Slayers, Vampires, and Genetically Engineered Oh My!
Disclaimer: Joss Wheadon owns Buffy; Cameron, Eglee, and the Fox guys Dark Angel
Chapter 6
Giles looked down at the steady rise and fall of his Slayer's chest, absently cataloguing the unnatural rhythm, wondering what in the world he was going to do. She was speaking gibberish now, and even what she had told them earlier when she was coherent enough didn't make sense.
Now, everyone was looking to him, the Watcher, for answers and in this instance he didn't have any.
Jenny was the first to crouch down beside him, seeming to know instinctively that he needed her presence, her scent nearby. Waiting. Waiting for him to give them some cue or sign or…or something. Until then she'd just be here for him, for Buffy.
Xander and Willow huddled together close, but not too close, not wanting to anger Giles or get in Buffy's airspace, mindful of the Watcher's occasional bouts into what they termed 'Ripper-time'. Giles was looking very grim and Ripper-y by the moment and they didn't want to be on the receiving end of a Ripper induced anger backlash.
They all just kind of hung around their fallen Slayer, their unofficial leader, worried at this sudden weakness in a girl who didn't seem to have any. She had very nearly collapsed onto the cot Giles kept in his office and then she started to shake.
Huge, body bowing, spine snapping, teeth gritting spasms tore through her petite frame, and the feeling of helplessness enveloped the concerned spectators. Sounds like soft, pain-filled whimpers came through her throat, and her face was contorted with pain and furrowed in her agony, eyes squeezed shut.
"I thought the medicine was supposed to help her," Xander voiced his concern first, finding his voice, though quivery.
"We can't let Snyder see her like this!" Willow suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of the person who terrorized and demoralized everyone in the school from staff and faculty to students.
Why a man who detested adolescents chose to become a principal where he would come into contact with those he loathed was beyond anyone's comprehension.
Giles and Jenny looked up quickly and Giles was up and on his feet, suddenly gripping the two upright students by their arms and ushering them away and out of his office. Jenny stayed put by some unspoken understanding, which seemed to be an adult only thing, as the two found them in the library proper and facing a dauntingly short Principal Snyder.
Before the diminutive educational facilitator could do more than voice whatever dirge sprung to his mind, Giles cut his and the two adolescents protests off.
"I have told you two time and time again that if you wished for more 'modern' methods of researching for your reports than you should visit Ms. Calendar down the hallway and quit pestering me with all that technological riff-raff. I also warned you about dawdling before class, thank heavens it's only the two of you…ah, Principal Snyder, what an unusual surprise. If you would wait just a moment, I am in the process of encouraging these young reprobates back to class where they belong for the moment."
Giles hoped that Buffy's two accomplices would get the hint and leave before they aroused Snyder's already permanent case of suspicion, though from the bewildered and almost hurt looks on their faces they didn't. Oh, well, they'd have to forgive him later.
Willow was right; Snyder couldn't see Buffy like this or there would be some hasty and awkward lying to get out of that mess.
He gave Willow and Xander a not so subtle nudge toward the door, his look a mix of stern admonition and worry. Thankfully, Willow got the hint before Xander, and mumbled some nonsensical excuse, grabbing Xander and making a quick exit as the bell was ringing to announce five minutes before tardiness.
"I'll never understand why you allow yourself such close contact with those cretinous creatures," Snyder commented with a hateful sneer in the direction the two students had exited.
His forehead puckered into a frown as his eyes narrowed in thought. Giles was quick to distract him.
"They have their uses on occasion, just not when they babble on about 'the Net' or the telly," Giles waved a dismissive hand. "Give me my books and texts over those corrupting contraptions any time. Can I do something for you, Principal Snyder?"
"Where was the other one, the troublesome one, Summers?" Snyder fairly spat. "She's usually in the thick of things with those two."
"I wouldn't know, she wasn't with them when they came in, and like you said, she's usually right in the thick of things," Giles agreed, inwardly cringing as he knew there was more than one truth to his words.
He only hoped that Snyder would leave soon; having a convulsing student he just said hadn't been in the library yet discovered in his office would be difficult explaining. On some instinct, he knew that it would be very bad for Buffy, who had kept her seizing as a secret for a reason. If Giles was honest with himself, he knew that that girl always had a reason for everything she did, every secret she held. He would not betray her.
"Hmm…" was all the principal spoke, before heading toward the double doors.
"Oh, and Rupert," the short man turned to look at the nervous librarian. "If you see Ms. Summers, tell her I want to see her in my office."
"Of course."
Giles assurance fell on a set of swinging closed doors, so technically, he had never agreed to anything Snyder had said. With that loophole in mind, Giles shot to his office, closing the door behind him.
Jenny looked up at him with absolute worry on her face. One hand was in holding on to part of Buffy's arm. She looked like she was calming down somewhat, her spasms not as deep, nor was she shaking so uncontrollably.
"I wouldn't get so close, Jenny, or hold on. Slayer strength could harm you, you know," he wiped his glasses nervously.
"Of course."
Jenny moved away somewhat reluctantly, staring down at the petite blond, body rocking on the cot.
"My God, Giles, what's wrong with her?"
"I don't know, Jenny, I don't know."
"Is she whimpering and growling?" Jenny cocked her head to one side, frowning as she listened, hearing the soft sobbing keens and hissing growls from the teenager.
"I do believe she is," Giles' brows arched in some surprise. "Perhaps she is a having a nightmare. With all that she has to face and has, I wouldn't be surprised if they are not exactly conducive to restful sleep."
Jenny stared at him like he'd pulled a hydra and grown another set of heads.
"What?"
"You are so morbid," Jenny shook her head at her boyfriend, even as she admitted that he was probably right. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what would make the Slayer whimper. Or what would make her growl.
"Monster!" the man howled, clutching the hand that was now gushing blood like one of those old time horror movies. The sickly fascinating thing about it was that each beat of his heart sent a new spurt shooting straight out.
"Restrain her! Restrain her!"
Men dressed in black fatigues and bristling with weaponry poured in like cockroaches coming out of the woodwork, bringing weapons to bear on the little dervish currently causing such havoc.
'Buffy' was covered head to toe in the blood of her adversaries, dark eyes flashing fury and her bloodied lips pulling back to bare her teeth in a fierce snarl, her fighting stance wary, ready, and protective.
There was a still form, just as small as she, limply laying at her feet, identifiable as an X5 soldier, a male from the looks of it. He was beaten, bruised, and his chest barely rose and fell, body shaking with the effort to breathe.
It was obvious that he had fallen afoul of some of the more…exuberant guards, but there was a strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy in effect, a policy that had saved the guards from the wrath of the Colonel for several years now.
However, it looked that their reign of terror had met its match. The guards belatedly realized that the X5's, particularly of Unit 2, were very much more protective of each other than previous series, and they made no bones about it when one of their own was in trouble.
A sound like a deep, feline growl issued out her mouth, the sound more suited on a full grown lion, tiger, or leopard, not this tiny slip of a thing. She warned the rushing men to stay away from her fallen comrade, crouching down and seeming to not care that she had bit off the tops of two fingers and part of another on the one guard, permanently handicapping the guard if he couldn't get the severed phalanges reattached soon.
"Cease and desist!" the TAC commander ordered the little girl, and he tried not to flinch when she turned those feral eyes on him.
It was a look he never hoped to see again. There was an untamed wildness there yes, but there was also a cold, clear intelligence peering back at him. An intelligence that said she knew exactly what she did, what she was doing, and she didn't care. His weapon suddenly felt like a ton of lead, and his hands iced over, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The soldier in him could understand her motives. One of her own was under attack; defend him and the Unit by any means necessary. Never leave a man behind. Never turn your back on a comrade. It was the code that all military men lived, breathed, and ate; it was the code that bound them together and kept them alive just that much longer to see the next mission.
The commander was seeing that code defended and uplifted with the utmost devotion and coupled with an animal's passion and defiance to protect the Pack.
"Cease!" he repeated, bringing his taser up to bear.
Her gaze never wavered, even as she was being surrounded, but the commander knew she was more aware of them all, their positions, their numbers, and their armament better than they did themselves. She was ready, and she wouldn't move, unless provoked.
Of course, one of his men was stupid enough to do just that.
'Buffy' whimpered softly under her breath, even as she knew it was useless and unbecoming of a soldier. Solitary was small, cramped, and very, very dark, completely devoid of all light, sound, or life. Even with being able to see in the dark, she still needed at least some smidgeon of light in order for the night vision to kick in.
There were only four slits for ventilation, two small, thin openings each on the port and starboard bulwarks. The Box as it came to be known as was a small enclosure eight by eight by eight. Six-inch spikes jutting out from the walls and ceiling took much of that room up, even on the door, forcing the person locked in to stand very still and in the center of the room.
Bits of granite, glass, nails, wire, and wood splinters were cemented in the walls and jutting out of the deck, cutting into tender flesh if you leaned or stood wrong. Since you were invariably barefoot when tossed in, your feet were torn to shreds within seconds, and 'Buffy's' 'brother' Ben had nicknamed the corridor leading to Solitary 'the Dark and Bloody Way', an apt description if a little melodramatic.
'Buffy' shifted, hissing slightly as a particularly sharp piece of something pierced her foot, and tried her hardest to stand still. She'd been in Solitary confinement for a while now, she didn't know how long. She'd been unconscious when she woke up, the result of having been tasered by over ten pairs of tasers.
She'd apparently been hauled straight to Solitary; she could feel the itch of dried blood flaking on her skin, the metallic twang in her mouth, on her tongue, down her throat, its scent nearly as overpowering as its taste. Another indication she'd been there a while was the incessant pressure on her bladder that she needed to relieve herself.
She couldn't help the groan that came out her throat at the throbbing headache and basic feeling of yuckiness she felt, a set of symptoms she associated with being tasered. It was never a good thing in her short but eventful experience.
Against the rising sense of despair and loneliness, 'Buffy' felt a strong, mounting anger develop within, remembering the scene she had come across that had started her being here in the first place. They were good soldiers, they followed orders, executed them with precision and timeliness, even the Colonel said so last week! So why were they beating and whipping on Cypress, X5-222.
So what if he was a little more klutzy than the rest of them and fell out of trees? That was no reason for them to do what they did. And Cy just let them, because he was a good soldier, and he was ordered to not fight back, so he didn't.
'Buffy' hadn't been under any such inhibition and seeing her brother writhe on the floor in agony while the people who supposedly were there to protect and guide them hurt him…well, that had done it. Something snapped within:
Pack
Brother
Unit mate
Danger
PROTECT!
Lash out!
ATTACK!
Defend
On pure instinct she had rushed to Cy's defense just as one of the officers brought the butt of his rifle down on his head. She could hear the snap! and thud as something in him broke and when he fell to the ground, he didn't get up. Such rage filled her and with an inhuman cry of challenge, she struck.
She made them pay for every bruise, every cut, every injustice paid upon her unconscious brother, not hesitating to snap arms, break legs, throw these adult men into walls, or even bite their fingers off. There had been a primal satisfaction using her teeth to sever the fingers of the man who had delivered the last blow to Cypress, to taste his blood upon her tongue, smell his fear, pain, panic.
'Buffy' shifted again, this time not even feeling the pain in her lacerated feet, as she recalled the new word the hated man had screamed at her.
Monster.
Was she a monster? She thought she was a soldier, an X5, transgenic, member of Unit 2, under the command of her Biggest Brother Zack, X5-599.
What was a monster? Did a monster defend her pack, her fallen brother? Did a monster attack those who attacked the innocent, used whatever tools or body parts available to protect those who could no longer protect themselves?
If so…then so be it. She would be a monster, and she would be proud of it.
"I am a monster," she hissed out in proud defiance, bringing herself to attention, chin raised and shoulders rolled back.
Buffy groaned as she came to, her head splitting. For a moment, she was back at Manticore, stuck in Solitary with a taser induced headache for daring to defend her so called 'brother' Cy from the abuse of the guards, and she had a brief moment of fear and hate.
The musty, papery scent of books invaded her nostrils, along with that of wood varnish, and the familiar, comforting scents that she quickly identified: Giles and Jenny were the most recent, and the fainter but still strong hints of Xander's Old Spice and Willow's lilac perfume.
"Giles?" she rasped, not bothering to hide how shaky she felt, no pun intended.
She could hear a startled exclamation, and then before either of them could speak, her unspoken question was answered as another tremor hit her body, rendering her speechless for the moment. It was the strongest shudder in a while, lingering, as if a last ditch effort just to let her know it was still there.
"Oh," she gasped, opening her eyes suddenly in response, and instantly regretting that decision. Her eyes were still a bit sensitized, and she groaned, raising an unstable hand to weakly shield her eyes.
"There, there, take it easy now Buffy. Everything's going to be…okay."
Buffy couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at that. She could just imagine the look on her Watcher's face, the nervous little twitter, messing around with his shirt cuffs and glasses. He really was sweet, the nicest man she'd ever met, and that included a whole passel of foster parents and social workers, and a former but now deceased first Watcher.
And the really neat, frightening, and humbling thing was, he actually cared about her, and she found she cared about him too; realizing that his opinion of her and what she did really mattered to her. The thought that he might not understand her, or her reasons why, for keeping this big of a secret from him, about who and what she was…it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
"Well, you're smiling, so that's a good thing."
If she could have, Buffy would have laughed at the pure relief in his tone, despite him trying to hide it. He would have succeeded if she hadn't been trained to pick up little things like that.
"Yeah," her voice cracked. She coughed, and shuddered again, but the seizing seemed to be on its last leg and almost finished. For that Buffy was extremely grateful.
"Here, here's some of your water. Can you sit up, do you need me to help?"
Buffy finally opened one eye slightly and peeked up at him, noting that she wasn't as sensitive to light as previously, and opened both eyes further. She nodded, giving her assent for him to help her up.
Despite his nervousness, Giles managed to help Buffy into a sitting position, being careful not to jar her too much, or be too awkward. Her skin was probably sensitive as well, seeing her reaction to the dim lighting of his office and the littlest sounds. She sat up on the cot, leaning against the wall, the occasional shudder rippling through her body like she was shivering from cold.
"Are you cold? Hot?" he couldn't help asking as he passed her bottle containing the remainder of her water.
"Fine," she spoke after taking small, cautious sips. She sounded more like herself, but still a bit faint.
Giles was struck by the amount of weariness in her gaze. It was a look he'd seen in trauma victims and war veterans, former Watchers who had trained, dealt with, and fought by their Slayer's side, seeing all sort of evil. Somehow, he doubted that a mere year and a half of Slayerage would have given her this look so quickly. No, this look had a deeper more well worn feel to it, as if it and Buffy were well acquainted long before she was the Chosen One.
"Is Jenny teaching now?" she asked in a little girl's voice, and it tore Giles' heart to hear his strong, smart aleck Slayer sound so helpless and childlike. Despite her youth, there was nothing childlike about this Chosen One.
"Yes, she had a class to teach. Willow is in it, and Xander is…well, wherever Xander goes at this point in time. So for now it's just you and me," he gave her nervous smile.
"Oh, and by the way. Principal Snyder would like to see you at your earliest convenience."
"Oh, joy," Buffy muttered while nursing her water carefully. "I'd rather face the Nomilies than talk to that arrogant prig," she mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Oh…uh, I said I'd rather face the Master all over than talk to him," she ad-libbed, blushing slightly she'd been so careless, and knowing he wouldn't have understood her even if she repeated it aloud.
"Yes, he does seem to inspire that reaction in people, now doesn't he?"
"That is the understatement of our generation."
She was so tired, she just wanted to curl up, and sleep the day away. She couldn't help the yawn that escaped, or the droop as her head gradually started to lower in time with the arm holding the empty water bottle, sighing.
"So tired," she yawned again, even as she felt Giles' helping hands encouraging her back down to the cot.
"Shh…it's all right Buffy. Get some sleep. I have your back."
'It's okay, baby sister. We're soldiers, we protect our own. I have your back.'
With that sweet note, Buffy drifted off into more peaceful dreams.
Okay, y'all. Which X5 should Buffy be? Jondy, Vada? Technically, those are the only two (and dark haired) Manticore 'sisters' who aren't Max that we never really knew what happened to or met on Dark Angel. I know in the book Before the Dark by Max Allan Collins that Lydecker had shot Vada three times while attempting to capture her, and I heard rumors about the Eyes Only Dossier that said Jondy was dead (NO! too many good stories involving Jondy for her to be dead!). So which one do you think I should make her? And if you say Max I'll sic my muse on you...he's still an unnamed stuffed red dragon and feeling the lack of love here. So if you have any ideas just add them to your reviews!
Reviews mean more muse! More muse means more chapters! Review, review, review!