Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, and the creators of Bones. The shows are great, go watch them!
Author's Notes: So sorry about not having a disclaimer before, I've been very bad, so you can hit me if you want...
The phone rang at four am. He dragged himself out of a sound sleep as he reached for the offending contraption. There were a select few that knew his private number, so he knew it had to be important.
“Angel,” he growled groggily.
“Angel,” the shaky voice said; he was instantly awake. “I-I need your help.”
“Where are you?”
That one phone call sent him spiraling down a path he never thought he’d be on, a path that led to his legacy.
Two Months Earlier
“She was found outside a…’posh’ club,” Zach said. All five of them stood around the body lying prone on the table. “Her wrist is fractured in two places by the way it’s bent, and she’s got two puncture wounds on the left side of her neck. There may or may not be more fractures.”
“Not that I don’t think she’s not important, but what’s she doing here?” Hoggins asked, “What makes her special? Why is the FBI looking into the death of a 16-year-old girl? Why are we looking into it? This isn’t our area of expertise. It looks like it might have been an argument between friends that came to blows. We tend to deal with…cases of a different matter.”
“Because she’s the daughter of the French Ambassador,” Booth said testily.
“Ah, politics,” Hoggins said with a sigh.
“It looks like these two puncture holes were what killed her. She has bruises and fractures consistent with a fight, but these two puncture marks, Zach, I need you to figure out what caused them,” Brennan said, walking around the table. “I also need to see the photos taken at the scene, and I need x-rays to see how much damage she has sustained.”
Suddenly a blonde was in their midst, “Hey, this is an FBI investigation, you’re not supposed to be here,” Booth said, turning to the woman, who visibly paled.
“Angel?” she whispered, staring at him. Angela looked from the woman to Booth, reading the look on her face, as well as his confusion.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” he asked.
“Do you know her?” Brennan asked quietly, feeling a strange emotion bubble to the surface, an emotion she didn’t like at all. He waved her off.
“I-I guess not,” the blonde said, closing her eyes and shaking her head, “I’m sorry, you look exactly like…someone I used to know. You-You could be twins,” she said, taking a step closer, looking up at him critically.
“Who are you?” Booth asked.
“Who I am doesn’t matter, who she is does,” she said, looking sadly at the body on the table.
“And who is she?” Booth asked.
“She’s my charge. Two years ago, before her parents moved to the United States, they sent her to the boarding school I run along with my mentor and friends. She is one of our legal responsibilities. I am here to request that you sign over her body to us, and we will run our own investigation.”
“But…she’s a murder victim!” Brennan exclaimed, “We can’t sign over the remains until the investigation is complete.”
“I have waivers from her parents signing over her remains to me. I request that you abide by their wishes,” she told them. “They want the investigation dropped, so I believe that means you’re no longer on the case,” she turned her body in Booth’s direction, but Angela noticed that she didn’t look at him.
Brennan and Booth looked at each other, at a loss for what to do. “I’ll have to check with my boss,” Booth said after a moment.
“Of course,” the woman said with a smile.
Three days later, they were in the same position, with another young girl, her skin had been removed and her blood was drained, but there was no trace of blood in the surrounding area except for blood splatter. And the same blonde.
“While I am aware how suspicious this may seem, Candace is also a student of mine, and while her parents are not in the country, we have notified them of her untimely death, and they would prefer if there were not an autopsy, it’s against their customs. They request that you turn the body over to me, the school will pay for transporting the body back to her home as well as the funereal,” the blonde said.
“I’m getting really sick and tired of you getting in the way of the truth,” Brennan said, “The Jeffersonian Institute will not sign over anyone until I know who we’re dealing with,” she told the girl.
The woman drew herself up to her full height of 5’, 3”, “If you have any concerns or questions, you may direct them to the Watcher’s Council,” she told the woman.
“Who are you?” Angela asked. “And don’t give us crap that we don’t need to know.”
The woman sighed, “My name is Buffy Summers. I am head of the Physical Health department at the Council’s School for Gifted Girls. If you have any more questions, I would prefer that you direct them to Mr. Rupert Giles, our headmaster. Now, about Candace…”
A month later, there were two girls that looked as if they had been killed and mauled by wild dogs, in the middle of the city.
Brennan was going over the x-rays of the first unidentified girl, which showed a dislocated shoulder and two fractured ribs, when she felt someone behind her. She turned, only to be confronted by the same blonde from a month ago.
“Miss Summers…” Brennan started to protest her being there.
“I’m here to collect the girls,” she told her, raising her hands.
“We can’t release them to you, we have yet to identify the bodies, and we need to determine the cause of death. There have been four girls in the past month that have died under suspicious circumstances. All of which you’ve been tied to, I might add.”
“That’s easy. This,” the woman walked over and placed a hand on one of the body’s lower leg, “is Isabel Cortez. She is fifteen years of age, her parents live in Spain. She has been a student of mine for two years. And this,” she said, and Brennan could see the sadness on her face, “is Chao-Ann. Her parents were murdered three years ago, and that’s when she became my student.”
She was silent a moment, looking at the two girls, regret evident on her face before she hardened herself, “As for cause of death, also easy. They were mauled by oversized, overly vicious dogs.”
“B-But the bite marks are too large for domesticated dogs. There are just too many anomalies, and at the present time we can’t release the bodies,” Brennan told her.
Buffy sighed, “You’re in over your heads. Call me when you’re so confused you’re ready to get rid of them,” she handed her a card, before walking off. “But you won’t find the murderer,” she said, turning to look at Brennan, “Trust me on this one.”
Brennan stared after her, before returning to her work.
“So, she’s back,” Angela said, coming up behind Brennan.
“I don’t like her,” Brennan said, “And I have a strange feeling that she has something to do with these murders.”
“Could it be the way she looked at Booth that first time?” Angela asked.
“What?” Brennan asked, looking up from the fingernails she was studying.
“The way she looked at Booth, when she thought he was someone else. The look of love on her face, it gave me goose bumps. Surely you’re not jealous.”
“I need you to come up with a scenario on how these fractures could have been obtained. This is different than the feeding behaviors of wild dogs. Both girls were found together, and the evidence points to them fighting for their lives. But the hairs we found on the remains of their clothes don’t match up with any breed known to man.”
Two hours later, when Booth showed up, Brennan told him about her conversation with the blonde woman.
“The Watcher’s Council?” Booth asked.
Brennan nodded her confirmation, “That’s what she said. Why?”
“The Watcher’s Council has been getting in our way for years. Every couple years, there’s a high-powered official murdered, in a similar manner to these girls, and the Council steps in, takes over the investigation and writes a report full of shit. I think it’s time to get to the bottom of this,” he told her.
“I just don’t know where to go from here. There were hairs on both girls’ clothing, and we’ve been able to measure the sizes of the teeth, and we’ve got skin samples from under the nails of the girls, they seemed to be fighting whatever weaponless. But it doesn’t match anything in the animal database!”
“I think our best bet would be to talk to Miss Summers again, since she seemed to have all the answers last time she was here,” Booth told her, heading for the entrance. “Come on,” he said, motioning with his head.
Twenty minutes later they were in front of an old brick building that had a simple sign that read “Watcher’s Council.” Undaunted, Booth and Brennan walked up the steps and rang the bell.
A girl of about fourteen answered the door, “May I help you?” she asked.
“FBI. We’re looking for a Miss Buffy Summers?” Booth said, flashing his badge.
“One sec,” the girl said, turning, “Miss Summers!” the girl yelled into the house. Then the girl turned back to them, looking outside as if checking the weather, and then opened the door further, inviting them in without saying a word. Once they were inside, she closed the door firmly behind them and locked it deftly. “Safety precautions,” the girl explained. “You can wait for Miss Summers in here,” she said, leading them into a living room, motioning them to sit on the couch, before she left the room.
A few minutes later, the blonde in question came into the room. She seemed shocked to see them, but all emotions left her face, except for a slight smugness. Hurriedly, she closed both doors leading out of the room, “What can I do for you this afternoon?” she asked.
“We just have some questions for you,” Booth said. “How long have you been working with the Watcher’s Council?”
“I’ve been working for them since I was 15; I’ve been working with them for about three years now.”
“And you are a teacher at the Council’s new school, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“But you don’t have your teaching certificate. How did you manage that?” he asked.
She sighed, “I teach mostly self defense to the girls, Mr. Giles felt that with the life I had led, a teaching certificate was unnecessary.”
“Your school, and the organization around it, has been associated with some very suspicious deaths, including the most recent deaths of four of your students. Why do you think that is?”
“I wouldn’t know. I will admit that I feel guilty that I obviously haven’t taught these girls to the best of my ability, but as for the other deaths you’re implying, I have no clue. I would suggest you take it up with Mr. Giles.”
“I would prefer to take it up with you,” Booth said.
Just then the door leading into the hall opened, and a brunette poked her head in, “Buffy-Oh,” she said, seeing the two visitors.
Buffy stood hurriedly, “Dawn, this is Mr. Booth, and Ms. Brennan, they work for the FBI. Mr. Booth, this is my sister, Dawn,” she said, glaring at her sister.
“What’s going on? Does this have to do with Isabel and Chao-Ann?”
“Yes, among other things. Miss Summers, how did you know the specifics of these two girls’ deaths.”
“Buffy-” Dawn started.
“Dawn, go check on the girls, they’re in the back yard. I’ll be out when I’m done here.”
“Dawn, go,” she told her sister, and the younger Summers glared at her sister, before storming off.
“How did you know the-” Booth started to re-ask the question.
“I’m not at liberty to say. If you have no further questions, then I really need to get back to teaching my afternoon class.”
“If the school is based in England, and the girls come from all over the world, then why are you holding class here?” Booth asked.
“Because the girls needed a change of scenery. The Watcher’s Council bought this building a few years back as a resort, or sorts, for their students and staff who need a vacation from the rigors of the school. My sister is looking at colleges in the area, so I agreed to bring about twenty girls as a reward for exemplary grades,” she told them. “Good afternoon,” she said, leading them to the door, unlocking it, and opening it for them to leave. They stepped outside and the door was closed behind them.
“I think she knows more than she’s telling,” Brennan said as they climbed into the car.
Brennan later found out that Booth had agents looking into both the Watcher’s Council and Buffy Summers, but there wasn’t enough to go on until one more body came into the lab.
Brennan was working on another project when Booth came into her office.
“We’ve got a case. Let’s go,” he said, leaving, and she had no choice but to follow him, grabbing her bag, cell phone and coat as she left.
He drove her to an abandoned part of town, stopping in front of an old warehouse type building. He led her towards the far corner, where they found the remains of a girl, chained to the wall. Her clothes were in tatters, and Brennan could see bite marks on both sides of the girl’s neck, both wrists, both breasts, and her inner thighs. There were shallow cuts along her stomach, but there was limited blood.
“Th-This is torture,” Brennan finally said, shocked at the sight before her, “There’s scar tissue over some of these wounds,” she pointed out, getting closer to the body, “The murderer had her here for days, weeks maybe.” She waited until the crime scene photographer was done before she ordered Zach to take pictures of the body, especially the manacles and the bite marks even though they would be examined more closely at the lab.
The crime scene investigators were just finishing up by dusting for prints on the manacles and chain, so Brennan waited until they were through before she had them detach the manacles from the wall, wanting to preserve everything until they got the remains back to the lab.
Once there, she ordered Zach to upload the photos to the computer and collect and run her fingerprints through the system, Hoggins to perform a rape examination and get the body x-rayed to see if any structural damage was done, and Angela to try and reconfigure the girl’s face.
“There was definitely forced entry,” Hoggins reported later, “though no viable sperm was retrieved. All of it was…old,” he said slowly, “dead. Long dead.”
She looked at him, confused, but Zach hurried up, “The fingerprints, they belong to a Rachel Collins, 16. She’s currently enrolled at the Council’s School for Gifted Girls,” he told her.
Just then Angela came up, handing her a sheet of paper. She looked at the pretty brunette before she handed it to Zach, “Is that her?” He nodded.
She was about to give out new assignments when Booth rushed up the stairs two at a time, “We’ve got a matching print. It belongs to Miss Summers,” he told her. She rushed after him as he spun on his heel and left at a brisk pace.
When they knocked on the thick, ornate door, Buffy herself answered, “Can I help you?” she asked, and Brennan could tell she was a bit shaken to see them. She kept looking around the dark night, as if looking for something.
“Buffy Summers, you are under arrest for the murder of Rachel Collins,” Booth told her. Stunned, she allowed him to spin her small frame around and cuff her. Brennan almost felt sorry for her, until she remembered she could have murdered all four of the girls.
“I-I need to tell my sister… the girls…” she said as Booth started to lead her away. He nodded, allowing her to go back to the door. “DAWN! I’m going out for awhile. Don’t wait up!” she yelled, before allowing Booth to lead her away. Brennan started after them, turning to close the door before she followed.
“Rachel Collins was a student at your school, correct?” Booth asked later in one of the interrogation rooms. They had left her alone for some time, Brennan had had some thing she needed to do at the lab, and she wanted to be there as much as Booth wanted her to be.
“That’s correct,” she said, pale under her dark tan. She didn’t like the term ‘was’.
“Her body was found this morning in an old warehouse on the other side of town,” he told her.
“No, not Rachel…” she murmured, shaking her head sadly, fighting tears she would not allow to fall in their presence.
He slapped some crime scene photos in front of her, and she stared in morbid fascination, before looking up, a fire burning in her eyes that neither had ever seen there in the short time they had known her.
“You think I did this?” she asked them, her voice steel.
“Well, yeah,” Booth said, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting across from her.
“Why? I take my responsibilities very seriously…”
“Then why do your students keep ending up dead?” he asked. She just shook her head, looking away. “Then explain to me how your fingerprints got on the manacles,” he said conversationally.
Her eyes snapped back to him, the first time she had truly looked at him since he arrested her, “I think I want my lawyer,” she said, her voice shaking.
Booth nodded, though Brennan could tell that he was irritated. They left the room, and he slammed his fist into the hallway wall, “Damn it, now she’s going to get some high and mighty lawyer from England, it’ll take days for this guy to get here, and we’ll have to let her go until he gets here.”
There was a strong knock on the heavy door they had just exited, and surprised, Booth went and opened the door.
“I’d like to call my lawyer now,” she told him.
“But it’s got to be around breakfast time. I’ve heard how the British are about their breakfasts. He won’t enjoy being pulled away.”
“Good thing he’s not British then,” she told him stonily, staring at him.