A big round of thanks to LadyWinterlight from who BETA'd this chapter for me.

General Warning: Graphic Violence. Some scenes in this chapter got a bit cringe worthy. If you've made it this far you probably won't care, but, I thought It'd be courteous to give you a heads up.

A/N: While not involving the actual plot of the show, I will be featuring two characters from Grey's Anatomy for a while. As I said before, if you're unfamiliar, don't fret, just assume their original characters. For those familiar, this ties in around mid season two.

Chapter 11 - Slayer In Seattle

August 23rd, 2001 – 0440 Hours

Present - 7 Hours After Buffy's Resurrection

Seattle – Seattle Airport

Dr. Miranda Bailey paced, meandering in no particular direction, trying in vain to coax her legs back to life after the hours long flight. It was late, or early depending on your point of view, and there was still an ambulance ride and a twelve hour surgery to look forward to before sleep could come. But, tired as she was, exhausted even, she still had to bite back the smirk as her eyes lazily drifted towards her intern, Meredith Grey.

The hours of silence on her part had built the apprehension about upcoming punishments to a near intolerable level. The dread and anticipation of what would come having marinated nicely during the flight, leaving the young doctor's worry clearly written on her face. It was good to see the worry lines start to form on the attractive younger woman. The weathered look starting to creep through her flawless features was a far more suitable appearance for a surgeon. It gave Bailey a warm glow of satisfaction.

There was a reason she was nicknamed 'The Nazi.'

"We'll be back in a few minutes. And the ground crew will be along shortly. You don't have to hang around."

In her mind, Bailey rolled her eyes, her face remaining outwardly stoic. "I know the drill, soon as our ride's here, we're gone." She hefted the cooler towards the pilots, drawing their attention to the innocent looking, but clearly labeled insulated box protecting the human liver within. She was well aware there was little time to waste.

With a curt nod the men were gone, off to find sleep like she so desperately desired.

The organ harvest had gone smoothly; depressing as always, but smoothly. The duration of the flight had been uneventful, and other than the occasional - and very entertaining - groveling by an ever more nervous Meredith, quite boring.

Murphy, of course, had chosen this moment to make his appearance. The three hour flight having nearly doubled in length while the plane circled the airstrip, short exactly one set of deployed wheels from the number required to qualify as a landing and not a crash. The confines of the learjet had given a very disconcerting first-hand education of all the malfunctions 'small animals' could create. Stuck listening helplessly as the co-pilot conversed with the ground crew and engineers as they walked him through the manual override of a hydraulic something or another to force the required wheels to the ground. The same ground crew who should already be here, making sure this never happened again. Delays were unacceptable, and unlike most, she knew exactly how much the hospital paid for this Charter service.

Of course, now the ambulance that had been waiting for their arrival had been called away. Needed elsewhere as they loitered uselessly in the air, leaving them stuck until the hospital could send another. Deciding to apply some motivation she'd nearly pulled out her cell phone when a pair of men - presumably the ground crew - walked out of the blackness of a morning yet to see the sun and into the illumination of the hanger.

"You gonna fix this so it never happens again?" Bailey nearly growled, pointing her thumb over her shoulder towards the resting plane, while her eyes raked over the men. She could understand that it was late, early, less than ideal hours, but she still expected the charter company's employees to look the part. The almost amused glance they gave each other only served to raise her ire. "Something funny? I'm trying to save a man's life here! Do your damn job, and do it right, or I'll make sure we find someone that will." She quickly snapped the words.

She'd seen greater men cower beneath her icy glare. Seen them run, seen the the fear in their eyes. Instead, both men sniffed the air. Their expression twisting into a smile as emotionless eyes met her own. LIke they'd found something they liked, both men looking at her like she was nothing. It was unnatural, the emotionless eyes rising to met her own. In that moment she knew something was wrong, and the hairs rising on her neck agreed.

"One of you smells ... delicious." The younger of the men purred as the other nodded in silent agreement.

"What's going on? Who are you?" Meredith asked.

Bailey could see similar warning bells going off in her intern's head, the same ones in her own mind ringing loudly. Her body recognized something was very wrong, a deeply seated fear, primal, instinctively yelling at her to run.

Before she could react or speak, the men closed the gap. Over twenty yards gone in single long breath, a pair of mangled faces and yellow eyes staring intently at her now from mere feet away. Both taking a deep breath, as if knowing the simple act would unnerve her even more.

"Not her." The older man spoke calmly.

Bailey felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched two pairs of predatory eyes drift towards the younger, more attractive woman nearby. Her intern was a pain in the ass, but no woman deserved the fate their eyes promised.

"Meredith, run!" She threw her weight into the closest disfigured man, adrenaline masking the scent of horrid breath as she took him off guard, slamming into his gut. She could only hope to buy the time needed for Merideth to get away, to get help and return before their attackers decided to settle on an older target to quench their lust.

But she was Dr. Bailey, The Nazi, she wouldn't go down without a fight. With all her might she swung the cooler - and the late Mr. Jameson's liver contained within - towards the face of the other man.

As she felt it fail to connect, an impossibly powerful hand clenched around her neck.

For the third time she could remember Buffy's eyes fluttered open to a world filled with pain. Each time she was certain hell had done its worst, it found new and horrid sensation to inflict upon her. Her eyes opened enough to see her hands, the skin on both showing a bluish tinge as her entire body shook uncontrollably. The numbness she'd felt those first few peaceful moments of consciousness was long gone, overwhelmed by a thousand aches and pains as it felt like her body was trying to expel a surplus of needles.

A nearby scream broke the noise of her heart hammering into her ears. Her body jerked in surprise, the violent movement the last push needed to rip the sleeve of her somehow acquired jacket. As she was falling, her muddled mind finally realized that it had been the only thing keeping her from plunging out of the cubby where she'd stowed away.

The tumbling, graceless exit from the landing gear compartment was a far cry from the smooth entry she'd stealthily performed earlier. She had no idea how much time had passed, the cramped cubby apparently comfortable enough to find sleep she couldn't remember attempting. How sleep had even been possible will the ear shattering noise she remembered was a mystery. Sleep that had done nothing to quench the desire for more, just left her with a body full of aches and shivers and a demon pounding in her head.

"Slayer."

From the venom in the voice it was obvious she was interrupting. She turned her head, lazily letting it roll along the concrete until the peculiar sight came into blurry view. A horrid bloodied face just inches away from a blonde's neck while another woman was held midair from her own. The dark skinned woman too frantic in attempts to breathe to even notice her arrival while the other woman looked too wide eyed in shock to process anything.

Her mind told her to get to her feet, to run, continue fleeing into the blackness until it was safe to rest. But at the instant she sighted the men, something inside sprang to life. Something dark and vicious, something barely contained and begging to be set free, yearning and demanding blood and death.

She knew which voice had won when she felt her throat vibrate as a growl echoed in the well lit hanger. Her aches and pains began to fade as her body prepared itself for the fight, leaving sluggish and disobedient limbs to wrench her to her feet. Her mind again screamed at her to flee, but the other darker half of what she was, some part of her very essence, drove her to stay, had to stay, to watch them die; she needed them to die, to suffer. A feral smile crept across her lips. The presence within made her feel almost gleeful as images of pure, unfiltered and unrestrained violence flashed through her mind.

There was a flash of guilt as she pictured lifeless eyes staring back at her. The lives she'd taken already tonight. Whatever it was within that was driving her crushed the building regret ruthlessly. The sense of evil and wrongness rolling off these creatures was so intense that her gut clenched in disgust. A feeling similar to the town of evil, only magnified and focused to two singular points. These were vampires. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew, knew in her very soul.

These were vampires.

And vampires deserved to die.

Meredith could hear the sound of Dr. Bailey struggling somewhere behind her, just out of view. Her own head wretched painfully to the side by the vice like hand threaded through her hair. Another arm crushed across her breasts and arms, holding her so securely she felt like she was a child being held by their parent.

Grimly she recognized the sounds she was making, the muffled gurgling, the sound of someone trying and failing to breathe. It was a sound she'd become all too familiar with during her brief tenure as a doctor. The sound of someone on their way to whatever afterlife awated. And somehow she knew it was Dr. Bailey making that noise.

You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, even if I told you.

The words of her Aunt repeated in her mind. She'd laughed when she'd first heard them. Perhaps it had been the wine, or the tequila, or just that some of the seriousness in her voice had been lost over the telephone. But, somehow, in this moment, she had to agree. She wouldn't have believed.

Because, try as she might, she couldn't understand this. Couldn't make sense of what her mind was telling her, because it was obviously wrong. Wrong, because it was telling her was that she wasn't about to be raped, that her situation had become somehow far more dire. The deformed face and yellow eyes, the fangs currently embedded in her neck, that all of it belonged to a vampire happily slurping away on her blood.

And that was just crazy. Right?

She could feel herself getting weaker as blood flowed from her punctured carotid. She was a doctor, she knew how severe a rupture in that blood vessel could be. That if this continued she'd have only minutes to live.

Her confusion compounded when for no reason at all the thing – what she was certain was a vampire – stopped slurping, letting a jet of her own blood spurt into the corner of her view. Somehow her mind managed to find the waste of her blood offensive as she felt the vampire's entire attention shift to the young woman who'd literally fallen out of the landing gear of the plane, right in front of them both.

"Slayer."

There was an awe in his voice, mixed with a disdain to which she could currently relate. It was obvious what had happened as her mind tried to ignore reality, happily drifting off onto another tangent and far from any vampires. Yes, it was obvious, the problems with landing, the sluggish way the girl found her feet. It was remarkable she was even alive with the altitudes they'd reached. Merideth's mind raced as she listed off reason after reason, from hypoxia to hypothermia, why once again her mind was lying to her. That the girl in front of her should be dead.

As if on cue, the girl made it all of ten shaky steps towards them before tripping on her own feet, crashing to the concrete floor below. She'd grimly assumed the girl had just proven her correct, had an aneurysm or stroke, or one of the dozens of different ways a nitrogen bubble in your blood could kill you. Yet once again she could swear her mind was lying to her. Because not only did the girl stand up once more, but she could swear she heard a growl.

The vampire released her, letting her hit the ground like unwanted trash as her legs failed to find footing. Her hand instinctively clamped onto the wound on her neck, her eyes landing on Bailey who'd also been similarly discarded. Her eyes finding Bailey's, equally as shocked as the two battered doctors somewhat assured one another that they weren't, in fact, crazy.

The girl struck first, the helpless glaze in her eyes disappearing with a punch so fast and brutal all Meredith saw was the vampire skidding on the painted floor in the opposite direction. Her small form exerted such imposible force that she herself staggered backwards as Newton demanded.

The other vampire, looking wholly unimpressed, instead smirking smugly as he dove into the fight. The pair wasting little time before fiercely trading blows.

Buffy winced as a fist slammed into her ribs. With no fat or meat to cushion the fist, she felt the bone yield, the noise of an internal crack reaching her ears as it traveled through her skeleton. Only wirey sinew dutifully held the fragments of her ribs in place kept them from cutting even deeper into her lungs.

She knew she was outmatched. Even fifteen seconds into the fight she was spent, simply too rundown from the opening night in hell. Only adrenaline and primal rage were forcing her body to keep moving. She'd only seconds before the younger vampire gathered himself and rejoin the fight, before two on one made her struggle hopeless. She forced a strike from her left side, the muscles of her shoulder long ago crippled making the punch sluggish and underpowered. She'd known it was foolish before she'd even started, but feeling her arm grabbed she knew she'd pay for the mistake.

He was skilled, not wasting time or effort as he pulled her off center. Using the window of opportunity to slip neatly behind her, ripping her arm back forcing her elbow onto his knee as he continued to pull and twist. She let out a horse scream as she felt her elbow dislocate, the vampire adding a twist causing ligaments in her wrist to strain and pop. Slamming her head back mid-scream, she felt it connect, hard skull obliterating nasal cartilage already trying to dip towards her neck.

She wrenched her arm free just in time for the second vampire to arrive, returning the favor with a kick connecting solidly into her forehead. As she flew through the air, it was difficult to be glad that he'd hit one of the thickest parts of her skull. Her mind momentarily wandered during her short moment of flight, trying to piece together how she knew all of this. The landing instantly returned her focus to the fight as she tumbled across the floor, skidding into the nearest doctor with enough force to earn a grunt.

She knew she was going to lose, briefly wondering what happened when you died in hell. If you stayed dead, or woke once more, only to start it all over again? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Made her more determined than ever not to die, to not wake up trapped underground once more.

She could taste blood in her mouth. Her vision now even more blurry than before after her brain was bounced off the inside her head. It was just one more in the sea of other injuries to be ignored.

She wouldn't give up, couldn't just quietly embrace what was sure to come. Her lips twisted into a smirk as she saw a skinny pencil peeking out of a pocket in the doctor's coat. How, why, she knew these things she had no idea, but that tiny sliver of wood was all she needed to even the playing field. The presence within demanded blood and violence, victory at all costs. Lusted at the thought of causing as much death and mayhem as possible before her body physically gave out.

Meeting the wide eyes of the woman looking back at her she gave the only instruction she could.

"R..n." The words came out of her hoarse throat like a wheeze, but from the look on the woman's face she'd understood.

No sooner than she'd attempted the words, a vice-like grip seized the side of her neck, lifting her to her feet. She played along, keeping her muscles limp, acted the part of the half conscious victim, letting herself be moved like a rag doll as the younger vampire brought her face to face, practically salivating at her blood. She felt cool breath on her neck, a cold tongue licking the flesh just above the blood pulsing below. The vampire was so enthralled as he slid his teeth into creamy flesh, that he never heard the shout of warning from his sire, never noticed the pencil sliding between his ribs until it's withdrawal.

Buffy gave a feral smile as the vampire staggered back in surprise. The shock and disbelief written clearly on his face as his unlife ended in a cloud of dust. The responsible pencil clutched tightly in her hand as his sire let out an roar at the loss of his childe. The nasally accent from his broken nose detracting from its intimidation.

She tried to react in time, tried to dodge and move. But the sire wasn't as easily fooled as his dusty childe and she was beyond exhausted. The master vampire wasn't bothering to toy with her as he had before, wasting little time as fist after fist found their way through her blocks and slammed into her face.

One of the doctors seemed to have chosen this moment to find their courage, attacking futilely rather than attempting to flee. She'd no idea what they'd done to end up in this strange hell, but it was noble of them to try. The enraged vampire simply batted the dark skinned woman to the ground, but, in doing so, gave her the slightest of openings.

She lept towards the distracted vampire. Pencil-stake clutched tightly in her right hand aimed at his heart. Her wrist was seized well before it even approached his heart, the pencil ripped from her hand. But the small mass of her body carried through. A swing with her flailing left arm distraction enough to reach her goal. Her inner darkness practically bounced in joy as her teeth bit into the soft flesh of his face. Clamping down through flesh and meat, her teeth forced their way through the edges of his cheek, eye socket, and into the gooey nuget within. She felt the burst of foul fluid just as he ripped his head back in surprise.

She spat out the chunks of cheek and eyeball with a red smile, laughing at his surprise. That for a moment they'd traded positions in their never ending battle, that slayer had bitten a vampire in turn.

Before the last of the pieces of flesh had hit the ground his shock had given way to rage. Letting out a roar, his reaction was so fast she was still laughing as her body was slammed into the ground. The master vampire landed on top, straddling her, ragning down wild punches left and right as her head pinballed off the concrete. Her laughter finally silenced as her world turned to black.

Meredith watched, horrified, as Dr. Bailey was batted away like an annoyance, as both vampire and girl inflicted horrorid wounds on each other. She'd treated similar things before but she'd never actually witnessed them inflicted. Never heard the cries of pain, the 'splat' of impacting meat, or the 'pop' of a joint being destroyed right before her very eyes.

The pencil clattered to the ground, the sound muffled by a roar of pain and the wet slap of fists pounding into flesh. The vampire was so lost in his anger he never noticed, never saw her sneak towards him as his fists pounded into the girl's ruined face. She plunged the pencil through his heart from behind, taking advantage of his distraction. She was relieved she'd both missed any ribs, and similarly horrified at what she'd done. It wasn't until he burst into ash that she let out her breath, relieved she hadn't committed murder.

She could already feel the bruises forming as her hand kept pressure on her neck, still controlling the bleeding underneath. Her eyes met Dr. Bailey's before both sets drifted towards the girl who'd saved their lives.

One Day Later

Seattle – Seattle Grace Hospital

The world slowly began to emerge to her senses on more as she crept back into consciousness and, for the briefest of moments, she was back in heaven. The warmth of soft surroundings enveloping her, her body perfectly comfortable, at ease.

Beep.

The noise forced its way into her mind, grating on her senses as it collapsed the wonderful illusion her mind had painted. Once again feeling began to slowly creep into her skin. A steady build up until once again her brain was overwhelmed with touch and pressure, hot and cold. The experience was equally as horrid as the last time it happened. As if on cue everything else, each fracture, each bruise, each cut and scrape pronounced its existence, nearly making her cry out in pain.

Hell, she was still in hell.

Beep.

The grating noise of the beeping equipment repeated. Her mind was so much clearer this time, all the more vulnerable to horrid sensations assaulting her.

Finally relenting, she let out a groan of pain as silently as possible, taking care not to rouse attention. Once more, in a scenario which seemed determined to repeat itself, she had no idea where she was. But something in the depths of her mind already deeply disliked everything about her surroundings.

She concentrated on her breathing, working hard to tune out the electronic man trying to pound her brain to mush with noise alone. This was truly not what she'd expected from hell. Not that it wasn't living up to its name in horrid and unexpected ways, but it was decidedly less fire and brimstone than seemed appropriate.

Again she was left wondering where her thoughts had come from. The small moments of clarity where things made sense for inexplicable reasons. Each time lost once more in a sea of confusion.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she recognized the constant scratching of a pen on paper, the rustling of paper.

She wasn't alone.

The new sound attempted to compete with the non-stop beeping in its relentless desire to cause her agony.

Hell.

The presence was back, as dark and twisted as always, whispering soft words of encouragement to do the unspeakable to whomever was responsible for all this horrid noise.

Whoever was scratching away with that goddamn pen!

It would be impossible to use if it just happened to become lodged in their brain.

The second the thought crossed her mind she felt badly for even considering it. There was something wrong with her. Something very, very wrong.

Hell was driving her insane.

She silently let out a sigh of relief when the pen momentarily stopped, only for the intense crackling of paper to take its place, nearly making her visibly wince.

"How is she?"

Buffy clenched her teeth when the door closed with a thud from the new arrival.

"She's a damn mess that's how! Three broken ribs, sprained wrist, dislocated elbow, and a laceration running shoulder to back that's deep enough to hit bone in places. Add in the hypoxia, hypothermia, and a minor skull fracture and two concussions and she should be dead. Damn fool, hiding away in an airplane like that."

"She's definitely lucky to be alive."

"Luck?" The woman scoffed, "Take a look at this."

"Wrong X-ray Dr. Bailey."

"No, It's not. That's from this morning. Here-" There was another rustling noise, "this is from her intake scans yesterday."

There was a gasp as Buffy tried not to be unnerved that she'd apparently lost an entire day.

"That's not possible. This fracture's at least a few weeks old."

"Damn well shouldn't be; then again, someone weighing a hundred and five pounds as of this morning shouldn't be able to punch a vampire hard enough to send him flying through the air."

"We don't know-"

There was a 'crack' of a hand landing home on the back of a head.

"Vampires Grey. I figured with those two new holes hidden under the neckline of your sweater, you of all people would be the last one to play ignorant."

"At least your skin tone hides bruises, do you know how much concealer I'm wearing right now?" The woman sighed. "Fine … vampires. Do we have and idea what she is then?"

Buffy chanced opening her eyes. Just a tiny slit, enough to catch the shrug from the same shorter, dark skinned woman she'd seen last night.

"Look at her chart and you tell me."

No sooner than her eyes were barely opened she nearly cried out in pain as a beam of sunlight reflecting perfectly into her eyes.

Since when the hell did ... hell have sunlight?

"This has to be a mistake, that much adrenaline would kill you. This is from her intake? You ran the labs again right?" It was more statement than question by the tone of the younger woman. As soon as the sun was done trying to blind her she recognized the younger woman from last night.

Buffy caught the movement of a hand followed by another 'crack' and a yelp of surprised pain.

"No, I didn't run them again, not yet, and keep your damn voice down, or so help me, every single rectal exam in the hospital has your name on it for the next month. Did you really expect her to be normal?

"Then why'd you order the tests in the first place?"

"It's procedure Grey."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as the two noisily made their way out of the room. Now she was only being driven slowly insane by the machines still beeping away. She let her eyes fully open, carefully ducking her head into a thin line of shadow crossing her bed.

Hospital.

Where the word came from, she had no idea. Just one more thing she just seemed to know and, apparently, despise.

It was in fact daylight outside. And far from the burnt landscape and volcanoes she was pictureing in her mind, it looked exactly the same as everything else she'd seen thus far. Only instead of the blurry cityscapes, things were clear and crisp. Both mind and eyes free of the earlier fog that had plagued them.

Experimentally, she sat up. Even with the slow, measured movements the injuries to her back and ribs made themselves instantly known. Her head still spun slightly from the many times it'd been bashed into the ground. Each injury adding its own special twist to her misery.

Her entire body still burned with sensation, but she could feel the isolated pockets where things were obviously worse. Experimentally flexing her arm, she was glad to see at least some things had begun to mend.

As she was overcome with another dizzy spell, she resigned herself to playing the dutiful patient for the time being. Letting herself fall back into the bed she winced as stitches and partly mended bones protested. Her head fell in sunlight once again, blinding her eyes.

This was definitely hell.

Meredith let her boss guide the way towards wherever it was they were headed as both doctors continued down the hallway.

"She's just a kid."

Dr. Bailey nodded sadly, "Past puberty by the x-rays, maybe nineteen or twenty."

"Someone's going to notice things are off with her blood work pretty soon," Meredith noted. "Then they're going to assume it's wrong, then they're going to re-run the labs."

"It's what any responsible doctor would do."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing."

"What?!"

"There's nothing to be done. Not without raising suspicion."

"It's not right," Meredith sulked "She saved our lives. We both know as soon as someone notices, she's going to be studied like a lab rat."

"She's still a person. She has rights."

"Let's hope so, the police want to talk to her when she wakes up," Meredith warned.

"There's not much we can do about that," Dr. Bailey admitted, continuing down the hall into a small computer lab so seldomly used there was a fine layer of dust coating the chairs.

"We're not … doing … anything," Meredith tried not to shout. "Which is my point."

"Sit down, Grey."

"Why?"

"You graduated college, figure it out," Bailey growled.

... ... ...

"Research Grey, research. Now sit your butt down. You want to help the girl, here's a list of what I want you to search. Don't leave until you find something to explain all this or I'll suture that skinny ass of yours to the chair," Bailey ordered as she walked out the door.

"Have you slept yet?"

The words fell uselessly on swinging doors. She could probably guess the answer. The Nazi had a medical mystery, a vampire mystery, and a new lease on life after the near miss with the grim reaper. How could food and sleep possibly compare?

She sighed, sitting at a computer and turning it on, listening as the hard drive sluggishly spun itself to life. Looking down at the sheet of paper clutched in her hand she sighed again as she read the first few lines.

'Slayer'

She vaguely remembered the word at the very top of the list. Years of college, medical school, and she was about to spend the next several hours googling words straight out of a horror novel. Admittedly, she'd do it anyway when she got home; that is, after she'd slept in her own bed for the first time since the start of this two-day-long marathon.

She cursed the computer, the ancient machine deciding it couldn't function without the painfully slow process of updating itself over the hospital's equally antiquated internet.

She leaned back in the chair, her hand palming her phone nervously. Trying to talk herself out of taking a leap of faith in an attempt to get her questions answered.

You wouldn't believe the things I've seen.

The words of her Aunt, sort of Aunt, repeated in her mind once more. She knew, somehow she knew. The thought that had been nagging at her since yesterday finally refused to be ignored. A quick glance at the dusty CRT screen confirmed she had plenty of wait left before she could begin her task. Steeling herself, she dialed, smiling when she heard the young voice on the other end. Praying that this phone call didn't end with her calling the psych floor her new home.

"Hey Cassie, it's Mer."

Hours Later

It seemed like forever that she'd lain there. Hours upon agonizing hours where she moved as little as possible. Moving led to more touching and touching hurt. The uncomfortable feeling of fabric brushing against her skin sent tidal waves of information to overload her brain. Of course, the only partly healed gashes, bruises, and broken bones covering her body also encouraged her stationary waiting game.

Nightfall.

That's when she'd force her body to leave. The selected time giving both an anticipated reduction of staff and and the cover of darkness. Not to mention, precious time for her body to heal. She could honestly use a break before being thrown back into hell-lite, the discount resort of the river styx.

The waiting was torture. Her body was exhausted, but her mind yearned to be anywhere but here. Her stoic act of unconsciousness thus far had fooled everyone coming into the room. She silently cursed at the fiery star still blinding her, simply refusing to cooperate and descend below the horizon.

"She hasn't done anything detective!" She recognized the voice of the doctor. Dr. Bailey, she remembered, one of the women from her first night and again from earlier. It was nice to see at least someone wasn't out to get her.

She let out a silent sigh. From the voices she could hear outside she knew her time was up. She'd overheard bits and pieces as people came to and fro, learned the police wanted to talk to her. She knew what police were, another nugget of information mysteriously accessible. But why hell had police was another matter altogether. The only logical conclusion her mind had been able to find that this was in fact not hell in the traditional sense which simply confused her even more. Hell-Lite she'd dubbed the location of her current torment.

"Look Dr. Bailey, I don't really care about your assurances."

"We get that you like the kid," another voice added. "But the California Highway Patrol want her for questioning regarding a missing person, and stolen car. And by your and Dr. Grey's own admission, she stowed away on a your charter flight to get here. They don't just let that kind of stuff slide these days."

There's a California in hell-lite?

Buffy didn't really want to move, not yet. The warmth of the bed was a poor imitation of the comforts she'd been ripped from, but an imitation nonetheless. Moving hurt; if she held perfectly still, didn't move the fabric over her skin, the discomfort of the sensation was almost bearable.

"Yes, and she'd already been half beaten to death when she did. You catch the person responsible for that?"

"We can't comment on an ongoing investigation ma'am."

"Of course you can't." … … … "She hasn't been cleared by the hospital, she's not even awake yet."

"That's fine, we don't have to question her yet. We're just here to make she she doesn't run for it when she does."

"Have you looked at the injury report? She's not running anywhere, Detective."

"Crawling then. Look Dr. Bailey, I really don't care. California Highway Patrol are the ones with the hard on for this girl. She's wanted for questioning and deemed a flight risk regardless of injuries. She gets cuffed."

Buffy rolled her eyes behind closed eyelids as the door loudly slammed open, then closed. She was already in hell, hell-lite, wherever she was. Adding the confines of whatever a jail cell consisted of here held little appeal.

Whatever it was that was inside of her seemed to feel the same, just as violently opposed to the detective's plan. She recognized the signs as once more her body perceived a threat; the pain began to fade, her senses sharpening, her weary body filling with a nervous energy demanding release. She could hear each foot fall in slow motion as it landed. She'd already memorized the size and layout of the room, easily tracking all three of their positions as they moved.

The anger built with each moment they approached, intent on forcing their will on her. She wanted to hurt these men and she really didn't care how or why, simply for the violence of the act. Reminding herself that these weren't vampires, she worked to squash her rising bloodlust.

She heard the jingle of the cuffs as they were fastened to the bed rail. For a split second she thought about biding her time. Letting them think they'd won, leave her in peace until she decided to break the cuffs or the bed. Whichever came first. Somehow, she felt assured that this would, in fact, work.

The voice pressing in the back of her mind with an animalistic ferocity was having none of it. Instead, presenting disturbing thoughts she was finding harder and harder to disagree with.

Though Dr. Bailey would never admit it, the subtle implications of a potential murder at the young woman's hands stripped away at some of her reservations against restraining her. She didn't know what to do; not that this really mattered at the moment, she wasn't about to challenge the detective to a duel. Her scalpels, polished though they may be, just didn't quite compete with the glocks neatly holstered on their hips.

There was a bland tone from the heart monitor in the background. A simple notification that the established pattern had deviated.

Seconds later, the sole conscious detective was looking up from the floor. Just in time for a tiny fist to slam ruthlessly into his face. From the way his head jerked back from the blow, she figured neurology had a newly concussed patient headed their way.

It was startling how little noise she made as the young woman's lithe figure slid gracefully across the room. Just the slightest noise of skin on the hard floor keeping her movements from achieving perfect silence.

Looking into the hard green eyes, she couldn't help but shrink slightly as they studied her. Her once-savior coldly assessing whether or not she was a threat. Bailey prayed the girl wasn't the criminal the detectives implied.

The fight she'd witnessed last night had seemed evenly matched, if even slanted against Jane Doe's favor. This, two adult men, she'd made look like child's play. Standing mere feet away, she had little doubt that if 'Jane' decided that she wanted her dead, there was little she could do about it.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as the blonde put a finger over her mouth, giving the universal shushing motion requesting silence. She nodded dumbly in agreement, barley remembering the girl slipping from the room.

The whole process was executed so quietly, the nurses outside were none the wiser when another patient joined the traffic in the halls.

Buffy grimaced at the taupe walls and polished white floors of the endless hallways. Perhaps this was a maze, a special torture of hell devised just for her. She'd been conscious only a few hours and she'd already confirmed she hated hospitals an indescribable amount.

Clothes.

They were currently at the top of her list, one of her arms currently occupied with restraining her gown to avoid giving a random passerby a free show. Another flash of anger surfaced, realizing that at some point she'd been liberated from even her most intimate of coverings.

Subtly checking room after room for what she was after, she was once again reminded that nothing made sense here. Example after example of doctors caring for their patients was slowly eating away at her assumptions. She was fairly sure hell didn't have doctors, and if it did, the care they would provide would involve significantly more chains.

Everything from her first night was a confusing haze of pain and fear.

Hell.

As she glanced into another door, the group hung surrounding a white coat chipped away further at her reservations. Hesitantly accepting that this was perhaps not hell, or even a budget variety.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Not that it mattered, she was here, wherever here was. And it seemed there was little she could do about it.

She'd been wandering the halls for what seemed like a lifetime. The rush of her latest fight was fading, every pain and ache slowly resurfaced bit by bit with each step she took. Her stomach finally joined the fray, rumbling in protest.

With an agitated shove she pushed open yet another door a bit more forcefully than was necessary, rewarded, finally, with an empty locker room and a busted door.

Minutes later she was clothed. Clad in a mixture of whatever she could find that fit and the standard issue scrubs she'd frequently seen. It left much to be desired, but all her bits were covered, and nothing was dragging on the floor. The baggy clothes also nicely hiding the various bandages she was sporting.

There was a triple beep over the intercom, followed by a nasally, garbled voice. She'd been too busy gripping her head in pain to actually listen. The horrid frequency of the speakers did nothing to help her headache. Her brain still throbbing, feeling ten times too large from repeated introductions to concrete. Even so, she could guess what was said as she nervously watched a security officer rush obliviously past her.

Her disguise passing muster, she felt rather smug as she spotted an exit sign. The painfully bright sunlight streamed through the glass door below confirming freedom.

Her smugness vanished as she found where her security officer friend had been in such a hurry to get to. She could hear the pitter of feet in the distance behind her, moving with purpose and presumably closing in. Options removed, she put on her best smile and continued forwards, outwardly appearing as natural and unconcerned as possible. Of course, the bruises still shading half her face did little to help her cause.

Mere feet from freedom Mr. Security's body went stiff in recognition. Apparently not one for peaceful resolutions, his hand began moving towards his side. Her body flared in protest as she accelerated, darting the last few steps. By the time she reached him the pain had faded, another rush of adrenaline letting her body react without constraint.

The muzzle of his gun attempted to track her head but, surprised and unprepared, he was simply too slow for the burst of agility. She heard the crunch of fingers and 'pop' of wrists as the weapon and hands were turned round with inhuman strength. The weapon now gripped by four hands, the barrel pointing directly at the man's brain, his eyes comically wide. A deeply disturbing part of her was curious, busy imagining graphic images of brain matter and hair coating the opposing wall. The voice in the back of her mind fueling her thoughts as it whispered encouragement, urging her to move the trigger the tiniest fraction of an inch.

"Stop, please!"

Meredith breathed a measured sigh of relief when the girl remained still, frozen. Afraid she'd been a split second from seeing something she was certain she'd never be able to unsee.

She'd taken a guess at where Jane Doe would go and gotten lucky. Hoping to sneak her out of the building before the path of destruction that was forming around her grew just a bit bigger. Judging from the puddle of yellow fluid spreading from one of the man's shoes, she'd already at least partly failed on that account.

Now she just prayed she'd not doomed herself. She was fairly certain the girl wouldn't hurt her. That she was was just reacting. The cops had threatened her, the guard had threatened her just now. Each one disabled but left alive. She'd left Dr. Bailey untouched earlier, and as far as Meredith knew, not harmed anyone else after. The only thing that didn't fit that pattern were the vampires from last night. Having specifically gone out of her way to not only prevent them from killing either herself of Dr. Bailey, but actively killing one and maiming another instead of running away. She was pretty sure the girl had no intentions of harming her. Just as long as she didn't present a threat, probably.

Exactly the confidence one wants when facing down a loaded gun.

"Please, don't kill him," Merideth pleaded as gently as she could.

There was a pause before Jane ripped the gun from his hands. The heavy slide of the pistol crashed into his skull an instant later. She cringed as his eyes rolled up, his body going limp and crashing onto the damp floor. That made for the third head trauma patient added to the carnage this afternoon.

She closed the gap between them, slowly, moving as steadily as possible. Watching as the girl grew more uneasy with each step, her own eyes darting between green orbs and the gun still clutched in hand but thankfully pointing elsewhere. Glancing down the hall, making sure they were alone, she finally committed to what she knew she had to do.

"I'll get you out of here," she announced, extending her hand towards the girl.

There was hesitation, the mind behind those green eyes warily studying her.

"You really gonna make a break for it without a car and wearing those shoes?" Meredith asked, trying to make light of the situation. Knowing how little those would likely slow her down. "Besides, you already stole my shirt." She gestured towards the women's mismatched clothes. "You might as well let me give you some pants that actually match."

There was a long pause as green eyes studied her intently as their intensity seemingly tried to pry answers from her very soul.

"You saved my life. Please, let me help you."

If she wasn't so terrified, she might have laughed when Jane Doe's stomach rumbled loudly. Scared as she was, a smile still crept across her lips. "Hungry?"

Sunnydale, California – St. Mary's Cemetery

"Here, stop here!" Sam screamed in excitement.

Jack dutifully pulled his truck to the side of the road, "You sure?"

"Yes Sir, I'm s-"

"Ah-Ah-Ah," Jack cut her off "We're on vacation Carter, quit with the sirs." If he was going to spend his entire impromptu vacation making sure Carter stayed out of trouble he was at least going to pretend they weren't working.

"Yes sir, Col-, Jack." Sam struggled to find the right word.

"Very good. Now, you sure we're here?"

She nodded, not bothering to look away from the beeping dodad she was currently fascinated with.

"Cause we've been over this before."

"Jack," she paused awkwardly after the word. "The readings here are the strongest I've seen yet. And with the decay rate I've been able to piece together from the last few hits, this is definitely the place. These events have obviously been happening for a while, our instruments were just never sensitive enough to actually catch them before."

" 'I'm sure,' would have sufficed," Jack dryly replied.

"I told you, you didn't have to come."

"Sure I did." He cracked the door, relieved to be free from his truck once more as his knees popped in protest. It'd taken a solid day of driving to get here. They couldn't just fly of course, noooo, Carter had to bring her toys. Toys that no one felt willing to explain to airport security. Not to mention the paper trail neatly documenting them disobeying a direct order. One explicitly stating not to do exactly this.

There would be a very red faced General Hammond if they were caught. Somehow he just didn't see, 'We took a wrong turn,' working as an effective excuse.

"Lead the way, you got the thing making the noise."

He tried not to think about the magnificent view of her backside as he followed. The BDUs they practically lived in on base just didn't have that snug fit like the jeans wrapping beautifully around her toned thighs.

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts.

"Stop!"

His head shot up, embarrassed to note that even subconsciously his eyes were taking liberties they shouldn't.

"Stop! You're contaminating it!"

Across the graveyard, Dawn froze after one last swipe of her foot, finally finished after hours spent cleaning up the mess of her sister's former grave.

A/N: I'm not as diligent keeping the fanfiction . net version of this story current. If your waiting for an update, I'd recommend visiting Twisting The Hellmouth - tthfanfic . org and checking there. It's the primary location where I post this story which is a work in progress and it's a huge pain to keep more than one site up to date if I make revisions. The TTH version also include graphics, and links to the Google docs for suggested edits.

A/N: Apologies to any doctors out there. I'm sure I butchered a few things in this chapter. Please correct me on any too glaring to be ignored. I've seen Hollywood butcher plenty of science over the years, I understand your pain.

Reviews encouraged. If your going to be critical, at least make suggestions on how to fix whatever it is you don't like.