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Another Brick in the Wall.

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This story is No. 15 in the series "Grim up North.". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: ‘Village of the Damned’(1960) xover. “Hold on, you’re saying Buffy’s been captured by evil, mind controlling, alien, space-children with the power of telekinesis?” There was a long pause as Willow realised just how grim things were.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Sci-Fi > Author: John Wyndham(Recent Donor)DaveTurnerFR151026,9291515,44326 Jun 1115 Jul 11Yes

Chapter One

Another Brick in the Wall.
By Dave Turner..

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or ‘Village of the Damned’ I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: The movie ‘Village of the Damned’.

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar; Written in glorious English-English which is different from US English.

Timeline: Post BtVS Season 7, no comics.

Words: Ten Chapters of 2500+ words.

Warnings: Violence, strong language, very minor Femslash.

Summary: ‘Village of the Damned’(1960) xover. “Hold on, you’re saying Buffy’s been captured by evil, mind controlling, alien, space-children with the power of telekinesis?” There was a long pause as Willow realised just how grim things were.

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I feel the dream in me expire
and there’s no one left to blame it on.
I hear you label me a liar
‘cause I can’t seem to get this through.
You say it’s over, I can sigh again, yeah
Why try to stay sober when I’m dying here?


‘Fine Again’; Seether.

0=0=0=0

Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea, Cleveland, England.

The rain lashed down from a leaden sky beating a steady tattoo against the window of Buffy’s office as the wind howled like a demon in torment. It shook the wooden hut that housed the leadership of the slayer organisation; it rattled the doors and windows as if it was trying to gain access to wreak terrible vengeance on all those inside. Standing looking out of her window, Buffy shivered despite the cosy atmosphere of the room; she wrapped her arms around herself and sighed.

“It seems like every day’s the same,” Buffy told the room’s only other occupant, “and I’m left to discover it on my own. It seems like everything is grey and there’s no colour to the world.” Turning Buffy looked down at her confessor, “They say it’s over and I’ll be fine again,” she wiped at her face with the back of her hand smearing a tear across her cheek, “I try to stay sober but it feels like I’m dying here.”

“You’ll never be fine again, Buffy,” the woman who lounged in the chair in front of Buffy’s desk sounded slightly bored, “we’re both drunks, we’ll never be ‘fine again’…live with it.”

“Drunks!?” Buffy sniffed and walked over to her desk, she picked up a tissue from the box that lay there, “What’s with the totally brutal honesty?”

“Oh,” Kennedy shrugged helplessly, “I’m sick of all the euphemisms, we’re drunks, Buffy, not alcoholics or addicts. Like, we don’t ‘slay’, we kill things. I guess I’m fed up with calling a spade an ‘implement for digging’.”

“Weather getting to you as well?” Buffy smiled at her ‘sister in alcohol’ as she sat down behind her desk.

“Yeah,” Kennedy admitted with a sigh, “it’s so damn wet; I thought I could survive anything after growing up with New England winters, but…”

“But there’s no snow or skiing?” Buffy asked with a grin.

“Nope,” Kennedy shook her head sadly, “I can almost understand why you turned to drink…almost.”

“Yeah, well, y’know…” Buffy’s voice petered out to nothing.

0=0=0=0

The two women sat in silence lost in their own flaws. Buffy had started to drink not long after they’d first set up in England the previous winter. Everything had gone wrong from the start and it seemed like their world would collapse into ruin before they’d even got organised. But now things had slowly been turned around; the money from the old Council’s bank accounts was flowing into the new organization’s accounts. The old holiday camp they’d bought was being converted to their needs and trainee slayers had started to arrive to begin training.

But as things had improved, Buffy found herself becoming more and more isolated. Everyone else had someone to love or something to do. Giles, when he wasn’t collecting his musty old books was off interviewing prospective watchers. Dawn had been at school while Willow was getting settled into her relationship with Kennedy. Faith, as the only other experienced slayer, was travelling around the country killing off the bad things as the lifted their heads above the parapet; while Xander had his work and a life of his own to lead.

Of course Buffy found herself going on missions, but nowhere near as many as back in her Sunnydale days. She started to feel unloved and unwanted, then without really noticing it, she started to drink more and more heavily until that fateful day when she’d gone to Dawn’s flat. She’d just come back from LA and having been told that Dawn had been seriously hurt on her previous mission, she’d arrived at her sister’s flat unannounced. Buffy had walked into Dawn’s apartment and burst into her sister’s bedroom only to find her in bed with Faith!

Buffy was the first to admit she’d not handled it very well. She’d stormed out of the flat and into the first pub she’d come to and got drunk. She’d stayed drunk for several weeks rejecting her sister and all her friends, she felt let down by everyone and more than a little sorry for herself…no one had had it as hard as her, she’d told anyone who’d listen. Eventually no one wanted to listen anymore and she was left to slide into the bottom of her vodka bottle.

Just as she’d been at her lowest point, Willow had sent Kennedy to try and talk some sense into her. Perhaps, Willow had thought, Kennedy, not exactly liking Buffy, could deal with the situation better because she wasn’t Buffy’s friend. Whatever the reason it worked. After Kennedy’s visit, Buffy had a tussle with the actual, real-life ‘Demon Alcohol’. Once she’d fought the hellspawn off she’d cleaned herself up and phoned the number that Kennedy had left her. You could have knocked her down with a feather when she saw Kennedy at the AA meeting.

0=0=0=0

“When was the last time you actually killed anything?” Kennedy asked.

“God knows,” Buffy shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve not exactly been with the whole slaying thing recently, y’know?”

“But you’ve been training, right?” Kennedy sat up in her chair a calculating look on her face, she’d had an idea.

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded, “I’ve been out with the trainees everyday, I think I’m almost back to my old self.”

“Good,” Kennedy nodded her head deep in thought, “then there’s no reason for you not to go out on a mission.”

“Well apart from Giles treating me like an invalid,” Buffy frowned.

“Yeah, that’s guilt for not noticing you’d turned into a lush,” Kennedy explained bluntly.

“You know all the right things to say,” Buffy turned her face away from the other alcoholic in the room to hide her smile, “don’t you?”

“So Willow says; honesty, remember?” Kennedy pointed out, “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. Start wrapping stuff up in pretty words and you begin to think you’ve not done anything wrong, it wasn’t your fault…anyway I’ll deal with Mr Giles.”

“Deal?” Buffy asked slightly worried for her old friend’s safety.

“Don’t worry,” Kennedy climbed to her feet and headed for the door, “I won’t break him.”

Closing Buffy’s office door behind her, Kennedy rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes. Why was it that after every session with Buffy she wanted a drink? Shaking her head she pushed herself off the wall and walked on down the corridor in search of Rupert Giles and a mission to get Buffy back into the swing of slaying again and maybe out of her hair.

0=0=0=0

As it happened, Rupert Giles wasn’t that difficult to find, he was in his office like he normally was at this time of day. Knocking on the door, Kennedy waited for an answer; there was a distant *Come!* and she opened the door. Walking into the senior watcher’s sanctum, Kennedy wondered, as she often did, how Giles had managed to make his office look like the library of some gentleman’s club, when it was actually a room in a wooden hut.

“Oh, hello Kennedy,” Giles looked up from his desk where he was reading some great leather bound tome, “what can I do for you?”

Giles neither liked nor disliked Kennedy; he just treated her with his usual gentlemanly politeness. She wasn’t one of his ‘children’ like Buffy or Willow but she was Willow’s girlfriend so he cut her a little more slack than he did the other new slayers; she was also more polite than most of the girls that came through his door. Giles gestured to a chair indicating that Kennedy should sit down.

“I was wondering, Mr Giles,” Kennedy felt uncomfortable calling him ‘Giles’ and ‘Rupert’ was such a stupid name. “I was wondering…” for a moment her normal bluntness deserted her, “I need to stop Buffy whining,” her bluntness returned with a vengeance, “I need her to go out and kill something.”

“Ah…well…yes,” Giles took off his glasses and started to polish, giving him time to think, “you think she’s ready?”

“She’s ready,” Kennedy nodded emphatically, “god is she ready.”

“Well,” Giles replaced his glasses, “she could go out with the trainees and slay some of the local vampires.”

“No,” Kennedy looked around the room at the book lined walls before she explained further, “she needs to know she’s trusted again, she needs to know she can be what she used to be. To put it bluntly…”

“Do you put it any other way?” Giles asked.

“…if she doesn’t get some responsibility back,” Kennedy ignored Giles’ comment, “she’ll just crawl back into the bottle. You know she started to drink because she felt unwanted, unloved and side-lined.”

“I know,” Giles agreed guiltily, “I feel responsible that I didn’t notice…”

“And so you should,” Kennedy butted in, “we all should,” she added more softly, “…especially me.”

“Indeed,” chastened Giles looked down at his desk for a moment to think. “There is something that just might suit,” he got up and walked over to the old battered filling cabinet standing in the corner of his office. “it’s something from the council’s old files…”

“I thought the council’s files were all destroyed,” Kennedy pointed out as she watched Giles search through the ancient pieces of paper.

“The main ones were,” Giles pulled a dog-eared file from the cabinet, “but even the old council wasn’t stupid enough not to have copies hidden away in other locations.” He sat down and smiled at Kennedy, “The trick is finding them…ah, yes,” his smile got wider, “I think this’ll do…it’s about time it was reinvestigated.” Giles scanned the first page of the file and then looked up at Kennedy, “Have you ever heard of a place called Midwich?”

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“This all happened about ten years ago,” Giles pointed out as he leafed through the file, “on the twenty-sixth of September, nineteen-ninety-five according to this,” he tapped a page with his finger. “At around two o’clock in the afternoon a barrier came up around the village,” Giles glanced up a Kennedy to see if she was paying attention, shocked he saw that she was; thinking how nice it was to talk to a properly trained and polite slayer, Giles continued.

“Anyone attempting to cross the barrier immediately fell asleep, attempts to cross the barrier using protective suits or sealed vehicles also proved futile.” Giles turned a page, “The army lost a helicopter that flew too low over the village but not before the crew reported that everyone in the village appeared to be either unconscious or dead.”

“I’m guessing they were unconscious,” Kennedy suggested.

“Quite right,” Giles nodded his head as he continued to read from the file, “the army cordoned off the area and aircraft were prevented from flying over the village. The story was put out to the media that there had been an accident with some old cylinders of mustard gas that had been discovered near the village. It was about then that the council got involved.”

“And things went to hell in a hand cart?” Kennedy wanted to know.

“Not quite,” Giles smiled at Kennedy’s comment, it also made a change to talk to someone else who’d experienced the old council in all its bumbling ‘glory’. “They couldn’t even ascertain whether the barrier was magical or technological and anyway by two o’clock the following day the barrier had come down and the military swarmed into the village; where they found the inhabitants confused but otherwise unhurt.”

“Weird,” was Kennedy’s only comment.

“Indeed,” agreed Giles turning another page, “of course the whole thing was covered up and soon forgotten about.”

“So why does it need reinvestigating?” Kennedy could see a big ‘but’ on the horizon.

“Because in a very few weeks after the ‘Day-out’, as it became know,” Giles explained. “every woman of childbearing age in the village was found to be pregnant.”

“Crap,” whispered Kennedy.

“Then five months later they all gave birth to perfectly healthy children…” Giles looked at Kennedy waiting for her to say something.

“Look,” Kennedy smiled, “I might not have passed by biology exam with flying colours but even I know a human pregnancy lasts about nine months. So all these kids were premature?”

“On the contrary,” Giles smiled smugly, “they were all full term babies if anything they were a little heavier than normal children.”

“Normal?”

“Yes,” Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “at first no one noticed but it became more apparent as they grew older.”

“What’s that?” Kennedy asked intrigued.

“That they all looked like one another,” Giles sighed and replaced his spectacles, “same blonde hair, same height, weight, very similar facial structure and…” he paused to drag out the drama, “the same golden eyes and slightly silver skin.”

“Demons?”

“We don’t know,” Giles shrugged, “the government kept the place under very close scrutiny and told the council to keep its collective noses out. As the children grew, at an alarming rate…”

“Alarming rate?” Kennedy wanted to know more.

“Yes, about half as fast again as normal children,” Giles pointed out.

“So, that makes them the equivalent of what?” Kennedy did a quick mental calculation, “Fifteen or so?”

“Yes about that,” Giles agreed, “as I was saying; as the children grew they started to show unusual abilities.”

“Like what?”

“Well it’s difficult to say…” Giles hesitated.

“Do try Mr Giles,” Kennedy suggested, “Buffy’s life might depend on it.”

“Of course; as I say the council was kept out,” Giles sounded slightly embarrassed, “but there’s been rumours about telepathy, telekinesis…”

“Mind control?” Kennedy asked.

“Could be,” agreed Giles.

“So what do you want Buffy to do?” Kennedy asked finally.

“Go down there and assess the threat, if there is one,” Giles explained calmly.

“And if there is a threat?” Kennedy thought she knew the answer to this one.

“Deal with it in appropriate manner,” Giles replied as he shut the file.

“You mean kill them?”

“Blunt as every, Miss Scarpone,” Giles rested his hands on his desk and took a deep breath, “and another thing, I want you to go with Buffy.”

“ME!?” shrieked Kennedy, she actually couldn’t think of a worse idea, “But…”

“Yes I know you and Buffy don’t exactly get on, but…” Giles gave the horrified young woman in front of him a most insincere smile, “I think you’re the best equipped to go with Buffy and she may need back up.”

“Back up?” Kennedy asked sceptically, even drunk Buffy could handle a few teenagers; in fact being drunk might be an advantage, what with the possible mind control. “What do you mean, ‘back up’?”

“Well,” Giles sighed again, “you see Midwich wasn’t the only village affected.”

“It wasn’t?” Kennedy’s heart began to sink.

“There was a cattle station in Northern Australia;” explained Giles, “ten children were born there but they all died within a few weeks. Then there was a village in Mongolia. The men thought the women had consorted with demons and killed all the children and their mothers…”

“They could’ve been right,” Kennedy pointed out.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed once more, “in the Canadian Arctic the children were born in an Inuit village. The villagers killed all the children shortly after they were born…” Giles’ voice trailed off.

“The other incident?” Kennedy asked.

“Remember that ‘nuclear accident’ in Russia a couple of years ago?” Giles watched Kennedy as she put two and two together; she obviously didn’t like the answer.

“You’re telling me it wasn’t an accident?” Kennedy asked quietly.

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