The Awatied One - Trade Agreements 8/?
Story: The Awaited One
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 7: Trade Agreements
Crossover: Firefly/Buffy
Timeline: Firefly-post BDM seven months after, Buffy - takes into account all of television series of both Angel and Buffy but no the comic books.
Summary: Five hundred years later there is a new light approaching. Rayne-S/K
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy/Angel mythos and Firefly/Serenity are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Inc., etc.
Organizational Post
It was early - too early in Mal’s opinion - when Jayne started stomping around the ship in a fit. The captain was not sure how to take this intrusion into his sleeping time. However, he knew his mercenary well enough to know Jayne likely had reason to worry. They were landlocked by two vampires, and their granddaughter, until an undisclosed time. And Serenity’s pregnant genius pilot was somewhere else on the forsaken moon.
With a sigh and a curse Mal levered himself out of bed. Attending his hygienic needs, he made a list of things to get done. He dressed and pulled on his boots. Mal made it to the galley, and directly for the coffee pot. If he was going to start yelling, or plain dealing with Jayne, he first needed coffee. There was a fresh pot. It smelled delicious and he poured himself a large mug.
“River delivered the beans about an hour ago,” Inara informed him. She was dressed in brilliant silks, he face perfect, her tone questing.
“And where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” she seated herself on a chair. “She muttered something about instincts and Jayne and left before I could properly get a word in.”
“Have you contacted your friend?” he asked. “Mayhap he’d be able to help.”
Inara looked at Mal with a shake of her head, “it won’t do any good.”
“Don’t tell me you won’t,” he sat down across from her, “we need to get away from here, or at the very least, River away from those…”
“Vampires,” she supplied, “Mal, the friend, the contact, was William.”
“Gorramit!” he muttered.
“It was nearly fifteen years ago,” she told him. “He has not aged a day. He cut his hair, but he is the same man I met.”
“Barrin’ the belief of our mind readin’ genius,” he leaned forward on his elbows, “what do you believe?”
Inara narrowed her eyes before carefully saying, “Angel is hard to read, but Wil-Spike… he either has no filters or uses extreme emotions to cover his true intentions. I am not sure which.”
“Great,” Mal sipped from his cup, “then could you at least tell me what sent my merc into a fit?”
The Companion looked down, focusing on her steaming tea. “You will not like the answer.”
“Figured when his gorram stompin’ woke me.”
“Jayne is a creature of habit.” She waited for his agreement before continuing, “in the last few weeks we’ve seen a change in his habits. He started working with River. Then they’d eat and play cards. Now they spend the last two weeks sleeping in here…”
“Are you tellin’ me Jayne is missin’ sleepin’ with River?” he looked at her as though she’d passed gas.
“You asked my opinion,” she stood stiffly, “if you do not agree with it so be it.”
Mal watched Inara leave, ‘she can’t be right…’
“JAYNE!” he yelled.
88888888
“Up early,” Spike commented as he watched River sneak back in to the mansion through the library window.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she looked away from him. “Ghosts crowd my dreams.”
“Whose ghosts?”
“The Slayers… the demons… mine,” she studied him a moment. “I thought sun was bad?”
“Only if the planet is the same distance from the sun as Earth was,” he told her with a small smile, “Dyton is far enough to let us go out during the day, but we’re not completely safe.”
River nodded distractedly as she went to the framed sketches around the library. They were portraits. Each of a different person, none of them were labeled.
“Peaches drew them,” Spike informed her.
There was no color to them. Still River could see the different hues of their skin, the shades of their hair, and the truth in their likeness. She stopped at one. “Faith…”
“Yeah,” he frowned, “you know of her?”
“No. Yes.”
“Clear as mud, pet.”
“Ghost,” she said simply and turned to him, “she was in my dream.”
“Did they seem prophetic?”
She explained the look and contents of the dream. He watched her with a thoughtful expression.
“You’re the Slayer,” he told her, “what do your instincts say?”
“Teach me,” she replied as though she had already given it a lot of thought. “Teach me to not hurt my friends. I want to recognize my abilities as more than just what was done to me… I want control.”
“As you wish, pet.”
88888888
Sara pulled herself out of bed with a groan. She hated when Angel and Spike sparred so early. ‘They need to take up yoga,’ she thought. ‘Or the damn vamps need to sleep from the moment the sun rises.’
But when they had a business to run and stamina that allowed them to go more than eighty hours without sleep they tended to be hard to schedule around. She glanced at her clock. It was well past lunch.
She got ready for the day with a shower. By the time her hair was dry and she was downstairs Angel was in the kitchen just as annoyed as she had been.
“Spike and River?” she guessed.
“Yeah,” he handed her a smoothie. “They’ve been training for about three hours.”
“Training?”
“She had a dream.”
“One of the Slayers?” she remembered Spike telling her that Slayers often dreamt of others in the Slayer line.
“Faith,” Angel poured a second smoothie and handed it to her.
“Not Sineya or Lucy Hanover?” The first Slayer had been a common conduit for Buffy’s Slayer dreams. Lucy Hanover was a 19th century Civil War Slayer who haunted the Ghost Roads, the place between life and death to guide the living.
“Let’s go break them up before River exhausts herself,” he suggested. “We still have to work out things with Serenity.”
“That will be fun,” she snarked. “We haven’t even talked about-”
“I know,” he cut her off. They walked to the large gymnasium. High windows let the afternoon sun shine in. The room was filled with various exercise equipment; on the other half were large mats. The two fighters were bouncing around one another, sounds of solid hits making Sara wince.
“Is leor sin!” Angel yelled.
Spike laughed as they separated from their fight. “I told you if he had to come in here he’d shout in Gaelic.”
River kept moving back and forth on her feet, to keep from cooling down too fast.
“What have you two been doing all day?”
The blue-eyed vampire grabbed Sara and the drinks from Angel. “I was working with River on sensing demons. Want her to try it on you.”
“Okay,” Angel nodded to River.
The genius concentrated on the coldness on the back of her neck. Spike’s demon was less noticeable now that she’d spent more than six hours recognizing it. Angel’s demon was a different matter. Where Spike’s had been on the surface and rather placid, Angel’s was buried deep, angry and clawing at its cage.
She pushed past the cage watching Angel’s eyes. Suddenly they were feral and vile.
“Bloody hell, stop,” Spike yelled. “River, undo it!”
At his voice she jerked back, away from the demon’s cage. Angel’s eyes were dark and scared.
“What was that?” Sara asked. Spike’s posture was rigid and he looked as shaken as the other vampire.
“River…?” Spike went to the small woman, “are you okay?”
“Very different,” she finally said, never taking her eyes from Angel. “Your demons are the same in type but so very different…”
“Here,” Sara motioned, “sit down and drink this.” River took the drink but didn’t sit, neither did Spike.
“What happened?” Spike directed his question at the older vampire. “For a minute there, I thought…”
“It was,” he nodded, shaken.
“But your soul is anchored,” he looked quickly for reason. “And when she was sensing my demon…”
“Spike,” Angel sighed, “you know that your demon and mine are not the same. Hell you lorded it over me for two centuries.”
“Your demon,” River added, “is caged, violent, and wants to destroy.”
“I know,” he leaned against the wall, “I’ve faced him head on before.”
“Yours,” she nodded to Spike, “is hard to separate from the soul.”
“Try what you did with Peaches’,” Spike stood in front of her.
“I can’t,” she told him. “I pushed my senses into the cage; you have no cage.”
“This time try sensing just the differences between us,” he gestured to the three people in the room.
River immediately noticed the difference on the surface. Spike and Angel’s demons, though vastly different, were noticeable against Sara’s presence. But she wasn’t completely blind to her senses. “I can sense the difference… but there’s something more. I can sense each of your… something?”
“Describe it,” Angel requested.
“You have some and none…” she frowned, “the demon has none. Your soul counters it.” She gestured to Spike and Sara, “they are full of it…”
“My demon has something Peaches’ doesn’t?” Spike said grappling for something that tickled his memory. “And Sara has it too.”
“Sounds familiar,” Angle looked at his grandchilde.
Sara rolled her eyes, “they have 600+ years of memories to think through, and they are disturbed by not recalling something.”
“It’ll come to one of us,” Angel decided. “If you sense demons don’t do that.”
“Leave the beasts caged,” River frowned, “I’ve been told that before…”
“Okay,” Sara stood, “you are all suffering from selective amnesia, but we need to get ready for the meet with Captain Reynolds and crew. And if any of them think they’ve kidnapped River, we could end up with a very angry mercenary on our doorstep.”
“And the spiders tied the flies to the ground,” River reminded them.
88888888
“Sir,” Zoe approached the legs sticking out from under the pilot console, “where did you send Jayne?”
“To the nearest cathouse,” Mal pushed himself up, “told him if he don’t straighten his mood he’ll be left on this here moon.”
“You’re in a mood too, sir,” she pointed out.
The captain popped up to look at his first mate, “Out with it, Zoe.”
“Ever since River said what she did about your faith,” she deadpanned.
He ducked back under the console, “girl is entitled to her opinion.”
“Never been your view of things before,” she prodded.
“Gorramit!” he shot to his feet. “Jayne said she’s seen our dreams. Think ‘bout it Zoe. Just in the last year what have your dreams been about?”
Zoe paled as she remembered her own horrors relived in nightmares.
“I’ve had the same dreams for eight years,” he leaned against the console. “I know the go se in my head. I can guess yours. And Jayne’s,” he made a face. “And who knows what Kaylee and Simon…”
“That explains the ship cycles,” she told him. “Every few weeks I’d notice that we’d be getting up earlier.”
“But all the clocks said it was hours later?” he guessed, “I caught on to that too.”
“Must have been the point she needed to sleep.”
“Yeah.”
There was a long silence, each caught in their thoughts.
It was Zoe who broke it, “there is going to be a baby on this boat…”
Mal shook his head, “You think she’ll stay onboard?”
“What could drive her off now?”
88888888
The bartender watched the man who had been steadily drinking since just before noon. He was big and burly, and without a doubt drowning in his drink about a woman. He had one of two options, he could cut him off and risk being shot. Or he could call the boss.
“Gorram witch!” the man hit the bar with his fist.
Decision made, the bartender reached for the phone.
88888888
Spike knocked on River’s door. “Dancer, you okay?”
She opened the door. Her hair was wet around her head. She was wearing brown pants and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt. The contents of her bag were spread all over the bed. Her boots were on the floor.
“I forgot a hair control device,” she huffed. “I could not find even a tamer.”
“Come with me,” he grinned. He led her towards Sara’s room, but stopped a few doors short. The room was set with a large vanity and several wardrobes.
“Secret identity?” she asked.
“No,” he scoffed, “Red, Sara, she’s not the first woman to live here. The head of house when we built this place was Maria. She was pregnant and had just lost her husband. Peaches and I offered her any room in this house to design; she did this one, the nursery, and the kitchen. She had twin girls and they’d spent hours in here playing and when they married they got ready in this room.”
“Sara is lucky to have you,” she rubbed a hand along his face. “So were her ancestors.”
“And that baby is lucky to have you,” he touched the tip of her nose. “Now let’s get you sorted.”
He sat her in front of the large vanity. “You have no reflection.”
“Ask Sara for the Slayer book,” he started running a brush through her hair. “It’s a collection of all the knowledge gained through the centuries. It is the Watcher’s journals, edited by Angel, the rebuilt Council, the Slayers, and myself. It tells about vampires, Hellmouths, demons of every kind, spells, and gives as much information as we had about every Slayer their ever was. The story of Sunnydale as it applies to Buffy, and Los Angeles as it applies to Angel.”
“Must be a large book.”
“It used to be several volumes,” he assured her, deftly plying her hair around her head. “Magiks actually made it a single book the size of a journal.”
“You learned how to tame the mess,” she commented as she watched her hair move, seemingly under its own power.
“I have done this for several women in my unnaturally long life, Dancer,” he assured her. “And very few complaints.”
“Won’t complain,” she smiled, “hate doing it. Just let it run wild.”
“Done,” he stepped away. Her hair was gelled, and piled atop her head and secured with two long blue chopsticks.
“Wild but tame,” she turned her head to look at him, “very appropriate.”
He dug through the drawer, “Sara’s relatives have all had olive complexions, except one who lived here,” he pulled out a small set of make-up. “Anna looked like you, dark hair and pale skin.”
“I never learned…” she gestured to the various things, “Inara tried to teach me, but I am too impatient.”
“I am as well,” Spike reached into a different drawer and handed her a new lip gloss bottle. “So I go for the easy one.”
She applied it quickly.
“But keep the makeup, just in case you need it.”
“Thank you.”
“Spike,” Angel shouted as his footfalls drew near. He found them a second later. “Louis called. Apparently a guy is overly drunk and he’s afraid of being hit.”
“Bit early in the day,” he looked at his watch, “bouncers aren’t on duty. Let River do it.”
“What?” Angel shook his head. “No.”
“Why? She needs to learn to handle humans, and if he’s enough to scare Louis, who cares what damage she does?”
“Fine, but you’re handling any lawsuits.”
88888888
Louis was relieved to hear the boss walk in. The man at the bar had been picking fights with everyone who got near. Louis had already given out three bottles of whiskey to drive the competition off.
Spike came up to his usual place at the far end of the bar.
“How much has he cost us?”
“Four and a half bottles of whiskey,” Louis pointed down the bar.
“How many has he consumed?”
“Three, maybe four, glasses, mostly he’s swinging it around.”
“It’s Jayne,” a young woman’s voice distracted him.
“Then you must be the woman,” Louis smiled kindly at her. “I thought it was a crisis of heart that drove him here.”
“Not likely,” she sighed, “could you bring me a glass of lemonade?”
“Sure.”
River moved down the bar and perched herself on the stool next to the merc.
“Go ‘way,” he snapped.
“Why are you drinking?” she asked softly.
“None ‘f yer business.”
“So, I’m no longer worthy of being spoken to?” she frowned up at him.
“No.”
“Here you are, miss,” a glass was set in front of her.
“Thank you, Louis,” she nodded at him and he bashfully went back to his job.
“Anybody could be it’s,” Jayne pointed to her stomach, “father, ain’t me!”
“Fine, Jayne,” she looked back at her glass of lemonade.
“I said-” he stopped and stared at her.
“I’ll find someone else,” she said, “perhaps the magiks knew better than to pick you.”
“Good,” he downed a shot of whiskey. “The way it oughtta be.”
“Yeah…” River refused to look up at Jayne, Louis, or Spike.
88888888
The crew of Serenity, Angel, Spike, and Sara met at dusk in the office above the pub. Sara got the food and drinks. The crew had resumed their seats from the night before, except River who sat cross-legged on the liquor cabinet. Sara took her seat between Jayne and Angel.
“I’m fine, Simon,” River said testily. “Stop, you’re oozing yellow.”
“You said something ‘bout the job,” Mal cut the siblings off.
“Yes,” Spike set a packet down in front of him. “Your main thing would be transport of peanut butter and coffee, but also goodwill missions to planets on the rim who get no Alliance support. We help supply them with materials without having to pay everyone between the manufacturer and receiver. You’ll also take requests.”
“You’re Saint Vince,” Jayne said.
“Vincent de Paul,” Mal corrected, “patron saint of charity.”
“Saint Vince?” Zoe looked at the two men.
“Pa called ‘em angels,” Kaylee blushed after a quick look at the dark vampire. “Said they’d been ‘round a long time doin’ little things to keep rim planets afloat.”
“Anythin’ that’s gonna get us in trouble with the law?” Mal asked.
“No, most of the stuff the Alliance doesn’t care about,” Angel explained, “but the bosses in-between make a great deal of money from it.”
“What happened to your last crew?” Zoe inquired.
“They started skimming items off the top. They were making a profit through the bosses and the townspeople.”
“Mysteriously got picked up for some previous misdeed,” Spike grinned widely.
“On each planet you spend two weeks helping the various towns with whatever they need done. You will also transport passengers, not more than you can handle and at your discretion, but your ship can help spread skills across a planet or to a new colony…”
River let the conversation and contract details weave around her as she concentrated on what Spike had taught her. Spike’s demon caressed her senses luring her to him. Angel’s snapped and rattled warnings from its cage while the soul tried to wrap itself around the cage to suffocate the demon.
The void of Angel’s demon she had noticed earlier was very noticeable next to Kaylee’s unblemished bubble. Simon’s was like Sara’s, chipped around the edges. Inara was just as bright but thin. Mal’s was thick, a dark color, clearly blemished. Zoe had a shield that looked more fragile than any of the others, like the smallest hit would destroy it. Jayne’s was much like Spike’s. He didn’t fight it, but embraced the nicks, cracks, and dirt on his shield.
“The Judge!” Angel finally shouted, scaring the crew.
“The who?” Jayne asked.
“That feeling,” he looked back at River, “My demon has none but Spike’s does…? I bet everyone in this room has some.”
“Humanity,” Spike snapped his fingers. “Interesting talent.”
“What are ya goin’ on about?” Mal brought the attention back to his crew.
“Just another something we’ve learned.”
“River has several talents that will need to be recorded and studied,” Sara agreed.
Simon seized up.
“Not like that,” River told him, “She speaks of diaries.” Spike frowns back at the genius.
“Wh-”
A small snore cut off Simon’s question. Jayne was sleeping in the chair sitting up.
“Why don’t Spike and I have a word with the captain,” Angel suggested, “and you can try to get your mercenary into one of the rooms at the back of the pub. Sara will show you.”
“The optimal time to leave is in nine hours and fourteen minutes,” River informs everyone as she stands. “Need the contract signed and supplies loaded before then. Captain will only sign with Zoe’s input.”
Zoe and Mal followed the two vampires to the office. The rest of the crew and Sara were left to stare at the sleeping man.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to move him,” Kaylee stated.
“I can,” River slipped from the liquor cabinet.
“River,” Simon said, “he’s at least two times your weight.”
“More,” she shrugged. She moved over to Jayne and placed a hand on his shoulder. The others tensed. But instead of her being thrown across the room, as Mal had been once, she was pulled against his body as he shifted to accommodate her.
The quiet made tears gather in River’s eyes. She hated that he could make everything so soft when he was so mad at her. Struggling against her sadness and his tight grip she asked him to wake up. It took three times before desperation set into her tone and it penetrated Jayne’s sleeping brain.
“Wuzit?” he mumbled.
“You consumed too much libation,” River increased her struggles to be farther away. “You need to be moved to an appropriate dorm.”
“’Ay,” he mumbled.
“Let go,” she shrieked as he pulled her close again.
This got his complete attention. “Gorramit, shut up.”
“Then get your hands off me,” she yelled at him. “Let go!”
Jayne shot to his feet, detangling from River as he did. She slid to the floor, Inara darted forwarded to help her up.
Sara stepped between the angry doctor and the merc, “follow me.”
He looked over to see River shaking and trying to escape Inara’s worry gaze. The Companion kept her hands to herself.
“Jayne,” Sara motioned from the door. “There is a room down the hall.”
He was half-compelled to stay, but the adrenaline that was keeping him standing was fading fast. He avoided looking back at River as he shuffled from the room.
Sara led him only a few doors down. She let him into the room.
“You are a lucky man, Jayne Cobb,” she told him as he dropped down into the bed.
“Hoz ‘at?” he asked.
“Slayers can be one of the most loyal lovers there are,” she leaned against the doorframe. “And River… she seems the loyal sort all on her own.”
“Hrmm.”
“If you are that baby’s father…” she shook her head as quiet snores filled the room, “you’re an even luckier man than you deserve…”
88888888
River sat on the bed in the mansion. She had packed everything she had brought along with the Slayer book Sara had given her. She touched the wall and wanted to absorb the love she felt there.
“Don’t let it consume you,” Angel said from the doorway.
She looked up at him.
“Spike noticed it earlier, said you speak even more broken when you got around the crew.”
“Broken,” she hissed the word, “is what I am.”
“No, you’re scared.”
“I fear little.”
“But you fear the big things,” he motioned to her hand. “Love doesn’t fall in your lap, it hurts and it burns and it will drive you mad at times, but it doesn’t just happen.”
“Hormones, neurons, lowered inhibitions,” she snapped, standing, “love hurts and it feels like falling and hoping and being crushed! Who wants that?”
Angel moved forward faster than she could see. He ended in front of her, his hand on her abdomen. “This baby does. This baby is going to love you and you are going to love it.”
She moved away from him, “why couldn’t the spell have added a memory of conception? So I’d know?”
“To craft memories takes a lot of magik,” he explained.
“I am coming to hate that word,” she told him.
“Way Spike tells it, love and hate walk the same line.”
“I think I’d rather be hated,” she told him as she grabbed her bag off the bed, “I’d never be surprised by the knife in my back.”
The dark vampire sighed. ‘She’s worse than Illyria.’
88888888
“C’mon ya big ox, get up!” a voice yelled.
Jayne glared at the loud noise at the door. His head was pounding and he could feel the start of a hangover. ‘Shou’n’t had that whole bottle of whiskey.’
“Get up!” The light stabbed his eyes. “If you don’t get back to Serenity in the next hour you’re gonna have to get on your feet.”
Jayne grumbled as he recognized the voice, Spike. A need for violence made itself known.
“Move or I’ll bite you,” Spike threatened when he didn’t get a response.
The merc cracked his eyes open to find a set of yellow eyes watching him. He shot up swinging before he reached his feet.
“You’re in no position to take me,” the vampire said as he watched the large man collide with the wall. “Squish me, maybe.”
“Where am I?”
“They actually pay you to be a merc? I’d fire you for bein’ thick.”
Jayne narrowed his eyes on the smaller body, “The sooner we git off this rock the bet’er.”
“Ship is waiting,” he gestured to the door.
Fully awake now, he headed for the nearest exit.
“Do me a favor though, Jayne,” Spike said as he reached the back entrance. “Give this to River.” Between his fingers was a couple of black and white pictures of blobs.
Jayne took them, “what is it?”
Spike was halfway down the hall when his response made it into the merc’s head, “it’s her baby.”
88888888
Mal gave River the all clear as he watched Jayne check the cargo. He wanted to demand an explanation about what the merc had done to his pilot a few hours before, but Inara had told him to butt out. As had River, and he was still tentative of the trust they were coming to. He had vowed to leave it to them - for the moment.
“Is there anything I can do, Captain?” a voice asked from behind him. Sara stood there; she was dressed in pants and a thick shirt, her red hair in a high pony tail. She had spent most of the night hours checking and rechecking the cargo inventory. She restocked the stores and discarded their expired proteins - considering it took fifteen years for protein to go bad it was a pitiful look at the last year.
“What have you been doing?” he questioned.
“Though Spike and Angel guaranteed we wouldn’t be gone for more than four months,” she rolled her eyes, “I made sure your ship was stocked for six months.”
Mal winced, “That’s a lot of protein.”
She grinned up at him, “in case you hadn’t noticed my grandfathers have spent a few years padding their pockets. They barely put a dent on it building the mansion. Or any of the thirty weddings they’ve paid for…”
“No wonder they’re a charity,” he commented.
“They can’t leave Dyton,” she told him honestly. “Spike hates being in one place, and Angel hates only being able to help from a distance. But if they leave they will die.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she frowned at something, “my brother used to tell me it was their price for a long life. They never explained it.”
“You never asked?”
“When I was young,” she sighed, “when my brother died, I asked, but Spike never told me. It just became a fact like that they are several generations removed grandfathers… who happen to be vampires.”
“So my food?”
“Oh, yeah, you have protein, flour, dried fruits, nuts, some canned tuna, cans of veggies, as well as a few potatoes, zucchini, squash, and sugar.” She smiled, “and I have a few steaks for dinner tonight.”
“Wow,” he frowned, “gonna spoil this crew with them as employers.”
“Don’t get me wrong, in three and a half months we’ll be back on pure protein,” she shrugged, “but it’s at least a better start than you’re used to.”
“Why don’t you just find your niche, and we’ll go from there.”
“Fair enough, Captain.” She stopped him before he could pass her, “thank you.”
Mal frowned, swearing there was something more to her gratitude. He smiled tightly and continued on.
A/N: Need ideas for baby… boy or girl? Name? I’m sick of calling it ‘it’ and/or baby, soon River will be too…
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 7: Trade Agreements
Crossover: Firefly/Buffy
Timeline: Firefly-post BDM seven months after, Buffy - takes into account all of television series of both Angel and Buffy but no the comic books.
Summary: Five hundred years later there is a new light approaching. Rayne-S/K
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy/Angel mythos and Firefly/Serenity are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Inc., etc.
Organizational Post
It was early - too early in Mal’s opinion - when Jayne started stomping around the ship in a fit. The captain was not sure how to take this intrusion into his sleeping time. However, he knew his mercenary well enough to know Jayne likely had reason to worry. They were landlocked by two vampires, and their granddaughter, until an undisclosed time. And Serenity’s pregnant genius pilot was somewhere else on the forsaken moon.
With a sigh and a curse Mal levered himself out of bed. Attending his hygienic needs, he made a list of things to get done. He dressed and pulled on his boots. Mal made it to the galley, and directly for the coffee pot. If he was going to start yelling, or plain dealing with Jayne, he first needed coffee. There was a fresh pot. It smelled delicious and he poured himself a large mug.
“River delivered the beans about an hour ago,” Inara informed him. She was dressed in brilliant silks, he face perfect, her tone questing.
“And where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” she seated herself on a chair. “She muttered something about instincts and Jayne and left before I could properly get a word in.”
“Have you contacted your friend?” he asked. “Mayhap he’d be able to help.”
Inara looked at Mal with a shake of her head, “it won’t do any good.”
“Don’t tell me you won’t,” he sat down across from her, “we need to get away from here, or at the very least, River away from those…”
“Vampires,” she supplied, “Mal, the friend, the contact, was William.”
“Gorramit!” he muttered.
“It was nearly fifteen years ago,” she told him. “He has not aged a day. He cut his hair, but he is the same man I met.”
“Barrin’ the belief of our mind readin’ genius,” he leaned forward on his elbows, “what do you believe?”
Inara narrowed her eyes before carefully saying, “Angel is hard to read, but Wil-Spike… he either has no filters or uses extreme emotions to cover his true intentions. I am not sure which.”
“Great,” Mal sipped from his cup, “then could you at least tell me what sent my merc into a fit?”
The Companion looked down, focusing on her steaming tea. “You will not like the answer.”
“Figured when his gorram stompin’ woke me.”
“Jayne is a creature of habit.” She waited for his agreement before continuing, “in the last few weeks we’ve seen a change in his habits. He started working with River. Then they’d eat and play cards. Now they spend the last two weeks sleeping in here…”
“Are you tellin’ me Jayne is missin’ sleepin’ with River?” he looked at her as though she’d passed gas.
“You asked my opinion,” she stood stiffly, “if you do not agree with it so be it.”
Mal watched Inara leave, ‘she can’t be right…’
“JAYNE!” he yelled.
88888888
“Up early,” Spike commented as he watched River sneak back in to the mansion through the library window.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she looked away from him. “Ghosts crowd my dreams.”
“Whose ghosts?”
“The Slayers… the demons… mine,” she studied him a moment. “I thought sun was bad?”
“Only if the planet is the same distance from the sun as Earth was,” he told her with a small smile, “Dyton is far enough to let us go out during the day, but we’re not completely safe.”
River nodded distractedly as she went to the framed sketches around the library. They were portraits. Each of a different person, none of them were labeled.
“Peaches drew them,” Spike informed her.
There was no color to them. Still River could see the different hues of their skin, the shades of their hair, and the truth in their likeness. She stopped at one. “Faith…”
“Yeah,” he frowned, “you know of her?”
“No. Yes.”
“Clear as mud, pet.”
“Ghost,” she said simply and turned to him, “she was in my dream.”
“Did they seem prophetic?”
She explained the look and contents of the dream. He watched her with a thoughtful expression.
“You’re the Slayer,” he told her, “what do your instincts say?”
“Teach me,” she replied as though she had already given it a lot of thought. “Teach me to not hurt my friends. I want to recognize my abilities as more than just what was done to me… I want control.”
“As you wish, pet.”
88888888
Sara pulled herself out of bed with a groan. She hated when Angel and Spike sparred so early. ‘They need to take up yoga,’ she thought. ‘Or the damn vamps need to sleep from the moment the sun rises.’
But when they had a business to run and stamina that allowed them to go more than eighty hours without sleep they tended to be hard to schedule around. She glanced at her clock. It was well past lunch.
She got ready for the day with a shower. By the time her hair was dry and she was downstairs Angel was in the kitchen just as annoyed as she had been.
“Spike and River?” she guessed.
“Yeah,” he handed her a smoothie. “They’ve been training for about three hours.”
“Training?”
“She had a dream.”
“One of the Slayers?” she remembered Spike telling her that Slayers often dreamt of others in the Slayer line.
“Faith,” Angel poured a second smoothie and handed it to her.
“Not Sineya or Lucy Hanover?” The first Slayer had been a common conduit for Buffy’s Slayer dreams. Lucy Hanover was a 19th century Civil War Slayer who haunted the Ghost Roads, the place between life and death to guide the living.
“Let’s go break them up before River exhausts herself,” he suggested. “We still have to work out things with Serenity.”
“That will be fun,” she snarked. “We haven’t even talked about-”
“I know,” he cut her off. They walked to the large gymnasium. High windows let the afternoon sun shine in. The room was filled with various exercise equipment; on the other half were large mats. The two fighters were bouncing around one another, sounds of solid hits making Sara wince.
“Is leor sin!” Angel yelled.
Spike laughed as they separated from their fight. “I told you if he had to come in here he’d shout in Gaelic.”
River kept moving back and forth on her feet, to keep from cooling down too fast.
“What have you two been doing all day?”
The blue-eyed vampire grabbed Sara and the drinks from Angel. “I was working with River on sensing demons. Want her to try it on you.”
“Okay,” Angel nodded to River.
The genius concentrated on the coldness on the back of her neck. Spike’s demon was less noticeable now that she’d spent more than six hours recognizing it. Angel’s demon was a different matter. Where Spike’s had been on the surface and rather placid, Angel’s was buried deep, angry and clawing at its cage.
She pushed past the cage watching Angel’s eyes. Suddenly they were feral and vile.
“Bloody hell, stop,” Spike yelled. “River, undo it!”
At his voice she jerked back, away from the demon’s cage. Angel’s eyes were dark and scared.
“What was that?” Sara asked. Spike’s posture was rigid and he looked as shaken as the other vampire.
“River…?” Spike went to the small woman, “are you okay?”
“Very different,” she finally said, never taking her eyes from Angel. “Your demons are the same in type but so very different…”
“Here,” Sara motioned, “sit down and drink this.” River took the drink but didn’t sit, neither did Spike.
“What happened?” Spike directed his question at the older vampire. “For a minute there, I thought…”
“It was,” he nodded, shaken.
“But your soul is anchored,” he looked quickly for reason. “And when she was sensing my demon…”
“Spike,” Angel sighed, “you know that your demon and mine are not the same. Hell you lorded it over me for two centuries.”
“Your demon,” River added, “is caged, violent, and wants to destroy.”
“I know,” he leaned against the wall, “I’ve faced him head on before.”
“Yours,” she nodded to Spike, “is hard to separate from the soul.”
“Try what you did with Peaches’,” Spike stood in front of her.
“I can’t,” she told him. “I pushed my senses into the cage; you have no cage.”
“This time try sensing just the differences between us,” he gestured to the three people in the room.
River immediately noticed the difference on the surface. Spike and Angel’s demons, though vastly different, were noticeable against Sara’s presence. But she wasn’t completely blind to her senses. “I can sense the difference… but there’s something more. I can sense each of your… something?”
“Describe it,” Angel requested.
“You have some and none…” she frowned, “the demon has none. Your soul counters it.” She gestured to Spike and Sara, “they are full of it…”
“My demon has something Peaches’ doesn’t?” Spike said grappling for something that tickled his memory. “And Sara has it too.”
“Sounds familiar,” Angle looked at his grandchilde.
Sara rolled her eyes, “they have 600+ years of memories to think through, and they are disturbed by not recalling something.”
“It’ll come to one of us,” Angel decided. “If you sense demons don’t do that.”
“Leave the beasts caged,” River frowned, “I’ve been told that before…”
“Okay,” Sara stood, “you are all suffering from selective amnesia, but we need to get ready for the meet with Captain Reynolds and crew. And if any of them think they’ve kidnapped River, we could end up with a very angry mercenary on our doorstep.”
“And the spiders tied the flies to the ground,” River reminded them.
88888888
“Sir,” Zoe approached the legs sticking out from under the pilot console, “where did you send Jayne?”
“To the nearest cathouse,” Mal pushed himself up, “told him if he don’t straighten his mood he’ll be left on this here moon.”
“You’re in a mood too, sir,” she pointed out.
The captain popped up to look at his first mate, “Out with it, Zoe.”
“Ever since River said what she did about your faith,” she deadpanned.
He ducked back under the console, “girl is entitled to her opinion.”
“Never been your view of things before,” she prodded.
“Gorramit!” he shot to his feet. “Jayne said she’s seen our dreams. Think ‘bout it Zoe. Just in the last year what have your dreams been about?”
Zoe paled as she remembered her own horrors relived in nightmares.
“I’ve had the same dreams for eight years,” he leaned against the console. “I know the go se in my head. I can guess yours. And Jayne’s,” he made a face. “And who knows what Kaylee and Simon…”
“That explains the ship cycles,” she told him. “Every few weeks I’d notice that we’d be getting up earlier.”
“But all the clocks said it was hours later?” he guessed, “I caught on to that too.”
“Must have been the point she needed to sleep.”
“Yeah.”
There was a long silence, each caught in their thoughts.
It was Zoe who broke it, “there is going to be a baby on this boat…”
Mal shook his head, “You think she’ll stay onboard?”
“What could drive her off now?”
88888888
The bartender watched the man who had been steadily drinking since just before noon. He was big and burly, and without a doubt drowning in his drink about a woman. He had one of two options, he could cut him off and risk being shot. Or he could call the boss.
“Gorram witch!” the man hit the bar with his fist.
Decision made, the bartender reached for the phone.
88888888
Spike knocked on River’s door. “Dancer, you okay?”
She opened the door. Her hair was wet around her head. She was wearing brown pants and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt. The contents of her bag were spread all over the bed. Her boots were on the floor.
“I forgot a hair control device,” she huffed. “I could not find even a tamer.”
“Come with me,” he grinned. He led her towards Sara’s room, but stopped a few doors short. The room was set with a large vanity and several wardrobes.
“Secret identity?” she asked.
“No,” he scoffed, “Red, Sara, she’s not the first woman to live here. The head of house when we built this place was Maria. She was pregnant and had just lost her husband. Peaches and I offered her any room in this house to design; she did this one, the nursery, and the kitchen. She had twin girls and they’d spent hours in here playing and when they married they got ready in this room.”
“Sara is lucky to have you,” she rubbed a hand along his face. “So were her ancestors.”
“And that baby is lucky to have you,” he touched the tip of her nose. “Now let’s get you sorted.”
He sat her in front of the large vanity. “You have no reflection.”
“Ask Sara for the Slayer book,” he started running a brush through her hair. “It’s a collection of all the knowledge gained through the centuries. It is the Watcher’s journals, edited by Angel, the rebuilt Council, the Slayers, and myself. It tells about vampires, Hellmouths, demons of every kind, spells, and gives as much information as we had about every Slayer their ever was. The story of Sunnydale as it applies to Buffy, and Los Angeles as it applies to Angel.”
“Must be a large book.”
“It used to be several volumes,” he assured her, deftly plying her hair around her head. “Magiks actually made it a single book the size of a journal.”
“You learned how to tame the mess,” she commented as she watched her hair move, seemingly under its own power.
“I have done this for several women in my unnaturally long life, Dancer,” he assured her. “And very few complaints.”
“Won’t complain,” she smiled, “hate doing it. Just let it run wild.”
“Done,” he stepped away. Her hair was gelled, and piled atop her head and secured with two long blue chopsticks.
“Wild but tame,” she turned her head to look at him, “very appropriate.”
He dug through the drawer, “Sara’s relatives have all had olive complexions, except one who lived here,” he pulled out a small set of make-up. “Anna looked like you, dark hair and pale skin.”
“I never learned…” she gestured to the various things, “Inara tried to teach me, but I am too impatient.”
“I am as well,” Spike reached into a different drawer and handed her a new lip gloss bottle. “So I go for the easy one.”
She applied it quickly.
“But keep the makeup, just in case you need it.”
“Thank you.”
“Spike,” Angel shouted as his footfalls drew near. He found them a second later. “Louis called. Apparently a guy is overly drunk and he’s afraid of being hit.”
“Bit early in the day,” he looked at his watch, “bouncers aren’t on duty. Let River do it.”
“What?” Angel shook his head. “No.”
“Why? She needs to learn to handle humans, and if he’s enough to scare Louis, who cares what damage she does?”
“Fine, but you’re handling any lawsuits.”
88888888
Louis was relieved to hear the boss walk in. The man at the bar had been picking fights with everyone who got near. Louis had already given out three bottles of whiskey to drive the competition off.
Spike came up to his usual place at the far end of the bar.
“How much has he cost us?”
“Four and a half bottles of whiskey,” Louis pointed down the bar.
“How many has he consumed?”
“Three, maybe four, glasses, mostly he’s swinging it around.”
“It’s Jayne,” a young woman’s voice distracted him.
“Then you must be the woman,” Louis smiled kindly at her. “I thought it was a crisis of heart that drove him here.”
“Not likely,” she sighed, “could you bring me a glass of lemonade?”
“Sure.”
River moved down the bar and perched herself on the stool next to the merc.
“Go ‘way,” he snapped.
“Why are you drinking?” she asked softly.
“None ‘f yer business.”
“So, I’m no longer worthy of being spoken to?” she frowned up at him.
“No.”
“Here you are, miss,” a glass was set in front of her.
“Thank you, Louis,” she nodded at him and he bashfully went back to his job.
“Anybody could be it’s,” Jayne pointed to her stomach, “father, ain’t me!”
“Fine, Jayne,” she looked back at her glass of lemonade.
“I said-” he stopped and stared at her.
“I’ll find someone else,” she said, “perhaps the magiks knew better than to pick you.”
“Good,” he downed a shot of whiskey. “The way it oughtta be.”
“Yeah…” River refused to look up at Jayne, Louis, or Spike.
88888888
The crew of Serenity, Angel, Spike, and Sara met at dusk in the office above the pub. Sara got the food and drinks. The crew had resumed their seats from the night before, except River who sat cross-legged on the liquor cabinet. Sara took her seat between Jayne and Angel.
“I’m fine, Simon,” River said testily. “Stop, you’re oozing yellow.”
“You said something ‘bout the job,” Mal cut the siblings off.
“Yes,” Spike set a packet down in front of him. “Your main thing would be transport of peanut butter and coffee, but also goodwill missions to planets on the rim who get no Alliance support. We help supply them with materials without having to pay everyone between the manufacturer and receiver. You’ll also take requests.”
“You’re Saint Vince,” Jayne said.
“Vincent de Paul,” Mal corrected, “patron saint of charity.”
“Saint Vince?” Zoe looked at the two men.
“Pa called ‘em angels,” Kaylee blushed after a quick look at the dark vampire. “Said they’d been ‘round a long time doin’ little things to keep rim planets afloat.”
“Anythin’ that’s gonna get us in trouble with the law?” Mal asked.
“No, most of the stuff the Alliance doesn’t care about,” Angel explained, “but the bosses in-between make a great deal of money from it.”
“What happened to your last crew?” Zoe inquired.
“They started skimming items off the top. They were making a profit through the bosses and the townspeople.”
“Mysteriously got picked up for some previous misdeed,” Spike grinned widely.
“On each planet you spend two weeks helping the various towns with whatever they need done. You will also transport passengers, not more than you can handle and at your discretion, but your ship can help spread skills across a planet or to a new colony…”
River let the conversation and contract details weave around her as she concentrated on what Spike had taught her. Spike’s demon caressed her senses luring her to him. Angel’s snapped and rattled warnings from its cage while the soul tried to wrap itself around the cage to suffocate the demon.
The void of Angel’s demon she had noticed earlier was very noticeable next to Kaylee’s unblemished bubble. Simon’s was like Sara’s, chipped around the edges. Inara was just as bright but thin. Mal’s was thick, a dark color, clearly blemished. Zoe had a shield that looked more fragile than any of the others, like the smallest hit would destroy it. Jayne’s was much like Spike’s. He didn’t fight it, but embraced the nicks, cracks, and dirt on his shield.
“The Judge!” Angel finally shouted, scaring the crew.
“The who?” Jayne asked.
“That feeling,” he looked back at River, “My demon has none but Spike’s does…? I bet everyone in this room has some.”
“Humanity,” Spike snapped his fingers. “Interesting talent.”
“What are ya goin’ on about?” Mal brought the attention back to his crew.
“Just another something we’ve learned.”
“River has several talents that will need to be recorded and studied,” Sara agreed.
Simon seized up.
“Not like that,” River told him, “She speaks of diaries.” Spike frowns back at the genius.
“Wh-”
A small snore cut off Simon’s question. Jayne was sleeping in the chair sitting up.
“Why don’t Spike and I have a word with the captain,” Angel suggested, “and you can try to get your mercenary into one of the rooms at the back of the pub. Sara will show you.”
“The optimal time to leave is in nine hours and fourteen minutes,” River informs everyone as she stands. “Need the contract signed and supplies loaded before then. Captain will only sign with Zoe’s input.”
Zoe and Mal followed the two vampires to the office. The rest of the crew and Sara were left to stare at the sleeping man.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to move him,” Kaylee stated.
“I can,” River slipped from the liquor cabinet.
“River,” Simon said, “he’s at least two times your weight.”
“More,” she shrugged. She moved over to Jayne and placed a hand on his shoulder. The others tensed. But instead of her being thrown across the room, as Mal had been once, she was pulled against his body as he shifted to accommodate her.
The quiet made tears gather in River’s eyes. She hated that he could make everything so soft when he was so mad at her. Struggling against her sadness and his tight grip she asked him to wake up. It took three times before desperation set into her tone and it penetrated Jayne’s sleeping brain.
“Wuzit?” he mumbled.
“You consumed too much libation,” River increased her struggles to be farther away. “You need to be moved to an appropriate dorm.”
“’Ay,” he mumbled.
“Let go,” she shrieked as he pulled her close again.
This got his complete attention. “Gorramit, shut up.”
“Then get your hands off me,” she yelled at him. “Let go!”
Jayne shot to his feet, detangling from River as he did. She slid to the floor, Inara darted forwarded to help her up.
Sara stepped between the angry doctor and the merc, “follow me.”
He looked over to see River shaking and trying to escape Inara’s worry gaze. The Companion kept her hands to herself.
“Jayne,” Sara motioned from the door. “There is a room down the hall.”
He was half-compelled to stay, but the adrenaline that was keeping him standing was fading fast. He avoided looking back at River as he shuffled from the room.
Sara led him only a few doors down. She let him into the room.
“You are a lucky man, Jayne Cobb,” she told him as he dropped down into the bed.
“Hoz ‘at?” he asked.
“Slayers can be one of the most loyal lovers there are,” she leaned against the doorframe. “And River… she seems the loyal sort all on her own.”
“Hrmm.”
“If you are that baby’s father…” she shook her head as quiet snores filled the room, “you’re an even luckier man than you deserve…”
88888888
River sat on the bed in the mansion. She had packed everything she had brought along with the Slayer book Sara had given her. She touched the wall and wanted to absorb the love she felt there.
“Don’t let it consume you,” Angel said from the doorway.
She looked up at him.
“Spike noticed it earlier, said you speak even more broken when you got around the crew.”
“Broken,” she hissed the word, “is what I am.”
“No, you’re scared.”
“I fear little.”
“But you fear the big things,” he motioned to her hand. “Love doesn’t fall in your lap, it hurts and it burns and it will drive you mad at times, but it doesn’t just happen.”
“Hormones, neurons, lowered inhibitions,” she snapped, standing, “love hurts and it feels like falling and hoping and being crushed! Who wants that?”
Angel moved forward faster than she could see. He ended in front of her, his hand on her abdomen. “This baby does. This baby is going to love you and you are going to love it.”
She moved away from him, “why couldn’t the spell have added a memory of conception? So I’d know?”
“To craft memories takes a lot of magik,” he explained.
“I am coming to hate that word,” she told him.
“Way Spike tells it, love and hate walk the same line.”
“I think I’d rather be hated,” she told him as she grabbed her bag off the bed, “I’d never be surprised by the knife in my back.”
The dark vampire sighed. ‘She’s worse than Illyria.’
88888888
“C’mon ya big ox, get up!” a voice yelled.
Jayne glared at the loud noise at the door. His head was pounding and he could feel the start of a hangover. ‘Shou’n’t had that whole bottle of whiskey.’
“Get up!” The light stabbed his eyes. “If you don’t get back to Serenity in the next hour you’re gonna have to get on your feet.”
Jayne grumbled as he recognized the voice, Spike. A need for violence made itself known.
“Move or I’ll bite you,” Spike threatened when he didn’t get a response.
The merc cracked his eyes open to find a set of yellow eyes watching him. He shot up swinging before he reached his feet.
“You’re in no position to take me,” the vampire said as he watched the large man collide with the wall. “Squish me, maybe.”
“Where am I?”
“They actually pay you to be a merc? I’d fire you for bein’ thick.”
Jayne narrowed his eyes on the smaller body, “The sooner we git off this rock the bet’er.”
“Ship is waiting,” he gestured to the door.
Fully awake now, he headed for the nearest exit.
“Do me a favor though, Jayne,” Spike said as he reached the back entrance. “Give this to River.” Between his fingers was a couple of black and white pictures of blobs.
Jayne took them, “what is it?”
Spike was halfway down the hall when his response made it into the merc’s head, “it’s her baby.”
88888888
Mal gave River the all clear as he watched Jayne check the cargo. He wanted to demand an explanation about what the merc had done to his pilot a few hours before, but Inara had told him to butt out. As had River, and he was still tentative of the trust they were coming to. He had vowed to leave it to them - for the moment.
“Is there anything I can do, Captain?” a voice asked from behind him. Sara stood there; she was dressed in pants and a thick shirt, her red hair in a high pony tail. She had spent most of the night hours checking and rechecking the cargo inventory. She restocked the stores and discarded their expired proteins - considering it took fifteen years for protein to go bad it was a pitiful look at the last year.
“What have you been doing?” he questioned.
“Though Spike and Angel guaranteed we wouldn’t be gone for more than four months,” she rolled her eyes, “I made sure your ship was stocked for six months.”
Mal winced, “That’s a lot of protein.”
She grinned up at him, “in case you hadn’t noticed my grandfathers have spent a few years padding their pockets. They barely put a dent on it building the mansion. Or any of the thirty weddings they’ve paid for…”
“No wonder they’re a charity,” he commented.
“They can’t leave Dyton,” she told him honestly. “Spike hates being in one place, and Angel hates only being able to help from a distance. But if they leave they will die.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she frowned at something, “my brother used to tell me it was their price for a long life. They never explained it.”
“You never asked?”
“When I was young,” she sighed, “when my brother died, I asked, but Spike never told me. It just became a fact like that they are several generations removed grandfathers… who happen to be vampires.”
“So my food?”
“Oh, yeah, you have protein, flour, dried fruits, nuts, some canned tuna, cans of veggies, as well as a few potatoes, zucchini, squash, and sugar.” She smiled, “and I have a few steaks for dinner tonight.”
“Wow,” he frowned, “gonna spoil this crew with them as employers.”
“Don’t get me wrong, in three and a half months we’ll be back on pure protein,” she shrugged, “but it’s at least a better start than you’re used to.”
“Why don’t you just find your niche, and we’ll go from there.”
“Fair enough, Captain.” She stopped him before he could pass her, “thank you.”
Mal frowned, swearing there was something more to her gratitude. He smiled tightly and continued on.
A/N: Need ideas for baby… boy or girl? Name? I’m sick of calling it ‘it’ and/or baby, soon River will be too…