Title: Episode of Blonde
Author: Jeanny
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com
Spoilers: Season 7 Through Sleeper, plus some unconfirmed speculation by yours truly
Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.
Summary: The events in a small flat in London during and immediately following Sleeper; one possibility.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., UPN and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.
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And the last thing you need is another episode of blonde - Elvis Costello
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Robson was dying. He was surprised at how calm the realization left him. He felt strangely finished. He was ready to die now. Ready to join the girl...he found it hard to breathe when he thought of her, how he’d found her crumpled on the floor like a used napkin. She’d deserved better, the girl.
His girl.
Nora. His raison d’être. His Slayer. Dead, cut down by evil before she could even be Called.
His sorrow over the girl was nearly overwhelming and positively shocking to him. Certainly she had been living in his flat, studying and training under his tutelage for more than a decade, but he had convinced himself he had no real emotional investment in his charge other than pride in her progress. She would have been an excellent Slayer, even-tempered but quick on her feet, with a wry sense of humor that had sometimes made her seem older than...well, himself. Now, too late, he discovered he cared deeply for her, perhaps too deeply. No matter now. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to miss her company.
So there it was, all there was left to do was expire, and yet he found himself struggling to continue to force oxygen through his lungs, to make his eyes remain open, to keep himself alive and awake even as the room around him seemed to fade to gray. The Council had to be warned. They had to know...
His eyes closed, despite all of his efforts.
The Council had to know...
A voice was saying his name. Robson forced his eyes open, and would have wept if he could have managed tears. Rupert Giles was standing over him like a gift from the angels. Robson could barely make out what his friend was saying, but he managed to speak.
“It’s started.”
Those two words took all the remaining fight out of him, but it was enough. Rupert had understood. His eyes began to flutter again, but a movement from behind the other Watcher caught his eye.
They were not alone.
Dear God, Rupert!
He tried to say the words aloud, but his mouth would no longer work. Giles was saying something, something reassuring he thought, but all Robson could do was watch the blade fall.
It was too late, too late for them all. The beginning of the end...the beginning of the beginning...
Robson closed his eyes. He heard the sick thud, like someone hacking into a melon with a machete - and heaven knew where that image had come from, he thought dizzily - and Giles’ body pitched forward, his head landing against Robson’s chest, face buried there as if seeking comfort. There was none such here, Robson thought bitterly, only cold and getting colder...his eyes popped open when a new and unfamiliar voice spoke.
“Hey! You!”
The assassin seemed alarmed, and Robson tried to sort out what was happening. Unable to move, his eyes scanned their limited view for clues while he tried to sharpen his hearing.
“Yes, I’m talking...”
The voice was clearly American...female...
“...to you, you robed...”
… muffled...close...
“...freak! That...”
...very, very close. Against his chest?
“…hurt!”
Giles pushed off of him then, standing and turning away to face the man who had killed him scant moments before. Only...it wasn’t Rupert Giles at all, but a girl, a strange girl, perhaps a woman. Robson’s head swam and he blacked out for a moment, only coming to when the screaming started. Rupert...the girl...had her back to him, and her hands...her fingers...they were...
They were...
Lord help them all. Her hands were inside his head. Inside the bastard’s head.
She pulled away with a laugh, and the killer dropped, whimpering. Robson found himself caught in a snare of fascination and near terror as the girl - Rupert? - turned in his direction. Curly blonde hair cascaded past the Watcher’s collar. She smiled down at him, and Robson saw the madness swirling in her and around her and through her.
“I needed that,” she purred, stretching languidly. “Been cooped up in stodgy land for way, way too long. And I have things to do, you know? People to see, people to kill, brains to...”
Robson coughed, a death rattle. The woman tapped her foot, seething at the interruption.
“I’m sorry, am I boring you? Then we should just get to the main event...this won’t hurt a bit...because it’ll hurt a lot...”
She was reaching for him, her hands against his face, about to be in his face, and Robson desperately tried to die before...to his relief she pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself almost possessively.
“Not now! I’m not ready to-”
Robson thought he heard something shift in her this time.
“-go,” Giles said. He looked down at Robson in concern and more than a little bewilderment. Hearing a sound behind him, he turned, his jaw tightening when he saw the spittle flying from the robed assassin’s mouth. Giles dispatched him with an almost off-handed blow.
Robson thought he heard Nora calling him to tea. As he slipped away to find her, he heard Giles speak, soft and gentle.
“Don’t worry, old man. I’ll take care of everything.”
Robson wasn’t sure why those words disturbed him slightly. After all, Giles had...
What had he done again?
He couldn’t remember, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Giles would warn the Council and everything would be fine.
He hoped the tea was hot.
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