A Power in the 'Verse

Disclaimer: I own neither "Buffy: the Vampire Slayer" nor "Firefly." They're all Joss'.

Part III

Not Entirely Alone

"It's dark, Mal."

"I can see that, Simon," responded Mal exasperatedly. He knew the doc was worried about his sister but Mal hadn't done anything to her and didn't deserve to be annoyed as if he had.

"We should send out a search party," Simon urged.

"We did, we didn't find them," Mal reminded him. "We'll start looking again in the mornin'. Ain't nothing we can do now, seeing it's as dark as it is. Dong ma?"

"First thing in the morning?" asked Simon.

"First thing," placated Mal, a mite bit worried himself.

FIREFLYBTVS

After getting River settled, Book had gone in search of food. He didn't find much. He returned with some grasses he believed to be edible. He guessed they would find out.

Once they had finished their meagre dinner, Book had rechecked River's wound. It was healing. Although she was still not at 100 percent, she would probably only need a good night's sleep to get there.

As he bustled around the cave, he could feel River's unwavering gaze on his back. She was like a damned cat following its prey.

When she finally spoke, Book jumped, despite his training. "I heal well, better than you."

Sighing he turned to face her. He had been putting off this conversation for a long time. The poor girl had enough on her shoulders; she didn't need this too. "Yes, River, you heal better than I do."

"Not my brain, though. I'm moon-brained."

"You're not moon-brained, River. You just have a lot rattling around in there."

"I can hear thoughts, emotions; it's too loud," River clamped her hands over her ears and began to chant "too loud, too loud."

"I believe you are a psychic and a seer, River," explained Book, pulling her hands off of her ears so she would be able to hear him. "The captain calls you a reader, but I find that it amounts to the same thing. Slayers are always a little more receptive to others' internalizations and to prophecy, but I believe that whatever it was that the Alliance did to you enhanced that, to a painful degree."

"I'm the Slayer," said River. It wasn't a question but it wasn't really a statement either. It was a discovery, a revelation.

"Yes, do you know what that is?"

"I can't read you like the others. You're a fuzzy book."

"The Council taught me to block my mind from seers and psychics," responded Book.

"The Council: They're all black and red, swirling, angry, knives and swords..."

"River," cut in Book. "I am going to explain what the Slayer is to you in the same way it had been explained to every Slayer before you. Into every generation she is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness, to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer."

"There were so many," River moaned. "I can see them—feel them. They died."

"Yes, River, when one dies, another is Called."

"I know," she answered, confused by her own knowledge. "They are inside me, whispering to me. I thought it was ghosts driving me insane."

"The Slayer line runs through you now, River."

"And you're supposed to train me? To kill the monsters?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you?" she asked, almost accusingly.

"I meant to," confessed Book, wiping his hand across his face. "I planned to make you the best Slayer there could be but everything changed after I met you. You were so fragile, so hurt—less of a Yael and more of a Dina. I wanted to protect you; I still do."

"No protection," she said, almost violently. "No safety. The world closes in, tighter and tighter, choking me with barbed wire." Regaining her composure, River tilted her head as if there were a particularly puzzling riddle in front of her. "Why don't the other Slayers help me?"

"There are no other Slayers, River—just you."

"But there were. All together. An army."

"Yes," answered Book, although River hadn't stated it as a question.

"Where's my army?"

"Once, long ago, before humanity fled Earth, there was a corruption of the Slayer line," explained Book, feeling like one of those old fogey Watchers he had met who loved to tell stories of the olden days. "There was a Slayer named Buffy Summers. She died and a Slayer named Kendra was Called. But Summers didn't stay dead. She had drowned and a friend had resuscitated her, causing a fissure in the Slayer line."

"Buffy: a Slayer; Kendra: The Slayer," mumbled River.

"Yes, but although Kendra was the rightful Slayer, a part of the power still resided in Summers. Later, Summers and Faith … um, Lehane I believe, the Slayer after Kendra, had been in a hell of a war. They needed an army and had a powerful sorceress turn all the potential Slayers into real Slayers. It fractured the Slayer line into hundreds of pieces. Needless to say, it was untenable. Slowly, the Slayer population dwindled again; 100 years later there was just one again, as it should be."

"Just me," said River forlornly. "And them," she added, watching her hand tap her chest. "And you," she said, raising her head to make eye-contact with her watcher.

"Just you and me," agreed Book.

"I'm already a fighter: karate, jujitsu, judo, krav maga …" River trailed off, her mouth still moving but no sound coming out.

After nearly half a minute of this, her head snapped back up and she cried out, "They want me dead!"

"Who wants you dead, River?" asked Book, hoping River knew who was hunting them.

"The Alliance, the Council, demons."

"It's alright, River," soothed Book. "I'll keep you safe." And he swore to himself, yet again, that he would.

"What now?" asked River, in one of her brief moments of complete lucidity. In some ways these moments frightened Book more than her psychotic rambling moments; at moments like these River would get this intense, focused look on her face that was too driven, too blank—too dead.

"Now we kill whoever is trying to kill us," replied Book coldly and calmly.

"Not very preacher-like," mocked River in a sing-song voice.

"No," agreed Book, chuckling despite the heaviness that had descended over his heart.

"Who is it?" asked River avidly.

"I don't know," sighed Book. "Like you said before: 'the Alliance, the Council, demons?'"

"If it's the Alliance," posited River, "we run. Run just as fast as we can, to the middle of nowhere. They can't know where we are. It doesn't matter what Simon Says, he can't come with us. I made it dangerous; I make it dangerous. Run, run. Flow away like other rivers. Run."

"We're in the same boat if it's the Council behind this," agreed Book. "If either the Alliance or the Council knows that we are on Serenity, they will hunt down Serenity and kill everyone on her. The Council has a lot of friends spread around." Book again thanked G-d that, in that communique he had sent the Council upon first meeting River, he had not named Serenity.

Again with a frighteningly lucid gaze, River told him, "No power in the 'verse can stop me."

"Try to get some sleep; we'll hunt them back come morning."

TBC

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