Title: Let the Black Waves Roll
Author: Jmaria
Rating: FR-15
Disclaimer: I do not own: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Dark-Hunters (Glee or Supernatural)
Summary: This is what happens when a Watcher of average abilities is forced into tight quarters with a Bear who's faced numerous heartaches. Sanctuary will never be the same.
Words: 1,890
A/N: If you've read Resurrected Our Thoughts, you've noticed the hard-on I seem to have for this pairing. She's not strong or magically-inclined. She's a bit silly and angry at times. Remi never speaks unless he's issuing a death threat. I made them extra broken in order to pull them together. (Which took some effort on her part - his not so much. Kenyon broke him nicely for me.)

Let the Black Waves Roll
Something is Horribly Wrong

"You're gonna give me a lot of painkillers, aren't you?" Kit's voice wobbled as the pain radiated up her arm.

"No."

"But, the pain," Kit blinked up at him.

"Won't kill you."

"Have you had your shoulder dislocated?"

"Suck it up, Watcher."

"If you have any more painkillers, you'll OD and die," Aimee, Remi's younger and only sister rolled her eyes at him. "Which is what my brother is trying to say."

"Pain or death," Kit nodded. "I think that's an exaggeration."

"How'd you get to be a Watcher?" Aimee frowned at her.

"Nepotism. After a fashion," Kit shook her head. "My BFF is the head of the Council's sister."

"The Summers girls," Aimee narrowed her eyes at Kit. "Makes sense."

"Yup. Crawford's being forced to retire, and his three slayers are located around New Orleans," Kit sighed. "I was sent here to basically break an old man's heart."

"Dagmar Crawford?" Aimee glanced up at Remi, who'd stiffened beside her.

"Yeah, why? Is he making a nuisance of himself? Please tell me he's not, because I'm already here to fire him. Don't make me reprimand him on top of that."

"How old is he?" Remi barked out.

"63, why?" Kit glanced between the two of them.

"He's a well preserved 63 year old man," Aimee muttered darkly from the doorway, her head craning out into the bar.

"He's here now?" Kit pushed unsteadily to her feet.

She wobbled a bit, stumbling over her own foot and into Remi's side. Dislocated shoulder first of course. She bit her lip at the sudden and still painful throb, but her anger propelled her to the doorway.

"He told me that he couldn't meet up with me until the middle of the week! He said that he was busy with his girls on retreat -What the fuck is that?"

Aimee shook her head at Kit's words. Because now Remi was also glowering out at the bar, where the very sprightly Crawford was doing a body shot off a drunk co-ed. Kit's body shook, but right now she couldn't tell if it was from anger, suspicion or pain. It was up for grabs.

"Where the fuck are my three slayers?" Kit glowered out at him, as if he could hear her through the throbbing music or the chattering crowd.

"Witchling," Remi muttered under his breath.

Crawford's head shot up, nervously glancing in her direction. His eyes seemed to recognize her, because they bugled in fear and anger. Kit saw him trying to extract himself from the newly-legal crowd of females around himself and make his way to the door.

"I need him detained," Kit pushed out from the doorway, around the bar and tried to stop him herself.

Turned out that she really needn't bother. All it took was Remi muttering something into his blue-tooth-y think to get the other Weres manning the door to stop Crawford.

"C'mon, Kitten, it's time to find the answers to your questions," Aimee herded her back to the other half of the building.

"I've already got a partial answer," Kit said thickly. "I can feel it."

"Feel what?" Remi demanded.

"He's a leech," Kit spat, digging her hand into her pocket for her phone. Xander Harris answered on the third ring.

Dagmar Crawford was restrained in a small townhouse a few blocks away from Sanctuary. His tidy little townhouse, in point of fact. Kit glowered down at him.

"How'd you do it, Crawford?" Kit demanded again.

"I don't know what -"

"Where's Katarina Reyes?" Kit cut him off. "Where will I find her body?"

"I don't - "

"Because I already found Tanya Banks and Letty Mayne. Because you already siphoned the life out of Tanya. She was thirteen," Kit snapped at him. "You were meant to protect her, to watch out for her!"

Kit shoved her phone under his face. The shriveled corpse of what should have been a thirteen year old girl looked closer to ninety. Because she'd been orphaned, Tanya had been the only one of his three charges in his immediate care.

"I was offered retirement by the old regime, a healthy payment for my years of service," Crawford spat, rage boiling out at her. "And your bitch of a slayer ruined it all! She stole everything from me -"

"So you decided to get even on three girls who thought they could count on you to help them?" Kit felt her scrap of magic rise in irritation. "Thirteen. She'd never even had a chance to live, so she must of course be the one to suffrer for Buffy Summers' actions?"

"I forget you're one of hers," Crawford scoffed.

"Damn proud to be," Kit glanced away from him. Remi Peltier lurked in the doorway that held the body of little Tanya. "And what happened when Letty found out? When Letty noticed the girl she was supposed to be easing into her slayerhood was getting miraculously older?"

"I left her for dead."

Kit bit back her revulsion, because that was what he wanted. He wanted her to feel ill by his actions. Because Crawford hadn't just left Letty for dead. He'd poisoned her, wounded her, and left her to the tender mercies of Daimons and vampires. She'd stumbled around, near death when the Daimons had stripped her of her soul. Then, weakened, she'd been easy prey for the vampires she'd been born to slay.

On top of that, he'd left the entire Council unaware of her passing. Willow, who'd been searching out new slayers halfway across the world, hadn't even felt the two deaths of his slayers. Letty had been twenty-two. All that remained was the uncertainty of Katarina's fate. The nineteen year old lived north of New Orleans with her family. But she'd come down for her weekend training session.

"Where is Katarina?" Kit demanded.

"Where do you think?" Crawford sneered up at her.

"I think you wouldn't be stupid enough to kill your last meal ticket. The magic that's infusing that girl would be enough to keep you happily sexing it up with girls old enough to be your granddaughters for years, you leech," Kit leaned into him. "So where the fuck is my slayer?"

"Safe and sound," Crawford laughed in her face.

She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't look him in the face without wanting to beat him into a bloody pulp. And she didn't have the strength to do that. She caught Remi's stare. Kit's spine straightened. Hell of a first impression she was making. First, she'd needed to be rescued, then she'd found out her predecessor was a magical leech who was killing her girls, and now she couldn't even convince him to tell her where Katarina was.

"You got a knife, Peltier?" Kit demanded, glancing up at him.

Remi cocked a brow at her, but held a long blade out to her. Where he'd had it concealed, she didn't really want to know. She took it, judging the weight in her hand and turned back to Crawford. She knew blades. She'd taken Faith's course on blade work, after all. Both she and Carlos had, because knifes didn't need all that silly upper body work that swords did.

"Now, let me tell you a little story about myself," Kit pulled a chair in front of Crawford. "I lived in Sunnydale, I went to school with Dawn Summers. I was saved by Buffy Summers, who counseled me in school. She later offered me a job, and a chance to enhance my meager skills. Which I took because I grew up on the mouth of hell and I wanted to pay it forward. My mommy and daddy didn't leave a legacy for me to inherit to get my nearly pressure-free job and cushy existence in what's generally considered to be the hands-off zone of the world of the Council."

"You little bitch -" Crawford snarled at her, but the jab of the blade between his legs shut him up quick.

"Not. Finished. Yet," Kit ground out. "And I really don't like when people interrupt me. Now, imagine my sadness when I have the honor of telling a legacy that he can remove himself from his duty. I didn't want to be the bad guy here, Crawford. I honestly didn't. But now? After I learn that you have murdered those girls, I'm feeling a bit Faithless."

Faith would probably gut her for using her name as a threat, but desperate times and all that shit. Kit yanked the knife from the chair cushion with her good arm and tipped Crawford's chin up with the tip.

"Who do you think taught me how to use a knife, Crawford?" Kit said quietly. "And my aim is spot on."

Kit felt ill when she finally made it to the mausoleum. Katarina was chained, drugged and ill. How? How had this happened? How badly had they fucked up in trusting that bastard? And how had she left that house without gutting him?

She looked like hell warmed over, but Crawford had spared her the cruel deaths her sisters in arms had faced. Of course, that was only because he was planning on sucking the life out of her too, Kit shuddered in revulsion. The little prick had suddenly remembered his soul the second she'd brought Faith into the equation.

"Rina, I'm so sorry," Kit murmured, squeezing her hand, trying to make up for her failure to the girl.

"Not your fault," Rina smiled brokenly at her. "I shoulda seen it comin'."

"We're not going on that carousel, Rina," Kit kept her voice steady as she worked on the chains holding the girl to the wall.

Willow and Xander were already on their way down to deal with the situation. They were senior Watchers, after all. It wasn't her job to exact vengeance. She was just a kid out on her second official Watcher tour. She would gladly give that bastard over to them. They wouldn't go full on Dark Side, but they'd make him regret every second of his new-found youth.

Kit, ignoring the pain still radiating in her shoulder, helped the injured slayer to her feet. Rina leaned heavily on her, but Kit wouldn't let herself falter. She glanced up at the Bear who was staring at her stonily. No, not at her. Through her. Which was just creepy.

"You gonna move so I can get my girl out of here, Peltier?" Kit frowned as she and Rina ground to a halt.

"Peltier? He one of them fine ass brothers from Sanctuary?" Rina glanced up at him. "Oh. Nope."

"Nope?" Kit frowned down at her shorter slayer, then back up at the scowling Bear. "Brain-damaged, honest."

"Your shoulder."

"Is. Fine. Now move," Kit glared at him. Compared to Rina's situation, her jacked up shoulder was a goddamned walk in the park.

"Hmm," Peltier shrugged and stepped aside. And then followed as Kit led her new charge out of the crypt.

"He always so talkative?" Rina murmured.

"I guess," Kit sighed. "Just met him."

"Looks like death," Rina chuckled.

"It's all the black clothes. He's not."

"It's Remi Peltier, of course he is," Rina muttered.

Oh, Dawn was so getting an earful about this when Kit got home. Where ever that was now that she would definitely not be doing a sleepover at Crawford's place.