moragmacpherson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moragmacpherson) wrote2009-01-25 09:44 am
moragmacpherson) wrote2009-01-25 09:44 am
Entry tags:
Fic: Impossible Things (7-12/??)
Title: Impossible Things
Author: MoragMacPherson
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during Human Nature/Family of Blood for DW, sometime in the Season Eight comics for BtVS
Disclaimer: Oddly enough, characters = not mine. Note for attorneys: if I file for bankruptcy, the only creditor who will still be able to get me is the student loan guys.
Archive: Here, TtH, & Teaspoon. If you'd like it, let me know.
Beta: The incomparable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
booster17 . Shezzi also lent a hand on Chapter 9.
Author's Note: So I saw a piece of fanart by BuffyCharmed over at TtH and got all inspired here. Then she saw the story I wrote and made me some genuinely terrific fanart here and there (my favorite is there).
Summary: John Smith and Martha hide from the Family of Blood at the Farringham School, where Martha meets a new friend from the 21st century.
Buffy covered her ears as she approached the range, and pondered the surrealism of her situation. This school had a firing range. When she thought of the amount of grief Jonathan bringing a single gun to campus had given her... she sent up a short, silent prayer to wherever Jonathan’s soul had gone off to. She was almost fond of Andrew these days; Jonathan never had a chance to redeem himself.
The boys here might not either.
Martha’s second favorite subject of conversation over the last two months had been the fact that most of these boys were destined to die in the Great War that loomed just around the corner. It was downright heartbreaking, and almost enough to make Buffy forgive them for their rude behavior towards the maids, and especially towards Martha.
Almost.
She malingered on the path until the class finished session and the boys filed out. One of the younger boys looked at her oddly, but the rest ignored her as per usual. Thankfully, Baines appeared to have skipped artillery practice, or at least skipped out early to do dastardly deeds. Finally, Professor Smith made his way towards her, tossing a confiscated cricket ball as he walked.
“Miss Summers! May I ask what brings you out of your way?”
Buffy put on her best simper. “I’m on my way to town with the weekend’s shopping list. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” She leaned in closer. “I’m still not feeling so great, John, and I’d enjoy the company.”
The sudden puff in his chest would have been sweet and very charming if she hadn’t manipulated him straight into it. “Buffy,” he said softly, offering her his arm, “it would be an honor.” She looked up into his eyes, and admitted deep inside that it was still a little bit sweet.
“Thank you.” She kept her strides small, maintaining the hilarious illusion of feminine weakness. If only Willow and Xander could see her now. Or worse, Spike and Angel. If the prank with the Immortal had been bad, she could only imagine their reactions to her fawning over hapless John Smith. Actually, given Spike’s past, he might take it as a sign of hope.
John kept peppering her with questions about her past. Buffy found herself enjoying finding ways to word her responses that were true, but still time appropriate, and which didn’t give up her identity as a slayer. She bought herself time by turning his questions back on him. Even though she knew the real him, the Doctor him, through conversations with Martha and by reading his journal, Buffy hadn’t realized how much history the TARDIS and the chameleon arch-thingy had provided to this John Smith identity.
By the time they reached the end of her list, Buffy learned that John wanted to go tour the Napoleonic battlefields he taught about, but hadn’t yet, even though he swore he could actually picture the battles in his mind’s eye. His favorite color was green and he despised beets. His loved Byron’s poetry, but he had a private weakness for Poe. He could imagine working at Farringham the rest of his life, it was satisfying work, but there was something off-putting to him about the concept that he couldn’t put his finger on.
He’d also never dated a girl, or in his phraseology, courted anyone.
Buffy shook her head as she loaded several loaves of bread into her basket. “I find that hard to believe.”
John’s blush somehow found a way to deepen. “Well, Buffy, you may find it equally hard to believe that I sometimes find it difficult to speak with women.”
“Ah, now that makes a little more sense. But still, you’ve got to be thirty years old. There wasn’t even a high school sweetheart?”
John frowned. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Fine,” laughed Buffy. “So, other than tromping around old battlefields, cramming teenagers’ heads full of history and helping me with the grocery shopping, what do you want to do with yourself?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to do something worthwhile. Make a small difference, you know, nothing too ambitious.” For the first time in the conversation, he appeared distracted from her. “But something, special, in its own, small, way...” Buffy turned towards where he was staring, and saw how it was all going to unfold. The rope lifting the piano was frayed, the baby carriage was rickety and slow, and the brim on the mother’s hat was too damn wide, she had no idea what she was walking into. Buffy dropped her basket and started running towards them. It was too late, but she had to try.
John Smith, on the other hand, apparently had an eye for the bigger picture. Buffy saw the ball hit the poles, and the chain reaction that stopped the carriage short of where the piano landed explosively. She slid feet first in the mud to stop herself, and shielded her face from the splinters and ivory shards that flew in her direction.
When she drew her arm down, she saw John, holding her basket and extending his hand to her. She took it, pulling herself up.
“You’re very fast,” he said softly, his eyes wide.
“Not as fast as you, I guess.” Buffy couldn’t quite bring herself to look up at him, and fussed with her muddied skirts instead. “I wouldn’t make a very good lady,” she admitted.
He tilted her chin up towards him with a finger. “Buffy, it occurs to me that I don’t care.” Buffy realized that his eyes went on for forever, and his lips looked gentler than she dared to imagine. “There’s a dance tonight, in town. I agree with you, it’s about time that I ‘dated’ a girl. Come with me.”
Buffy struggled to find words, and she stepped back, looking down, breaking the spell of his eyes. “I- uh, I’m a maid, people will talk. Bad talk. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear, and bad, bad things happen when I go to dances, wild packs of angry dogs being the least of them.”
John’s courage faltered. “Oh. All right then.” They walked back towards the school in awkward silence while Buffy’s mind raced at a million miles a second.
Around the corner from the school, there was no one around, and Buffy tugged on his sleeve. “Yes?”
“I’ll go.”
He looked down at her. “You will?”
She nodded. “Yep. I thought of a place I can find a dress.”
“I see. And the wild packs of angry dogs?”
“After that display back there? I’ll pack a cricket ball in my purse just in case.” And a sharp knife in her bodice, but he didn’t need to know that part. She just grinned at him. In turn, a rather dopey-looking smile blossomed across his face.
John took her hand and wrapped it around his arm, covering her fingers with his other hand, until they reached the gates, and Buffy drew away. “This is our stop. I’ve got to head to the servants’ entrance.”
“Right.”
She turned to go, but his hand on her shoulder stilled her. She turned back. “What?”
The word had barely escaped her lips when they were covered by his, and after a moment’s pang, she let her eyes close, and her fingers drift to the silky hair at the nape of his neck. A few sweet seconds passed, and at just the right time, but entirely too soon, he pulled away. “I look forward to seeing you tonight,” he murmured, and with a tilt of his head, he walked away.
Buffy took a few minutes to catch her breath. “Sonovabitch says he’s never had a date? God help us all.” When she felt sufficiently recovered, she walked over to the servants’ entrance and into the kitchens. Jenny wasn’t there, so she unpacked the groceries and started fixing supper. About a half hour later, Martha wandered into the kitchen.
“Any luck,” asked Buffy, already knowing the answer from her slumped shoulders and dour expression.
Martha simply shook her head and started slicing bread. “I’m going to start searching the dormitories tonight. Do you mind playing body guard for a little while longer?”
“No,” Buffy replied, weighing her options before deciding that Martha should know the truth. Or at least most of it. Maybe she should wait until Martha wasn’t holding that knife. She sighed. “There’s actually something I should tell you.”
She peered back over her shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. “Jenny! What are you doing here? Where have you been?”
“No where.”
Martha twisted her hands together. “Well, we’d best get out of here before anyone else wanders through. Scared me half to death, you did.”
“Were you searching for something?”
“Me? No. Just trying to distract myself from thinking about Buffy and Professor Smith.” Martha noticed that Jenny was having no trouble keeping up with her long, nervous strides.
Jenny had circulation problems and bad ankles.
“Why?”
Martha smiled weakly. “Oh, well, she’s almost saved up enough to go home. Booked herself passage for next month, she’s already purchased the ticket. It’ll be sad, that’s all. I’ll be stuck picking up the pieces yet again. Last time he had his heart broken we had to move, we probably will again.”
They’d arrived at the servants’ quarters. Martha leaned back against her door. “Where shall you move to?”
“Oh, we’ve traveled all over. Lots of places.”
“Tell me.”
Martha felt behind herself for the knob, her mind racing. “Oh Jenny, I will. But first, I’ve got to take out my contact lenses.”
“Certainly. Do come right back,” said Jenny, or rather, the thing that looked like Jenny. Martha’s heart sank, but she shut the door behind her and grabbed her coat off the hook. No time, not enough time, and where the hell was the damn watch? She pulled the window open and looked down the two stories to the courtyard. Martha drew in a deep breath as she swung one leg over the sill. Buffy did this all the time, it couldn’t be that bad.
The knob on the door began to turn, so Martha squeezed her eyes shut and pushed off. There was a ledge above the first floor window that she used to slow her descent, but she basically bumped off of it as she heard the laser blast hit the window frame above her. Martha wound up doing a rolling landing, all of the air coming out of her, but she had no time to catch her breath, and she rolled into the shadows. She looked up. The thing wearing Jenny’s face was scanning the courtyard, but turned back with a disappointed huff.
Martha waited three beats, then crept out of the courtyard. Watches be damned, there had to be some other way to wake up the Doctor’s memories. On the way out, she bumped into Tim Latimer, one of the younger students who, if he hadn’t exactly been kind to her, had never been deliberately cruel. “Oh, sorry!”
The boy stepped back a bit more than was necessary to regain his balance. “Martha?”
But she waved him off, beginning to run. “Not now Tim, I’m busy!” Her left ankle felt wobbly, her knees were going to be bruised, and she may have dinged a rib or two. Buffy did it every damn night. She was so going to pay for making it look easy, among other things.
Martha ignored the pain, and booked it to the barn and the TARDIS. It was so lifeless but so normal inside. Martha felt a twinge in her ribs and leaned against the captain’s chair, staring down at the Doctor’s coat. The Doctor and the dance – and Buffy - were just up the road, if she could just find the right thing to trigger him, they might come through this okay. A thought occurred to her, and she began rifling through his coat pockets. When she finally found it, she clutched the sonic screwdriver to her chest.
She wasn’t afraid for her life. Martha had seen Buffy’s talents, her strength, and her determination. Buffy was every ounce a hero. But if Martha couldn’t get the Doctor back...
She locked the TARDIS behind her, checking the lock twice. This would work. It had to.
Buffy started for a moment, then looked up at John while they swirled together across the floor. "Oh? Sorry."
"Still looking out for those wild dogs, are you," laughed John, glancing at the entryway. "Yet somehow you manage to float on the floor."
Buffy pressed her lips together. "Yeah, well, waltzing is – I used to ice dance as a kid. This is a lot harder on skates."
"Ice dancing? Sounds like a wonderful past time, it's a pity it hasn't come to Britain yet," said John. "Is that where you developed those remarkable reflexes of yours?"
"Sort of." Buffy was starting to feel a little queasy. Martha was going to find that watch any moment now, and then John would be gone, and then they would kick some alien butt, and then she'd go home, and this would all be a horrible nightmare, and she'd be back at the castle all alone again without this stupid, priggish, handsome, tender-hearted man looking down at her with those stupid gentle eyes and that ridiculous sweet smile on his face. She couldn't look at it anymore. This was wrong, and she felt her stomach turn over as she remembered Martha's brittle smile as she helped Buffy search the TARDIS wardrobe this evening.
They weren't dancing anymore. "Are you feeling ill again, Buffy?" asked John, his hands on her elbows.
"No, I’m peachy keen. Can we sit?" She gently guided him to a corner table where she had a clear view of all the entrances. He excused himself to get them drinks, and Buffy kept one eye on him and one eye on the doors. As she saw Martha rush in, she leapt up and dragged her friend to the corner. "Did you find it?"
"No!" hissed Martha, "they got to Jenny and I think I may have been followed."
Buffy blanched. "You led them here? Look at all of these people! If things get ugly, we are totally screwed!"
"Here is where you were, that's not my fault!" snapped Martha. Buffy looked down, and Martha's whisper softened. "I didn't know where else to go, they were shooting at me, and I think I have an idea to get the Doctor back."
Buffy blinked. "How?"
Martha pulled out a small pen-like device. "Sonic screwdriver. Next to the TARDIS, I can't think of anything else in the universe he loves more. He'll remember it."
Buffy stared at it. "Where did you get that?"
"In his coat, in the TARDIS"
"When?"
"Just now."
Buffy palmed her face. "So you didn't just lead them here, you showed them where the TARDIS is?"
Martha felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Oh. Oh no."
"No, no, we’ll get there first. It'll be fine. I’ve just got to get these people out of here before the Family comes looking around. Is there a fire alarm anywhere?"
"There you are –" John came up from behind Buffy. "Ah, and Martha, it's ah – a pleasant surprise to see you here."
Buffy turned around slowly. "Oh, John. You're here. And there's drinks." She took the glass out of his hand and downed the punch in one swallow. "How many people would you say are in here? Forty maybe," she muttered, pulling her hair up and tying it behind her head.
"Fifty-three," he replied without thinking, a stunned look coming across his face as he realized what he'd said.
Buffy nodded, leaning down. "Great. So, John, listen," and she paused while she tore a slit up the center of her skirt "Martha's got something really important to tell you, pay really close attention, and I - I'm just going to go, uh, do something about this crowd. Don't-" she pointed her finger at him, "run off anywhere without me." She glanced at Martha. "No matter what." She poked John in the chest one more time for emphasis. "And don't talk to strangers. I'll be right back." She nodded to Martha, then skirted to the side of him and disappeared down the hall. John simply stared after her, his mouth slightly ajar.
"She's a very strange woman."
Martha snorted. "You've no idea."
Meanwhile, Buffy had found the kitchens, a tin washtub, and some rags. After scaring the kitchen staff out, she piled the rags in the washtub in the center of the floor, poured some lamp oil onto them, then lit a match and tossed it in. There were some vegetable scraps, and she dumped them on top. After a few short minutes the whole kitchen began to fill with a very satisfying if slightly stinky black smoke, that hopefully wouldn't catch onto anything. She ran back to the dance hall shouting, "Fire!" Several of the partygoers in the parlor were already rushing out the door. The smoke was only just beginning to leak into the main hall.
A blond head lingered in one of the corners. It was that kid who'd stared at her earlier in the day – what was his name? Jim or something? Maybe Baines had gotten to him. She noted his position, but first she had to retrieve John and Martha. John was shouting at Martha, who looked like she'd been sucking on a series of lemons.
"It's just a storybook, you see, Martha-"
"No, it's not! This is a sonic screwdriver. Now hold it, Doctor, and remember who you are!" Martha tried to pull his hand up to place the screwdriver in it, but he snatched his hand away.
"Martha! I am John Smith, and I see how you could have gotten confused."
Martha's shoulders squared off. "I'm very sorry, Doctor." Buffy flinched when Martha pulled back and slapped John across the face. “Remember!”
John recovered, rubbing his cheek. "Buffy. Can you help me get your friend under control?"
Buffy looked to Martha who just shook her head, the beginnings of tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. "Martha's fine. It's a dance, I’m here, and so according to tradition, I've just set a fire. We need to go, now would be good." She took his hand and tried to pull him along, but he pulled back, his eyes wide.
"Do you believe in her nonsense?"
Buffy tilted his chin down towards her. "I've never met the Doctor. All I've got is Martha's word, and yours that he's some kind of hero. But she's my friend, and so are you, John, and in case you didn't notice, I set a fire and this room is starting to get a little smoky. So can we please continue this conversation outside?"
Martha coughed twice. "I agree."
John nodded, then paused, frowning. “Why did you set a fire?”
“No time. Now is the time for the running.” Buffy took his hand and turned to run.
Unfortunately, Baines, Jenny, a portly old guy, and a genuinely creepy little girl with a red balloon were standing between them and the exit. A number of scarecrows were somehow lurching in behind them. Buffy dropped John’s hand as the creepy girl pointed at him. "Him. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."
Baines sniffed. "He took human form." Then a puzzled look crossed his face and he sniffed again. "And what on Earth is she?"
Buffy had the sudden feeling of being the center of attention. She simpered and batted her eyelashes. She drew her right hand to her chest, toying with her decolletage, and finding the handle of her knife. Martha, eyes watering from the smoke, wanted very badly to laugh as Buffy said sweetly, "Oh, I think you're about to find out."
Despite that, even he wasn’t quite prepared for the scene unfolding in front of him. In just a few seconds, Buffy had thrown Mr. Clarke across the room and sliced apart two of the scarecrows with a knife that appeared far too long to have been concealed from where she’d removed it. But now the other maid, Jenny, who was part of this Family of Blood that was chasing John-Smith-who-was-actually-the-Time-Lord-called-the-Doctor, had pulled out some kind of pistol and grabbed Martha as she tried to run by.
Baines tried to pull his pistol out, but Buffy threw a chair that hit him in the head. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Enough!” shouted out the little girl one. She too had a gun, this one pointing at Buffy, who dropped the chair she’d been wielding. “Father-mine, are you recovered?”
Mr. Clarke’s body had risen and was rubbing his head. “So I have, Daughter-mine. I think we gave you the wrong body. Imagine what you could have done with such power.” He came and stood next to her. “Would you still like it?”
“Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets to take over my body!” shouted Buffy. “I never know what you’re going to go and do with it.” She cheated for a moment and looked over at John, who seemed completely paralyzed by shock. Another pair of scarecrows went to grab him, and she brandished her knife, setting herself between them. “And nobody gets to touch his body if I haven’t gotten to do it first!”
Jenny shoved Martha hard, and she fell down to her knees. Behind her she heard the weapon charge, “Choosing your lover over your friend are you?” asked Jenny in a sick parody of her old teases.
“No.” Buffy’s knife lowered a fraction of an inch. “You don’t get to have either of them.” Baines, having gotten back on his feet, was sniffing again. “Got a cold or something? I can fix that with a quick decapitation.”
Baines ignored her and moved forward, so Buffy went on guard, but he stopped short. “Your friend. He’s human. The Time Lord is elsewhere, and it’s the Time Lord that we want.” Baines raised his gun towards John. “Where is it?”
John shook his head. “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean, Time Lord?”
Baines frowned and pointed the gun at Buffy’s head instead. “Tell us where the Time Lord is, and you can keep this idiot and you can even have the maid.”
“No!” shouted Martha, lurching forward, but Jenny stepped on her spine, pressing her to the ground.
Buffy shook her head. “I’ve done this way too many times to fall for that. You never take the bad guy’s deal when he’s pointing a gun at you or your friends. This is the first sign that they’re offering you a bad deal.” She held the knife up by the handle, point down. “What’s going to happen is that you’re either gonna go away in peace, or else I’m going to kill you all.” She smiled and tossed her hair. “Now, I’m a big fan of the first option, because it means fewer broken nails on my part. But make no mistake, me and my friends are getting out of here. The only question is whether or not you do.”
The watch showed Tim the next several seconds before they happened: Buffy was going to flick her wrist and the knife would pin Baines' foot to the floor. She’d manage to incapacitate him, but would not be able to stop Jenny from shooting Martha. Jenny wouldn’t survive much longer, but John Smith would be seized by the scarecrows while either Mr. Clarke or the little girl would finally get a kill-shot on Buffy. There were just too many enemies and too many people for Buffy to protect. The words, don’t let them die, echoed in his head.
He didn’t have time to think, all he had was that terrible other voice in his mind telling him what to do. And there was nothing else he could think of, so Tim squashed down his terror and opened the watch. All the Family members snapped their heads towards him, as did Buffy. Her eyes widened, and Tim snapped the watch shut and ran into the back parlor. Baines moved to go after him, but Buffy pulled Baines’ arm around his back, grabbed his gun, and held it to his head.
“Now listen. I’m still willing to go the route where some of you survive.” She lifted his arm up just a few inches more and Baines shouted in pain. “But I’m really not if you guys do not let Martha up, now!”
Jenny looked up at Baines, who nodded. Jenny lifted her foot, and Martha got to her feet. “Martha, you get behind me. Take John and follow that kid, Tim. I’ll be right with you.”
“Buffy, what’s going on?” asked John.
She turned back. He looked so lost. “I’m sorry, John, I told you I wasn’t a lady. Run!” He finally let Martha pull him out the door, leaving Buffy alone with the Family. “So, you’re a bunch of life-sucking aliens.”
“And you’re an impertinent little girl,” said Mr. Clarke, “Who is going to suffer for her lack of respect.”
Buffy stepped back towards the wall. “What exactly have you done to earn my respect?” Then she threw Baines at the Family. With them safely on the ground, she grabbed the lamp off the wall, and threw it at the scarecrows, who went up in flames like sacks of hay.
“I really didn’t want to set this place on fire,” murmured Buffy. Then she dashed through the door, slammed it shut, and stuck a chair under the handle. Tim was trying to pull a window open while John was trying to get answers out of Martha. Neither was having much luck.
“Let me.” Buffy pulled Tim backwards, and easily slid the window open. He went to jump out of it, but Buffy stopped him. “Watch first.”
He eyed her. “Do you know what it is?”
“Fire, ice, and rage.” Buffy knelt down, ignoring the pounding on the other side of the door, putting her hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Do you know what I am?”
“No, and neither does the wat- the Doctor.” Tim was shivering with fear. Martha and John had stopped arguing and watched Buffy.
“I’m the Slayer. I’m the bogeyman that bogeymen tell their bogeykids about.” The banging on the door was starting to get worse, and new smoke was seeping through the cracks. “I’m probably the only thing here half as scary as what’s in that watch. And I swear to you, I’m going to keep you, and the watch, safe. Okay?”
Tim nodded, and handed the silver fob watch over to Buffy. She patted his head. “Now, out the window.” He started to climb out, and Buffy stood, turning the watch over in her hand. “What are you two waiting for?”
“An explanation,” said John.
Martha stared at her. “Open the watch.”
Buffy tucked it in her bodice. “Not yet. The building is now actually on fire, so first we run.” She motioned with her hand. “Out.”
Martha glared daggers at Buffy, then jumped out.
Puppy dog eyes was next. “Buffy, just – please.”
“John,” sighed Buffy. She went to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Another loud pound at the door startled him. When he looked back down he realized that Buffy was close to tears. In a throaty voice she told him, “There’s going to be explanations, and you’re not going to like me so much after, so right now, please just hold my hand and run with me.”
He nodded, and together they climbed out into the dark.
Her lips thinned. “I know, John. Come on.” Martha had unlocked the doors, and she was shoving Tim in front of her. Buffy tugged on his arm one more time, and John followed her inside.
Martha shut and locked the doors behind them. “Can we please open the watch now?” Her eyes bugged open wider as Buffy went to the console. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t really know!” shouted Buffy. Her hands, meanwhile, were dancing over the controls. “My head is killing me, my thoughts are starting to burn, but there are images, I can see them – the Family will be right behind us and they have some kind of technology - please don’t try to explain it to me,” she interjected, looking up into the air, “that can penetrate through the TARDIS’ shields. So I just need to buy us some time.”
As Buffy and Martha argued, John and Timothy explored the console room. “I know this place, the blue box that’s bigger on the inside,” murmured John. "I've dreamed it."
“This is your home,” replied Tim. “I’ve seen you, here. The watch showed me.”
Martha blinked. “The watch, it’s talking to you, like it spoke to Tim?”
Buffy shrugged, not stopping her manipulations. “All Slayers are minor psychics, it’s what lets us have the Slayer dreams. Tim has some sort of low-level tele–“ Buffy grunted in pain. “Please, don’t tell me anything else, God, it hurts.”
Martha touched Buffy’s arm. “What hurts?”
Buffy’s eyes opened bloodshot. “Tim can shut off the flow. I can’t. Slayers are open receivers. I don’t have any off switch, and the Doctor didn’t know what I was. I'm listening to him figure all of this out in my head. He’s telling me how to fly the TARDIS. I can see all of his thoughts, and memories, and he’s just-“ Her eyes lost focus. “I can’t even explain. It’s too much, don’t you understand?” Martha watched Buffy compress a pump and then flip a final switch. The TARDIS trembled with motion.
Tim stood behind her. “He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun.” Buffy nodded, falling back into the captain’s chair. “He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe.”
“Yes,” said Buffy. “But he’s also beautiful, and a hero, and everything you ever told me he was.” Her gaze settled unhappily on John, who was standing terrifyingly still. “After we land, we have to open the watch again.”
“But what’s wrong with that?” asked Martha.
“If the Doctor lives, I die,” responded John in a low voice. Martha’s mouth opened slightly as she considered it from his perspective for the very first time.
Her heart broke a little as Buffy whispered, “I told you that you were going to hate me once I explained. I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.”
John’s eyes never left Buffy’s, his voice rough. “But if we don’t open the watch?”
“I can’t move us across time, or even off the planet, it’s too dangerous. I can’t go near their ship, I can’t stop them.” Buffy pulled the offending article out, but still held it to her chest. “They’ll find us, and they’ll leave a wake of destruction and horror behind them. We can’t let them do that.”
John approached her. “No, before that. What happens if we don’t open the watch?” He knelt beside her and wiped the sweat from her brow with his handkerchief.
Buffy couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. “I’m stronger than you or even he could ever understand.”
John shook his head. “I know, Buffy, but you don’t look so very strong right now.”
“I’m not usually sick like this, John, I swear.”
“You’re not sick.” He took her hand, holding the watch between them.
“This isn’t about me,” Buffy insisted.
“How long?” he demanded.
Buffy cringed and admitted. “Not long.”
Martha caught her breath. “It’s killing you. The thoughts of a Time Lord in a human brain, they’re killing you. As long as he’s in the watch- oh my!”
“I don’t hate you,” John whispered. He looked back at Martha. “Is there any way....“ his voice trailed off, and Martha understood the request.
“I’ll show Tim the kitchens.”
John smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Martha.” Martha took Tim by the hand and they disappeared down the hallway, leaving John and Buffy alone.
Buffy looked down at their linked hands, the watch cold and hard within. “We could try – I could see if getting distance between me and the watch would sever the link.”
“Then who would guard it?” John got up onto the captain’s chair beside her and gathered her in his arms. “Can you work this thing without it? Who’s going to stop those monsters? Me? Martha? Tim? Maybe the Headmaster?”
“I know.” They held each other for just a short time before the TARDIS settled to rest. Buffy bit her lip. “This isn’t fair.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. But I’m not a hero. This Doctor fellow, he’s a hero. You, you’re a hero.” John rubbed a tendril of her hair between his fingers. “You deserve a hero.”
“I knew you were doomed, John, this whole time. So I wouldn’t let myself love you.” Buffy pulled him closer. “But you are a hero, and I do love you.”
They kissed, and the kiss contained a lifetime. John paused for breath, murmured, “I love you,” in the shell of her ear, then went back to her mouth for more. After a few more precious seconds, John pressed the button, and the watch sprang open against his palm.
“Doc-tor?”
He caught his breath as his second heart finished regrowing and began to beat again. “Yes?” A stray thought brushed against his retreating ones. She’d been seventeen and there’d been a man – no, a vampire – and she’d saved the world with a kiss and a betrayal then too. “You didn’t betray anyone.” He cringed as he saw the anguish in her eyes. “Sorry, I just meant – I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s good to know.” She pressed those feather soft lips together. “John?” It was both a question and a plea.
The Doctor tapped a finger to his temple. “Safe inside.”
“And me?”
“We appear to be fully disentangled.” Buffy’s eyes flickered down. “Uh, mentally, that is. You just look like you might need a hug.” He held her a bit tighter, and for a fleeting second, she felt just as relaxed as she was when they’d been John’s arms around her. He liked that feeling. When he released her to stand, he kept their hands joined around the watch. “Are you-“
“Tired. That’s all.” She pulled her hand away and massaged her temples.
The Doctor stared down at her, his gob, for once, failing to run at all. “Well, I have a thing-” There was a distant rumble from outside the TARDIS. “That would be the Family, then, so predictable, lose me and then threaten to bomb the town – well, I guess that means that I’m predictable too – anyway, I’m just going to nip out for a second, shouldn’t take too long. You –“ he stammered, “you should stay here, get some rest. Quick kip. Right. I’m going.” He skipped off towards the door, then turned as he opened it. “And, if Martha comes out, tell her – oh, nevermind, that’s something I’ll have to do myself.” Buffy could barely hear his last words. “Just, stay safe.”
About five minutes later, she’d processed that he’d gone. She eased herself out of the chair, looking around the TARDIS, all of the images from the watch, from his mind, swirling through her head. Buffy stepped back, grabbing onto the railing for support. He’d taken the watch with him. He had a plan, didn’t he? Quite a plan.
Martha and Tim emerged from the back hall. “They must have gone off. I swear I heard the doors shut,” said Martha, looking towards them, then catching sight of Buffy out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, he left you behind.”
“Had to. Aubertide allergy.”
Tim approached her. “So that’s it then. The Doctor’s back.”
“And John Smith is gone,” finished Buffy. Several beats of silence passed before Martha brought herself to look Buffy in the eye.
“Buffy, I’m-“ But Buffy had gone pale. “What is it?”
“I know what he’s going to do.” Buffy’s shoulders snapped back. “Martha, can I borrow your coat?”
Martha was shrugging it off of her shoulders before she was quite sure what she was doing. “Sure, why?”
Buffy pulled the coat around herself. “I need to go. I’m sorry, no time to explain. Can you get Tim back to the school?”
“Certainly.”
“Get back there and lock the school up tight. Take a knife, and watch out for the scarecrows. They shouldn’t bother them, but just in case. Stay there, make sure it’s safe, and I’ll come find you in the morning.” Buffy ran to the doors. “I’m sorry for sending you back there, but I need to stop him, and someone needs to protect the school.”
“I can do that,” said Martha with a nod.
Buffy smiled sadly. “I know you can.” She looked down. “Thank you, Tim. Stay safe.”
“I will.”
Buffy ran off into the night. Martha sighed, biting her lower lip.
“She still sounds a bit like him,” remarked Tim.
“Yeah, I know.”
The Family’s ship wasn’t too far from where the TARDIS had reappeared, and Buffy held her breath as long as she could while she approached the clearing. The explosion made Cooper’s Field a lot more exciting than the last time Buffy’d seen it. The Doctor worked quick. Heat from the blast created a low-pressure zone that the chilled night air rushed in to fill, helping to disperse the aubertide more quickly, allowing her to breathe freely. Buffy shook her head at the voice in her mind that informed her of these facts, wondering exactly how much of himself the Doctor had left behind. But she put the thought aside, squashing down her twinge of nausea from the remaining aubertide as she strode forward to put a stop to the one thought he’d left that had troubled her the most.
“Give me the gun, Doctor.” Her voice rang out clear across the clearing, the Doctor standing over the huddled Family only a few dozen paces away, the portrait of a wrathful god framed by flames. “You hate guns.”
He twisted towards her voice, the laser still trained on the villains. “You don’t like them either.” He turned back to the Family.
“You’re the Doctor, I’m the Slayer. The gun fits in my world better than yours.” She planted her feet in front of him, looking up to his face, and the fire behind him reflected in her green eyes. “I know what you’re going to do. The chains, the mirrors, the black hole, even the scarecrows. But it’s not eternal justice; it’s eternal vengeance. So give me the gun, Doctor.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I’m the Slayer. I’m another kind of law. I don’t see eternity. I see endings. I’m here to stop you, because this has to end.” She held out her hand. “You know me now better than I know myself. Do you trust me?” Wordlessly, the Doctor placed the laser in her hand. She spun about. “You, the Mother. How much time do you have left? Two weeks? Three?”
Jenny’s heavily lidded eyes turned up towards her. “Three.”
“What would you do in those three weeks?” Buffy’s aim shifted towards Baines’ body. “Tell me!”
The Son stammered, “I-I don’t know.”
“You killed my friend for the promise of eternal life and you can’t come up with anything to do with three weeks?” shouted Buffy.
“Spend it with my family,” cried the Daughter.
Buffy eyes softened as she regarded the youngest victim, and she nodded. “Good answer.” Now she turned to the Father. “You’re all in this together. You’ve spent two months killing. How would you spend three weeks living?”
“We’d bask in the light of our sun, Augon, on the shores of the Perylian River.”
Buffy smiled. “Of course you would. You’re mayflies.” Her lips thinned. “Murderers don’t get peaceful retirements.” She glanced back at the Doctor. “Do you know a place?”
It was difficult to make out his reply over the noise of the fires. “I do.” He went and stood beside her. “The ruins of the Kannemarra mines. It’s dark. It’s cold. They’ll live.”
“And they’ll die. That’s how it works.” She motioned with the laser, and the Family slowly made it to their feet. “That’s mercy.” Following the captives back to the TARDIS, right before they entered, the Doctor squeezed Buffy’s hand.
His hearts skipped a double beat when she squeezed back.
Author: MoragMacPherson
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Set during Human Nature/Family of Blood for DW, sometime in the Season Eight comics for BtVS
Disclaimer: Oddly enough, characters = not mine. Note for attorneys: if I file for bankruptcy, the only creditor who will still be able to get me is the student loan guys.
Archive: Here, TtH, & Teaspoon. If you'd like it, let me know.
Beta: The incomparable
booster17 . Shezzi also lent a hand on Chapter 9. Author's Note: So I saw a piece of fanart by BuffyCharmed over at TtH and got all inspired here. Then she saw the story I wrote and made me some genuinely terrific fanart here and there (my favorite is there).
Summary: John Smith and Martha hide from the Family of Blood at the Farringham School, where Martha meets a new friend from the 21st century.
7. I Might Disintegrate Into Thin Air If You Like
They finished preparations for lunch, then Buffy pled illness. “I just need to get some fresh air, I think.” Jenny sent her off to town with a shopping list, and Buffy took a brief detour to the firing range. Her mission: keep John Smith from returning to his room while Martha tossed it for the pocket watch. She also had to keep him, and herself, away from Baines, in case the Family’s sense of smell could detect anything odd about them. Until the watch was safely located, she was forbidden to confront him unless cornered. Martha had been very firm about that, and Buffy was willing to concede the point, for now.Buffy covered her ears as she approached the range, and pondered the surrealism of her situation. This school had a firing range. When she thought of the amount of grief Jonathan bringing a single gun to campus had given her... she sent up a short, silent prayer to wherever Jonathan’s soul had gone off to. She was almost fond of Andrew these days; Jonathan never had a chance to redeem himself.
The boys here might not either.
Martha’s second favorite subject of conversation over the last two months had been the fact that most of these boys were destined to die in the Great War that loomed just around the corner. It was downright heartbreaking, and almost enough to make Buffy forgive them for their rude behavior towards the maids, and especially towards Martha.
Almost.
She malingered on the path until the class finished session and the boys filed out. One of the younger boys looked at her oddly, but the rest ignored her as per usual. Thankfully, Baines appeared to have skipped artillery practice, or at least skipped out early to do dastardly deeds. Finally, Professor Smith made his way towards her, tossing a confiscated cricket ball as he walked.
“Miss Summers! May I ask what brings you out of your way?”
Buffy put on her best simper. “I’m on my way to town with the weekend’s shopping list. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” She leaned in closer. “I’m still not feeling so great, John, and I’d enjoy the company.”
The sudden puff in his chest would have been sweet and very charming if she hadn’t manipulated him straight into it. “Buffy,” he said softly, offering her his arm, “it would be an honor.” She looked up into his eyes, and admitted deep inside that it was still a little bit sweet.
“Thank you.” She kept her strides small, maintaining the hilarious illusion of feminine weakness. If only Willow and Xander could see her now. Or worse, Spike and Angel. If the prank with the Immortal had been bad, she could only imagine their reactions to her fawning over hapless John Smith. Actually, given Spike’s past, he might take it as a sign of hope.
John kept peppering her with questions about her past. Buffy found herself enjoying finding ways to word her responses that were true, but still time appropriate, and which didn’t give up her identity as a slayer. She bought herself time by turning his questions back on him. Even though she knew the real him, the Doctor him, through conversations with Martha and by reading his journal, Buffy hadn’t realized how much history the TARDIS and the chameleon arch-thingy had provided to this John Smith identity.
By the time they reached the end of her list, Buffy learned that John wanted to go tour the Napoleonic battlefields he taught about, but hadn’t yet, even though he swore he could actually picture the battles in his mind’s eye. His favorite color was green and he despised beets. His loved Byron’s poetry, but he had a private weakness for Poe. He could imagine working at Farringham the rest of his life, it was satisfying work, but there was something off-putting to him about the concept that he couldn’t put his finger on.
He’d also never dated a girl, or in his phraseology, courted anyone.
Buffy shook her head as she loaded several loaves of bread into her basket. “I find that hard to believe.”
John’s blush somehow found a way to deepen. “Well, Buffy, you may find it equally hard to believe that I sometimes find it difficult to speak with women.”
“Ah, now that makes a little more sense. But still, you’ve got to be thirty years old. There wasn’t even a high school sweetheart?”
John frowned. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Fine,” laughed Buffy. “So, other than tromping around old battlefields, cramming teenagers’ heads full of history and helping me with the grocery shopping, what do you want to do with yourself?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to do something worthwhile. Make a small difference, you know, nothing too ambitious.” For the first time in the conversation, he appeared distracted from her. “But something, special, in its own, small, way...” Buffy turned towards where he was staring, and saw how it was all going to unfold. The rope lifting the piano was frayed, the baby carriage was rickety and slow, and the brim on the mother’s hat was too damn wide, she had no idea what she was walking into. Buffy dropped her basket and started running towards them. It was too late, but she had to try.
John Smith, on the other hand, apparently had an eye for the bigger picture. Buffy saw the ball hit the poles, and the chain reaction that stopped the carriage short of where the piano landed explosively. She slid feet first in the mud to stop herself, and shielded her face from the splinters and ivory shards that flew in her direction.
When she drew her arm down, she saw John, holding her basket and extending his hand to her. She took it, pulling herself up.
“You’re very fast,” he said softly, his eyes wide.
“Not as fast as you, I guess.” Buffy couldn’t quite bring herself to look up at him, and fussed with her muddied skirts instead. “I wouldn’t make a very good lady,” she admitted.
He tilted her chin up towards him with a finger. “Buffy, it occurs to me that I don’t care.” Buffy realized that his eyes went on for forever, and his lips looked gentler than she dared to imagine. “There’s a dance tonight, in town. I agree with you, it’s about time that I ‘dated’ a girl. Come with me.”
Buffy struggled to find words, and she stepped back, looking down, breaking the spell of his eyes. “I- uh, I’m a maid, people will talk. Bad talk. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear, and bad, bad things happen when I go to dances, wild packs of angry dogs being the least of them.”
John’s courage faltered. “Oh. All right then.” They walked back towards the school in awkward silence while Buffy’s mind raced at a million miles a second.
Around the corner from the school, there was no one around, and Buffy tugged on his sleeve. “Yes?”
“I’ll go.”
He looked down at her. “You will?”
She nodded. “Yep. I thought of a place I can find a dress.”
“I see. And the wild packs of angry dogs?”
“After that display back there? I’ll pack a cricket ball in my purse just in case.” And a sharp knife in her bodice, but he didn’t need to know that part. She just grinned at him. In turn, a rather dopey-looking smile blossomed across his face.
John took her hand and wrapped it around his arm, covering her fingers with his other hand, until they reached the gates, and Buffy drew away. “This is our stop. I’ve got to head to the servants’ entrance.”
“Right.”
She turned to go, but his hand on her shoulder stilled her. She turned back. “What?”
The word had barely escaped her lips when they were covered by his, and after a moment’s pang, she let her eyes close, and her fingers drift to the silky hair at the nape of his neck. A few sweet seconds passed, and at just the right time, but entirely too soon, he pulled away. “I look forward to seeing you tonight,” he murmured, and with a tilt of his head, he walked away.
Buffy took a few minutes to catch her breath. “Sonovabitch says he’s never had a date? God help us all.” When she felt sufficiently recovered, she walked over to the servants’ entrance and into the kitchens. Jenny wasn’t there, so she unpacked the groceries and started fixing supper. About a half hour later, Martha wandered into the kitchen.
“Any luck,” asked Buffy, already knowing the answer from her slumped shoulders and dour expression.
Martha simply shook her head and started slicing bread. “I’m going to start searching the dormitories tonight. Do you mind playing body guard for a little while longer?”
“No,” Buffy replied, weighing her options before deciding that Martha should know the truth. Or at least most of it. Maybe she should wait until Martha wasn’t holding that knife. She sighed. “There’s actually something I should tell you.”
8. Not the Gravity Plan
Martha froze in her tracks as she heard creaking boards behind her. She’d been so distracted, looking in vain for the watch among bootlegged beer bottles and candy bars in the boys’ chests; all of it overlaid with the image of Buffy walking out into the night on the Doctor’s – no, not the Doctor’s – John Smith’s arm in that awful lacy slip of nothing dress. Now she was screwed, caught pawing through the dormitories, and probably fired.She peered back over her shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. “Jenny! What are you doing here? Where have you been?”
“No where.”
Martha twisted her hands together. “Well, we’d best get out of here before anyone else wanders through. Scared me half to death, you did.”
“Were you searching for something?”
“Me? No. Just trying to distract myself from thinking about Buffy and Professor Smith.” Martha noticed that Jenny was having no trouble keeping up with her long, nervous strides.
Jenny had circulation problems and bad ankles.
“Why?”
Martha smiled weakly. “Oh, well, she’s almost saved up enough to go home. Booked herself passage for next month, she’s already purchased the ticket. It’ll be sad, that’s all. I’ll be stuck picking up the pieces yet again. Last time he had his heart broken we had to move, we probably will again.”
They’d arrived at the servants’ quarters. Martha leaned back against her door. “Where shall you move to?”
“Oh, we’ve traveled all over. Lots of places.”
“Tell me.”
Martha felt behind herself for the knob, her mind racing. “Oh Jenny, I will. But first, I’ve got to take out my contact lenses.”
“Certainly. Do come right back,” said Jenny, or rather, the thing that looked like Jenny. Martha’s heart sank, but she shut the door behind her and grabbed her coat off the hook. No time, not enough time, and where the hell was the damn watch? She pulled the window open and looked down the two stories to the courtyard. Martha drew in a deep breath as she swung one leg over the sill. Buffy did this all the time, it couldn’t be that bad.
The knob on the door began to turn, so Martha squeezed her eyes shut and pushed off. There was a ledge above the first floor window that she used to slow her descent, but she basically bumped off of it as she heard the laser blast hit the window frame above her. Martha wound up doing a rolling landing, all of the air coming out of her, but she had no time to catch her breath, and she rolled into the shadows. She looked up. The thing wearing Jenny’s face was scanning the courtyard, but turned back with a disappointed huff.
Martha waited three beats, then crept out of the courtyard. Watches be damned, there had to be some other way to wake up the Doctor’s memories. On the way out, she bumped into Tim Latimer, one of the younger students who, if he hadn’t exactly been kind to her, had never been deliberately cruel. “Oh, sorry!”
The boy stepped back a bit more than was necessary to regain his balance. “Martha?”
But she waved him off, beginning to run. “Not now Tim, I’m busy!” Her left ankle felt wobbly, her knees were going to be bruised, and she may have dinged a rib or two. Buffy did it every damn night. She was so going to pay for making it look easy, among other things.
Martha ignored the pain, and booked it to the barn and the TARDIS. It was so lifeless but so normal inside. Martha felt a twinge in her ribs and leaned against the captain’s chair, staring down at the Doctor’s coat. The Doctor and the dance – and Buffy - were just up the road, if she could just find the right thing to trigger him, they might come through this okay. A thought occurred to her, and she began rifling through his coat pockets. When she finally found it, she clutched the sonic screwdriver to her chest.
She wasn’t afraid for her life. Martha had seen Buffy’s talents, her strength, and her determination. Buffy was every ounce a hero. But if Martha couldn’t get the Doctor back...
She locked the TARDIS behind her, checking the lock twice. This would work. It had to.
9. Wild Packs of Family Dogs
"You're not looking at me."Buffy started for a moment, then looked up at John while they swirled together across the floor. "Oh? Sorry."
"Still looking out for those wild dogs, are you," laughed John, glancing at the entryway. "Yet somehow you manage to float on the floor."
Buffy pressed her lips together. "Yeah, well, waltzing is – I used to ice dance as a kid. This is a lot harder on skates."
"Ice dancing? Sounds like a wonderful past time, it's a pity it hasn't come to Britain yet," said John. "Is that where you developed those remarkable reflexes of yours?"
"Sort of." Buffy was starting to feel a little queasy. Martha was going to find that watch any moment now, and then John would be gone, and then they would kick some alien butt, and then she'd go home, and this would all be a horrible nightmare, and she'd be back at the castle all alone again without this stupid, priggish, handsome, tender-hearted man looking down at her with those stupid gentle eyes and that ridiculous sweet smile on his face. She couldn't look at it anymore. This was wrong, and she felt her stomach turn over as she remembered Martha's brittle smile as she helped Buffy search the TARDIS wardrobe this evening.
They weren't dancing anymore. "Are you feeling ill again, Buffy?" asked John, his hands on her elbows.
"No, I’m peachy keen. Can we sit?" She gently guided him to a corner table where she had a clear view of all the entrances. He excused himself to get them drinks, and Buffy kept one eye on him and one eye on the doors. As she saw Martha rush in, she leapt up and dragged her friend to the corner. "Did you find it?"
"No!" hissed Martha, "they got to Jenny and I think I may have been followed."
Buffy blanched. "You led them here? Look at all of these people! If things get ugly, we are totally screwed!"
"Here is where you were, that's not my fault!" snapped Martha. Buffy looked down, and Martha's whisper softened. "I didn't know where else to go, they were shooting at me, and I think I have an idea to get the Doctor back."
Buffy blinked. "How?"
Martha pulled out a small pen-like device. "Sonic screwdriver. Next to the TARDIS, I can't think of anything else in the universe he loves more. He'll remember it."
Buffy stared at it. "Where did you get that?"
"In his coat, in the TARDIS"
"When?"
"Just now."
Buffy palmed her face. "So you didn't just lead them here, you showed them where the TARDIS is?"
Martha felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Oh. Oh no."
"No, no, we’ll get there first. It'll be fine. I’ve just got to get these people out of here before the Family comes looking around. Is there a fire alarm anywhere?"
"There you are –" John came up from behind Buffy. "Ah, and Martha, it's ah – a pleasant surprise to see you here."
Buffy turned around slowly. "Oh, John. You're here. And there's drinks." She took the glass out of his hand and downed the punch in one swallow. "How many people would you say are in here? Forty maybe," she muttered, pulling her hair up and tying it behind her head.
"Fifty-three," he replied without thinking, a stunned look coming across his face as he realized what he'd said.
Buffy nodded, leaning down. "Great. So, John, listen," and she paused while she tore a slit up the center of her skirt "Martha's got something really important to tell you, pay really close attention, and I - I'm just going to go, uh, do something about this crowd. Don't-" she pointed her finger at him, "run off anywhere without me." She glanced at Martha. "No matter what." She poked John in the chest one more time for emphasis. "And don't talk to strangers. I'll be right back." She nodded to Martha, then skirted to the side of him and disappeared down the hall. John simply stared after her, his mouth slightly ajar.
"She's a very strange woman."
Martha snorted. "You've no idea."
Meanwhile, Buffy had found the kitchens, a tin washtub, and some rags. After scaring the kitchen staff out, she piled the rags in the washtub in the center of the floor, poured some lamp oil onto them, then lit a match and tossed it in. There were some vegetable scraps, and she dumped them on top. After a few short minutes the whole kitchen began to fill with a very satisfying if slightly stinky black smoke, that hopefully wouldn't catch onto anything. She ran back to the dance hall shouting, "Fire!" Several of the partygoers in the parlor were already rushing out the door. The smoke was only just beginning to leak into the main hall.
A blond head lingered in one of the corners. It was that kid who'd stared at her earlier in the day – what was his name? Jim or something? Maybe Baines had gotten to him. She noted his position, but first she had to retrieve John and Martha. John was shouting at Martha, who looked like she'd been sucking on a series of lemons.
"It's just a storybook, you see, Martha-"
"No, it's not! This is a sonic screwdriver. Now hold it, Doctor, and remember who you are!" Martha tried to pull his hand up to place the screwdriver in it, but he snatched his hand away.
"Martha! I am John Smith, and I see how you could have gotten confused."
Martha's shoulders squared off. "I'm very sorry, Doctor." Buffy flinched when Martha pulled back and slapped John across the face. “Remember!”
John recovered, rubbing his cheek. "Buffy. Can you help me get your friend under control?"
Buffy looked to Martha who just shook her head, the beginnings of tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. "Martha's fine. It's a dance, I’m here, and so according to tradition, I've just set a fire. We need to go, now would be good." She took his hand and tried to pull him along, but he pulled back, his eyes wide.
"Do you believe in her nonsense?"
Buffy tilted his chin down towards her. "I've never met the Doctor. All I've got is Martha's word, and yours that he's some kind of hero. But she's my friend, and so are you, John, and in case you didn't notice, I set a fire and this room is starting to get a little smoky. So can we please continue this conversation outside?"
Martha coughed twice. "I agree."
John nodded, then paused, frowning. “Why did you set a fire?”
“No time. Now is the time for the running.” Buffy took his hand and turned to run.
Unfortunately, Baines, Jenny, a portly old guy, and a genuinely creepy little girl with a red balloon were standing between them and the exit. A number of scarecrows were somehow lurching in behind them. Buffy dropped John’s hand as the creepy girl pointed at him. "Him. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."
Baines sniffed. "He took human form." Then a puzzled look crossed his face and he sniffed again. "And what on Earth is she?"
Buffy had the sudden feeling of being the center of attention. She simpered and batted her eyelashes. She drew her right hand to her chest, toying with her decolletage, and finding the handle of her knife. Martha, eyes watering from the smoke, wanted very badly to laugh as Buffy said sweetly, "Oh, I think you're about to find out."
10. Everyone's Afraid of Their Own Life
Timothy Latimer hunkered in the opposite corner. The smoke had essentially emptied out the building, but if he stayed low, it didn’t bother him. Also, it meant that no one noticed him. Well, except for Miss Sum- Buffy, who’d looked him in straight the eye when she’d come back in, screaming about fire and her dress in tatters. Almost everyone out, not enough time – there’s that kid again, what’s his name, Jim or something? Is he one of them? Get him after I get John and Martha. Timothy would have been more surprised about hearing her voice inside his head at that moment, but then again for the past day a watch had been talking to him about Time Lords and traveling through time and space. Consequently, his tolerance for the new and strange was quite a bit higher than it had been twenty-four hours prior.Despite that, even he wasn’t quite prepared for the scene unfolding in front of him. In just a few seconds, Buffy had thrown Mr. Clarke across the room and sliced apart two of the scarecrows with a knife that appeared far too long to have been concealed from where she’d removed it. But now the other maid, Jenny, who was part of this Family of Blood that was chasing John-Smith-who-was-actually-the-Time-Lord-called-the-Doctor, had pulled out some kind of pistol and grabbed Martha as she tried to run by.
Baines tried to pull his pistol out, but Buffy threw a chair that hit him in the head. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Enough!” shouted out the little girl one. She too had a gun, this one pointing at Buffy, who dropped the chair she’d been wielding. “Father-mine, are you recovered?”
Mr. Clarke’s body had risen and was rubbing his head. “So I have, Daughter-mine. I think we gave you the wrong body. Imagine what you could have done with such power.” He came and stood next to her. “Would you still like it?”
“Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets to take over my body!” shouted Buffy. “I never know what you’re going to go and do with it.” She cheated for a moment and looked over at John, who seemed completely paralyzed by shock. Another pair of scarecrows went to grab him, and she brandished her knife, setting herself between them. “And nobody gets to touch his body if I haven’t gotten to do it first!”
Jenny shoved Martha hard, and she fell down to her knees. Behind her she heard the weapon charge, “Choosing your lover over your friend are you?” asked Jenny in a sick parody of her old teases.
“No.” Buffy’s knife lowered a fraction of an inch. “You don’t get to have either of them.” Baines, having gotten back on his feet, was sniffing again. “Got a cold or something? I can fix that with a quick decapitation.”
Baines ignored her and moved forward, so Buffy went on guard, but he stopped short. “Your friend. He’s human. The Time Lord is elsewhere, and it’s the Time Lord that we want.” Baines raised his gun towards John. “Where is it?”
John shook his head. “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean, Time Lord?”
Baines frowned and pointed the gun at Buffy’s head instead. “Tell us where the Time Lord is, and you can keep this idiot and you can even have the maid.”
“No!” shouted Martha, lurching forward, but Jenny stepped on her spine, pressing her to the ground.
Buffy shook her head. “I’ve done this way too many times to fall for that. You never take the bad guy’s deal when he’s pointing a gun at you or your friends. This is the first sign that they’re offering you a bad deal.” She held the knife up by the handle, point down. “What’s going to happen is that you’re either gonna go away in peace, or else I’m going to kill you all.” She smiled and tossed her hair. “Now, I’m a big fan of the first option, because it means fewer broken nails on my part. But make no mistake, me and my friends are getting out of here. The only question is whether or not you do.”
The watch showed Tim the next several seconds before they happened: Buffy was going to flick her wrist and the knife would pin Baines' foot to the floor. She’d manage to incapacitate him, but would not be able to stop Jenny from shooting Martha. Jenny wouldn’t survive much longer, but John Smith would be seized by the scarecrows while either Mr. Clarke or the little girl would finally get a kill-shot on Buffy. There were just too many enemies and too many people for Buffy to protect. The words, don’t let them die, echoed in his head.
He didn’t have time to think, all he had was that terrible other voice in his mind telling him what to do. And there was nothing else he could think of, so Tim squashed down his terror and opened the watch. All the Family members snapped their heads towards him, as did Buffy. Her eyes widened, and Tim snapped the watch shut and ran into the back parlor. Baines moved to go after him, but Buffy pulled Baines’ arm around his back, grabbed his gun, and held it to his head.
“Now listen. I’m still willing to go the route where some of you survive.” She lifted his arm up just a few inches more and Baines shouted in pain. “But I’m really not if you guys do not let Martha up, now!”
Jenny looked up at Baines, who nodded. Jenny lifted her foot, and Martha got to her feet. “Martha, you get behind me. Take John and follow that kid, Tim. I’ll be right with you.”
“Buffy, what’s going on?” asked John.
She turned back. He looked so lost. “I’m sorry, John, I told you I wasn’t a lady. Run!” He finally let Martha pull him out the door, leaving Buffy alone with the Family. “So, you’re a bunch of life-sucking aliens.”
“And you’re an impertinent little girl,” said Mr. Clarke, “Who is going to suffer for her lack of respect.”
Buffy stepped back towards the wall. “What exactly have you done to earn my respect?” Then she threw Baines at the Family. With them safely on the ground, she grabbed the lamp off the wall, and threw it at the scarecrows, who went up in flames like sacks of hay.
“I really didn’t want to set this place on fire,” murmured Buffy. Then she dashed through the door, slammed it shut, and stuck a chair under the handle. Tim was trying to pull a window open while John was trying to get answers out of Martha. Neither was having much luck.
“Let me.” Buffy pulled Tim backwards, and easily slid the window open. He went to jump out of it, but Buffy stopped him. “Watch first.”
He eyed her. “Do you know what it is?”
“Fire, ice, and rage.” Buffy knelt down, ignoring the pounding on the other side of the door, putting her hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Do you know what I am?”
“No, and neither does the wat- the Doctor.” Tim was shivering with fear. Martha and John had stopped arguing and watched Buffy.
“I’m the Slayer. I’m the bogeyman that bogeymen tell their bogeykids about.” The banging on the door was starting to get worse, and new smoke was seeping through the cracks. “I’m probably the only thing here half as scary as what’s in that watch. And I swear to you, I’m going to keep you, and the watch, safe. Okay?”
Tim nodded, and handed the silver fob watch over to Buffy. She patted his head. “Now, out the window.” He started to climb out, and Buffy stood, turning the watch over in her hand. “What are you two waiting for?”
“An explanation,” said John.
Martha stared at her. “Open the watch.”
Buffy tucked it in her bodice. “Not yet. The building is now actually on fire, so first we run.” She motioned with her hand. “Out.”
Martha glared daggers at Buffy, then jumped out.
Puppy dog eyes was next. “Buffy, just – please.”
“John,” sighed Buffy. She went to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Another loud pound at the door startled him. When he looked back down he realized that Buffy was close to tears. In a throaty voice she told him, “There’s going to be explanations, and you’re not going to like me so much after, so right now, please just hold my hand and run with me.”
He nodded, and together they climbed out into the dark.
11. The Dark Center of the Universe
By flickering firelight the group made their way to the barn. Buffy felt John’s grip tighten as the TARDIS came into view. “Buffy,” he gasped.Her lips thinned. “I know, John. Come on.” Martha had unlocked the doors, and she was shoving Tim in front of her. Buffy tugged on his arm one more time, and John followed her inside.
Martha shut and locked the doors behind them. “Can we please open the watch now?” Her eyes bugged open wider as Buffy went to the console. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t really know!” shouted Buffy. Her hands, meanwhile, were dancing over the controls. “My head is killing me, my thoughts are starting to burn, but there are images, I can see them – the Family will be right behind us and they have some kind of technology - please don’t try to explain it to me,” she interjected, looking up into the air, “that can penetrate through the TARDIS’ shields. So I just need to buy us some time.”
As Buffy and Martha argued, John and Timothy explored the console room. “I know this place, the blue box that’s bigger on the inside,” murmured John. "I've dreamed it."
“This is your home,” replied Tim. “I’ve seen you, here. The watch showed me.”
Martha blinked. “The watch, it’s talking to you, like it spoke to Tim?”
Buffy shrugged, not stopping her manipulations. “All Slayers are minor psychics, it’s what lets us have the Slayer dreams. Tim has some sort of low-level tele–“ Buffy grunted in pain. “Please, don’t tell me anything else, God, it hurts.”
Martha touched Buffy’s arm. “What hurts?”
Buffy’s eyes opened bloodshot. “Tim can shut off the flow. I can’t. Slayers are open receivers. I don’t have any off switch, and the Doctor didn’t know what I was. I'm listening to him figure all of this out in my head. He’s telling me how to fly the TARDIS. I can see all of his thoughts, and memories, and he’s just-“ Her eyes lost focus. “I can’t even explain. It’s too much, don’t you understand?” Martha watched Buffy compress a pump and then flip a final switch. The TARDIS trembled with motion.
Tim stood behind her. “He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun.” Buffy nodded, falling back into the captain’s chair. “He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe.”
“Yes,” said Buffy. “But he’s also beautiful, and a hero, and everything you ever told me he was.” Her gaze settled unhappily on John, who was standing terrifyingly still. “After we land, we have to open the watch again.”
“But what’s wrong with that?” asked Martha.
“If the Doctor lives, I die,” responded John in a low voice. Martha’s mouth opened slightly as she considered it from his perspective for the very first time.
Her heart broke a little as Buffy whispered, “I told you that you were going to hate me once I explained. I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.”
John’s eyes never left Buffy’s, his voice rough. “But if we don’t open the watch?”
“I can’t move us across time, or even off the planet, it’s too dangerous. I can’t go near their ship, I can’t stop them.” Buffy pulled the offending article out, but still held it to her chest. “They’ll find us, and they’ll leave a wake of destruction and horror behind them. We can’t let them do that.”
John approached her. “No, before that. What happens if we don’t open the watch?” He knelt beside her and wiped the sweat from her brow with his handkerchief.
Buffy couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. “I’m stronger than you or even he could ever understand.”
John shook his head. “I know, Buffy, but you don’t look so very strong right now.”
“I’m not usually sick like this, John, I swear.”
“You’re not sick.” He took her hand, holding the watch between them.
“This isn’t about me,” Buffy insisted.
“How long?” he demanded.
Buffy cringed and admitted. “Not long.”
Martha caught her breath. “It’s killing you. The thoughts of a Time Lord in a human brain, they’re killing you. As long as he’s in the watch- oh my!”
“I don’t hate you,” John whispered. He looked back at Martha. “Is there any way....“ his voice trailed off, and Martha understood the request.
“I’ll show Tim the kitchens.”
John smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Martha.” Martha took Tim by the hand and they disappeared down the hallway, leaving John and Buffy alone.
Buffy looked down at their linked hands, the watch cold and hard within. “We could try – I could see if getting distance between me and the watch would sever the link.”
“Then who would guard it?” John got up onto the captain’s chair beside her and gathered her in his arms. “Can you work this thing without it? Who’s going to stop those monsters? Me? Martha? Tim? Maybe the Headmaster?”
“I know.” They held each other for just a short time before the TARDIS settled to rest. Buffy bit her lip. “This isn’t fair.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. But I’m not a hero. This Doctor fellow, he’s a hero. You, you’re a hero.” John rubbed a tendril of her hair between his fingers. “You deserve a hero.”
“I knew you were doomed, John, this whole time. So I wouldn’t let myself love you.” Buffy pulled him closer. “But you are a hero, and I do love you.”
They kissed, and the kiss contained a lifetime. John paused for breath, murmured, “I love you,” in the shell of her ear, then went back to her mouth for more. After a few more precious seconds, John pressed the button, and the watch sprang open against his palm.
12. It's Hard to Remember to Live Before You Die
It took the Doctor a bit less than a millisecond to realize that he was back inside a body. He stretched the time to give himself a chance to assess his situation, then discovered that he was in two bodies. Both physically and metaphysically. Stray thoughts of his were still steadily frying the girl’s synapses – Buffy’s synapses – and his tongue was still snarled with hers in the warm enclosure of her mouth. Skeins of their thoughts intersected, and she gasped. With a sigh, he finished the kiss, but continued to hold her close. She must have trusted him, because there was no way to force this girl to do anything that she didn’t want to, at least not physically.“Doc-tor?”
He caught his breath as his second heart finished regrowing and began to beat again. “Yes?” A stray thought brushed against his retreating ones. She’d been seventeen and there’d been a man – no, a vampire – and she’d saved the world with a kiss and a betrayal then too. “You didn’t betray anyone.” He cringed as he saw the anguish in her eyes. “Sorry, I just meant – I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s good to know.” She pressed those feather soft lips together. “John?” It was both a question and a plea.
The Doctor tapped a finger to his temple. “Safe inside.”
“And me?”
“We appear to be fully disentangled.” Buffy’s eyes flickered down. “Uh, mentally, that is. You just look like you might need a hug.” He held her a bit tighter, and for a fleeting second, she felt just as relaxed as she was when they’d been John’s arms around her. He liked that feeling. When he released her to stand, he kept their hands joined around the watch. “Are you-“
“Tired. That’s all.” She pulled her hand away and massaged her temples.
The Doctor stared down at her, his gob, for once, failing to run at all. “Well, I have a thing-” There was a distant rumble from outside the TARDIS. “That would be the Family, then, so predictable, lose me and then threaten to bomb the town – well, I guess that means that I’m predictable too – anyway, I’m just going to nip out for a second, shouldn’t take too long. You –“ he stammered, “you should stay here, get some rest. Quick kip. Right. I’m going.” He skipped off towards the door, then turned as he opened it. “And, if Martha comes out, tell her – oh, nevermind, that’s something I’ll have to do myself.” Buffy could barely hear his last words. “Just, stay safe.”
About five minutes later, she’d processed that he’d gone. She eased herself out of the chair, looking around the TARDIS, all of the images from the watch, from his mind, swirling through her head. Buffy stepped back, grabbing onto the railing for support. He’d taken the watch with him. He had a plan, didn’t he? Quite a plan.
Martha and Tim emerged from the back hall. “They must have gone off. I swear I heard the doors shut,” said Martha, looking towards them, then catching sight of Buffy out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, he left you behind.”
“Had to. Aubertide allergy.”
Tim approached her. “So that’s it then. The Doctor’s back.”
“And John Smith is gone,” finished Buffy. Several beats of silence passed before Martha brought herself to look Buffy in the eye.
“Buffy, I’m-“ But Buffy had gone pale. “What is it?”
“I know what he’s going to do.” Buffy’s shoulders snapped back. “Martha, can I borrow your coat?”
Martha was shrugging it off of her shoulders before she was quite sure what she was doing. “Sure, why?”
Buffy pulled the coat around herself. “I need to go. I’m sorry, no time to explain. Can you get Tim back to the school?”
“Certainly.”
“Get back there and lock the school up tight. Take a knife, and watch out for the scarecrows. They shouldn’t bother them, but just in case. Stay there, make sure it’s safe, and I’ll come find you in the morning.” Buffy ran to the doors. “I’m sorry for sending you back there, but I need to stop him, and someone needs to protect the school.”
“I can do that,” said Martha with a nod.
Buffy smiled sadly. “I know you can.” She looked down. “Thank you, Tim. Stay safe.”
“I will.”
Buffy ran off into the night. Martha sighed, biting her lower lip.
“She still sounds a bit like him,” remarked Tim.
“Yeah, I know.”
The Family’s ship wasn’t too far from where the TARDIS had reappeared, and Buffy held her breath as long as she could while she approached the clearing. The explosion made Cooper’s Field a lot more exciting than the last time Buffy’d seen it. The Doctor worked quick. Heat from the blast created a low-pressure zone that the chilled night air rushed in to fill, helping to disperse the aubertide more quickly, allowing her to breathe freely. Buffy shook her head at the voice in her mind that informed her of these facts, wondering exactly how much of himself the Doctor had left behind. But she put the thought aside, squashing down her twinge of nausea from the remaining aubertide as she strode forward to put a stop to the one thought he’d left that had troubled her the most.
“Give me the gun, Doctor.” Her voice rang out clear across the clearing, the Doctor standing over the huddled Family only a few dozen paces away, the portrait of a wrathful god framed by flames. “You hate guns.”
He twisted towards her voice, the laser still trained on the villains. “You don’t like them either.” He turned back to the Family.
“You’re the Doctor, I’m the Slayer. The gun fits in my world better than yours.” She planted her feet in front of him, looking up to his face, and the fire behind him reflected in her green eyes. “I know what you’re going to do. The chains, the mirrors, the black hole, even the scarecrows. But it’s not eternal justice; it’s eternal vengeance. So give me the gun, Doctor.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I’m the Slayer. I’m another kind of law. I don’t see eternity. I see endings. I’m here to stop you, because this has to end.” She held out her hand. “You know me now better than I know myself. Do you trust me?” Wordlessly, the Doctor placed the laser in her hand. She spun about. “You, the Mother. How much time do you have left? Two weeks? Three?”
Jenny’s heavily lidded eyes turned up towards her. “Three.”
“What would you do in those three weeks?” Buffy’s aim shifted towards Baines’ body. “Tell me!”
The Son stammered, “I-I don’t know.”
“You killed my friend for the promise of eternal life and you can’t come up with anything to do with three weeks?” shouted Buffy.
“Spend it with my family,” cried the Daughter.
Buffy eyes softened as she regarded the youngest victim, and she nodded. “Good answer.” Now she turned to the Father. “You’re all in this together. You’ve spent two months killing. How would you spend three weeks living?”
“We’d bask in the light of our sun, Augon, on the shores of the Perylian River.”
Buffy smiled. “Of course you would. You’re mayflies.” Her lips thinned. “Murderers don’t get peaceful retirements.” She glanced back at the Doctor. “Do you know a place?”
It was difficult to make out his reply over the noise of the fires. “I do.” He went and stood beside her. “The ruins of the Kannemarra mines. It’s dark. It’s cold. They’ll live.”
“And they’ll die. That’s how it works.” She motioned with the laser, and the Family slowly made it to their feet. “That’s mercy.” Following the captives back to the TARDIS, right before they entered, the Doctor squeezed Buffy’s hand.
His hearts skipped a double beat when she squeezed back.