Dreams and Misdemeanors
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters May 28, 1999, 3 AM
Logan tossed and turned in his bed, moaning. Sweat beaded all over his body, trickling along the ravines of his muscles down to pool on the sheets beneath him. Bright lights and images flashed behind his eyelids, welling up from deep within his subconscious. Voices slipped past, familiar yet indistinct, until his mind focused on one voice in particular. He knew that voice.
"Buffy!" he murmured, shaking himself awake.
He sat up and rested his head in his hands as waves of longing washed over him. She was intoxicating. She was beautiful. She made him feel wild and completely out of control. Yet on some level he knew that he would never know peace again until he touched her.
He could never touch her. His conscience lectured him.
She's just a child!
He tightened his jaw. He would get over this preoccupation with Buffy. He would get over it and they would be friends.
Maybe they could be friends with benefits?
No! Don't think about the benefits! No benefits with Buffy!
Logan pulled himself up, jumped into a pair of jeans and headed toward the door. He'd go to the teacher's lounge. Maybe a beer from his stash would cool him off.
Reaching the bottom stair, he heard Buffy's voice in the kitchen. John and Bobby appeared to be listening to her conversation just outside the entrance to the kitchen. But something was off. They weren't, as he would expect, in a childishly conspiratorial stance. In fact, their body language indicated that they were disturbed by what they were hearing. He stepped closer stealthily and let them know he was there. John gestured that Buffy was talking on the phone. Bobby whispered, fear in his eyes, "You're not going to believe this."
Logan risked a glance inside the kitchen. Buffy's back was turned, but he could see that she wore knee high black boots, a tiny green mini skirt and a pale pink bra. He moaned softly.
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, yeah Will, that's sounds like this... tall, pale and ugly..." Buffy murmured. "No! I don't want you to tell Giles. Not yet. He'd freak. Just find me a hole in their body armor or some other way to kill them without making like a shish kabob. I can't get close enough to... Yeah, that's a good idea. If you see him, you can tell Angel. He may have dealt with these guys before. There's a major nest about a mile from the school. I don't want any of these kids to wind up as a tasty treat."
She was standing next to the island leaning against it slightly. The telephone was cradled between her ear and shoulder, and she had a kitchen towel pressed between her lower back and the bar. He gasped when he caught sight of the slip of pink fabric on the floor next to her, torn and covered in blood.
"Xander! Jeeze! Are you going to tantrum every time I mention his name? Angel and I are so not getting back together this summer. Hello! He's 242 years older than me and completely pulse-less. Not to mention, zillions of miles away. Despite everything that happened this year, I really don't think he's going come a-running all the way to New York just because I'm a little out of my element. I want his advice... and Ok, his kissage too, but some things just cannot be...Xander! Stop with the Grinch-ing, party pooper, or let me talk to Willow alone."
She reached into her duffle bag on the bar and pulled out a roll of bandages. When she dropped the towel, John, Bobby and Logan winced simultaneously at the gaping, bleeding gash in her lower back. Gingerly, she applied peroxide and taped a bandage over her wound. Then, she leaned over, picked up her shirt, and tucked it in the trash under some newspaper.
"You know Will," Buffy sighed dramatically, "it's truly a crime how many fun and fashionably daring outfits are totally decimated by brawling." She tossed her head and grinned, "It's a bad habit. Don't pick it up.
Then she turned toward the fridge and the boys scuttled backward, "No guys, don't worry about me. Get some sleep tonight. Research menana. I handled the Master, I can deal. Just email me with what you find out..."
Realizing that Buffy was about to end her call, the eavesdroppers slipped away and sped down the hall. They didn't see her walk to the doorway and follow them with her eyes until they turned down the hall, or hear her sigh to herself as she climbed the stairs, "Less than fourteen hours and everyone knows I'm the Slayer. A new all-time Buffy record... Giles'll be so proud."
Logan motioned for the boys to follow him into one of the classrooms.
"What the hell was that?' John exclaimed in a loud whisper.
"I don't know for sure," Logan said, pushing his hand through his hair, pacing.
"She was hurt pretty bad, should we... should we confront her with what we know and get her to a hospital? Should we go get Cyclops?" Bobby asked, as he crossed his arms and sat down on the top of a desk.
"No. We really don't know anything for sure, Bobby. She seemed to know what she was doing and that wound will keep her incapacitated for a while. We'll have to talk to Scott in the morning, I guess, but there's no need to wake him," Logan replied.
"She mentioned the students being eaten. Do you think she was out hunting mutants? Or maybe roving bands of mutant cannibals?" Bobby wondered aloud.
John snorted, "Man, don't be stupid. Obviously she was trying to kill something, but I really don't think there's any such thing as a mutant cannibal. It must have been some kind of code... But something got her good. Kinda made me feel sorry for her... she's such a little tiny thing."
"And her ex-boyfriend, Angel, he's definitely a mutant," Bobby offered.
"What? How do you figure?" John asked hopefully.
Bobby grinned, "Well she said '242 years older and pulse-less'. He must have some kind of longevity mutation that slows his heartbeat to practically nothing... Maybe she's a mutant, too?"
Logan grinned inwardly, thinking to himself. So maybe I'm not too old for her. And if she is a mutant, she'll need protecting from the outside world...
A few hours later, it was time to end the speculation. The sun was beginning to rise. They could have dissected Buffy's call for a week, and find themselves no closer to solving the mystery. Directing the boys out the door, Logan said, "Come on, back to bed for another hour or two. I'll talk to Xavier when he wakes up. In the meantime, you guys play it cool."
Bobby looked at him expectantly, and Logan continued, "Yes, you can tell Rogue, but she needs to keep it quiet, too. The simplest way to find out what really happened would be for Buffy to tell us. Obviously, she has friends in California who she talks to... maybe once we earn her trust..."
As they approached the landing, Logan held out his hand to stop Bobby and John. Straining to hear, he picked up muffled sobs coming from behind Buffy's at the end of the corridor. They walked to the door. John moved forward first, reached out and turned the knob slowly.
Buffy rolled over and mumbled, "I don't care. I. Don't. Care. I'm only sixteen. I don't want to die. Oh no? I quit! Pay attention!" Then she started to weep. Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks from beneath her tightly sealed eyelids. "There's no one else. I have to... stop the Master..."
John sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed her bangs back from her eyes. "Sssshhh princess, don't cry. It's alright." Buffy flinched, bolted upright, then snaked her arms around him. John patted her back and whispered against her hair. As she began to quiet, he gently lifted her chin from his shoulder and looked into her eyes.
"You alright now?" he asked, kissing her forehead.
She nodded, nuzzled into his chest, and drifted back to sleep.
Some time later, John laid her back down and got up to leave. Both Bobby and Logan were gone. When he reached his bedroom, he palmed the handle.
Suddenly, he noticed light seeping through three perfectly-spaced slits in the door, slightly left of center, right in front of his heart. He traced his fingers over them and sighed to himself, "Shit."
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters May 28, 1999, 3 AM
Logan tossed and turned in his bed, moaning. Sweat beaded all over his body, trickling along the ravines of his muscles down to pool on the sheets beneath him. Bright lights and images flashed behind his eyelids, welling up from deep within his subconscious. Voices slipped past, familiar yet indistinct, until his mind focused on one voice in particular. He knew that voice.
"Buffy!" he murmured, shaking himself awake.
He sat up and rested his head in his hands as waves of longing washed over him. She was intoxicating. She was beautiful. She made him feel wild and completely out of control. Yet on some level he knew that he would never know peace again until he touched her.
He could never touch her. His conscience lectured him.
She's just a child!
He tightened his jaw. He would get over this preoccupation with Buffy. He would get over it and they would be friends.
Maybe they could be friends with benefits?
No! Don't think about the benefits! No benefits with Buffy!
Logan pulled himself up, jumped into a pair of jeans and headed toward the door. He'd go to the teacher's lounge. Maybe a beer from his stash would cool him off.
Reaching the bottom stair, he heard Buffy's voice in the kitchen. John and Bobby appeared to be listening to her conversation just outside the entrance to the kitchen. But something was off. They weren't, as he would expect, in a childishly conspiratorial stance. In fact, their body language indicated that they were disturbed by what they were hearing. He stepped closer stealthily and let them know he was there. John gestured that Buffy was talking on the phone. Bobby whispered, fear in his eyes, "You're not going to believe this."
Logan risked a glance inside the kitchen. Buffy's back was turned, but he could see that she wore knee high black boots, a tiny green mini skirt and a pale pink bra. He moaned softly.
"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, yeah Will, that's sounds like this... tall, pale and ugly..." Buffy murmured. "No! I don't want you to tell Giles. Not yet. He'd freak. Just find me a hole in their body armor or some other way to kill them without making like a shish kabob. I can't get close enough to... Yeah, that's a good idea. If you see him, you can tell Angel. He may have dealt with these guys before. There's a major nest about a mile from the school. I don't want any of these kids to wind up as a tasty treat."
She was standing next to the island leaning against it slightly. The telephone was cradled between her ear and shoulder, and she had a kitchen towel pressed between her lower back and the bar. He gasped when he caught sight of the slip of pink fabric on the floor next to her, torn and covered in blood.
"Xander! Jeeze! Are you going to tantrum every time I mention his name? Angel and I are so not getting back together this summer. Hello! He's 242 years older than me and completely pulse-less. Not to mention, zillions of miles away. Despite everything that happened this year, I really don't think he's going come a-running all the way to New York just because I'm a little out of my element. I want his advice... and Ok, his kissage too, but some things just cannot be...Xander! Stop with the Grinch-ing, party pooper, or let me talk to Willow alone."
She reached into her duffle bag on the bar and pulled out a roll of bandages. When she dropped the towel, John, Bobby and Logan winced simultaneously at the gaping, bleeding gash in her lower back. Gingerly, she applied peroxide and taped a bandage over her wound. Then, she leaned over, picked up her shirt, and tucked it in the trash under some newspaper.
"You know Will," Buffy sighed dramatically, "it's truly a crime how many fun and fashionably daring outfits are totally decimated by brawling." She tossed her head and grinned, "It's a bad habit. Don't pick it up.
Then she turned toward the fridge and the boys scuttled backward, "No guys, don't worry about me. Get some sleep tonight. Research menana. I handled the Master, I can deal. Just email me with what you find out..."
Realizing that Buffy was about to end her call, the eavesdroppers slipped away and sped down the hall. They didn't see her walk to the doorway and follow them with her eyes until they turned down the hall, or hear her sigh to herself as she climbed the stairs, "Less than fourteen hours and everyone knows I'm the Slayer. A new all-time Buffy record... Giles'll be so proud."
Logan motioned for the boys to follow him into one of the classrooms.
"What the hell was that?' John exclaimed in a loud whisper.
"I don't know for sure," Logan said, pushing his hand through his hair, pacing.
"She was hurt pretty bad, should we... should we confront her with what we know and get her to a hospital? Should we go get Cyclops?" Bobby asked, as he crossed his arms and sat down on the top of a desk.
"No. We really don't know anything for sure, Bobby. She seemed to know what she was doing and that wound will keep her incapacitated for a while. We'll have to talk to Scott in the morning, I guess, but there's no need to wake him," Logan replied.
"She mentioned the students being eaten. Do you think she was out hunting mutants? Or maybe roving bands of mutant cannibals?" Bobby wondered aloud.
John snorted, "Man, don't be stupid. Obviously she was trying to kill something, but I really don't think there's any such thing as a mutant cannibal. It must have been some kind of code... But something got her good. Kinda made me feel sorry for her... she's such a little tiny thing."
"And her ex-boyfriend, Angel, he's definitely a mutant," Bobby offered.
"What? How do you figure?" John asked hopefully.
Bobby grinned, "Well she said '242 years older and pulse-less'. He must have some kind of longevity mutation that slows his heartbeat to practically nothing... Maybe she's a mutant, too?"
Logan grinned inwardly, thinking to himself. So maybe I'm not too old for her. And if she is a mutant, she'll need protecting from the outside world...
A few hours later, it was time to end the speculation. The sun was beginning to rise. They could have dissected Buffy's call for a week, and find themselves no closer to solving the mystery. Directing the boys out the door, Logan said, "Come on, back to bed for another hour or two. I'll talk to Xavier when he wakes up. In the meantime, you guys play it cool."
Bobby looked at him expectantly, and Logan continued, "Yes, you can tell Rogue, but she needs to keep it quiet, too. The simplest way to find out what really happened would be for Buffy to tell us. Obviously, she has friends in California who she talks to... maybe once we earn her trust..."
As they approached the landing, Logan held out his hand to stop Bobby and John. Straining to hear, he picked up muffled sobs coming from behind Buffy's at the end of the corridor. They walked to the door. John moved forward first, reached out and turned the knob slowly.
Buffy rolled over and mumbled, "I don't care. I. Don't. Care. I'm only sixteen. I don't want to die. Oh no? I quit! Pay attention!" Then she started to weep. Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks from beneath her tightly sealed eyelids. "There's no one else. I have to... stop the Master..."
John sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed her bangs back from her eyes. "Sssshhh princess, don't cry. It's alright." Buffy flinched, bolted upright, then snaked her arms around him. John patted her back and whispered against her hair. As she began to quiet, he gently lifted her chin from his shoulder and looked into her eyes.
"You alright now?" he asked, kissing her forehead.
She nodded, nuzzled into his chest, and drifted back to sleep.
Some time later, John laid her back down and got up to leave. Both Bobby and Logan were gone. When he reached his bedroom, he palmed the handle.
Suddenly, he noticed light seeping through three perfectly-spaced slits in the door, slightly left of center, right in front of his heart. He traced his fingers over them and sighed to himself, "Shit."