where her mother still lived.
Aware of this, Lyle had watched her unchanging condition for days with an air of intense curiosity. No matter the time of day or night, he found himself drawn to the computer screen in his office - his fingers unwittingly clicking across the keys of his keyboard until the vision of her filled his screen. He knew that it was growing into a secret obsession - but he found himself striving to care.
"Mr. Lyle, Mr. Raines would like a word with you."
Sighing, Lyle forced his attention away from the screen and faced Willie with an air of impatience. "He knows where to find me."
"I do," Rained concurred, his voice a raspy statement, startling the younger man as he stepped into the room. Dark, beady eyes flickered from the picture on Lyle's monitor before locking on the man's impatient gaze. "Don't you think it's time to begin? We've pushed back our date long enough."
Sighing, Lyle slowly reclined in his plush leather chair, absently tapping a slim finger against his chin as he considered the man's words. Yet inevitably, his eyes were drawn once more back to the still figure.
"If we continue much longer," Raines continued in between greedy lungfuls of oxygenated air, "then the subject will die of starvation and dehydration before we even have a chance to begin," he stated coldly, nodding towards the screen. "She needs to be broken out of this catatonia for any of the tests or modifications to be effective. After recent events, you seem best suited for that task."
Smiling at Raines' choice of words, Lyle found himself nodding in agreement. Seeing as how he was the reason for the state that the girl was in, he did seem the most able to get her back out of it. Besides, after his 'sessions' with Jarod, Lyle doubted that anyone would question his effectiveness at 'reaching' a subject. Nodding slowly, Lyle allowed his eyes to jump once more to the girl before quickly standing, smoothing away invisible creases with one hand as he flicked off the monitor with a quick keystroke with the other. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" he asked, looking past Raines and meeting the cold eyes of Raines' faithful cleaner. "Willie, if you'd be so good to come with me, we'll be able to solve this quick enough."
Several minutes and floors later found the trio far beneath the main floor of the Centre, on one of the infamous sublevels that had seen so much horror that it was nearly inscribed in the very walls. Humming quietly to himself, Lyle strutted down the dimly lit hall, nodding at the Sweepers that guarded the Slayer's door. "Willie?" he asked, hazarding a glance at his companion, ensuring that he carried the necessary tools. Seeing his nod of affirmation, Lyle motioned for the door to be opened and then stepped into the small room.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was horrible. Grimacing, Lyle deftly lifted a starched handkerchief to his nose, blocking the worst of the stench. Eyes narrowed, he noted that their presence didn't even register with the girl - oblivious to the world around her, eyes unmoving and unseeing. Well, certainly one way to fix that, he thought bemusedly to himself.
Clearing his throat, Lyle spared a glance to ensure that Willie was prepared, before returning his attention once more to the Slayer. By now he knew that all of the drugs had cleared her system, leaving him with a catatonic and full-strength Slayer - ensuring certain precautions.
"Buffy Summers," he called out, his voice ringing in the small room and then trailing into a thick silence. Sighing, he watched as the girl didn't even twitch at the sound of his voice. He didn't really think that it was going to be that easy. "Now," he murmured, waving his hand absently to the man beside him.
Nodding, Willie braced himself, his legs spread shoulder length apart for ultimate stability, and pulled back a lever on the long hose that he held. Instantly a wave of freezing water shot through the nozzle and slammed into the girl with the force of a freight train. Grimacing slightly, he watched as her small body was tossed back ruthlessly against the unforgiving cement wall, pinned there by the roaring water.
After a few seconds, Lyle indicated for the water to be cut off, watching as the girl's body was finally released from the torrent of water and dropped bonelessly to the ground. As the roaring of the water was replaced by the gurgling of the drain as it accepted the remnants of the flood, Lyle's eyes traced over the Slayer's slight form. "Buffy Summers," he repeated, his voice echoing once more. This time he was gratified to see her form twitch slightly at the sound. Headway.
Turning, he was about to issue the command once again when he sensed, more than saw, movement from the corner of his eye. Luckily, Willie had seen the same movement and let loose a volley of freezing water seconds before the girl's clawed hands would have wrapped around Lyle's neck. Instead, the girl was caught up in the water and tossed ruthlessly back, her body colliding so hard against the cement wall that even Lyle cringed.
"Playing possum," he murmured, a sly smile lifting his lips as he waved for the water to stop. But the second the valve was pushed back, the Slayer was on her feet and charging them once again, her wild eyes locked on Lyle's.
Sighing, Lyle watched as Willie continued to play this game of sorts, continually pushing the girl back until, after what seemed like forever, the girl finally learned her lesson. As the last bit of water cut off once again, the girl remained back against the far wall. Slowly she climbed to her feet, her clothing clinging to her slim form, blonde hair wet and matted against her skull, and tanned skin looking unnaturally pale beneath the single bulb light. Feeling his smile broaden, Lyle nodded once, his eyes skimming up her body, shaking fiercely from the cold, trailing over her lips and noting their bluish hue, and locking on green eyes that were dull and glassy.
"Buffy Summers," he repeated, his smile triumphant. But whatever answer he was expecting never came. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, her eyes cold as she stood there, skin glistening under the weak light. "Well," he continued, undaunted, "where's your biting wit and scathing sarcasm now?" he asked, disappointed as his taunts went unanswered. Sighing, he shook his head curtly. "It doesn't matter," he said, as though consoling a small child over breaking a new toy. "I'm sure it will return to you in time." Despite her attitude, he wasn't going to allow her to ruin his moment.
"I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the Centre - your new home," he added, gratified to see her eyes flicker slightly at his statement. "I'm sure that Jarod must have told you about it - all lies, of course," he soothed, almost making himself ill with how sickeningly sweet he knew his smile to be. Turning, he was about to ensure that Raines was ready when two small words, uttered so quietly that he wasn't sure if he heard correctly, stopped him cold.
"You'll pay."
Turning, Lyle felt his eyes narrow as he watched the girl, taken back by the changes in her appearance. Oh, it wasn't as though anything drastic had happened. She was still soaked to the bone, her hair a tangled mess and her skin a bluish hue. But she no longer looked the part of defeat that he had been hoping for. Instead, she stood tall, her limbs no longer shaking as her eyes bored into his own - eyes that now contained a fiery spark of something. Maybe determination. Perhaps fury. Either case, it wasn't something that he had anticipated. "Pardon?"
"I said, you'll pay," Buffy repeated, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear her. "For my mother," she elaborated, her body rigid with tension.
"And how-"
"Slayers are forbidden to kill humans," she continued, as though he hadn't even attempted to reply. And then a slow smile lifted her lips - a smile that chilled him. "But in your case, I'm willing to make an exception."
Forcing a slow chuckle, Lyle slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Apparently I didn't make myself clear enough," he murmured, his eyes hardening and all boyish charm leaving his features as though it had all been a mask. "You now belong to the Centre. You belong to me. You are no more than property. Displease me, and I'll show to you that your mother isn't the only one that I can take away from you."
And from the way that Buffy's confident smile slowly slipped and then faltered altogether, the barest hints of fear beginning to show in her green orbs, Lyle knew that the reports had been correct. The way to frighten the Slayer - to control her - wasn't through pain and the threat of death. No, she faced that on a nightly basis. It held no real fear for the girl for she knew that she was painfully mortal and that her time would come, sooner rather than later. Instead, it seemed that the one thing that could possibly threaten her was the fate of her friends and family - the one thing that she treasured above all else on Earth - often taking the greatest of risks for them, time and time again.
"What were their names again?" he murmured, slowly tapping one finger against his jaw. "Oh yes. Willow Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, correct? Yes, I believe that was their names your 'Scooby' gang, as my sources revealed. And the man a Rupert Giles, if I'm not mistaken. British fellow, glasses, former librarian lives alone," he murmured, his smile growing as the girl began to quake once again, whether from fear or anger, he wasn't sure. Nor did he care. "Now do we understand each other, Miss Summers?" he asked, a thin eyebrow arching slightly at the girl. When he received no response, he knew that he had his answer - and her cooperation, for at least the time being.
Turning on his heel, he quickly left the small room, Willie following slowly behind him, his eyes never leaving the girl. Then, as though he had forgotten something, Lyle paused in the open doorway. "From here on in, you will simply be known as 'Slayer' if you survive," he added, as though an afterthought as he quickly left the room.
Surprised, Buffy stared at the open doorway, pondering his last words as the man's threat against her friends hung in the air and then froze as a new form filled the doorway. Now she understood all to well why her survival was a matter of question. "You have got to be kidding me," she murmured, her eyes growing wider as the door slammed shut behind it.
But the answering shriek of the animal quickly put that to rest. In the end, Buffy barely had time to wonder where in the hell Lyle had managed to find the enormous and enraged tiger before the fight for her life began.
Humming softly, Lyle barely had a chance to settle into the soft leather of his chair and flick on his monitor when a wheezing voice interrupted the show.
"You know that won't control her for long."
Annoyed, Lyle glanced at Raines briefly before quickly turning back to the monitor, unable to restrain a small smile as one of the tiger's paws ripped through the girl's calf, blood spraying the concrete walls. Sighing, he wished idly for the luxury of color to fully appreciate the gore, before his eyes snapped back to his visitor. "What won't?"
"Threatening her friends," Raines wheezed, his beady eyes following the scene on Lyle's monitor. "Soon she'll begin to perceive death as a welcome option rather than doing as you wish."
"Which is why I invited you along on this little project," Lyle sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he hazarded a brief smile for the cold man. A smile that never reached his eyes. "By the time she reaches that point well, it'll be a moot point, won't it? After all, I thought this was your specialty-"
"Not quite," Raines interrupted, his frown deepening. "Were I in charge I-"
"But you're not," Lyle interrupted, his voice cold as his eyes finally locked on the withered man that stood before him. "In my father's absence the Triumvirate has placed me in charge. Therefore, you'll do as I ask, and only as I ask. The Slayer is my project and your sole participation is in regards to what we've already discussed. Is that understood?"
As Raines matched Lyle's stare, a small tic appeared in his cheek, obviously straining to hold back his real response to Lyle's orders. Instead, Mr. Raines slowly turned away, leaning heavily on his wheeled oxygen tanks as he shuffled from the room.
"Well don't be upset!" Lyle called out, unable to resist. "You'll get your chance to play soon enough," he added, his eyes returning to the black and white monitor. In seconds, he was once more entranced in the Slayer's fight for her life. "Soon enough"