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Like a Woman Scorned

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This story is No. 2 in the series "You Can't Live Forever". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Sometimes the men of Buffy make big mistakes and end up getting hurt in the process... Warnings: some sex and a lot of character deaths.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Multiple Pairings > Ficlet Collections - FFATDWidowFR1521,278051,55212 Nov 097 Jan 10No

An Accident - Abby/Andrew

AUTHOR’S NOTE I apologize that A) this is so short and B) for the character death. You’ve been warned!

BTW – I’m a huge fan of Abby and wanted to write a story for her in this series. This was the only way that I could include her and not make her a bad guy.

DISCLAIMER I own nothing canon from Buffy or NCIS.

Her lip was trembling, but she was determined not to cry. She would be strong – both Ziva and Tony had had to sit in that chair before and neither of them had broken down.

There was a horrible metallic screech as the door of the interrogation room opened. “Gibbs!” she said, almost happily, as he came into the room.

“Hey Abs.” He was completely calm as always. He sat across from her. “Tell me what happened.”

Abby squeezed her eyes shut. Against the back of her eyelids, she saw it all play out all over again.

She got home just as the sun was about to come up. Her work wasn’t anywhere near done – there was still a mountain of evidence to be processed – but she needed a few hours sleep before she could do anything else. Caf-Pow could only go so far.

She was just getting comfortable in her coffin bed when she heard it. There was a creaky board right outside her bedroom door that she was determined not to have fixed specifically for situations like this – it was a good alarm system for when someone was trying to break in and kill her.

The door creaked opened and she played dead, one hand curled fearfully around her stuffed farting hippo and the other clutching the grip of the handgun under her pillow.

“Aha,” the intruder said to himself. “Caught you sleeping. Bad luck for you, undead creature of the night.”

He was getting closer and Abby was sure that he could hear her heart pounding. When she finally opened her eyes, all she saw was a blond man standing over her with a wooden stake pointed at her heart.

“And I panicked and I shot him!” she finished. “I swear to God, Gibbs, I thought he was gonna kill me!”

Gibbs nodded, but didn’t say anything. Abby sniffed and asked, “Do we know who he is?”

He flipped open the file on the table between them. “Andrew Wells, independent consultant for the US Government.”

Her heart sank even further. “I killed a government employee?”

“Consultant,” Gibbs repeated. “He’s employed regularly by a British organization called the IWC.”

“I’ve heard of them!” she said. “Very mysterious, shadowy secret-society stuff. Why would they send him to kill me?”

“I don’t know. Where’d you get the gun?”

“It was a present from Ziva,” she said. “For protection. She told me to always keep it under my pillow. Gibbs, should I be worried? Am I gonna go to prison? Are these guys gonna come back?”

He stood up and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

He left her alone in the interrogation room, but she felt a little better. Whoever Andrew Wells was working for, Gibbs wouldn’t let them get her.
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