August 21: Some Weird Cleopatra Curse Convergence Thing [Blood & Treasure]
Title: Some Weird Cleopatra Curse Convergence Thing
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Rating: T/PG-13
Crossover: Blood & Treasure (TV)
Spoilers: B:tVS very post-canon; no comics; Blood & Treasure post-Season 1
Notes: Because I just finished rewatching Season 1, so I could start Season 2. And because I have a certain obvious fondness for fix-its. :)
Summary: The Brotherhood of Serapis were super spy decoder ring types, even more so than the Watchers; if they were asking a complete stranger they didn't even know to come into their clubhouse urgently, they had to have something specific in mind. 2300 words.
"False alarm," Willow said, a relieved expression on her face in the Facetime window. "Giles finally got in touch with one of the survivors of the Cleopatra cult in Rome. No one broke the seal on the coffins; the sleepers still sleep."
One of the more interesting developments of being forced to rebuild almost the entire Watcher's Council in the aftermath of the First Evil levelling their headquarters: as Giles and the few other British survivors from the retiree squad and their Academy had started rebuilding ties around the world, they'd linked up with a ton of secret supernatural squads that each area's satellite Watchers had quietly liaised with over the millennia, sharing data about threats that might require the Slayer's intervention. After Kendra, and then the crew that had gone after Faith, Buffy had often wondered exactly how many Watchers there were and how far their reach actually went; now she knew it was not all that many, but also everywhere humans aware of the supernatural happened to be.
Some groups were friendlier than others-- from most of their perspectives, the Watcher's Council was simply another cult that had got a lot more arrogant after they went global and moved to the capital of the British Empire-- but all of them shared the goal of humanity surviving, unruled by demons and unplagued by rogue magic. There were several in Egypt, the most prominent of which watched over the more dangerous tombs and antiquities out in the deserts; the cult that protected the descendants-- and tomb-- of Antony and Cleopatra in specific was a later spinoff, but no less committed to the cause of keeping thieving foreign hands from disturbing that which they did not grok.
"You're sure?" Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows. "The Immortal was pretty freaked. He's mostly magic-resistant, and viruses don't affect him at all, but whatever happened at the museum knocked everyone down, even him. He said it didn't let up until Interpol arrived with their little arm-jabby things-- and that the people who were awarded for having found the sarcophagi in the first place were acting very shady both before and after the choking and collapsing started. He was sure they'd triggered the Curse."
"Well, I guess he's old enough to be familiar with the ritual Cleopatra probably used," Willow wrinkled her nose. She still felt uncomfortable around the Immortal, mostly because the first time they'd met in person he'd greeted her as a 'fellow traveler on the path'. Coming from a guy who frowned at magic but had somehow lived for centuries and was notorious for his grey-neutral approach to morality, it had given Willow a touch of the wiggins. From Buffy's perspective, though, it had actually reminded her more of Spike's speech about Happy Meals on Legs; he might not be a white hat, but he liked society exactly the way it was, thank you, which made him a very useful ally under the right circumstances. None of which included the bedroom, although that, too, had occasionally been a very useful rumor during the months she'd actually lived in Rome.
"But no, it wasn't the capital-C curse," she continued. "Maybe a small-c one; the guy who paid for the exhibit, who'd been hunting the tomb for decades? Yeah, he's pretty screwed. Existentially speaking, at least. But the incident itself was caused by a weaponized mycotoxin aerosolized by a terrorist with daddy issues; not any of the people with the medals. They were actually trying to stop him."
"Gesundheit," Buffy said, lifting her eyebrows. "Wait... is that the mummy bacteria thing? The one those desert guys leaked as a cover for the curse on King Tut's tomb?"
"Fungus, actually-- but yeah," Willow said. "After that report came out it was blamed for a lot of lingering and fatal illnesses in archaeologists and tomb robbers. Including the terrorist's mom. So he figured out a way to concentrate it and release it into the vents as part of his revenge plot."
"So, poison, not magic. Fungus poison. I'm not sure that'll exactly be a relief to hear, but at least it'll redirect his concerns," Buffy snorted. "Any other fallout I need to be aware of?"
"I don't know if I'd call it fallout, exactly, but since Giles mentioned to his Brotherhood of Serapis contact that there was a Slayer currently visiting Paris, they've issued an urgent invitation? I don't think they know it's you exactly, but since they lost a lot of their personnel they could use the occasional helping hand. A you scratch our back, we scratch yours kind of thing."
That was interesting. And also concerning. "Scratch what exactly? These are super spy decoder ring types, even more so than the Watchers; if they're asking a complete stranger they don't even know to come into their clubhouse urgently, they've got to have something specific in mind."
Willow didn't deny it. "Well, so do we," she shrugged. "They've promised to allow a Watcher to visit their archives afterward-- specifically, to scan their copies of some of the rarer books we lost in the Big Boom-- if you go to the address provided today."
"Because...." Buffy dragged the word out impatiently.
"Well, one of their guys who died in all the fuss is apparently not so dead anymore?" Willow winced. "They think it could have something to do with some failed Nazi ritual that involved electrocuting Cleopatra's coffin like seventy-four years ago? Something about genetics, magical radiation, yadda yadda-- I know, it makes no sense to me either, and I'm the witch here. Pretty sure it's just wishful thinking. Noise starts coming out of a sealed coffin in a secret crypt several days after a death, I'm thinking vampire, not member of a magical bloodline shot on ground actually Cursed by his ancestress. But if he isn't evil, he won't last long in a sealed stone box, so they want a Slayer there as a deterrent while they open it up."
"Great. I'm probably going to have to dust one of their favorite agents in front of them. Big win for interorganizational diplomacy," Buffy grimaced. "But I suppose it would be worse if he ate the rest of them. Text me the address?"
"Thanks, Buffy; I'll let Giles know," Willow grinned back at her. "Don't hesitate to call if it turns into something bigger; Dawn will kill me if you're not back in time for her third-of-a-century shindig."
Buffy rolled her eyes, but signed off with a smile. Her sister would use any excuse to get them all back under one roof at least once a year; undoubtedly two years from now it would be Buffy's Big Four-Oh. Oldest living Slayer. Not that it was that big of an achievement since she only mostly got called in these days for diplomatic type stuff like this, staying in various Council-owned apartments in big cities all over the globe, but at least this time she'd get to hold a stake while she did it.
Her phone beeped a few seconds later with an address and, intriguingly, added directions that involved blocked up doors and a staircase downward that 'supposedly will feel kind of tingly to a Slayer'. Actively magical wards, or artefacts? Well, maybe she'd upgrade to Scythe instead of stake then, but-- interestinger and interestinger. She pulled up her maps app, then went out into the city.
The crypt, when she finally found it, was a bigger space than she'd expected; it included a full wall with inset teal ovals backed by some external light source and rows and rows of sarcophagi, each with a name plaque of its own. Some of them had cartouches under their names. The one she was directed to by the thin older guy with the cadaverous face that had greeted her read Bruno Fabi, and was making no noise at all.
"This the one?" she asked, turning to her guide.
He nodded solemnly. "He has quieted in the last few hours, though the last outburst was not twenty minutes ago. Please," he said, gesturing to the space in front of the plaque.
She pulled the Scythe from its sheath on her back, then took her place there with a nod. "Go ahead."
He gestured toward two other guys with him, that he hadn't bothered to introduce; they were bigger and burlier, clad all in black. They stepped up next to the sarcophagus, each gripping one side of the lid; then, with a heave of muscle, they began to shift it back.
The scent that rolled out of the sealed box was... not actually as bad as she'd been expecting? More sour sweat and blood than the usual scents of a graveyard. They hadn't embalmed him, from what she'd been told, or done any kind of standard autopsy; just flew his body back from Quebec and interred him immediately, in accordance with their usual rites. Okay, that did make it a smidge more likely that he could have been not actually dead to start with, but even if the boxes weren't completely air-tight around the lid, it had been a long time since his last food and water.
"Wakey wakey," she called out, in a light, teasing voice. "You still with us, Mr. Fabi?"
A faint groan issued from the shadows within; then something stirred, fabric scraping against stone. "...Us?" a male-sounding voice rasped. "Who are you?"
He had a light accent of some kind-- well, from her perspective; obviously she probably sounded out of place to him, too. "Does the term 'Slayer' mean anything to you?" she replied, watching as the coffin's occupant tried, very slowly, to sit up.
"Slayer?" he objected, in a confused tone of voice. "What...? Why would...? Danny and Lexi, are they all right?"
So far, he was acting less like a demon-possessed corpse and more like a person; but a normal human should not have survived what he'd been through. "If by that you mean your distant cousin and company who were trying to stop a certain terrorist?" she improvised; the names involved had completely escaped her. "Day saved; bad guy stopped. Do you remember what happened to you?"
He was half-way upright now, clutching at the side of the sarcophagus with one arm; with the other, he patted loosely at his chest. The two who'd removed the lid tensed behind him, then took a long step back at a gesture from their boss. "I... I was shot? By... the son of the man who killed my partner."
Really? Buffy threw a narrow-eyed glance at the leader. "Were they killed at the same location?" In an organization that had a lot of the same magical bloodline on its staff, that was kind of relevant.
He shook his head, even as the guy in the coffin said, "...no. Not there. Nearby. Why is that relevant?"
He was finally upright enough for his face to catch the light. He had close-cropped dark hair and a five o'clock shadow; dark eyes, a slightly golden skin tone, and dark eyebrows drawn tightly together in a way that suggested a headache. He was also wearing a nice suit that he filled out very nicely; he looked like he'd been through the wringer, but also unquestionably alive. A vampire would have been paler and less pained; a guy who'd been expecting to wake up again would have been less confused. Okay; maybe this was some weird Cleopatra Curse convergence thing.
Buffy let the Scythe droop and stepped forward to hold out a hand. "Oh, just trying to figure out how you're not dead, is all. It's just a little bit...."
She'd been feeling a sort of low-grade itch ever since coming down the stairs, as promised; when she'd seen the wall of amulets, she'd figured they were responsible. But the minute he set his hand in hers, it flared up into a full-blown tingle; though not the kind that meant Slay. Something more like meeting another Slayer than a vampire or a demon-- she'd had a lot more practice making that kind of distinction since Willow had awakened all the Potentials world-wide to fight the First.
"...Unexpected," she finished, breath catching. "Hey, do you guys actually, like, worship Serapis? Because if that 'Brotherhood' means like a lay brother thing? More like an avatar thing now, I think. Wow."
Bruno's hand convulsed on hers, like maybe he'd felt something too; his expression was a lot less confused and a lot more evaluative as he hopped down from the raised coffin. And definitely a stronger-than normal grip. He was taller enough that he had to look down to keep holding her gaze.
"You are certain he is not evil?" The leader guy sounded half wary, half hopeful; Buffy didn't bother to look away to check his expression.
"No more than any human being I don't know," she said. "But as far as anything I'd have to take care of? Pretty sure he's clear."
"And who are you that your word on that should be taken as gospel?" Bruno asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Buffy Summers at your service," she said, smiling.
He released a shaky breath; clearly he knew what that meant. "Bruno Fabi."
Clearly, Dawnie's party was going to have to wait; or maybe Buffy would just have to bring an extra guest. Because obviously her diplomatic duties were going to require her staying right here until after the Watcher they were going to give a pass to their archives had come and gone.
"Yeah, I know," she said, smile widening. Then she dropped the Scythe and clutched at him as he slumped suddenly forward, most of his weight tipping over her shoulder. "Hey, some water for this guy? It's not exactly easy crawling your way out of your own grave. I should know."
-x-
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Rating: T/PG-13
Crossover: Blood & Treasure (TV)
Spoilers: B:tVS very post-canon; no comics; Blood & Treasure post-Season 1
Notes: Because I just finished rewatching Season 1, so I could start Season 2. And because I have a certain obvious fondness for fix-its. :)
Summary: The Brotherhood of Serapis were super spy decoder ring types, even more so than the Watchers; if they were asking a complete stranger they didn't even know to come into their clubhouse urgently, they had to have something specific in mind. 2300 words.
"False alarm," Willow said, a relieved expression on her face in the Facetime window. "Giles finally got in touch with one of the survivors of the Cleopatra cult in Rome. No one broke the seal on the coffins; the sleepers still sleep."
One of the more interesting developments of being forced to rebuild almost the entire Watcher's Council in the aftermath of the First Evil levelling their headquarters: as Giles and the few other British survivors from the retiree squad and their Academy had started rebuilding ties around the world, they'd linked up with a ton of secret supernatural squads that each area's satellite Watchers had quietly liaised with over the millennia, sharing data about threats that might require the Slayer's intervention. After Kendra, and then the crew that had gone after Faith, Buffy had often wondered exactly how many Watchers there were and how far their reach actually went; now she knew it was not all that many, but also everywhere humans aware of the supernatural happened to be.
Some groups were friendlier than others-- from most of their perspectives, the Watcher's Council was simply another cult that had got a lot more arrogant after they went global and moved to the capital of the British Empire-- but all of them shared the goal of humanity surviving, unruled by demons and unplagued by rogue magic. There were several in Egypt, the most prominent of which watched over the more dangerous tombs and antiquities out in the deserts; the cult that protected the descendants-- and tomb-- of Antony and Cleopatra in specific was a later spinoff, but no less committed to the cause of keeping thieving foreign hands from disturbing that which they did not grok.
"You're sure?" Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows. "The Immortal was pretty freaked. He's mostly magic-resistant, and viruses don't affect him at all, but whatever happened at the museum knocked everyone down, even him. He said it didn't let up until Interpol arrived with their little arm-jabby things-- and that the people who were awarded for having found the sarcophagi in the first place were acting very shady both before and after the choking and collapsing started. He was sure they'd triggered the Curse."
"Well, I guess he's old enough to be familiar with the ritual Cleopatra probably used," Willow wrinkled her nose. She still felt uncomfortable around the Immortal, mostly because the first time they'd met in person he'd greeted her as a 'fellow traveler on the path'. Coming from a guy who frowned at magic but had somehow lived for centuries and was notorious for his grey-neutral approach to morality, it had given Willow a touch of the wiggins. From Buffy's perspective, though, it had actually reminded her more of Spike's speech about Happy Meals on Legs; he might not be a white hat, but he liked society exactly the way it was, thank you, which made him a very useful ally under the right circumstances. None of which included the bedroom, although that, too, had occasionally been a very useful rumor during the months she'd actually lived in Rome.
"But no, it wasn't the capital-C curse," she continued. "Maybe a small-c one; the guy who paid for the exhibit, who'd been hunting the tomb for decades? Yeah, he's pretty screwed. Existentially speaking, at least. But the incident itself was caused by a weaponized mycotoxin aerosolized by a terrorist with daddy issues; not any of the people with the medals. They were actually trying to stop him."
"Gesundheit," Buffy said, lifting her eyebrows. "Wait... is that the mummy bacteria thing? The one those desert guys leaked as a cover for the curse on King Tut's tomb?"
"Fungus, actually-- but yeah," Willow said. "After that report came out it was blamed for a lot of lingering and fatal illnesses in archaeologists and tomb robbers. Including the terrorist's mom. So he figured out a way to concentrate it and release it into the vents as part of his revenge plot."
"So, poison, not magic. Fungus poison. I'm not sure that'll exactly be a relief to hear, but at least it'll redirect his concerns," Buffy snorted. "Any other fallout I need to be aware of?"
"I don't know if I'd call it fallout, exactly, but since Giles mentioned to his Brotherhood of Serapis contact that there was a Slayer currently visiting Paris, they've issued an urgent invitation? I don't think they know it's you exactly, but since they lost a lot of their personnel they could use the occasional helping hand. A you scratch our back, we scratch yours kind of thing."
That was interesting. And also concerning. "Scratch what exactly? These are super spy decoder ring types, even more so than the Watchers; if they're asking a complete stranger they don't even know to come into their clubhouse urgently, they've got to have something specific in mind."
Willow didn't deny it. "Well, so do we," she shrugged. "They've promised to allow a Watcher to visit their archives afterward-- specifically, to scan their copies of some of the rarer books we lost in the Big Boom-- if you go to the address provided today."
"Because...." Buffy dragged the word out impatiently.
"Well, one of their guys who died in all the fuss is apparently not so dead anymore?" Willow winced. "They think it could have something to do with some failed Nazi ritual that involved electrocuting Cleopatra's coffin like seventy-four years ago? Something about genetics, magical radiation, yadda yadda-- I know, it makes no sense to me either, and I'm the witch here. Pretty sure it's just wishful thinking. Noise starts coming out of a sealed coffin in a secret crypt several days after a death, I'm thinking vampire, not member of a magical bloodline shot on ground actually Cursed by his ancestress. But if he isn't evil, he won't last long in a sealed stone box, so they want a Slayer there as a deterrent while they open it up."
"Great. I'm probably going to have to dust one of their favorite agents in front of them. Big win for interorganizational diplomacy," Buffy grimaced. "But I suppose it would be worse if he ate the rest of them. Text me the address?"
"Thanks, Buffy; I'll let Giles know," Willow grinned back at her. "Don't hesitate to call if it turns into something bigger; Dawn will kill me if you're not back in time for her third-of-a-century shindig."
Buffy rolled her eyes, but signed off with a smile. Her sister would use any excuse to get them all back under one roof at least once a year; undoubtedly two years from now it would be Buffy's Big Four-Oh. Oldest living Slayer. Not that it was that big of an achievement since she only mostly got called in these days for diplomatic type stuff like this, staying in various Council-owned apartments in big cities all over the globe, but at least this time she'd get to hold a stake while she did it.
Her phone beeped a few seconds later with an address and, intriguingly, added directions that involved blocked up doors and a staircase downward that 'supposedly will feel kind of tingly to a Slayer'. Actively magical wards, or artefacts? Well, maybe she'd upgrade to Scythe instead of stake then, but-- interestinger and interestinger. She pulled up her maps app, then went out into the city.
The crypt, when she finally found it, was a bigger space than she'd expected; it included a full wall with inset teal ovals backed by some external light source and rows and rows of sarcophagi, each with a name plaque of its own. Some of them had cartouches under their names. The one she was directed to by the thin older guy with the cadaverous face that had greeted her read Bruno Fabi, and was making no noise at all.
"This the one?" she asked, turning to her guide.
He nodded solemnly. "He has quieted in the last few hours, though the last outburst was not twenty minutes ago. Please," he said, gesturing to the space in front of the plaque.
She pulled the Scythe from its sheath on her back, then took her place there with a nod. "Go ahead."
He gestured toward two other guys with him, that he hadn't bothered to introduce; they were bigger and burlier, clad all in black. They stepped up next to the sarcophagus, each gripping one side of the lid; then, with a heave of muscle, they began to shift it back.
The scent that rolled out of the sealed box was... not actually as bad as she'd been expecting? More sour sweat and blood than the usual scents of a graveyard. They hadn't embalmed him, from what she'd been told, or done any kind of standard autopsy; just flew his body back from Quebec and interred him immediately, in accordance with their usual rites. Okay, that did make it a smidge more likely that he could have been not actually dead to start with, but even if the boxes weren't completely air-tight around the lid, it had been a long time since his last food and water.
"Wakey wakey," she called out, in a light, teasing voice. "You still with us, Mr. Fabi?"
A faint groan issued from the shadows within; then something stirred, fabric scraping against stone. "...Us?" a male-sounding voice rasped. "Who are you?"
He had a light accent of some kind-- well, from her perspective; obviously she probably sounded out of place to him, too. "Does the term 'Slayer' mean anything to you?" she replied, watching as the coffin's occupant tried, very slowly, to sit up.
"Slayer?" he objected, in a confused tone of voice. "What...? Why would...? Danny and Lexi, are they all right?"
So far, he was acting less like a demon-possessed corpse and more like a person; but a normal human should not have survived what he'd been through. "If by that you mean your distant cousin and company who were trying to stop a certain terrorist?" she improvised; the names involved had completely escaped her. "Day saved; bad guy stopped. Do you remember what happened to you?"
He was half-way upright now, clutching at the side of the sarcophagus with one arm; with the other, he patted loosely at his chest. The two who'd removed the lid tensed behind him, then took a long step back at a gesture from their boss. "I... I was shot? By... the son of the man who killed my partner."
Really? Buffy threw a narrow-eyed glance at the leader. "Were they killed at the same location?" In an organization that had a lot of the same magical bloodline on its staff, that was kind of relevant.
He shook his head, even as the guy in the coffin said, "...no. Not there. Nearby. Why is that relevant?"
He was finally upright enough for his face to catch the light. He had close-cropped dark hair and a five o'clock shadow; dark eyes, a slightly golden skin tone, and dark eyebrows drawn tightly together in a way that suggested a headache. He was also wearing a nice suit that he filled out very nicely; he looked like he'd been through the wringer, but also unquestionably alive. A vampire would have been paler and less pained; a guy who'd been expecting to wake up again would have been less confused. Okay; maybe this was some weird Cleopatra Curse convergence thing.
Buffy let the Scythe droop and stepped forward to hold out a hand. "Oh, just trying to figure out how you're not dead, is all. It's just a little bit...."
She'd been feeling a sort of low-grade itch ever since coming down the stairs, as promised; when she'd seen the wall of amulets, she'd figured they were responsible. But the minute he set his hand in hers, it flared up into a full-blown tingle; though not the kind that meant Slay. Something more like meeting another Slayer than a vampire or a demon-- she'd had a lot more practice making that kind of distinction since Willow had awakened all the Potentials world-wide to fight the First.
"...Unexpected," she finished, breath catching. "Hey, do you guys actually, like, worship Serapis? Because if that 'Brotherhood' means like a lay brother thing? More like an avatar thing now, I think. Wow."
Bruno's hand convulsed on hers, like maybe he'd felt something too; his expression was a lot less confused and a lot more evaluative as he hopped down from the raised coffin. And definitely a stronger-than normal grip. He was taller enough that he had to look down to keep holding her gaze.
"You are certain he is not evil?" The leader guy sounded half wary, half hopeful; Buffy didn't bother to look away to check his expression.
"No more than any human being I don't know," she said. "But as far as anything I'd have to take care of? Pretty sure he's clear."
"And who are you that your word on that should be taken as gospel?" Bruno asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Buffy Summers at your service," she said, smiling.
He released a shaky breath; clearly he knew what that meant. "Bruno Fabi."
Clearly, Dawnie's party was going to have to wait; or maybe Buffy would just have to bring an extra guest. Because obviously her diplomatic duties were going to require her staying right here until after the Watcher they were going to give a pass to their archives had come and gone.
"Yeah, I know," she said, smile widening. Then she dropped the Scythe and clutched at him as he slumped suddenly forward, most of his weight tipping over her shoulder. "Hey, some water for this guy? It's not exactly easy crawling your way out of your own grave. I should know."
-x-