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My Immortal. Chapter 13.
I know no one is going to be around now, but I'm mostly posting for my own sake... I just want rid of this chapter. As always huge thank you's to Kathy for her wonderful beta work, and her endless patience. Previous chapters here.
Summary: Captain Jack *is* The Immortal.
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: Just under 7000 words.
Feedback: Dear god yes please! Don't hate it.
Chapter 13
Jack: You need to know something. A long time ago, I was pretty good at torture. You see, I had quite a reputation as the go-to guy. My job demanded it at the time, you see.
‘In moments of great stress, every life form that exists gives out a tiny subliminal signal. This signal simply communicates an exact and almost pathetic sense of how far that being is from the place of his birth.’
The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy
Sunday 2nd of May. Early morning.
Buffy woke up alone. It was one of those things about dating a guy who didn’t sleep... he tended to wander off during the night to look after his mysterious affairs.
She didn’t really mind though, since she knew that he’d appear as soon as he realised that she was awake, but for now she was happy to have a few moments’ peace so she could try to sort through her thoughts.
Last night... well it had gone better than she’d imagined. Apart from that one horrible moment, but everyone done their best to pretend that nothing had happened, a skill they all excelled at.
Other than that he’d mostly showed off, in his own inimitable way, and (obviously) made quite the impression... There had been that half hour when he’d vanished and they’d all bombarded her with questions, few of which she’d been able to answer.
And then there had been the moment in the garden, after she’d interrupted the Immortal-Giles powwow, when Giles had taken her aside and tried to determine The Immortal’s ‘motives’. Attempting to explain that really he had none hadn’t gone down very well - she could tell that Giles still didn’t trust The Immortal one tiny little bit, and he had seemed deeply sceptical when she told him that The Immortal had never once asked about the Slayers or anything relating to them. Never even been out patrolling with her or offered any help whatsoever.
She wasn’t sure what exactly Giles was trying to insinuate - and maybe Giles didn’t either. It was that ‘too good to be true’ factor raising its head again, and there was nothing she could do about that except pray that somehow things would work out.
Sighing she leaned back against the ornately carved headboard and wished for the weekend to be over already.
At least everyone else seemed OK - even Xander, after The Immortal had demonstrated that he was perfectly capable of normal male bonding without any suggestiveness.
Then the door to the en-suite bathroom opened and The Immortal emerged, a towel draped over his shoulder and hair still glinting wet. Seeing that she was awake his face lit up.
“Now see this is why people have relationships - so that there’s always someone in their bed in the morning, ready for fun.”
She couldn’t help smiling as he discarded the towel with a flourish, advancing on the bed with sparkling eyes.
But as he sat down on the side of the bed, trying to kiss her, she pulled back.
“Is the door locked?”
He blinked. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Sometimes he was so clueless about basic human behaviour it felt like he’d fallen off a passing UFO. Or maybe he was so old that locks hadn’t been invented when he grew up... She shot him a look.
“Because all my friends are in this house...”
“So?” He crawled onto the bed, pure mischief and desire, but she shook her head sternly.
“So! They might come in at any moment!”
His reply was a smug smirk. “Well they might learn something.”
She’d known that he didn’t have a problem with nudity, but... looking at him she had a horrible feeling he wasn’t joking.
“I can’t even... you are so weird.”
This time he laughed properly, showing off those perfect teeth. “Buffy - I’ve... heh. I’ve been to places where sex is a spectator sport.”
“A spectator sport?” she echoed, and he grinned, using her confusion to pull her skimpy nightie over her head, before leaning in, tilting his head to kiss her before she could protest.
“I won trophies,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, and she closed her eyes and let herself fall into his embrace - her friends would probably knock first...
***
They were late for breakfast, of course.
As they walked through the doors Buffy saw that everyone else had clearly decided to start without them - or had been told to by Francesca - and turned to cast The Immortal her ‘What did I say?’ look.
She was stopped by the look on his face, and his sudden, vice-like grip on her hand.
His eyes were fixed on the table, and when he spoke his voice was eerily calm. But his hand was still almost crushing hers.
“Why...” he slowly asked, “why are there petals all over my table?”
One by one they looked up, confused, and then Kennedy and Willow shot each other a look. Willow bit her lip, looking very uncomfortable.
“Um... Kennedy and I are kinda jet lagged and... um... thought it would be nice to... the garden looks so pretty in the early morning...” She faltered slightly, but The Immortal didn’t say anything, so she continued, her smile wobbly.
“Your housekeeper said that it would be OK to pick some flowers, but then...” She hesitated. “There was... uh... an incident, and the flowers went a little kablooey, and I was going to fix them but then I remembered that you asked me not to do magic, so we thought that the petals would make a nice decoration?”
He listened with great care to the explanation, not reacting to Willow’s not-so-subtle blushing with as much as a raised eyebrow. Slowly he nodded.
“OK, that’s... OK.” His grip relaxed, and he took a deep breath. “And... thank you for not using magic. It’s appreciated.”
As they made their way to their seats, Buffy got an avalanche of ‘What the hell was that?’ looks, and she could only shake her head in shared befuddlement.
The Immortal helped himself to coffee and some pastries, until finally Xander decided that he’d had enough mystery, and decided to try to lighten the mood in his own way - Buffy had forgotten how much she missed that.
“So... what have you got against flower petals? Have a bad experience with some crazy flower-power hippies? Or was it Day of the Triffids?”
Andrew paled. “I couldn’t sleep for a week after I saw that, it’s horrible. And I still think that maybe the flowers are watching us. Just... waiting for their moment.”
But The Immortal refused to take the bait. He ignored Andrew and caught Xander’s eyes, face and voice almost devoid of emotion.
“I saw 15 men choked to death in front of my eyes.”
There was a few moment’s astonished silence, then Dawn spoke up.
“With... petals?”
He nodded. “With petals.”
“But... but how? Or what? Evil... flowers?”
She couldn’t help pulling a face at the line. There were some things that were just too odd.
A sigh. “Fairies. Or, I should say, what people refer to as fairies.”
Buffy forgot all about her breakfast. She remembered this, only he’d not explained much at the time - they’d started talking about something else instead...
Kennedy stared, open mouthed.
“Fairies are evil?”
Xander made a dismissive sound. “Typical. Santa Claus is evil, fairies are evil... bet you that leprechauns are too.”
The Immortal, for the first time, seemed to relax a little. “Come on, leprechauns aren’t real. But fairies...” He shook his head. “I really don’t know much. Just that they’re old - old and dangerous. One of those things left over from the dawn of time.”
He seemed to inhale his coffee, then looked up, seemingly having regained his equilibrium. “I actually wondered if maybe you knew anything?”
He caught Giles’ eyes, and the Watcher hesitated. “I’m afraid that the information the Council held was only ever very scattered, and after the attacks by the First Evil...” He stopped momentarily. “We lost so much. Please, if you have any information that could be of use to us, I would be grateful.”
They began exchanging what knowledge they had, and Buffy watched, feeling more relieved than she could express. It would seem that Giles had been able to put the ‘event’ of the previous night behind him, figuratively speaking.
A bit of sightseeing and they could send everyone home tomorrow, happy.
***
The rain was sudden, and very wet, and ruled out a lot of options. They were trying to work out what to do, Willow flicking through the guide book that she’d brought in search of ideas, when The Immortal caught their attention, clapping his hands together.
“I know. We can go down into the catacombs!”
As was his wont he immediately sprung into action, gleefully pulling strings and arranging things with a flick of his wrist and his too-charming smile. So when they arrived at the main entrance he’d become a Professor of Ancient History, and the rest of them his students, which meant that they got special provision to go down tunnels not on the normal tours.
“How does he do that?” Willow asked, as they watched him confidently flirt his way through security, and Buffy shrugged.
“Don’t know. But he says he used to be a conman...”
Willow yawned, and then shook her head. “That’s not very reassuring.”
Soon after wards they were all walking down ancient passage ways, clutching torches and peering through the darkness as their shadows skipped along the walls around them.
Despite the very definite ‘historical’ factor, walking around in dank underground tunnels full of dead people was not what Xander had had in mind when ‘sightseeing’ had been touted, and he said as much.
“Well I think it’s homely!” The Immortal countered.
“Homely?” Xander echoed incredulous. “You can’t even brighten it with some curtains, what with the lack of windows.”
The Immortal shrugged. “Windows are overrated.”
“What? You grew up in a bunker?”
“Pyramid actually,” The Immortal replied, showing all his teeth in a winsome smile. “Spent my childhood building sandcastles shaped like polyhedrons.”
Buffy sighed, and caught Xander’s eyes. “Don’t... whenever anyone starts asking, he just turns into an X-rated version of the History Channel. Ten to one that he’ll bring up Cleopatra now.”
But instead of explaining what chat-up lines he used on Egyptian queens, The Immortal stopped, trying to decipher an old inscription on the wall.
“You speak Latin,” Giles observed, and The Immortal did his familiar little shrug.
“Bit tricky getting by in Pompeii otherwise.”
“Pompeii?” Willow asked, and he sighed, sounding wistful.
“Sitting in the shade of Vesuvius, with a pretty boy in one arm and an amphora in the other... Oh, those were the days.”
“Do tell!” Dawn cut in, gleefully.
“Actually-” The Immortal added, a smile in his voice, “two amphora. There was this stall holder - fantastic guy - who did two amphora for the price of one. Could have sold sand in the desert that one. Now what was his name...”
As he continued to think out loud, Kennedy snorted.
“OK, that’s it. I think he just makes everything up.”
His laughter floated over his shoulder, clear and bright, and Buffy smiled fondly. This was what she had been hoping for - that her friends would come to that half-exasperated acceptance of the way he just didn’t follow any known rules.
Then Willow called out.
“Wait! There’s... there’s something here.”
The Immortal stopped and doubled back, curiously letting the light from his torch trail over the bit of nondescript wall Willow was pointing to. Noting the look on his face, she waved her hand impatiently.
“It’s- it’s some sort of concealing spell... Someone’s hidden something here. It shouldn’t take long to lift.”
She raised her hand and then stopped, uncertain.
“Um. If you don’t mind?”
The Immortal shook his head.
“Not at all. Please go ahead.”
Noticing the looks he was getting, he shrugged, unconcerned.
“The right tool for the right job. And I think this very nicely illustrates how untrustworthy magic is. Even a simple padlock would have been better - and far less likely to draw attention.”
Willow shot him a dirty look before wrinkling her brow in concentration, and after a few moments the wall suddenly seemed to melt away, revealing yet another black opening.
Buffy turned to find The Immortal grinning excitedly as he shone his torch into the new tunnel, and - apparently without thinking - drawing his gun.
“C’mon! Hide and seek this way,” he said, almost bouncing as he stalked off into the darkness.
Buffy hesitated for just a moment. Not because she was unsure about following, but because seeing him like this was new... and yet she could tell that this was something as natural as breathing to him. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when saying how comfortable he felt down here. Or maybe it was just the situation? She really ought to get him to come out on patrol with her at some point...
After a little while, The Immortal and Willow leading the way, two torches abruptly swung sideways, illuminating an alcove in the wall.
Leaning in closer for a better look, Buffy pulled back sharply.
The occupant hadn’t been dead long, and someone had been carving odd symbols into the parts of the face and body that were visible. The creature had also at some point probably had a horn, if the ugly circular wound on its forehead was anything to go by. There was a strong smell of weird spices that called to mind the Magic Box, and Buffy offered silent gratitude for magical rituals that involved sage. The stench of rotting demon was not one she relished.
The Immortal however, despite wrinkling his nose, peered down at the body curiously, before holstering his gun and turning back to the rest of the group who had now caught up.
“I guess this is ‘Welcome to CSI: Rome?” he said brightly. “Now if no one minds, I’m going to be Grissom - you’ll have to imagine the beard, since I can’t grow one - and...” his eyes trailed over them, “-Dawn! Do you want to be Catherine?”
“Sure!” she replied, and he turned to Giles.
“So, Guest Star with Specialist Knowledge. Mind to tell me what species this is?”
Adjusting his glasses, Giles leaned forward. “It would appear to be a Kungai demon... Andrew?”
He glanced at Andrew, and Andrew quickly cleared his throat and tried to impersonate a talking library.
“Um... Kungai demons are a powerful and deadly Asian race of demons. They have a horn called a Tak horn on their head which possesses magical properties and it is tied directly to the Kungai's life force. If it is removed the Kungai will die.”
The Immortal mused on this. “So the removal of the horn was probably the cause of death? OK. What does this horn do - is it like a unicorn horn?”
“It drains the life force out of whoever is stabbed with it.”
“Ah. Sounds nasty. But... it doesn’t really explain why our vic is down here, all hidden.”
Beginning to unwrap the demon, he kept up the chatter.
“Now Mr Kungai, I’m guessing you won’t conveniently be carrying your wallet in your back pocket, and if you have dental records I’ll eat my hat - so it’s lucky that I’m pretty good at getting dead bodies to talk!”
Dawn leaned forward, her face as curious and unfazed as The Immortal’s, and he shot her a small smile. Buffy remembered this from their homework sessions - The Immortal’s squick level was clearly as non-existent as Dawn’s. Giles and Willow hovered too, looking a bit offended that The Immortal had just swooped in, but too polite to say anything.
“Have you ever thought of studying forensics by the way?” The Immortal asked, and Dawn shook her head.
“You should. Think about it, I mean. There’s better careers than watcher!”
Grinning he turned back to the demon, blithely ignoring the frown on Giles’ face. But after a short while Buffy saw his face turn grim. Slowly he looked up.
“He was tortured,” he said, and Kennedy pulled a ‘duh’ face.
“Well what a surprise,” she said drolly, tapping her stake against her leg, already bored.
The Immortal shot her a withering glance.
“No. These-” he waved a hand towards the symbols, “-were all inflicted after death. Probably part of the concealing spell or... something. Not my area of expertise. But before he died he was tortured - carefully and systematically and for a long time by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.”
He cast a glance at Dawn, then began pointing out specific places as Buffy did her best to ignore the spectacle. Problem being that anywhere else she pointed her torch she could swear that she saw creepy-crawlies scuttling for cover...
“Look - see this here? And here. And that nerve centre has been accessed here...” He whistled quietly, and caught Dawn’s eyes.
“Oh whoever did this was brilliant. Torture is... it’s a craft, a skill, like any other. Knowing how to create the maximum amount of pain, for as long as possible - without making the subject pass out, because that amounts to rest, and you can’t have that - is something that takes time to learn and even longer to perfect. But... with time also comes individual styles... You might be able to find out who just by looking at this MO. Let me take some photos.”
As he pulled out his cell and began directing Dawn as to how to hold her torch so he got the optimum amount of light, it felt like there had been a sudden drop in temperature, as they shifted uncomfortably. Buffy shone her torch on her shoes, and thought to herself that they needed polishing.
Giles was the first to speak up.
“You seem to know a lot about the subject,” he observed drily, but The Immortal didn’t flinch, as he slipped the phone back in his pocket.
“Yes I do,” he answered, in that clipped tone that Buffy knew meant ‘No trespassers beyond this point’, before turning to her, all business.
“Now the question is - was he tortured for information, or for revenge. Or...” his eyes narrowed, and his voice became, if possible, even more devoid of feeling, “was this all done for someone else’s benefit?”
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
He looked at her, face mostly in shadow. “Maybe they used him to get to someone else. Say... I wanted something from you, but I know that you’re pretty tough. So I might use Dawn as... leverage.”
She swallowed involuntarily, suddenly remembering all too clearly what could happen.
Turning his eyes back on the demon, he picked up its hand, slowly turning it over as he spoke.
“It’s... possible... this was done just for the hell of it, for the sake of inflicting pain, but... it’s unlikely. I can’t see why it’d be so well hidden then.” Looking up he caught her eyes again.
“If you want me to go talk to his family once you find out who he is - presuming he’s local - I’ll be more than happy to by the way. They might freak out a little if a Slayer turns up on their doorstep...”
There was an odd pause, then Xander spoke, obviously trying his best to keep his voice even.
“Talk to his family?”
The Immortal shot him a searching look.
“You never inform victims’ families about what happened to them?”
Kennedy coughed. “Sorry but... we’re talking about a demon, right?”
The Immortal looked like he’d been slapped.
“Demons are people too!”
“Um - no? They’re demons. That’s what makes them different from people.”
The Immortal’s features hardened, and when he spoke his voice was coldly furious.
“You’ll want to be a lot more careful about the words you use - Slayer.”
Somewhere, in the pit of her stomach, Buffy could feel pure dread spreading. She could almost see the sudden gulf between them in the sudden, sharp silence, and yet couldn’t think of a thing to say. And The Immortal’s face was so closed that he looked like a stranger.
***
As so often before, Jack could feel a familiar sense of claustrophobia threaten to overwhelm him. Times like these he wondered if Douglas Adams had been right, because he could feel the immense distance of time and space too keenly for words; the need to get back home an almost physical ache...
This world was too small, too narrow - so entirely not where he belonged. He wanted to be in a place where ‘Ladies, gentlemen and variations thereupon’ was the standard greeting; a place where sex was simple and straightforward and not bound up in a thousand ever-changing rules; a place where Empires were measured in galaxies...
He let his eyes pass over the others and sighed inwardly. It wasn’t their fault that he was stuck in the wrong time. Or that they’d trampled right through the issues he came here to hide from.
And Buffy looked like she was about to have kittens. Bother. They needed to get out before someone said something stupid...
***
“Well this is certainly proving to be an enlightening outing.”
Despite the fact that Giles’ voice was perfectly polite, The Immortal’s head abruptly whipped round. There was another silence that seemed impossible to break, as The Immortal silently studied Giles - but then dragged his hand across his face , betraying deep weariness.
“Is this about Baxter.”
“I think it would be fair to say that there are a great deal of questions in regards to his disappearance that are still unanswered.”
“Trust me, Mister Giles, you need to curb your curiosity. If he is why you came, your trip was wasted.”
“Um... what are we talking about?” Willow cut in, and The Immortal shifted his attention.
“Roger Fitzwilliam Baxter, a rogue demon hunter. Very brave, very dashing - but unfortunately also a xenophobic jerk who was of the opinion that the only good demon was a dead demon.”
“I did some research,” Giles continued, unperturbed. “His whole family was murdered in front of his eyes by a pack of Prekian demons when he was only a child.”
The Immortal snorted derisively. “Well cry me a river.”
The dread having turned to full-blown horror, Buffy began to wish that a large vampire army would attack, just to stop the conversation. She’d not seen this side of him often, but The Immortal had the cold, superior bastard act down to a fine art. At least her friends would hopefully see that he really was very, very different from Spike or Angel. But it was a pitiful straw to cling to...
“So,” Kennedy said, crossing her arms and looking ready for a fight. “We should all sit around feeling sorry for this fugly dead demon over there on the shelf, but this Baxter guy deserves no sympathy?”
The Immortal shook his head. “Fine - let’s say our Mr Kungai here was killed by a human in front of his family. Would that entitle his children to go out and kill every human they came across?”
“Well that’s-” Xander said, but The Immortal cut him off.
“You don’t want to finish that sentence, trust me.”
“OK!” Buffy said loudly, waving her torch around, trying to get everyone’s attention. “I think we better head back now, right?”
Even in the dim light she could see the vivid agreement on her friends’ faces - they all remembered far too many arguments and painful moments in sewers and other unpleasant underground locations.
But Giles, looking impatient, ignored her completely and brought the conversation back where he wanted it.
“You have still shed no light on Baxter’s fate.”
Buffy looked from one to the other and sighed. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. If one of them didn’t back down soon, she’d have to knock them out and carry them home. Oh joy.
And The Immortal looked genuinely pissed off now.
“What’s it to you? He hurt someone I cared about, someone completely innocent and harmless - on purpose. Apart from which he was a danger to society, so I got rid of him. Come on - the man’s dead, let him rest in peace.”
He stopped, then tilted his head, musing.
“Well I presume he’s dead... he’d be over a hundred if he’s still alive. Which isn’t impossible - he was a fit guy - but not very likely to be honest.”
Buffy stared, taken aback.
“But - I thought you-”
She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. She’d accused him of killing Baxter, and he’d not denied it. Why not, if he hadn’t?
The Immortal smiled faintly.
“I said ‘fate worse than death’. I also said I didn’t murder him.”
Buffy was still trying to work out a response when Dawn spoke up.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Dawn?” she asked, as she sensed everyone’s focus shift.
But her little sister just shrugged. “You left Giles’ letter lying on the table.”
“That was private!” Buffy replied, and Dawn tilted her head with something like pity in her eyes.
“Why do you think I read it? Anyway, I think Baxter sounded just like that General of the Knights of Byzantium that you captured when we ran away from Glory. Remember the way he looked at me? How I was just a ‘thing’? ‘The key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of god.’ I’ll bet you anything Baxter was just the same.”
“Dawn...” Buffy said again, helplessly. She’d had no idea that her sister was still dwelling on that time. Why hadn’t she said something?
Dawn did her patented eyeroll, with added sigh.
“Hey, I’m fine. Seriously, don’t start freaking out. I just think that Baxter got what was coming to him.”
The others looked rather taken aback, Buffy noticed, as her eyes went from face to face. Until she got to The Immortal, who was studying Dawn with an odd focus that she didn’t know what to make of. But before she could say or do anything, Giles spoke again.
“I appreciate your point Dawn, however I’m afraid that I am far from comfortable with someone with undisclosed powers and unknown ethics acting as vigilante.”
The Immortal’s jaw dropped, then his eyes turned to steel, and, judging by the way the light from his torch suddenly danced across the wall, he gripped it harder.
“Listen. You don’t know who I am, and you don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about, so back the hell off!”
But Giles stood his ground.
“So tell me Immortal - who are you?”
There was a long pause, as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breaths, waiting.
Then The Immortal raised his chin, arms crossed over his chest. Buffy wondered what the answer would be - if any.
“I’m a soldier.”
This obviously wasn’t what anyone had been expecting.
“Uh... What kind of soldier?” Xander asked, curious.
“The kind that fights in wars,” The Immortal replied curtly, once more drawing his gun, holding it up in the dim light.
“I didn’t win this in a church raffle, and I don’t carry it for fun. I have killed more people with it than I can count, most of whom probably deserved it far less than Baxter. But as I’m sure you know, saving the world is dirty and bloody work, no matter where you are.”
“You fought in, like, World War I?” Andrew asked, wide-eyed, and The Immortal took a deep breath, put the gun away, and smiled.
“That I did. And if you’d been born a century earlier, so would you have done. Hey - I might even have been your commanding officer in the trenches.”
He slapped a stunned-looking Andrew on the shoulder.
“Commanding Officer?” Andrew breathed, and The Immortal smirked, letting his eyes trail over him.
“Oh Andrew. I can just imagine it - you in an ill-fitting uniform, complaining about your blisters and the rat that stole your bread. And then you’d have been blown to pieces and I’d have to write to your parents. Trust me, you’re better off fighting demons - far less deadly than humans-”
Abruptly his head snapped around, and he pointed towards Willow, who was quietly standing in the background - so still that Buffy had almost forgotten that she was there.
“You - get out of my head!”
Willow’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and took on that guilty look that Buffy knew all too well.
“I- I... I didn’t-” she stammered, and The Immortal shook his head.
“Sweetheart I can feel you. And hey, I can see the logic - have a little snoop around, check that I’m a bona fide Good Guy and all the arguments go away. Find anything of interest?”
“No - nothing.” She shook her head vehemently. “Really - I couldn’t get through at all.”
He pursed his lips, looking speculative. “Well that’s nice to know.”
Then he stepped back over to the Kungai, pulling the wrap up to cover its face and letting his hand rest on its chest for a moment.
“Well there’s a Slayer on your case now, so someone will pay for what they did. Unless of course you’re the bad guy in all of this - in which case I can go buy someone a drink for services to society.”
Buffy felt like protesting that she didn’t particular feel like playing detective, but realised that it’d make sense to save that fight until they’d gotten out. Although... whoever had done this might need taking out - if someone was killing demons, they’d probably start on humans soon.
“Does that mean we are actually going?” she asked, and set off back the way they’d come before anyone could start arguing again. Soon The Immortal took up the navigation again, and Andrew - trying to change the subject, or maybe just being his geeky self - began asking questions about the accuracy of ‘Blackadder Goes Forth’. Really, out of all of them, he’d been the least affected. Which was odd, now Buffy came to think of it, but not the thing she wanted to focus on right now.
Instead she hung back to have a chat with Willow, who still looked somewhat shell-shocked.
“Willow - what were you thinking?” she asked in as quiet a whisper as she could, even as her mind was busy trying to work things out... Was something like this at the root of The Immortal’s intense dislike of magic?
But Willow didn’t start the awkward defence Buffy had been half-expecting, nor offered an apology. Her eyes drifted forward to where The Immortal’s outline could be clearly seen against the old walls and she seemed to not quite know what to say.
“Look, Buffy...”
She sighed. “What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just... I know I shouldn’t have tried to read his mind but... what I saw... he’s not like anything else I’ve ever come across.”
“You mean he’s not human.” Well she’d been expecting that.
Willow hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to sound all doom-y, but... I got nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like he was...” she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s like he was dead. I’m sorry - I don’t want to worry you, but... I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”
Before Buffy could work out a reply, Dawn called her name, and she excused herself, leaving Willow to grasp Kennedy’s hand and mutter something about now being very sleepy thanks to the jet lag.
Why had she thought that having her friends around would somehow make The Immortal easier to explain? It had been a bad idea, from start to finish.
All she wanted to do was to curl up with him somewhere private with a large ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door - but that was sadly not an option.
***
They returned to a sumptuous lunch, but as they sat down Buffy finally couldn’t take The Immortal’s unconcerned chatter anymore, and dragged him out into the hallway.
“OK. What’s your deal? Are you completely unable to behave normally, or do you suffer from occasional short-term memory loss?”
He frowned, clearly unsure what she was getting at. “What do you mean?”
“You had this big argument - like only half an hour ago - and now you’re all ‘Tra-la-la everything’s fine’!”
He tilted his head. “Well isn’t it?”
She stared. “How is it ‘fine’? Please explain, because clearly those words mean something different to you than they do to me.”
He shrugged, that oddly closed look on his face again.
“For a start there were no death threats. Trust me - I’ve been killed more than once for being too... openminded. I know I don’t fit here, that I see the world with different eyes to you. But I can’t do anything about that. If I could go back...”
For just a second there was such deep longing in his eyes that she felt almost hollow. But then his smile re-appeared like magic, and he shook his head.
“But I can’t. What I can do is try to be a good host. So come on, let’s get back to your friends. Everything. Is. Fine.”
She followed, with yet more questions in her mind and more confused than ever.
***
Monday 3rd of May. Morning.
Standing in the enormous hall once more, surrounded by luggage, Buffy still couldn’t make up her mind whether the visit had been a success or not. There had been no further arguments or drama - Giles had insisted on another private talk with The Immortal, but it had obviously not done much to calm his mind. Buffy sincerely hoped that he’d decided to give up, something that looked increasingly likely.
Waiting for the sound of a taxi coming up the drive, Andrew tried to lighten the slightly strained atmosphere.
“You know, I saw this new internet meme the other day, where you had to answer questions to see what Star Wars character you were most like!”
The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “Why would anyone need questions?”
“Fine then - who would you be?” Dawn asked, and he grinned widely.
“I’m Han Solo, isn’t it obvious? I’m better looking of course, but I do have a tendency to shoot first, and these days I’ve even got my own Princess.”
He winked at Buffy, who dearly wished that he’d stop encouraging Andrew’s geekiness - but then he got that look on his face that she’d learned to dread.
“Of course I’d have Lando and Chewie too in a heartbeat.”
“What do you mean ‘have’?” Kennedy asked, and he smirked.
“Well what do you think?”
Seeing the looks on their faces he chuckled. “Fur is a wonderful thing!”
And then Buffy’s silent prayers were answered when his cellphone began ringing.
Glancing at the screen he pulled a face and then disappeared into one of the antechambers with the phone already glued to his ear, promising to ‘only be a minute’.
On the downside this left her alone with her friends for the first time since the catacombs, a situation she’d hoped to avoid altogether.
Looking in the direction The Immortal had disappeared in, Xander lifted an eyebrow.
“Well... I think I can safely say that your new boyfriend isn’t what we expected.”
The familiar, reassuring smile was a balm against the words, and Buffy tried smiling back... except somehow it got stuck. It wasn’t that Xander’s tacit acceptance wasn’t very welcome... it was the fact that he was accepting something other than what she knew to be the truth.
And she realised that she couldn’t let them go like this. Maybe it was because of never trying to put into words what Spike had been to her, leaving everyone to see what they saw fit. And then it had been too late.
So she suddenly needed to make sure they didn’t misunderstand where she was at now, and caught Xander’s eyes.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
She paused briefly, saw the surprise on her friends’ faces as she fought against internal panic.
“He’s my lover.”
The whole smiling thing still didn’t quite work, and she could feel her heart beating much too fast. She felt oddly naked, admitting to wanting something for herself just because it felt good, but if she’d learned anything from The Immortal it was not to be ashamed of enjoying life when it gave her something good.
Then a door slammed and the man in question returned, an easy smile on his face as he looked around, before his eyes narrowed.
“What just happened?”
Grasping his hand as the lifeline it was, Buffy finally managed to smile back.
“Nothing. We were just listening out for the taxi!”
Which then pulled up outside (two miracles in two minutes, what were the chances?) and the familiar goodbye rituals overrode the awkwardness.
It would hopefully be quite a while before she saw any of them again, by which time this fling would already be in the past... She hugged them all tightly, ignored the questions in their eyes and then waved as the taxi drove off, feeling more relieved than she could begin to explain.
“So what happened?” he asked again, his arm wrapped around her middle, and curiosity on his face. Dawn was the one to answer, glancing up from texting a message to Marco.
“Buffy just pointed out the obvious. No big.”
“It was exactly what you say in chapter-” Andrew piped up, but didn’t get any further as Buffy kicked him soundly, and he had to fight to hold back tears.
“You know, you really deserve each other!” he said, glaring, and limped out the door with his head held high. “I have Slayers to train!”
“You are cute when you pout!” The Immortal called after him, and Buffy collapsed in giggles, hoping that she wouldn’t pass out from the sudden light-headedness and relief.
Everything was alright again.
***
Evening.
She might wake up alone, but she always fell asleep with him there, her head resting on his warm, broad chest, the beat of his heart slow and steady and reassuring. (He was so alive. Willow was just wrong, and that was that.)
Moonlight fell through the window, and she was right back in her fairy tale - any minute now the furniture would come to life and start a dance routine...
“I wiped his memories,” The Immortal said, and she startled.
“Huh?” she asked, trying to cut through the dreamy lethargy that lay on her like a blanket.
“Baxter. I wiped his memories.”
Suddenly wide awake she sat up, pulling her hair off her face and trying to process what he said.
“His... his memories? How much?”
He wasn’t looking at her, apparently addressing the stripe of moonlight that traversed the bed.
“Everything. His whole life. Got him a new name and fake papers, then put him on a boat to South America, still unconscious. Left him in the care of a circus, and told everyone a different story about his background so he’d have plenty to choose from. I suppose I ought to have checked up on him, but I just never got round to it...”
She shook her head, not knowing what to say.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Finally he turned to look at her, puzzled. “I don’t know, to be honest. Guess I’m just tired of secrets and lies.”
“Okay...” she said, faintly. She wasn’t sure what he expected now, if anything, and his face didn’t give much away.
“So,” he said, after a pause. “In your opinion, did I kill him or not?”
“I... I don’t know,” she answered, slowly beginning to come to grips with the revelation, and finally understanding the ‘fate worse than death’ description.
Except...
She could clearly remember the feeling of not knowing who she was - of trying to stitch together an identity from the few scraps she could find, wondering what had happened and who she was. It had been scary, but also freeing beyond belief.
Maybe it had been the same for Baxter?
“How did you... I mean, what gave you the idea?”
He did that odd little huff that wasn’t quite a chuckle. “Her name was Margaret...”
“Margaret?”
There was a sudden panicked look in his eyes, and his careless laughter sounded anything but.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Forget it. Really it’s not important.”
“If you say so...” she said, suddenly not feeling curious anymore. There were too many dark things in his past, too many questions whose answers she knew she wouldn’t like.
Giles wasn’t wrong, she thought - The Immortal had too much power, and his motives were too obscure for her to be comfortable with him.
On the other hand...
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, breaking her train of thought. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a costume party? We could go as Caesar and Cleopatra - I look great in a toga and you almost have Cleo’s nose!”
On the other hand, she wouldn’t want to miss out on this for all the world.
Chapter 14.
Summary: Captain Jack *is* The Immortal.
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: Just under 7000 words.
Feedback: Dear god yes please! Don't hate it.
Chapter 13
Jack: You need to know something. A long time ago, I was pretty good at torture. You see, I had quite a reputation as the go-to guy. My job demanded it at the time, you see.
‘In moments of great stress, every life form that exists gives out a tiny subliminal signal. This signal simply communicates an exact and almost pathetic sense of how far that being is from the place of his birth.’
The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy
Sunday 2nd of May. Early morning.
Buffy woke up alone. It was one of those things about dating a guy who didn’t sleep... he tended to wander off during the night to look after his mysterious affairs.
She didn’t really mind though, since she knew that he’d appear as soon as he realised that she was awake, but for now she was happy to have a few moments’ peace so she could try to sort through her thoughts.
Last night... well it had gone better than she’d imagined. Apart from that one horrible moment, but everyone done their best to pretend that nothing had happened, a skill they all excelled at.
Other than that he’d mostly showed off, in his own inimitable way, and (obviously) made quite the impression... There had been that half hour when he’d vanished and they’d all bombarded her with questions, few of which she’d been able to answer.
And then there had been the moment in the garden, after she’d interrupted the Immortal-Giles powwow, when Giles had taken her aside and tried to determine The Immortal’s ‘motives’. Attempting to explain that really he had none hadn’t gone down very well - she could tell that Giles still didn’t trust The Immortal one tiny little bit, and he had seemed deeply sceptical when she told him that The Immortal had never once asked about the Slayers or anything relating to them. Never even been out patrolling with her or offered any help whatsoever.
She wasn’t sure what exactly Giles was trying to insinuate - and maybe Giles didn’t either. It was that ‘too good to be true’ factor raising its head again, and there was nothing she could do about that except pray that somehow things would work out.
Sighing she leaned back against the ornately carved headboard and wished for the weekend to be over already.
At least everyone else seemed OK - even Xander, after The Immortal had demonstrated that he was perfectly capable of normal male bonding without any suggestiveness.
Then the door to the en-suite bathroom opened and The Immortal emerged, a towel draped over his shoulder and hair still glinting wet. Seeing that she was awake his face lit up.
“Now see this is why people have relationships - so that there’s always someone in their bed in the morning, ready for fun.”
She couldn’t help smiling as he discarded the towel with a flourish, advancing on the bed with sparkling eyes.
But as he sat down on the side of the bed, trying to kiss her, she pulled back.
“Is the door locked?”
He blinked. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Sometimes he was so clueless about basic human behaviour it felt like he’d fallen off a passing UFO. Or maybe he was so old that locks hadn’t been invented when he grew up... She shot him a look.
“Because all my friends are in this house...”
“So?” He crawled onto the bed, pure mischief and desire, but she shook her head sternly.
“So! They might come in at any moment!”
His reply was a smug smirk. “Well they might learn something.”
She’d known that he didn’t have a problem with nudity, but... looking at him she had a horrible feeling he wasn’t joking.
“I can’t even... you are so weird.”
This time he laughed properly, showing off those perfect teeth. “Buffy - I’ve... heh. I’ve been to places where sex is a spectator sport.”
“A spectator sport?” she echoed, and he grinned, using her confusion to pull her skimpy nightie over her head, before leaning in, tilting his head to kiss her before she could protest.
“I won trophies,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, and she closed her eyes and let herself fall into his embrace - her friends would probably knock first...
They were late for breakfast, of course.
As they walked through the doors Buffy saw that everyone else had clearly decided to start without them - or had been told to by Francesca - and turned to cast The Immortal her ‘What did I say?’ look.
She was stopped by the look on his face, and his sudden, vice-like grip on her hand.
His eyes were fixed on the table, and when he spoke his voice was eerily calm. But his hand was still almost crushing hers.
“Why...” he slowly asked, “why are there petals all over my table?”
One by one they looked up, confused, and then Kennedy and Willow shot each other a look. Willow bit her lip, looking very uncomfortable.
“Um... Kennedy and I are kinda jet lagged and... um... thought it would be nice to... the garden looks so pretty in the early morning...” She faltered slightly, but The Immortal didn’t say anything, so she continued, her smile wobbly.
“Your housekeeper said that it would be OK to pick some flowers, but then...” She hesitated. “There was... uh... an incident, and the flowers went a little kablooey, and I was going to fix them but then I remembered that you asked me not to do magic, so we thought that the petals would make a nice decoration?”
He listened with great care to the explanation, not reacting to Willow’s not-so-subtle blushing with as much as a raised eyebrow. Slowly he nodded.
“OK, that’s... OK.” His grip relaxed, and he took a deep breath. “And... thank you for not using magic. It’s appreciated.”
As they made their way to their seats, Buffy got an avalanche of ‘What the hell was that?’ looks, and she could only shake her head in shared befuddlement.
The Immortal helped himself to coffee and some pastries, until finally Xander decided that he’d had enough mystery, and decided to try to lighten the mood in his own way - Buffy had forgotten how much she missed that.
“So... what have you got against flower petals? Have a bad experience with some crazy flower-power hippies? Or was it Day of the Triffids?”
Andrew paled. “I couldn’t sleep for a week after I saw that, it’s horrible. And I still think that maybe the flowers are watching us. Just... waiting for their moment.”
But The Immortal refused to take the bait. He ignored Andrew and caught Xander’s eyes, face and voice almost devoid of emotion.
“I saw 15 men choked to death in front of my eyes.”
There was a few moment’s astonished silence, then Dawn spoke up.
“With... petals?”
He nodded. “With petals.”
“But... but how? Or what? Evil... flowers?”
She couldn’t help pulling a face at the line. There were some things that were just too odd.
A sigh. “Fairies. Or, I should say, what people refer to as fairies.”
Buffy forgot all about her breakfast. She remembered this, only he’d not explained much at the time - they’d started talking about something else instead...
Kennedy stared, open mouthed.
“Fairies are evil?”
Xander made a dismissive sound. “Typical. Santa Claus is evil, fairies are evil... bet you that leprechauns are too.”
The Immortal, for the first time, seemed to relax a little. “Come on, leprechauns aren’t real. But fairies...” He shook his head. “I really don’t know much. Just that they’re old - old and dangerous. One of those things left over from the dawn of time.”
He seemed to inhale his coffee, then looked up, seemingly having regained his equilibrium. “I actually wondered if maybe you knew anything?”
He caught Giles’ eyes, and the Watcher hesitated. “I’m afraid that the information the Council held was only ever very scattered, and after the attacks by the First Evil...” He stopped momentarily. “We lost so much. Please, if you have any information that could be of use to us, I would be grateful.”
They began exchanging what knowledge they had, and Buffy watched, feeling more relieved than she could express. It would seem that Giles had been able to put the ‘event’ of the previous night behind him, figuratively speaking.
A bit of sightseeing and they could send everyone home tomorrow, happy.
The rain was sudden, and very wet, and ruled out a lot of options. They were trying to work out what to do, Willow flicking through the guide book that she’d brought in search of ideas, when The Immortal caught their attention, clapping his hands together.
“I know. We can go down into the catacombs!”
As was his wont he immediately sprung into action, gleefully pulling strings and arranging things with a flick of his wrist and his too-charming smile. So when they arrived at the main entrance he’d become a Professor of Ancient History, and the rest of them his students, which meant that they got special provision to go down tunnels not on the normal tours.
“How does he do that?” Willow asked, as they watched him confidently flirt his way through security, and Buffy shrugged.
“Don’t know. But he says he used to be a conman...”
Willow yawned, and then shook her head. “That’s not very reassuring.”
Soon after wards they were all walking down ancient passage ways, clutching torches and peering through the darkness as their shadows skipped along the walls around them.
Despite the very definite ‘historical’ factor, walking around in dank underground tunnels full of dead people was not what Xander had had in mind when ‘sightseeing’ had been touted, and he said as much.
“Well I think it’s homely!” The Immortal countered.
“Homely?” Xander echoed incredulous. “You can’t even brighten it with some curtains, what with the lack of windows.”
The Immortal shrugged. “Windows are overrated.”
“What? You grew up in a bunker?”
“Pyramid actually,” The Immortal replied, showing all his teeth in a winsome smile. “Spent my childhood building sandcastles shaped like polyhedrons.”
Buffy sighed, and caught Xander’s eyes. “Don’t... whenever anyone starts asking, he just turns into an X-rated version of the History Channel. Ten to one that he’ll bring up Cleopatra now.”
But instead of explaining what chat-up lines he used on Egyptian queens, The Immortal stopped, trying to decipher an old inscription on the wall.
“You speak Latin,” Giles observed, and The Immortal did his familiar little shrug.
“Bit tricky getting by in Pompeii otherwise.”
“Pompeii?” Willow asked, and he sighed, sounding wistful.
“Sitting in the shade of Vesuvius, with a pretty boy in one arm and an amphora in the other... Oh, those were the days.”
“Do tell!” Dawn cut in, gleefully.
“Actually-” The Immortal added, a smile in his voice, “two amphora. There was this stall holder - fantastic guy - who did two amphora for the price of one. Could have sold sand in the desert that one. Now what was his name...”
As he continued to think out loud, Kennedy snorted.
“OK, that’s it. I think he just makes everything up.”
His laughter floated over his shoulder, clear and bright, and Buffy smiled fondly. This was what she had been hoping for - that her friends would come to that half-exasperated acceptance of the way he just didn’t follow any known rules.
Then Willow called out.
“Wait! There’s... there’s something here.”
The Immortal stopped and doubled back, curiously letting the light from his torch trail over the bit of nondescript wall Willow was pointing to. Noting the look on his face, she waved her hand impatiently.
“It’s- it’s some sort of concealing spell... Someone’s hidden something here. It shouldn’t take long to lift.”
She raised her hand and then stopped, uncertain.
“Um. If you don’t mind?”
The Immortal shook his head.
“Not at all. Please go ahead.”
Noticing the looks he was getting, he shrugged, unconcerned.
“The right tool for the right job. And I think this very nicely illustrates how untrustworthy magic is. Even a simple padlock would have been better - and far less likely to draw attention.”
Willow shot him a dirty look before wrinkling her brow in concentration, and after a few moments the wall suddenly seemed to melt away, revealing yet another black opening.
Buffy turned to find The Immortal grinning excitedly as he shone his torch into the new tunnel, and - apparently without thinking - drawing his gun.
“C’mon! Hide and seek this way,” he said, almost bouncing as he stalked off into the darkness.
Buffy hesitated for just a moment. Not because she was unsure about following, but because seeing him like this was new... and yet she could tell that this was something as natural as breathing to him. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when saying how comfortable he felt down here. Or maybe it was just the situation? She really ought to get him to come out on patrol with her at some point...
After a little while, The Immortal and Willow leading the way, two torches abruptly swung sideways, illuminating an alcove in the wall.
Leaning in closer for a better look, Buffy pulled back sharply.
The occupant hadn’t been dead long, and someone had been carving odd symbols into the parts of the face and body that were visible. The creature had also at some point probably had a horn, if the ugly circular wound on its forehead was anything to go by. There was a strong smell of weird spices that called to mind the Magic Box, and Buffy offered silent gratitude for magical rituals that involved sage. The stench of rotting demon was not one she relished.
The Immortal however, despite wrinkling his nose, peered down at the body curiously, before holstering his gun and turning back to the rest of the group who had now caught up.
“I guess this is ‘Welcome to CSI: Rome?” he said brightly. “Now if no one minds, I’m going to be Grissom - you’ll have to imagine the beard, since I can’t grow one - and...” his eyes trailed over them, “-Dawn! Do you want to be Catherine?”
“Sure!” she replied, and he turned to Giles.
“So, Guest Star with Specialist Knowledge. Mind to tell me what species this is?”
Adjusting his glasses, Giles leaned forward. “It would appear to be a Kungai demon... Andrew?”
He glanced at Andrew, and Andrew quickly cleared his throat and tried to impersonate a talking library.
“Um... Kungai demons are a powerful and deadly Asian race of demons. They have a horn called a Tak horn on their head which possesses magical properties and it is tied directly to the Kungai's life force. If it is removed the Kungai will die.”
The Immortal mused on this. “So the removal of the horn was probably the cause of death? OK. What does this horn do - is it like a unicorn horn?”
“It drains the life force out of whoever is stabbed with it.”
“Ah. Sounds nasty. But... it doesn’t really explain why our vic is down here, all hidden.”
Beginning to unwrap the demon, he kept up the chatter.
“Now Mr Kungai, I’m guessing you won’t conveniently be carrying your wallet in your back pocket, and if you have dental records I’ll eat my hat - so it’s lucky that I’m pretty good at getting dead bodies to talk!”
Dawn leaned forward, her face as curious and unfazed as The Immortal’s, and he shot her a small smile. Buffy remembered this from their homework sessions - The Immortal’s squick level was clearly as non-existent as Dawn’s. Giles and Willow hovered too, looking a bit offended that The Immortal had just swooped in, but too polite to say anything.
“Have you ever thought of studying forensics by the way?” The Immortal asked, and Dawn shook her head.
“You should. Think about it, I mean. There’s better careers than watcher!”
Grinning he turned back to the demon, blithely ignoring the frown on Giles’ face. But after a short while Buffy saw his face turn grim. Slowly he looked up.
“He was tortured,” he said, and Kennedy pulled a ‘duh’ face.
“Well what a surprise,” she said drolly, tapping her stake against her leg, already bored.
The Immortal shot her a withering glance.
“No. These-” he waved a hand towards the symbols, “-were all inflicted after death. Probably part of the concealing spell or... something. Not my area of expertise. But before he died he was tortured - carefully and systematically and for a long time by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.”
He cast a glance at Dawn, then began pointing out specific places as Buffy did her best to ignore the spectacle. Problem being that anywhere else she pointed her torch she could swear that she saw creepy-crawlies scuttling for cover...
“Look - see this here? And here. And that nerve centre has been accessed here...” He whistled quietly, and caught Dawn’s eyes.
“Oh whoever did this was brilliant. Torture is... it’s a craft, a skill, like any other. Knowing how to create the maximum amount of pain, for as long as possible - without making the subject pass out, because that amounts to rest, and you can’t have that - is something that takes time to learn and even longer to perfect. But... with time also comes individual styles... You might be able to find out who just by looking at this MO. Let me take some photos.”
As he pulled out his cell and began directing Dawn as to how to hold her torch so he got the optimum amount of light, it felt like there had been a sudden drop in temperature, as they shifted uncomfortably. Buffy shone her torch on her shoes, and thought to herself that they needed polishing.
Giles was the first to speak up.
“You seem to know a lot about the subject,” he observed drily, but The Immortal didn’t flinch, as he slipped the phone back in his pocket.
“Yes I do,” he answered, in that clipped tone that Buffy knew meant ‘No trespassers beyond this point’, before turning to her, all business.
“Now the question is - was he tortured for information, or for revenge. Or...” his eyes narrowed, and his voice became, if possible, even more devoid of feeling, “was this all done for someone else’s benefit?”
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
He looked at her, face mostly in shadow. “Maybe they used him to get to someone else. Say... I wanted something from you, but I know that you’re pretty tough. So I might use Dawn as... leverage.”
She swallowed involuntarily, suddenly remembering all too clearly what could happen.
Turning his eyes back on the demon, he picked up its hand, slowly turning it over as he spoke.
“It’s... possible... this was done just for the hell of it, for the sake of inflicting pain, but... it’s unlikely. I can’t see why it’d be so well hidden then.” Looking up he caught her eyes again.
“If you want me to go talk to his family once you find out who he is - presuming he’s local - I’ll be more than happy to by the way. They might freak out a little if a Slayer turns up on their doorstep...”
There was an odd pause, then Xander spoke, obviously trying his best to keep his voice even.
“Talk to his family?”
The Immortal shot him a searching look.
“You never inform victims’ families about what happened to them?”
Kennedy coughed. “Sorry but... we’re talking about a demon, right?”
The Immortal looked like he’d been slapped.
“Demons are people too!”
“Um - no? They’re demons. That’s what makes them different from people.”
The Immortal’s features hardened, and when he spoke his voice was coldly furious.
“You’ll want to be a lot more careful about the words you use - Slayer.”
Somewhere, in the pit of her stomach, Buffy could feel pure dread spreading. She could almost see the sudden gulf between them in the sudden, sharp silence, and yet couldn’t think of a thing to say. And The Immortal’s face was so closed that he looked like a stranger.
As so often before, Jack could feel a familiar sense of claustrophobia threaten to overwhelm him. Times like these he wondered if Douglas Adams had been right, because he could feel the immense distance of time and space too keenly for words; the need to get back home an almost physical ache...
This world was too small, too narrow - so entirely not where he belonged. He wanted to be in a place where ‘Ladies, gentlemen and variations thereupon’ was the standard greeting; a place where sex was simple and straightforward and not bound up in a thousand ever-changing rules; a place where Empires were measured in galaxies...
He let his eyes pass over the others and sighed inwardly. It wasn’t their fault that he was stuck in the wrong time. Or that they’d trampled right through the issues he came here to hide from.
And Buffy looked like she was about to have kittens. Bother. They needed to get out before someone said something stupid...
“Well this is certainly proving to be an enlightening outing.”
Despite the fact that Giles’ voice was perfectly polite, The Immortal’s head abruptly whipped round. There was another silence that seemed impossible to break, as The Immortal silently studied Giles - but then dragged his hand across his face , betraying deep weariness.
“Is this about Baxter.”
“I think it would be fair to say that there are a great deal of questions in regards to his disappearance that are still unanswered.”
“Trust me, Mister Giles, you need to curb your curiosity. If he is why you came, your trip was wasted.”
“Um... what are we talking about?” Willow cut in, and The Immortal shifted his attention.
“Roger Fitzwilliam Baxter, a rogue demon hunter. Very brave, very dashing - but unfortunately also a xenophobic jerk who was of the opinion that the only good demon was a dead demon.”
“I did some research,” Giles continued, unperturbed. “His whole family was murdered in front of his eyes by a pack of Prekian demons when he was only a child.”
The Immortal snorted derisively. “Well cry me a river.”
The dread having turned to full-blown horror, Buffy began to wish that a large vampire army would attack, just to stop the conversation. She’d not seen this side of him often, but The Immortal had the cold, superior bastard act down to a fine art. At least her friends would hopefully see that he really was very, very different from Spike or Angel. But it was a pitiful straw to cling to...
“So,” Kennedy said, crossing her arms and looking ready for a fight. “We should all sit around feeling sorry for this fugly dead demon over there on the shelf, but this Baxter guy deserves no sympathy?”
The Immortal shook his head. “Fine - let’s say our Mr Kungai here was killed by a human in front of his family. Would that entitle his children to go out and kill every human they came across?”
“Well that’s-” Xander said, but The Immortal cut him off.
“You don’t want to finish that sentence, trust me.”
“OK!” Buffy said loudly, waving her torch around, trying to get everyone’s attention. “I think we better head back now, right?”
Even in the dim light she could see the vivid agreement on her friends’ faces - they all remembered far too many arguments and painful moments in sewers and other unpleasant underground locations.
But Giles, looking impatient, ignored her completely and brought the conversation back where he wanted it.
“You have still shed no light on Baxter’s fate.”
Buffy looked from one to the other and sighed. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. If one of them didn’t back down soon, she’d have to knock them out and carry them home. Oh joy.
And The Immortal looked genuinely pissed off now.
“What’s it to you? He hurt someone I cared about, someone completely innocent and harmless - on purpose. Apart from which he was a danger to society, so I got rid of him. Come on - the man’s dead, let him rest in peace.”
He stopped, then tilted his head, musing.
“Well I presume he’s dead... he’d be over a hundred if he’s still alive. Which isn’t impossible - he was a fit guy - but not very likely to be honest.”
Buffy stared, taken aback.
“But - I thought you-”
She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. She’d accused him of killing Baxter, and he’d not denied it. Why not, if he hadn’t?
The Immortal smiled faintly.
“I said ‘fate worse than death’. I also said I didn’t murder him.”
Buffy was still trying to work out a response when Dawn spoke up.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Dawn?” she asked, as she sensed everyone’s focus shift.
But her little sister just shrugged. “You left Giles’ letter lying on the table.”
“That was private!” Buffy replied, and Dawn tilted her head with something like pity in her eyes.
“Why do you think I read it? Anyway, I think Baxter sounded just like that General of the Knights of Byzantium that you captured when we ran away from Glory. Remember the way he looked at me? How I was just a ‘thing’? ‘The key is the link. The link must be severed. Such is the will of god.’ I’ll bet you anything Baxter was just the same.”
“Dawn...” Buffy said again, helplessly. She’d had no idea that her sister was still dwelling on that time. Why hadn’t she said something?
Dawn did her patented eyeroll, with added sigh.
“Hey, I’m fine. Seriously, don’t start freaking out. I just think that Baxter got what was coming to him.”
The others looked rather taken aback, Buffy noticed, as her eyes went from face to face. Until she got to The Immortal, who was studying Dawn with an odd focus that she didn’t know what to make of. But before she could say or do anything, Giles spoke again.
“I appreciate your point Dawn, however I’m afraid that I am far from comfortable with someone with undisclosed powers and unknown ethics acting as vigilante.”
The Immortal’s jaw dropped, then his eyes turned to steel, and, judging by the way the light from his torch suddenly danced across the wall, he gripped it harder.
“Listen. You don’t know who I am, and you don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about, so back the hell off!”
But Giles stood his ground.
“So tell me Immortal - who are you?”
There was a long pause, as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breaths, waiting.
Then The Immortal raised his chin, arms crossed over his chest. Buffy wondered what the answer would be - if any.
“I’m a soldier.”
This obviously wasn’t what anyone had been expecting.
“Uh... What kind of soldier?” Xander asked, curious.
“The kind that fights in wars,” The Immortal replied curtly, once more drawing his gun, holding it up in the dim light.
“I didn’t win this in a church raffle, and I don’t carry it for fun. I have killed more people with it than I can count, most of whom probably deserved it far less than Baxter. But as I’m sure you know, saving the world is dirty and bloody work, no matter where you are.”
“You fought in, like, World War I?” Andrew asked, wide-eyed, and The Immortal took a deep breath, put the gun away, and smiled.
“That I did. And if you’d been born a century earlier, so would you have done. Hey - I might even have been your commanding officer in the trenches.”
He slapped a stunned-looking Andrew on the shoulder.
“Commanding Officer?” Andrew breathed, and The Immortal smirked, letting his eyes trail over him.
“Oh Andrew. I can just imagine it - you in an ill-fitting uniform, complaining about your blisters and the rat that stole your bread. And then you’d have been blown to pieces and I’d have to write to your parents. Trust me, you’re better off fighting demons - far less deadly than humans-”
Abruptly his head snapped around, and he pointed towards Willow, who was quietly standing in the background - so still that Buffy had almost forgotten that she was there.
“You - get out of my head!”
Willow’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and took on that guilty look that Buffy knew all too well.
“I- I... I didn’t-” she stammered, and The Immortal shook his head.
“Sweetheart I can feel you. And hey, I can see the logic - have a little snoop around, check that I’m a bona fide Good Guy and all the arguments go away. Find anything of interest?”
“No - nothing.” She shook her head vehemently. “Really - I couldn’t get through at all.”
He pursed his lips, looking speculative. “Well that’s nice to know.”
Then he stepped back over to the Kungai, pulling the wrap up to cover its face and letting his hand rest on its chest for a moment.
“Well there’s a Slayer on your case now, so someone will pay for what they did. Unless of course you’re the bad guy in all of this - in which case I can go buy someone a drink for services to society.”
Buffy felt like protesting that she didn’t particular feel like playing detective, but realised that it’d make sense to save that fight until they’d gotten out. Although... whoever had done this might need taking out - if someone was killing demons, they’d probably start on humans soon.
“Does that mean we are actually going?” she asked, and set off back the way they’d come before anyone could start arguing again. Soon The Immortal took up the navigation again, and Andrew - trying to change the subject, or maybe just being his geeky self - began asking questions about the accuracy of ‘Blackadder Goes Forth’. Really, out of all of them, he’d been the least affected. Which was odd, now Buffy came to think of it, but not the thing she wanted to focus on right now.
Instead she hung back to have a chat with Willow, who still looked somewhat shell-shocked.
“Willow - what were you thinking?” she asked in as quiet a whisper as she could, even as her mind was busy trying to work things out... Was something like this at the root of The Immortal’s intense dislike of magic?
But Willow didn’t start the awkward defence Buffy had been half-expecting, nor offered an apology. Her eyes drifted forward to where The Immortal’s outline could be clearly seen against the old walls and she seemed to not quite know what to say.
“Look, Buffy...”
She sighed. “What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just... I know I shouldn’t have tried to read his mind but... what I saw... he’s not like anything else I’ve ever come across.”
“You mean he’s not human.” Well she’d been expecting that.
Willow hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to sound all doom-y, but... I got nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like he was...” she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s like he was dead. I’m sorry - I don’t want to worry you, but... I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”
Before Buffy could work out a reply, Dawn called her name, and she excused herself, leaving Willow to grasp Kennedy’s hand and mutter something about now being very sleepy thanks to the jet lag.
Why had she thought that having her friends around would somehow make The Immortal easier to explain? It had been a bad idea, from start to finish.
All she wanted to do was to curl up with him somewhere private with a large ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door - but that was sadly not an option.
They returned to a sumptuous lunch, but as they sat down Buffy finally couldn’t take The Immortal’s unconcerned chatter anymore, and dragged him out into the hallway.
“OK. What’s your deal? Are you completely unable to behave normally, or do you suffer from occasional short-term memory loss?”
He frowned, clearly unsure what she was getting at. “What do you mean?”
“You had this big argument - like only half an hour ago - and now you’re all ‘Tra-la-la everything’s fine’!”
He tilted his head. “Well isn’t it?”
She stared. “How is it ‘fine’? Please explain, because clearly those words mean something different to you than they do to me.”
He shrugged, that oddly closed look on his face again.
“For a start there were no death threats. Trust me - I’ve been killed more than once for being too... openminded. I know I don’t fit here, that I see the world with different eyes to you. But I can’t do anything about that. If I could go back...”
For just a second there was such deep longing in his eyes that she felt almost hollow. But then his smile re-appeared like magic, and he shook his head.
“But I can’t. What I can do is try to be a good host. So come on, let’s get back to your friends. Everything. Is. Fine.”
She followed, with yet more questions in her mind and more confused than ever.
Monday 3rd of May. Morning.
Standing in the enormous hall once more, surrounded by luggage, Buffy still couldn’t make up her mind whether the visit had been a success or not. There had been no further arguments or drama - Giles had insisted on another private talk with The Immortal, but it had obviously not done much to calm his mind. Buffy sincerely hoped that he’d decided to give up, something that looked increasingly likely.
Waiting for the sound of a taxi coming up the drive, Andrew tried to lighten the slightly strained atmosphere.
“You know, I saw this new internet meme the other day, where you had to answer questions to see what Star Wars character you were most like!”
The Immortal raised an eyebrow. “Why would anyone need questions?”
“Fine then - who would you be?” Dawn asked, and he grinned widely.
“I’m Han Solo, isn’t it obvious? I’m better looking of course, but I do have a tendency to shoot first, and these days I’ve even got my own Princess.”
He winked at Buffy, who dearly wished that he’d stop encouraging Andrew’s geekiness - but then he got that look on his face that she’d learned to dread.
“Of course I’d have Lando and Chewie too in a heartbeat.”
“What do you mean ‘have’?” Kennedy asked, and he smirked.
“Well what do you think?”
Seeing the looks on their faces he chuckled. “Fur is a wonderful thing!”
And then Buffy’s silent prayers were answered when his cellphone began ringing.
Glancing at the screen he pulled a face and then disappeared into one of the antechambers with the phone already glued to his ear, promising to ‘only be a minute’.
On the downside this left her alone with her friends for the first time since the catacombs, a situation she’d hoped to avoid altogether.
Looking in the direction The Immortal had disappeared in, Xander lifted an eyebrow.
“Well... I think I can safely say that your new boyfriend isn’t what we expected.”
The familiar, reassuring smile was a balm against the words, and Buffy tried smiling back... except somehow it got stuck. It wasn’t that Xander’s tacit acceptance wasn’t very welcome... it was the fact that he was accepting something other than what she knew to be the truth.
And she realised that she couldn’t let them go like this. Maybe it was because of never trying to put into words what Spike had been to her, leaving everyone to see what they saw fit. And then it had been too late.
So she suddenly needed to make sure they didn’t misunderstand where she was at now, and caught Xander’s eyes.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
She paused briefly, saw the surprise on her friends’ faces as she fought against internal panic.
“He’s my lover.”
The whole smiling thing still didn’t quite work, and she could feel her heart beating much too fast. She felt oddly naked, admitting to wanting something for herself just because it felt good, but if she’d learned anything from The Immortal it was not to be ashamed of enjoying life when it gave her something good.
Then a door slammed and the man in question returned, an easy smile on his face as he looked around, before his eyes narrowed.
“What just happened?”
Grasping his hand as the lifeline it was, Buffy finally managed to smile back.
“Nothing. We were just listening out for the taxi!”
Which then pulled up outside (two miracles in two minutes, what were the chances?) and the familiar goodbye rituals overrode the awkwardness.
It would hopefully be quite a while before she saw any of them again, by which time this fling would already be in the past... She hugged them all tightly, ignored the questions in their eyes and then waved as the taxi drove off, feeling more relieved than she could begin to explain.
“So what happened?” he asked again, his arm wrapped around her middle, and curiosity on his face. Dawn was the one to answer, glancing up from texting a message to Marco.
“Buffy just pointed out the obvious. No big.”
“It was exactly what you say in chapter-” Andrew piped up, but didn’t get any further as Buffy kicked him soundly, and he had to fight to hold back tears.
“You know, you really deserve each other!” he said, glaring, and limped out the door with his head held high. “I have Slayers to train!”
“You are cute when you pout!” The Immortal called after him, and Buffy collapsed in giggles, hoping that she wouldn’t pass out from the sudden light-headedness and relief.
Everything was alright again.
Evening.
She might wake up alone, but she always fell asleep with him there, her head resting on his warm, broad chest, the beat of his heart slow and steady and reassuring. (He was so alive. Willow was just wrong, and that was that.)
Moonlight fell through the window, and she was right back in her fairy tale - any minute now the furniture would come to life and start a dance routine...
“I wiped his memories,” The Immortal said, and she startled.
“Huh?” she asked, trying to cut through the dreamy lethargy that lay on her like a blanket.
“Baxter. I wiped his memories.”
Suddenly wide awake she sat up, pulling her hair off her face and trying to process what he said.
“His... his memories? How much?”
He wasn’t looking at her, apparently addressing the stripe of moonlight that traversed the bed.
“Everything. His whole life. Got him a new name and fake papers, then put him on a boat to South America, still unconscious. Left him in the care of a circus, and told everyone a different story about his background so he’d have plenty to choose from. I suppose I ought to have checked up on him, but I just never got round to it...”
She shook her head, not knowing what to say.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Finally he turned to look at her, puzzled. “I don’t know, to be honest. Guess I’m just tired of secrets and lies.”
“Okay...” she said, faintly. She wasn’t sure what he expected now, if anything, and his face didn’t give much away.
“So,” he said, after a pause. “In your opinion, did I kill him or not?”
“I... I don’t know,” she answered, slowly beginning to come to grips with the revelation, and finally understanding the ‘fate worse than death’ description.
Except...
She could clearly remember the feeling of not knowing who she was - of trying to stitch together an identity from the few scraps she could find, wondering what had happened and who she was. It had been scary, but also freeing beyond belief.
Maybe it had been the same for Baxter?
“How did you... I mean, what gave you the idea?”
He did that odd little huff that wasn’t quite a chuckle. “Her name was Margaret...”
“Margaret?”
There was a sudden panicked look in his eyes, and his careless laughter sounded anything but.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Forget it. Really it’s not important.”
“If you say so...” she said, suddenly not feeling curious anymore. There were too many dark things in his past, too many questions whose answers she knew she wouldn’t like.
Giles wasn’t wrong, she thought - The Immortal had too much power, and his motives were too obscure for her to be comfortable with him.
On the other hand...
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, breaking her train of thought. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a costume party? We could go as Caesar and Cleopatra - I look great in a toga and you almost have Cleo’s nose!”
On the other hand, she wouldn’t want to miss out on this for all the world.
Chapter 14.
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