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Title: Never Again (Portal, Chapter 5, 2/2)
Author: kanedax
Fandom: BtVS Wishverse, pre-season 1
Spoilers: Buffy: The Origin comic book miniseries
Characters: Buffy, Merrick, Pike
Rating: R for language
Summary: As Wishverse Buffy prepares to battle her first Big Bad, things get worse.
Notes: Some question may come up about the financial status of Hank and Joyce Summers. Although the Joyce, Buffy, and Dawn of the television series come across as comfortable, but not wealthy, the Summers we see in this chapter might come as a bit of a discord. However, in Buffy: The Origin, it is known that the family was once affluent enough to have hired help for the housework. From there I’ve just toyed with it a bit, under the belief that, between the bills from Buffy’s stay in the mental institution, the repair costs resulting from the gymnasium fire, and the eventual divorce of Hank and Joyce, the Summers family we see in Welcome to the Hellmouth could easily be one that had lost much of the finances they had earned in Los Angeles.
I do not own these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Christopher Golden, Dark Horse Comics, and 20th Century Fox.
Never Again (1/2) / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine
“Where have you been?”
“Your mother and I were worried sick…”
Buffy sighed, leaning against the inside of the front door as her parents swooped down on her. It was what she was expecting, of course. Three days without any contact with them would worry most parents.
Unfortunately, Joyce and Hank Summers weren’t most parents.
“I’ve been out,” Buffy said carefully.
“Out?” said Hank, his arms crossed. “Out where?”
“Look, it’s a really long story,” Buffy said, wishing that there was even an iota of space between her mother and father that she could slip through to get to the stairs.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing we have plenty of time,” said Joyce. “Because we’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell us-“
“Well, I don’t have time right now,” said Buffy, wedging her way past. “I’m not here for long.”
“Oh, you’re not?” said Joyce as they followed Buffy up the stairs. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“Tonight’s the dance, mom,” said Buffy. “I’m going to the dance.”
Joyce and Hank both laughed in disbelief. “You’re serious,” said Hank. “You actually think that we’re going to allow you to leave this house after everything you’ve put us through?”
Buffy entered her room as Hank spoke, and spun on them both. “Everything I’ve put you through?”
“Consuela called us two days ago,” said Joyce. “She said the school had called, that you hadn’t been showing up to classes. We’ve been so worried about you ever since.”
Buffy snorted and shook her head. This wasn’t going the way she had expected. She wanted to comfort them, to tell them everything, to ease their minds, but…
“I’m sure you’ve been so worried,” said Buffy. “But then there’s the bags that are downstairs, still by the front door. The ones you brought with you to Tahoe?”
“We weren’t in Tahoe,” said Hank. “We were in Vegas.”
“Consuela called you two days ago,” said Buffy. “You’re a four hour drive from home, and you got back so soon that you haven’t even unpacked? Sounds like you were in deathly fear of my well-being.”
“Buffy, it’s not like that,” said Joyce. “And don’t you lay any of this on us.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing like that,” Buffy snapped. This definitely wasn’t the way she wanted this to go, but once she was in it… “If you were so concerned about me, did you call the police?”
“No, we didn’t,” said Joyce. “But if you were still gone by tonight we were going to.”
“Oh, thank God,” Buffy said, pulling her dress from the closet. “Because Lord knows you couldn’t dial 911 while you were sitting at the craps table.”
“Buffy…”
“’Buffy might be lying naked in a ditch somewhere, but, honey, we can’t miss Siegfried and Roy!’”
“Don’t talk back to your mother like that!”
“Why not?” Buffy screamed. “You do all the time!”
“Buffy?” came a heavily-accented voice from downstairs. “Is that you? You are home?”
“It’s me, Consuela!” Buffy called back, her eyes never leaving her parents. “I’m home!”
“Gracia Dios!” Consuela cried. “It is good to know you are safe.”
Thank God someone in this house cares about me, Buffy thought, but bit it back before it surfaced into her mouth. Her parents were both speechless enough as is, and the worst thing to do would be…
“Look,” said Buffy, forcing herself to calm down, “a lot has happened in the last few days. And I promise, I swear that I will tell you about it. About all of it. Even the stuff I know you’re not going to believe.”
“You’ll definitely tell us-“ said Hank.
“But not tonight,” Buffy continued. “Because tonight I have to go to the dance. There’s something happening there that is really important. Something that I can’t miss.”
“Of course not,” said Hank with a roll of his eyes. “Lord knows how unimportant your mother and I are when your social life is at stake.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” said Joyce. “Not until we talk this through.”
“If I tell you about it now, then you definitely won’t let me go,” said Buffy. “I can’t have that happen. I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as we are,” said Hank, and he and Joyce adjusted themselves so they could block the doorway to Buffy’s room. “You’re not going anywhere until-“
“Mom, Dad, please,” said Buffy quietly. “Don’t make me have to force my way past you.”
“If you try, then we’re really going to have a talk.”
Buffy stood stock still, staring down the two of them. Calculating her options. With her new Slayer strength she could push past them both like they were cardboard. But she knew how easily she had taken down Merrick with just that tiny punch. She didn’t want to take the chance of hurting one of them, not when she still didn’t know how strong she really was.
Leaving Option Two…
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to her bedroom. “But I can’t stay.”
“Buffy!” Hank and Joyce both yelled, running towards her as she opened the window and looked down from the second story to the grass below. She propped her foot up on the windowsill, preparing to climb over.
They’ll be able to stop you.
No they won’t…
When Hank and Joyce were inches away, Buffy pistoned her leg down, using the windowsill for leverage. She backflipped over her parents, barely clearing both them and the ceiling before landing on her feet behind them. They spun around, both too in shock from their daughter’s sudden display to stop Buffy as she ran out of her bedroom and down the hall. She reached the carpeted staircase and, just like when she was a small child, slid down the steps on her bottom before reaching the ground floor and sprinting outside, white dress still clutched in her hand.
She would never see Hank and Joyce Summers again.
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“The mission was a failure.”
“Smythe?” came the gruff voice of Quentin Travers from the other end of the payphone. “Is that you?”
“Of course it is,” Merrick said, pushing one finger into his other ear to block out the noise of the freeway traffic on Interstate 40 outside of Kingman, Arizona. “I already gave my passcode to the screener, but it’s William Oboe Item Six Abel Three-“
“No, no,” said Travers. “No need to… No need to repeat yourself. The screeners recognized your passcode, and also registered your pulse through the phone line, so we know you haven’t been turned.”
Merrick’s eyebrows furrowed. Quentin sounded unsure of himself, unsure of the situation. That’s a Quentin Travers Merrick rarely heard. “Sir?”
“Merrick,” Travers said with a sigh. “The Seers said you were to have died three nights ago.”
“Well, the Seers were sadly mistaken,” Merrick growled.
“Quite,” Travers said with a sigh. “And we already assigned Rupert to Sunnydale High to replace you as Miss Summers’s new Watcher.”
“Great,” said Merrick flatly. “Gave him a library position, I assume? Ripper loves his books.”
“Indeed,” Travers said. “Well, I must say this is unexpected. The Council will have to sit down and discuss our further course of action regarding Mr. Giles. He may be stuck there for a while until we can find him a new charge.”
“Poor bastard,” said Merrick. “Stuck in the suburbs with his books instead of getting himself killed. He must be all torn up.”
“Well, you seemed to have survived,” said Travers. “And your charge? What of Miss Summers?”
“You should know that answer already,” said Merrick. “Your Seers would have flipped a lid if the Slayer went and got herself replaced.”
“This is true,” said Travers. “But no debilitating injuries? No cause for euthanasia? She can still perform her duties?”
“Yeah, we’re right as rain. But, like I said, the mission was a failure. Lothos escaped.”
“That is disappointing news,” said Travers. “But not unexpected. She was only recently called, after all.”
“I suppose so,” said Merrick, leaning against the payphone. “But we didn’t get out clean. Steps are going to have to be taken. And quickly.”
“The fire?” Travers asked. “The local media is just getting wind of it.”
“That’s the one,” Merrick said with a sigh. “I’m sure your sources will be giving you the info soon enough, but I’ll beat you to the punch. Vampires were involved. Lothos was involved. The Slayer was involved. And now she’s public knowledge, at least within local vampire circuits.”
“Yes, that is quite unfortunate,” said Travers. “We will make the necessary arrangements, and will expect a full report in the coming days. However, as long as you two both survived, things do not look quite so bleak for our cause.”
Merrick sighed, glancing back at the solitary figure in the rental car, purchased with an untraceable credit card assigned to each Watcher as a part of their arsenal. “Yeah,” he said. “At least we both survived.”
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Buffy Summers didn’t look up when Merrick opened the driver’s side door. Barely even registered when he climbed in, didn’t even flinch when he slammed the door, jingled the keys into the ignition, and paused before starting the engine.
Buffy was past hysterics. That was before, as Merrick dragged her screaming from the burning gymnasium. When the terror was still fully bloomed in her mind. The blood. The gore. The fresh stench of death and smoke and fire as she faced more vampires than she had even imagined existed. Dozens that felt like millions. The bodies of her classmates falling lifeless, their throats stained red.
And… And…
Hysterics finally gave way to dull shock. For the two hours Buffy had fallen into a deep malaise. Never looking to Merrick or to the road ahead. Simply staring down at her lap, picking at her charred, shredded skirt. Behind her wide, unblinking eyes the terror had given way to something much worse.
Oliver Pike’s death.
Over and over again in crystal-clear DVD quality picture. Helping usher the students out of the gymnasium as Buffy came face to face with Lothos, she saw him turn. Heard him yell her name. Watched him run to help her, knowing that he couldn’t bear to leave her alone another minute.
Watching him put up a valiant effort. Three days watching the Slayer and the Watcher train, combined with years of street smarts, had helped him for a while. He and Merrick fought back a good number of the henchmen while Buffy did her best against Lothos.
But they were too much. They swarmed down on Pike as the first flames began to lick the banners that Buffy and her friends had painted way back when some old guy was writing the Bible.
She watched him go down, screaming her name. And she was lost. Lothos became distant. All she cared about was Pike. She faintly heard Merrick screaming for her to stop as she began tearing away the vampires from the pile. Out of the corner of her eye she heard her Watcher chanting something in some other language, saw the cross in his hand, standing between her and the reason for the madness. Heard, saw, felt, smelled the large chunk of flaming scaffolding crash down between the man and the vampire.
Felt his huge arm wrap around her waist. Felt him clutch her to his massive bulk as he dragged her away from the diminishing pile, the vampires doing their best to scatter, to survive. In the distance, across a wall of flame, Lothos stared after the two with maniacal hatred before retreating in the opposite direction.
But as the door slammed behind them both, Buffy couldn’t see Pike’s body through the smoke.
“He’s gone,” Merrick breathed as the cool air hit them both. “He’s gone.”
Buffy kept screaming as he roughly tossed her into the car and drove away as the first fire trucks arrived. Screaming Pike’s name, screaming incoherent babble. Just screaming.
“You’re dead.”
Buffy blinked once as Merrick’s words brought her back to the present.
“You’re dead,” he repeated, the car still sitting idle in the gas station parking lot. “And it’s a damn stroke of luck that you didn’t get yourself killed.”
Buffy didn’t react. Merrick’s words were so faint compared to the tatters streaming through her fingers.
“The Watchers Council will do their work,” Merrick continued. “Alter dental records, police reports, whatever it takes. Buffy Summers did not survive the fire. You’re dead to your friends, dead to your family, dead to Los Angeles, dead to the United States of America. Dead to everyone but me, you, and the Council. And, if the higher power is on our side, dead to Lothos, as well.”
Buffy barely nodded. Some rational part of her mind stung at the thought of her parents. But that was for later.
Merrick sat in silence, both hands rested on the wheel. Presently he continued, “That was very foolish of you, Miss Summers. How you reacted in there. You let your emotions get the better of you. Put yourself and everyone else in danger, let one of the greatest vampires of his generation escape, simply to rescue someone who was beyond rescuing.”
“They were killing him,” she whispered, the first words out of her mouth in hours. She felt her throat crack as she spoke, feeling the damage done by her earlier screams.
“They killed him,” Merrick corrected. “One lesson you must learn as you continue your training is when to fight, when to protect, and when to give something up as a lost cause. Oliver disobeyed his orders and died because if it. There was nothing you could do to stop it from happening, and there was nothing you could do once he was attacked. Lothos was your target; Lothos should have remained your target. We don’t know how many more will suffer because of your actions tonight.”
Buffy closed her eyes, feeling the lump in her throat and the tears forming behind her eyes at Merrick’s words. To her dismay, she didn’t even know which part of that speech hit her worse: Pike’s death or the fact that more would die by Lothos’s hands…
Merrick seemed to sense her anguish. She heard him exhale through his nose, and felt his hand on her shoulder, the first contact she ever remembered having from him that didn’t involve a punch to the face or a kick to the solar plexus. She lifted her eyes from her dress slightly, finding sudden interest in the keys hanging from the ignition.
“This isn’t the end,” said Merrick carefully. “This is only the beginning, Miss Summers. The archives are filled with tales of the Slayer’s first battle. Many of them didn’t even survive their first vampire. But you fought valiantly up until the end. You have much potential. I saw it. Lothos saw it. And, more importantly, his minions saw it. I doubt he’ll find his base of power as strong tomorrow as he did tonight. The vampires that didn’t die in the fire or in the battle have probably scattered for the four hills. They know what they’re up against, and they’ll try to find a new power base.”
“There are others?” Buffy croaked. “Other… Others like Lothos?”
“Possibly,” said Merrick with a shrug. “There’s a mystical center in a town called Sunnydale, about two hours northwest of LA. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them head that way. But that’s not our concern right now. Our concern now is your training. Somewhere as far away as possible, where the vampires still don’t know you exist. Somewhere where you’re less of a target while still in your infancy.”
“Where?” she asked. “Where are we going?”
“Cleveland,” said Merrick, finally turning the key, the engine roaring to life. “Don’t you fret, Miss Summers. Next time, we’ll be ready for him.”
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Epic battles are so often anti-climactic.
Lothos learned of Buffy and Merrick’s new location in Cleveland, Ohio. By the time he found them six months later he was weak, tired, and utterly demoralized. His battle with Buffy Summers lasted mere minutes.
Buffy and Merrick discovered they had a home on Cleveland’s Hellmouth, Merrick’s hometown and base of operations before his assignment, and stayed for the next three years.
In Los Angeles, the final police report on the Hemery High School fire read thirty deaths. The fire was blamed on a roving gang of drug addicts, but the coroner never released the information about the small piercings on the necks of many of the victims.
Joyce and Hank Summers learned the news of their daughter’s death. They came together briefly in their mourning. Their separation was delayed, but still inevitable. They split two years later. Hank Summers moved to Austin, Texas, while Joyce (and, as they would one day remember it, Dawn Summers) opened an art gallery in San Francisco, where she would eventually die
After that night, Buffy Summers swore to herself that she would never allow anyone to get close again. To put your trust in someone, to put your life in someone’s hands, only meant death.
Never again.
Oliver Pike’s body was never found.
Cordelia Chase’s wish continued to spin.
Never Again (1/2) / Previous Chapters / Faith, Pike, and Sister Sunshine