Twist of Fate: Chapter 30
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Grinning in a way that was pure Lyle, the man watched as the aging Brit struggled uselessly against his Slayer's hold, his smile turning feral. "Don't tell me that you never noticed that the leftover vial you had from that test went missing?" he asked, his eyes playing over the Watcher's horrified features. "The one that we heard so much about in hushed conversations between Buffy and her friends before she was even taken? Or did you honestly think that your Slayer had forgotten your betrayal?" he asked, watching as guilt flashed across the man's features. "Mr. Giles, we took that vial from your apartment before we even thought about taking her," he continued softly as he moved in close, standing right beside the pair. "The Centre was able to break it down and synthesize it. We've been using it on her daily for months - your drug enabling every single thing that we've done to her... but no one can stay on a drug that long without starting to build an immunity to it. Not even the Slayer," he continued, his voice low. "We've been steadily increasing the dosages in order to keep her weak... I guess your dosage just didn't take that into account," he said as he lifted the weapon that the watcher had dropped a few feet away, eyes tracing over its gleaming edge.
The knife's blade was long, at least six inches and curved in a deadly arc. It was a weapon that required close movement - a personal kill - a weapon that felt like an extension of Giles' own arm. A weapon that he had spent much time training his Slayer on, a point that quickly became apparent as she caught Lyle's toss easily, switching her grip until the knife was held against his throat. Giles hadn't even noticed that the man had stopped to retrieve it.
"How does it feel to know that your Slayer will be the one to cut you down?" Lyle asked, a twisted smile lifting his lips. As the man's eyes followed his every movement, Lyle shifted until he was situated directly behind Buffy, his hands resting on her small shoulders and his neck arching forward until his chin rested against her temple. "She's my Slayer now - has been for months," he murmured, his hands squeezing her shoulders in a display of ownership. And then, with a rakish grin he slowly leaned closer. "Did Jarod or Miss Parker mention all of the... fun that we've had?" he whispered, slowly turning his head to press his cold lips against her temple, his hands shifting down over her shoulders until they wrapped around her thin waist, stepping closer until her small body was pressed against his.
As a fury unlike anything he had ever known descended upon Giles, he struggled with it, barely managing to control the rage that threatened to consume him. He refused to give in, refused to dignify Lyle's words with a response. This was his Slayer, his Buffy that this man was talking about - that this monster continued to parrot and display before him. His Buffy that the man dared to put his hands upon... that he had done unmentionable things to. Still Giles refused to play party to the monster's sick game - refused to encourage him further. Plus there was always that small matter of the knife being held snug against his throat that prevented him from doing anything stupid, even if he had wanted to.
"Mr. Lyle," Raines quickly intruded, the aging man coming upon their small scene, beady eyes darting to the nearby battlefield as he beckoned Lyle to his side, his oxygen tanks laboriously drug over the pitted dirt.
Sighing, Lyle glared once more at the man his Slayer held captive before nipping her on the ear, all for the enjoyment of watching Giles squirm with a barely contained fury. As the saying went, if looks could kill... "Keep him still," he ordered before turning away, leaving Slayer and Watcher locked in a death hold.
As soon as he departed, Giles released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, only to capture it again as the blade nicked his neck. With steady breaths, he finally allowed himself to lock eyes with the girl before him, hoping desperately for any sign that his Slayer was really there - somewhere in there, locked far away. "Buffy, I don't really know if you can hear me," he murmured, his breathing shallow to avoid the painful sting of the blade, "but this may be my last chance to say this," he continued, idly realizing that it could be his last chance to say anything ever again, as his eyes darted nervously to the two men a few feet away.
"I... I'm sorry for everything that has happened," he whispered, his eyes dragging back until they were focused on Buffy's deadened green gaze. "I'm sorry for failing you... for not finding you sooner. I-I never gave up on you," he continued, unable to quell the tears that burned in his eyes, unable to fully mesh the girl that stood before him with the one that had always stood so tall as she faced hellish demon after demon, fight after fight. "And I'm so proud of you for hanging on for so long. For continuing to fight. And... I love you," he murmured, his eyes tracing over every feature on her beautiful face, committing it to memory. "I know that I'm not supposed to," he admitted, his words awkward. "I'm your Watcher and a Watcher is never supposed to love their Slayer. Train them, teach them, even fight for them... but never love them. But I do. I care about you and not about the Slayer," he admitted. "I-" he began, only to freeze as a single tear fell free from Buffy's green eyes, trailing down her pale cheek and splashing on the ground below.
"Not possible," Lyle murmured, having finished his conversation with Raines and returned just in time to witness the fall of the tear. "He said it wasn't possible!" he quickly fumed as the hand holding the knife to Giles' neck began to shake. "Kill him!" he ordered, even as the shaking in the girl's hand intensified, another tear adding to the one that had already dried. "Kill him now!" he shouted as Raines' assurances came back to him.
... if any part of Buffy Summers does remain, and if she tries to fight against the drugs and wins... well, let's just say that she won't be around to enjoy it.
"If you don't kill him," Lyle quickly added, a smug smile lifting his lips, "then you'll only end up killing yourself." And while the girl's struggles didn't stop, he had obviously gained the attention of Mr. Giles as the man's gaze locked with his own. "She can't break it this time or it will destroy her mind," he added, meeting the man's green eyes.
Horrified, Giles quickly looked at his slayer once again. "Stop it, Buffy. Stop immediately!" he ordered, ignoring the fact that he was doing just what Lyle had been doing to her for so long - trying to control her. But as he said earlier, he didn't need drugs or torture to get his Slayer to listen. This time, he prayed that he was right in that assumption. To keep her safe, he would try anything. "Just please stop fighting it," he continued as her hand trembled against his neck. "We'll find another-" he broke off as he abruptly realized what he was asking his Slayer to do. By telling her not to fight against whatever was holding her mind at bay, he was telling her to allow herself to follow Lyle's command. He was telling her to kill himself.
For a brief moment, Giles stood in stunned silence as the full realization of what he was asking nearly overwhelmed him. While it was true that he had done a lot of stupid things in his youth, and even when middle-age had hit, he also knew without a doubt that he in no way possessed a death wish. He didn't want to die. Then again, he didn't want his Slayer dead either, which left him at a quandary of sorts. Yet it took only one more look into Buffy's green eyes, eyes that were now filled with pain, that made the decision for him. It seemed as though he had just gained his very first death wish - and all for the love of the girl that he had stopped seeing as a weapon, and had begun seeing as a daughter long ago.
"The others will find a way to reverse this," he continued as though he had never stopped, his words changing only subtlety - yet their meaning was clear. "Buffy, you must stop this at once!" he ordered as more tears coursed down Buffy's cheeks, soon mixing with a steady trail of blood that began to drip from her nose. Recoiling at the sight, Giles quickly renewed his efforts. "Jarod has done it before - found a solution for a little boy. Jarod can fix this!"
Yet as Buffy's hand continued to shake as though caught in the immense forces of a hurricane, Giles was once again reminded of a point that he had bemoaned of many times in the past: his Slayer never listened to him. Cringing, Giles realized that as Buffy was the strongest person that he had ever known, in mind as well as in body, there was no way for him to stop her from something once she put her mind to it. Therefore, in the end Giles could only watch in horror as she somehow managed to lower her hand from his neck, centimeter by slow centimeter. And then, as a single cry tore from her lips, Buffy turned away from her Watcher, blood streaming from her nose and down her chin as she doubled over, one hand still gripping the knife while the other pressed the heel of her hand tightly against her head.
"Buffy-" Giles began, his voice cut off as his Slayer slowly straightened, wild eyes locking on the man who stood frozen in place by shock beside her.
"I-I promised, long ago," she rasped as though her voice had been unused for too long... or used too much, staggering forward until she fell against Lyle, "that I would make an exception for you," she finished as she buried the knife to the hilt in Lyle, her arm wrapped around his neck and bringing them nose to nose. "I.. I keep my promises," she murmured as she used the last of her strength to twist the knife, the light going out of Lyle's eyes as he staggered back and then fell to the ground, taking her with him.
"Buffy!" Giles called frantically, breaking out of his stupor as his Slayer began to seize. Hurrying to her side, he quickly dropped to the hard ground, pulling on Buffy's arm until she was lying on her back beside him, her limbs flailing as her eyes rocked back into her head, showing only the whites. "Oh God, Buffy no," he whispered, trying to keep her from hurting herself until her jerky movements finally subsided, her body stilling as Buffy's eyes rolled over and locked on his own, the blood from her nose now smeared across one cheek and down her chin.
"Giles," she whispered, her voice weak as bloodshot eyes locked on his own, a sign of the many blood vessels that had burst beneath the intense pressure.
"Shh, Buffy," Giles whispered, oblivious to the tears that wet his cheek.
Ignoring him, Buffy smiled softly. "Thank you... for... setting me free," she whispered, forcing the words past numb lips as her eyes slowly drifted shut.
"No," Giles whispered, his voice hoarse as he reached forward, gently shaking her shoulders as her head lolled to the side. "No," he hissed, his tone venomous as he saw that she had stopped breathing, reaching forward to search desperately for a pulse that just wasn't there. "Buffy!" he cried again, unable to believe what he was seeing as he caught sight of a pair of dark, high-heeled boots beside them. Turning quickly, he found Miss Parker had joined them at some point amongst the drama, her face pale and eyes locked on her brother's bloody form... her brother's dead body. "Miss Parker," he snapped, freeing her from her paralysis as her eyes skipped over to the girl that he knelt beside.
"Oh no you don't," Miss Parker murmured, falling to her knees beside Giles as she confirmed the girl's perilous state. "We're not losing you now," she added before quickly bending forward, her dark hair creating a curtain around them as she breathed life back into the girl's body. Straightening, she began compressions as her eyes darted around the darkened plot. "Jarod!" she cried, her voice echoing out over the noise of the ongoing battle.
And then the Pretender was there, falling opposite of her and taking over for her breathing as she continued the chest compressions. "Someone call 911. Call 911!"
As the motor home rocketed along a dark highway, the body that had been still for so long suddenly arched in the air, atrophied muscles growing taught as she drew in one long, ragged breath before falling back to the hard mattress. Gasping, the girl's eyes opened wide, revealing dark brown orbs as they swept over the small room she rested in.
In seconds an older man was by her side, the hard bed shifting under his weight as he took in the young girl, a gentle smile lifting his lips. "Welcome back," he murmured, his words startling her as, obviously panicked, she tried to scoot away from the stranger. Yet after close to a year of lying comatose in a bed, she could do little more than rock herself gently. "Easy, easy now," Sydney assured, his voice soft as he placed warm hands on her arms, gently turning her chin until she was looking at him. "I am a friend, Faith," he murmured, his serene smile adding to the warmth in his eyes.
For a moment, the girl looked at him blankly before a small pink tongue darted out between pale lips, wetting down the cracked tissue. "But," she rasped, her voice cracked and brittle from months of inattention, "I'm not Faith."