: Short section. Due to some... dividing up problems.
Don't worry. You'll get a lot more of the Doctor from now on. And a lot more details on what he's been up to, while we haven't seen him.--000--
Razor stopped before the body chained to the floor. His prisoner. His bringer of salvation. His bringer of death. And stared — his eyes turning dark, his expression turning angry.
"He's unconscious," Razor observed. He spun around and turned on Veronica — one of his newly sired recruits. "Why is he unconscious?!"
"I thought… he'd be easier to control," Veronica squeaked. She backed away. "He can't try to escape as often."
"Control," Razor repeated. Then gave a bitter laugh. "You stupid little girl." He glanced over at Leandra, who stood in the doorway.
She took her commands based on the raise of his eyebrows, and made her way to the prisoner.
Razor turned back to Veronica. "What is the most dangerous aspect of a Time Lord?"
Veronica glanced over at the restrained Doctor. Bolted to the ground, surrounded by safeguards, psychic bubbles, and other technology Veronica knew nothing about, all working together to keep him imprisoned. "Strength?"
"Longevity?" Veronica guessed again. "Speed? Agility? Time travel capabilities? Regeneration?"
"The mind," Razor corrected. His eyes fixed on his prisoner. "All those tiny neurons, buzzing away, every single second of every single day." He spun around and grabbed Veronica, his hands around her throat, his face inches from her own. "Control? You call driving him into unconsciousness control?! He's controlling you
, you stupid girl! He's shutting down his body, to preserve the blood flow to his mind!"
Veronica looked between Razor and the Doctor, confused. "But… the machine! He's drained of blood! He can't even stand up."
"He's done it before," Razor snarled.
"Just shut up and kill her, already, Razor," Leandra complained, fiddling with the controls of the blood-draining machine. "Or has the pacifist's blood made you go soft?"
Razor grabbed a wooden stake, and within moments, Veronica was dust. New recruits were always so easy to deal with. Hadn't even developed the immunity to wooden stakes, yet.
Several sharp slaps, followed by a cough and sputter from the Doctor, as he awoke. His eyes on Leandra, who knelt over him.
"Can't escape us that easily, Time Lord," she cooed.
"Really?" asked the Doctor. "Past evidence would suggest otherwise." He gave a small grin, and a wink.
Leandra grabbed him by the tie, hoisting him up to her, his skin turning red where it scratched against his restraints.
"You might have escaped from us once before, but we caught you," she reminded him. "Recaptured you. Killed those who helped you. Remember that?"
All lightness left the Doctor's face. He didn't answer, but gave Leandra a stare that screamed of threat. Then he turned his head to look away, and spotted Razor. His face growing that much icier, his expression that much bleaker.
"Stop this," he demanded. "Now."
"Always the same from you," said Razor. He strolled towards the Doctor. "You won't let us do this. You'll stop us. If we value our lives, we should run." He gave a small smile. "Haven't managed to stop us, yet."
The Doctor didn't answer.
"You are defenseless," said Razor. "Beaten. Defeated. Just our food supply. Our nutritional supplement. Our Bringer of Death. There's no way you can escape."
"You said that last time."
Razor's good cheer dropped a hair. "And how many died for your transgression?"
The Doctor didn't answer.
"Accept your fate," said Razor. "The fate of this world. Humanity will be crushed, and we will gain control. You've tried to stop us, before. Countless times. You know you can't. Admit your own defenselessness. And give in."
The Doctor said nothing for a long moment. Then laughed.
"My own defenselessness," he repeated. He met Razor's eyes with his own. "Then tell me this. If there's no plan I could possibly think up that would stop you — why am I awake?"--000--
Willow and Buffy stood by the TARDIS, the setting sun glimmering off its blue wooden exterior.
"We can't just leave this here," Willow said. "We should take it with us." She stepped closer to the TARDIS, her every movement hesitant. She put a hand up against its surface. "Feels… so… scared
Buffy squeezed her hand around the book she'd taken from Angel's office. The instruction manual that detailed how to systematically imprison and torture the man she loved.
"Rent a truck so we can drive the TARDIS back to Cleveland," she said, turning away from Willow. "I've got a best-selling demon author to slay."