A Power in the 'Verse
Disclaimer: I own neither "Buffy: the Vampire Slayer" nor "Firefly." They're all Joss'.
Part II
How We Got Here
Book could not remember the last time he had been on a horse. He kept glancing over at River, concerned for her, both because of her injury and because he didn't think she had ever been on a horse. Despite that, she was doing fine. She seemed to have made an agreement with her horse that she wouldn't kick him and he wouldn't buck her. Book briefly wondered if River could speak to animals; she could do a lot of interesting things thanks to her capacities as a psychic and the Slayer.
How had he ended up here? When he had thought ahead as child, he would never—could never—have imagined this.
He had been an entirely normal child—smart but not overly so, aggressive but not overly so, religious but not overly so.
He had done well in school, able to learn just about anything if he put enough time and energy into it, which he didn't always do. His father wanted him to take over the family business and Book had never even considered an alternative. He dutifully did his work at school and learned about the business in the evenings. He went to church with his family every Sunday and pretended to be interested in what the Shepherd was saying.
He hadn't become truly interested in religion until his second year at the small college his father had sent him to. He had fallen in with a bad crowd. Not bad like Mal and his lot, stealing their way across the 'verse, but bad like Badger and his men, stealing and killing their way across the 'verse.
Book did small things for the gang, like shoplifting and assisting on a few shakedowns. The family business wasn't going so well and Book needed money in his pocket if he wanted to impress the girls.
He spent months with the thugs before he found G-d. He hadn't even been looking for G-d when he had found Him. It had been a routine shakedown. No one was supposed to get hurt—but someone did.
The man had refused to pay. At the time, Book recalled, he had thought the guy was just being cheap by not paying for their protection. Now, older and wiser, he knew how little those shop owners had and how much it cost them to pay off his band of thugs. One thing had led to another, and when all was said and done, the shop owner lay bleeding on the floor with a switchblade sticking out of his gut, blood gargling in his lungs and frothing out his mouth.
Book had run. He had been terrified. Looking back, perhaps he should have tried to help the man, but he knew now, as he did then, that the second that knife had plunged into the man's body, the man was dead. There was nothing he could do; so he ran.
He ran to the closest church and, if he were honest with himself, he had never left. He had blustered in like a man on fire, shaking and yelling, staggering over pews. The local shepherd had taken him in, throwing him a lifeline and caring for him. He had slept in the church, afraid to leave. Out of boredom he had turned to the Bible and found a comfort there that he had never found in those words before. A month later he had joined the seminary.
Life was good for him as a shepherd. He had a flock who admired him, a small-town church that was comfortable enough, and satisfaction with his occupation and his being. He had planned to spend his whole life there but our plans are always fallible—only His plans are flawless.
When the war came, most of his flock sided with the Independents, gearing up and going to war. From the research he had conducted after the war, he knew that most of them had died, some even in Serenity Valley. Perhaps they had fought alongside Mal and Zoe; Book always liked to think that.
He hadn't gone back to that church—he couldn't. Not after those men had died fighting the Alliance while he had joined them willingly enough. Yes, he was drafted but other men were drafted and refused to fight against their neighbors. He could have done that. Instead he let them make him into a soldier. Instead he became a killer for them. He became the very thing he had been running from.
He had been a damn good soldier and he supposed that the mixture of a shepherd and a soldier had been the factor that interested the Watcher's Council. Really, he had been perfect for them: He was a killer, a thinker, a reader, a caregiver, and so on. The perfect combination to become a watcher.
After the war ended, he spent a couple of weeks just drifting around, not knowing to where he was going, until two Council operatives had cornered him in a bar. He had been taken to their leader and the man explained about Watchers, demons, and the Slayer.
At first he had thought the man was crazy, but after being shown proof, he thought it was the most fantastic thing ever. Were demons and the Slayer any more crazy than angels and G-d? He had thrown himself into his watcher studies, absorbing information like a sponge. How could he not be eager to help the Slayer? He had seen this new occupation as a G-d-send. G-d had given him a new purpose in life. When one door closes another opens.
In plain words: He had been a sucker. He had accepted everything the Council had told him and had worshiped them for it. It was the closest he had come to idolatry since becoming a shepherd. All of that had come crashing down when he got his charge.
He had been promoted to full-time watcher more quickly than any other and he had thanked G-d for it. He still thanked G-d for it, but for different reasons now.
They had given him very little information: River Tam, aged 16, being held in an Alliance camp. That was all he knew. Putting his newly-acquired research skills to good use, he had found Simon. It required a lot of wheel-greasing and back-alley deals to get Simon the tools he needed to rescue his sister. Simon could never find out how little he had actually done and how much the good shepherd had done to save River. By the time they got her out, she was 17 and insane.
Despite this, Book tried to get close to her, to be her watcher. That first night on Serenity after River had been woken, he thought the jig was up. He knew he had sent his wave on an encrypted line but somehow Serenity's crew had picked it up; he had sent his first report to the Council, giving them the bare bones of the girl's situation, barely any detail at all, just enough to tide them over until he could send a lengthier report. He allowed himself to breathe a little easier when they discovered the Alliance agent aboard the ship.
His chest had tightened up again, however, when he had received a reply from the Council. They had read his report and found it unsatisfactory, due to the dearth of information and due to the content he did include. They had superciliously reminded him that it was the Slayer's duty to protect others. A girl in River's state could barely protect herself. A new Slayer would need to be Called. The short message had ended with an order: "Kill the girl and return to headquarters."
At that moment, Book had known that he would do everything in his power to protect the unfortunate girl. Turning his back on the Council, he had truly become River's Watcher, as he believed G-d intended for him to be. Not a Watcher in the sense that he trained her and sent her to die but a Watcher like some past Watchers who had cared more for their girls than for their jobs, watchers like Nicholas Hannigan, Rupert Giles, and Alexis Whedonovich.
Things had not been easy since then. They were eternally on the run from both the Council and the Alliance. One wanted to kill her and the other to experiment on her; he didn't know which was worse.
Glancing over at River, Book was surprised to see her looking listless. She was leaning her head against her horse's neck and her arms were hanging semi-limply at her sides. She looked exhausted and, glancing at the sky, Book could see why. It was nearly dark and they had been riding for hours while he was caught up in his memories. They would need to find shelter for the night and soon. River's brother must be worried sick.
Seeing a cave opening up ahead, Book called out to River, "We're going to stop here for the night. Are you alright?"
Snapping her head up, River looked at—into—him. "The stars are whispering to me: pss, pss, pss. They say that you have been keeping secrets."
"That's right, River," responded Book. "We'll talk after we get settled in that cave, alright?"
Nodding once, River climbed down off the horse with nearly unbelievable grace.
TBC
If you are liking this story, please review!