Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

I'm back! I win the nano! I reach the 50k two hours before midnight. It was impressive.

As for this chapter, I wrote it a long time ago, long before previous chapters. I had it in mind and wrote it. In my mind, it's a central chapter of the fic. It has been one of the strongest and upsetting chapter to it and I hope you will appreciate it.

So, please, don't forget to review. There's a lot of people who added this story to their alert while there's very few wo review (and a big thank you for you !). Receiving a review is really motivating for the author and it's the end of the year. So for the one who never review, it's the perfect time to do it.

Enjoy !

Chapter Seventeen

Horrifying Truth

They went back to the Hub in silence, feeling like a great weight had been placed on their shoulders. A feeling of uneasiness—of gloom stuck to them. The words had been said: apocalypse season. End of the world. Doom. Jack was even quieter than the others. He had a very faraway look on his face. Buffy had seen Ianto brush his arm but the Captain had looked at him and moved away with a regretful look. It was like he was stuck in some of his memories, some sort of special Hell. The Slayer knew that feeling all too well and she wondered what could be haunting him like that.

When they arrived, Jack locked himself in his office. Buffy, Ianto, Gwen and Owen carried the corpses to the basement. The doctor would be working on them there, it would be simpler. Tosh had barely glanced at them, too busy at typing on her keyboard with an intense look of concentration on her face. They didn't even try to talk to her.

Once the corpses had been disposed of, Buffy locked herself in the gymnasium. She used the machines at their full capacity. She needed to clear her mind. And to think. She had to see the case in its entirety—the whole big picture. The First immediately came to the forefront of her mind. But it couldn't be that. It had appeared in her dream so it was more a clue than an actual goal. She had to rely on what she had felt: Evil. Pure, evil, darkness. But why use species of the three main categories? Humans, demons and aliens. They needed the life forces but why?

Maybe if Willow, Xander, Dawn and Giles were there, they could do their famous brainstorming, throwing every idea they had, even the stupidest, and see where each would lead them. They thought up their best plans like that. They complemented each other that way. Thinking together was as natural as breathing. Even Andrew could be useful. Anya and Spike's faces appeared in her mind but she didn't think their names and thought them in that little mental box she had created. She had put all the people she had cared for and subsequently lost in there. All the pain, the void they had left was locked inside and she tried hard to not think about them. She failed them. They died because she wasn't good enough, she didn't saved them. They left the deepest scars on her.

Not liking where her thoughts were leading her, she focused on her movements, quickening them. After awhile, she even stopped thinking. And that was fine by her.

Ianto had walked silently into the room like always. He could sneak up on almost everyone. His discretion was one of his best qualities and he was proud of it. Especially when he was even able to sneak up on Jack. But he had never succeeded with Buffy. She told them about this sort of internal radar she had and he had only believed her when he realized she was always able to feel him. She was always aware of her environment and the people in it. Like every great predator was…

But this time, she was so lost in her movements she didn't seem to acknowledge him. Or if she did, she didn't give hint. He watched her fight invisible opponents, watched as she danced with a dreadful grace. It was so fluid, so fast, so perfect, it was beautiful. Her eyes were closed and her face was blank—emotionless. It wasn't the first time he watched her exercise. But there was something more this time. There was desperation, rage and pain. He never realized how much feeling you could express in fighting. He never found it beautiful before. No, fighting was brutal, bloody and repulsing. It was about inducing pain, disabling your enemy before he took you down. He did it because he had no choice. It was part of his job.

The more he watched Buffy, the more he realized how wrong he was. She was like a ballerina. She put so much beauty and grace into her fighting technique that it was like watching a ballet. A beautifully violent ballet. It was a real show of art. And he was surprised to realize he could watch it for hours.

She slowed her movements before stopping completely. She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. He cleared his throat and did what he was supposed to do:

"Tosh has found something. Jack wants everyone in the meeting room."

"Time for a shower?"

"I think it will have to wait."

She just nodded and passed in front of him. She was wearing black cotton pants and a black sports bra. He saw the scars Owen had talked about. They were really faint, barely visible. They were so many… She was a warrior. And he found it unfair. Beautiful as she was, she could have had a life so great if she hadn't been Called. She was different than the others before her. In a way, she had found a way to escape and saved the girls who followed by Calling more than one Slayer. He found it almost unfair that she was working for Torchwood. As much as he liked his job, doing it was a curse too because when you entered Torchwood, Torchwood become the only thing you'd ever have in life. And after what she had lived through, she deserved more.

The team was waiting for them. They hadn't even sat down when Jack signaled Tosh to begin with a nod.

"As soon as you told me what happened in the warehouse, I had this idea. Before, we thought that it was only a magical case. But Buffy is convinced that it has something to do with the Rift. And the use of aliens prove that she isn't wrong. So, even if the ritual is a magical act, I wondered if it could have some influence over the Rift. Of course, it wouldn't be enough to trigger any of my alarms. So, I tied in the data I have of that day at the Rander's with the data on that warehouse. And I found this."

Graphics appeared on the wall and she went on.

"It's always the same thing: a negative spike of energy immediately followed by a positive. It's so faint it's barely perceptible and it lasts barely one minute. So, my sensors didn't interpret it as a threat. It happened once at the Rander's, the night they had been killed. But it happened a lot more at the warehouse. I remembered a conversation I had with Lydia who told me that during rituals, the atmosphere could be affected. So, I checked the meteorological data and…"

Maps of the Rander's neighborhood and the industrial zone replaced the other graphics.

"And the density of static electricity in the air changed. It was more saturated. And the humidity levels dropped drastically. Each time, in the same quantity."

The screen went black and Tosh finally said, "I've entered all the parameters in my computer. The next time the same characteristics appear, we'll know about it. We won't be able to save the victims but if we move fast enough, we could catch the culprits."

"Tosh, you're a genius!"

She smiled brightly. "I know. Can I have a raise?"

"Nice try."

Jack clapped his hands.

"Ok people we have a plan. Be ready to leave at anytime!"

And wait they did. Half the team was always at the Hub, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the alarms to be triggered, telling them that somewhere there was a creature that was dying. They were all on the edge. If you asked Buffy, the wait was the most unbearable part of a fight. The moment right before the action, where you're waiting for the signs, the instant where everything starts. She was jumping at everything. The rest of the team wasn't doing any better. Waiting was Hell.

Buffy stared at her coffee and frowned.

"Maybe I should ask him to prepare a Thermos of this divine beverage before I go home. I'm pretty sure I'm hooked on this stuff. When I don't drink it for a while, I start shivering."

"If Ianto does that for you, I want one too!" Gwen exclaimed.

The Slayer snorted. "Like Ianto would do that for me. He barely trusts me."

"Don't be stupid. He's just…reserved."

The blonde put her cup on the table.

"It's nice of you to try to comfort me."

"I'm not trying to…"

Alarms went off, quickly followed by Tosh's voice sounding throughout the Hub, "It's happening!"

Three minutes later, they were in the SUV, driving at an ungodly speed and following the directions Tosh was giving them through their earpieces. Buffy was fidgeting in her seat, ready to jump into action as soon as the car slowed enough. It took them thirteen minutes to get there and she flew out of the car, knife in hand. She didn't need the Asian's direction anymore. She could practically taste the dark magic in the air. She ran as fast as she could. The closer she got, the more powerfully she could feel the magic. It was stronger than in the previous sites, sickening even. But she went on. Then she saw them. They were leaving the house like they had the devil on their heels. Which wasn't totally wrong… She was there. Forgetting about her team, she went into full Slayer mode. She wasn't going to let them escape.

Jack watched Buffy jump out of the car and run inhumanly fast. He parked the car half on the garden in front of the house and didn't even turn off the engine. They all got out and, guns in hand, ran towards the house. The blonde had seen someone and was chasing them. At the speed they were running, the team had no chance to catch up with them, so they entered the house.

Silence reigned in the house. A silence so deep and thick you could almost touch it. Pictures of a happy family decorated the walls. Jack had the impression of traveling in time. Back to the Randelr's house. And what they found in the living room only strengthened the feeling. The circle was there. The candles were still burning and the smell of incense was powerful, almost sickening. Especially combined with the metallic smell of blood. They were three bodies: two adults and one child, a young boy. They were too late for them. Owen was looking over the bodies, knowing that he couldn't do anything.

But when he knelt by the boy and pressed his finger to the side of his throat, a whimper split the air. They froze. No. No! Another whimper was heard. Full of fear and pain.

"Do something!!" Gwen yelled to no one in particular.

They couldn't believe the little boy was still alive. The horror of it was visible on their faces. The acerbic Owen was on the verge of throwing up. He knew, like all of them, that the boy was going to die. It was just a question of time. The ritual had been performed, sucking all the life force from the victims. The boy was only a dry shell now. There was nothing left of the smooth skin, soft hair, rosy lips and young, happy, eyes. He was crying, making such pitiful sounds. Jack looked at the doctor.

"Can't you do anything?"

"I can't. I wouldn't even know where to start. I can't do anything."

Jack's jaw clenched, anger flaring up at their inability to do anything. Buffy came back.

"I lost them. They used some magic to escape."

There was a cut on above her right eye, causing blood to flow down her face. She heard the child and looked at him. Her eyes went wide with horror and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"No."

She asked them with a look and they shook their heads, telling her that nothing could prevent what was going to happen. The boy cried for his mom and Buffy felt her heart break. No one dared to come closer to the boy. The Slayer knelt on the floor and took him in her arms, gently. His head was on her lap.

"Shh," she whispered, stroking what remained of his hair.

"Where's my mommy?"

"She's asleep. But I'm here."

Her voice was a soft whisper. Her eyes were shining with tears. The rest of the team was watching them. The boy looked up at her and she swallowed when she saw his unnaturally wrinkled skin and his pain-filled eyes.

"They hurt her. And my daddy too."

"I know and I'm sorry."

"Are they dead?"

Buffy closed briefly her eyes while answering.

"Yeah."

"I'm going to die too?"

She didn't find the strength to answer him. He cried harder and choked.

"D-dad s-s-said there's n-nothing after d-death."

She grabbed his tiny hand. There was just dry skin on bones and she tried to not think of that. She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and she smiled reassuringly at him.

"It's not true. You don't need to be afraid. Death isn't scary. When you die, you go somewhere peaceful. You're gonna be fine, and incredibly happy and loved. It's warm, quiet and light up there. It's the most beautiful place you'll ever see."

"How do you know that?"

She closed her eyes, letting the tears freely rolled down her cheeks, breathing deeply. Her voice shook badly when she replied. "Because I died once."

Everyone stared at her. She ignored them and went on.

"I died and I went to this wonderful place where everything was peaceful and I felt so loved. So don't be afraid. It will be fine. I promise."

And she held him in her arms, rocking him, caressing his hair, ignoring everyone. Her eyes were closed and she kept talking about Heaven and how death wasn't something to be frightened of.

Gwen left the room half running. Owen sat against the opposite wall and waited. He was staring at the strange scene in front of him. The mummy-like boy in the arms of the angelic woman. He wasn't the emotional type but what happened here infuriated him.

"Because I died."

The whispered words resonated again and again in Jack's head. She died? When? How? How was that possible? She was here, alive and kicking. And her description! There was nothing after death, just darkness. And there was something moving in it. He clenched his fists and swayed on his feet. Hands on his arms kept him from falling. Ianto's scent overwhelmed him and he breathed it in, finding comfort in it. Questions were swirling in his mind.

"Are you alright?"

He turned towards the younger man and saw the worry in his eyes, for him, for the boy, for everyone trapped in this horrible situation. A sudden urge to pull him closer erupted inside him and he did his best to restrain it.

Suddenly, the cries stopped and the silence was deafening. The boy's eyes were opened and were staring blankly at the ceiling. His chest had stopped rising and falling. Owen stood up. Two fingers on the child's jugular, he shook his head.

"He's dead."

Buffy didn't move an inch. She didn't even open her eyes. The doctor grabbed her hands gently, making her jump. She focused on him and he repeated it, "It's over."

He closed the boy's eyes. He carefully loosened her hold on the boy, moving behind her and helping her to her feet. Jack was at their sides, helping to lay the child gently on the floor. He looked at the blonde woman. Her eyes were unfocused and he feared that she would fall if his doctor let go of her.

"Get her out of here," he told Owen.

The doctor led her out of the house and she didn't protest. When Gwen saw them, she understood. Less than five minutes later, Jack and Ianto came out as well. They didn't know what to do, what to say.

Ianto went to the car and came back with Owen's bag. He took his place at Buffy's side and let the doctor work. He started to disinfect her injuries. When the antiseptic came into contact with the wounds, she cringed and her eyes focused again. Her breathing became heavy and pure rage deformed her features. She pushed them back and walked away. She paced a few times and the next thing everyone knew, her fist hit the side of the house behind her, actually sinking into it like it was nothing. She didn't scream, didn't cringe. She pulled her fist out and hit it again and again, making the hole bigger and bigger. But it didn't seem enough.

Without a look, she walked away from them. Jack panicked.

"Buffy!"

She didn't respond. He took a step towards her but she broke into a run and disappeared into the darkness.

It had been hours since she had run away. And the word had spread. The Slayer was out and in a killing mood. It wasn't even killing anymore, it was slaughtering. She was a storm of violence. She was hunting demons, tracking them down, beating them up. She hit and hit and hit again, trying to forget the sight of the boy, to get his cries out of her head. So she tried to replace them by sounds of flesh hitting flesh, bones breaking and agonizing screams. Demons and vampires tried to run but they couldn't escape her. Not when the Slayer was all that was. Not when she pushed away her human side as hard as she could. She wanted to kill, needed to kill… She didn't want to feel anymore. She wasn't even aware of the tears trailing down her cheeks. She had been called, had been made the perfect predator and now she was embracing that side of herself with all she had. And the demons were running away from her in fear.

But it wasn't enough. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Every time there was silence, she heard his cries. Killing was not helping her. So she stood in front of the door, knowing that it would only mean trouble later. But she had to find a way to keep the pain away. To fill the void.

When he answered, she used his surprise against him. She grabbed him by his shirt, pushed him inside and kissed him hard. He tensed but she didn't stop. She pressed herself against him, a hand around his neck, preventing him from moving back. In a matter of seconds, he was kissing back, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She jumped up, circling her legs around his waist and he shut the door, pushing her against it. There was nothing kind or soft in their embrace. It was hard and violent. She didn't love him. God, she didn't even know if she liked him! But there was this void inside her, this pit of violence, of pain. She wanted to feel, to lose herself in something that could allow her to forget the boy. So he was the most logical answer. She knew he wasn't going to talk to her, to ask her what was wrong, to ask her to share her pain, her thoughts. No strings, no attachments, no complications.

Just sex.

And he did just what she wanted. No questions. Just action. No kindness, no false feelings. He was rough and uncaring and she was grateful for that. She lost herself in the moment, her mind going blank for the first time that night.

Jack sent them all home after Buffy ran away. No one tried to follow her. They went back to the Hub. Tosh had already left. Gwen didn't even say goodnight. Owen was left alone on the Plass. He followed Jack and Ianto with his eyes, seeing the boss grab Tea-Guy and kiss him hard just as the perception filter worked its magic and they disappeared. The doctor had no doubts about what they were doing. Not that he blamed them.

He went to a bar and drank too much but he decided to go home before he got too wasted. The alcohol, however, didn't help him to forget what happened. He couldn't forget the kid, his pain, Buffy, her pain and her voice when she talked about her death. Back at his flat, he drank some more.

The knock at the door interrupted him. He stood up, fought back the dizziness, and went to answer it. He didn't have any time to react. Soft lips crushed themselves against his and he was pushed back. He saw a mass of blonde hair and smelled blood. The kiss was brutal, greedy and desperate. A powerful hand wound around his neck and pulled him closer. The body that crashed against him was thin, small but very strong. His blurry mind formed a picture: Buffy. He kissed her back, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She jumped up and circled her legs around his waist. He closed the door behind them, crushing her against it.

She had blood and dust all over her. Her hands were a bloody mess and she had bruises all over her body but she didn't flinch under his touch. She grabbed his shirt and ripped it opened, her tongue caressed the skin of his neck, soon replaced by her mouth. He removed her coat and her top. A white cotton bra covered her little breasts. The thought that she was the opposite of his usual taste in women crossed his mind but he quickly brushed it away.

He couldn't stop, not now. He knew what she wanted, understood it all too well. How many times had he done this with a perfect stranger? Just to forget, to fill the void, stop the pain. It was something completely selfish. It was a way to survive, even if it meant that the guilt and remorse would appear later.

He carried her to his bedroom, marking the way with their clothes. With each piece off, he discovered a new scar. They were so faint that they were barely visible. But they were there. Knife wounds, gun shots, dozens of bites… A whole history of violence and pain. They finally fell onto the bed without really realizing it. They were way beyond rational thought or awareness.

There was no caring in their embrace, just lust. They wanted to lose themselves in the other, forget who they were, what they had seen. It was about filling the void, easing the pain. So, their embrace was rough, eager, selfish and brutal. They let go of everything, just feeling the moment, losing themselves in it. They just wanted, needed to feel alive.

Tomorrow would come soon enough…

¤ ¤ tbc ¤ ¤