I do not own BtVS or Beauty and the Beast nor do I claim ownership rights.
A/N: This story is just a brief side project that I started for friend who was down.
Buffy glanced at her watch again; she still had plenty of time to make her plane if she could get a cab on 82nd Street at this time of night. Why she thought doing "just one more" sweep of the Park before leaving New York was a good idea she'd never know. It had be those famous Slayer urges the newbie’s were always using as an excuse when they did something wrong. Buffy hadn't had a good kill in weeks and it was making her feel antsy and off balance. She couldn’t wait to get home so she and Faith could burn off some of this energy sparring or hunting or maybe just a wild night out dancing.
Of course her last patrol through Central Park before leaving to go back to Scotland had been about as productive as her first patrol-- as in not at all productive--not a single vamp or demon. She vaguely wondered why such a huge city was so, well dead, for the undead. She knew there had to be demons here because there were demons in every major population center in the world. And Central Park would be the perfect hunting ground with all its dark paths and overgrown hills.
She shook her head and started a light jog towards 82nd Street. 'Maybe I'll have time to grab some coffee for the flight?'
The lights of the street came into view and she slowed down to a sedate walk. Even a light jog for a slayer was faster than an Olympic sprinter and she didn't need questions right now or even a film of her showing up on the Internet. 'I wonder how Dawn's mid-terms went?
' She glanced at her watch again, 'definitely will have time for coffee, de-cafe though, I want to sleep on this flight.'
"Yo, pretty lady want som' comp’ny?” A squeaky, teenage voice came out the bushes on the side of the path along with an equally meek looking teenager. A thin, boney hand brushed shaggy black bangs out of his eyes. He was just barely taller than Buffy and if he was old enough to shave then she wasn't a slayer. Since moving to Scotland and away from the Hellmouth her spidey sense had gotten much better, and the kid didn’t cause the slightest of beeps.
"Ah, no thanks," she said briskly, barely even looking at the boy as she walked by him.
"Oh, com' on,” another malnourished young boy stepped out of the bushes from the other-side of the path. "We just wanna to have a little fun."
Buffy stopped walking. She was now effectively blocked from going forward toward the exit of the park, then when the first kid slipped in behind her, that route was blocked too. ‘Great! This is so not what I need tonight!’
The second boy was about the same age as the first, he was in the awkward stage where his body was growing faster than his coordination. 'Gads, I hope these boys aren't serious about trying to mug me,’ s
he thought, as she started to size up the danger the boys projected. 'I so don't want hurt one of these kids; I think I'm just going to give them all my money. Isn't that what they say to do in a mugging? Just hand it over? Besides if they use it to eat with, more power to them.'
Buffy raised her hands to the child in front of her in surrender. "Look I'll give you all the money I have, I just don't want any trouble." She was slightly embarrassed when her voice sounded like she was pleading with the youths. She was begging, just not out of fear, she didn’t want to unleash the Slayer. As bad as her control was tonight she was worried she would kill one of the children. As the oldest slayer she was good at holding her punches, measuring her strength, however she'd never had to fight children before--or at least children who weren't slayers.
"Sorry, lady, my buddies and I wanna have some fun tonight and you're it," Buffy had only a moment's warning that the blow was coming--something in the kid's eyes tipped her off to look behind her--but even a slayer couldn't move faster than a bullet.
The sound of the gun firing barely registered as something kicked her in the back of her right thigh, causing her leg to fly out from under her. She crashed down on the path, her leg feeling as if it were on fire. She instinctively clutched at the wound.
The kid from behind her came closer to Buffy with a gun in his hand. He had an arrogant smirk distorting his features. "You people see ‘little boys,’ and always, always underestimate us!" He screamed down at her. And he was right, she used her size to her advantage all the time; she was so stupid to let their size blind her.
Only one thing these thugs didn't realize was that they were dealing with a Slayer. The pain was already fading into the background and she noticed that the bleeding from the wound was slowing down. Oh, her leg was really and truly ruined for the night, maybe even for the next week, it was too bad for them that she didn't need two healthy legs to teach little boys crime didn't pay.
Buffy kicked out with her left leg, the one that didn't have a bullet hole through it. The kick crushed the boy's hand and the gun went flying into the trees. The little thug screamed as his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees holding his injured hand close to his body. Buffy didn't try to stand as she felt the other boy dash at her--she just assumed he had some kind of weapon. She let him run at her because he had to bend down to attack her. He stabbed down at her, so she grabbed his wrist and flipped him over onto his back. She then rolled over on top of him, holding his hands down.
Buffy stared into the boy's eyes and felt sick. All she could see was burning hatred and rage looking back at her. The Slayer had fought all sorts of evil, had seen it in every form, and even the First Evil had something beside rage in its heart. She shook her head to clear it; she didn't have all night, as the wound in her leg protested her position.
"Ok, we can do this the hard way or…well, there is no other way. You're going to stay here while I call the police," she still didn't want to hurt him more than she had to. One moment she was reaching into her pocket for her cell, then the next she was laying on her back staring up at the stars. Her vision swam in and out of focus as she saw a much older man looking down at her with a wooden baseball bat in his hands.
“Are you brats sure this is the right woman?” Buffy heard the man say as he pointed down at her. “I thought she’d be tougher….”
The rest of his words were drowned out as she heard roaring in the distance. A giant lion appeared from the edge of a black mist and she wondered when it got foggy? The black mist started to swallow her vision and she rolled over on to her side to try to sit up--only the movement caused fireworks to explode in her head. How could she see fireworks and not see through the black fog? Was she in some kind of science fiction movie?
“Miss?” A deep rich voice spoke next to her. “I won’t hurt you, please don’t be afraid.” Buffy looked into direction of the warm voice and she saw nothing. She should have been able to see something, she had perfect night vision, and the strange fog that filled her sight shouldn’t cause total blindness! Why couldn’t she see the man next to her? How did she get here, and where was
Her head pounded in time with her heart, the pain increasing as her thinking became more panicky and confused. She had to catch a plane; she distinctly remembered that she had to catch a plane. If she could just make it to the airport then she’d be safe.
Buffy pushed up so that she was sitting, she could feel the rough concrete under her hands and then tried to force her legs to move under her. One of her legs wouldn’t work right so that she ended up nearly falling down until strong hands grabbed her by her shoulders and easily lifted her up—then her knees collapsed and she slipped to ground like a wet noodle. She didn’t have the strength to move so she just stayed down panting as the pain increased and the contents of her stomach tried making an appearance.
“Miss let me help you to the hospital,” the soft voice said and she could feel someone kneeling next to her.
“No!” she shouted, and then rolled over, away from his voice, swallowing down the bile, trying to relax, trying to gage how bad the concussion was—how did she know she had a concussion?
“Miss you are seriously injured, I would be remiss if I did not help you find the care you need,” the very surreal and nice voice reasoned. Buffy forced her brain to work; she couldn’t go to the hospital. Why couldn’t she go to the hospital? Reasonable people who can’t see go to the hospital…. She couldn’t go… she couldn’t go …. Oh, because things wanted her dead.
“No, no hospital, I can’t go to the hospital I’ll be killed,” she forced the words out. She was suddenly so sleepy, it didn’t matter that she couldn’t see, or that she was talking to a voice with no idea of the man behind it, she just needed to close her eyes and sleep.
“I chased them away, they can not hurt you,” reasoned the nice voice that was now irritating her because it was keeping her awake.
“Not them, other things,” she whispered, hoping he understood because her mind was shutting down.
“You two are in real trouble! I have no idea why He gave me you two losers!” Jonathan was tired of James’ constant ranting. All the way back into the tunnels and down the twisting stairs all he heard was about how they blew their assignment. William surely had a broken hand and all James could do was complain.
Jonathan kept his mouth shut, not because James was huge and could kill him with one hit; he kept quiet because he had nothing to say. HE would judge their actions and He would mete out punishment or praise. James was new to the community so he didn’t realize that there were plans inside of plans and no one could understand them all.
They had been sent out to attack that specific woman and do as much damage to her as they could before the Savior of the Tunnels could stop them. They accomplished that task and then fled. If the task wasn’t completed to HIS satisfaction they would know soon enough.