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The Violence of Existing

By: Maren
folder AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Angel(us)/Buffy
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 6
Views: 3,623
Reviews: 7
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 1
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS or BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Chapter 2

Email: marenfic@yahoo.com




Feedback: Please!!!


 


A/N: Italics
generally indicate direct thoughts of characters.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The first set of italics in this chapter
represents a dream.


 


 


**********


 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was dark, but the
dark wasn’t scary—it was welcoming. It
allowed her a certain anonymity, provided her with a small measure of comfort
that was otherwise missing in her life (Life? Is that what this was?)


 


She swam through the
darkness, not needing to breathe, not needing to see.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She allowed herself to feel the tactile
stimulation of the thick darkness washing across her skin and it was a balm for
her weary soul.


 


Suddenly, a bright,
unrelenting light appeared in front of her in the distance.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She tried to turn, tried to avoid it, but the
light was a beacon and her soul was drawn to it as though it were home.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> It took all of her strength, all of her
determination, to stop at the threshold between light and dark, balancing just
behind the curtain of darkness as though she were looking through a thin veil
of clear, clean water to the side of light.


 


The woman in front of
her was familiar. Blonde.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Hazel-green eyes.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Tanned skin and short flowery skirt.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“Buffy,” she said to
the woman basking in the light.


 


“Slayer,” Buffy
replied, her voice tinged with a sadness and longing that the Slayer couldn’t
quite understand.


 


The Slayer waited in
silence. She hadn’t wanted to come.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“It’s your turn now,”
Buffy said, her eyes boring into the Slayer’s.


 


“I know,” the Slayer
answered.


 


Buffy reached out one
of her manicured hands to touch the barrier that separated her light from the
dark that still encased the Slayer. She
let the darkness flow over her hand for a moment before snatching it back to
her side, quickly as though the darkness had burned.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“I had to touch the
darkness to survive,” Buffy said, mournfully.


 


“I am the darkness,”
said the Slayer.


 


“Someday, you will
have to be the one to reach out,” Buffy informed her.


 


“Touch the light?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I wouldn’t know how,” the Slayer said
dismissively.


 


“If you forget me,
you’ll never find the light, you’ll never find the balance,” Buffy warned.


 


And then the barrier was
receding, Buffy was fading into the distance, and the calming darkness
surrounded her once again. No more
light.


 


It was a relief.


 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


 


The slayer slowly opened her eyes to see a light only a
little less brilliant, a little less blinding than that in her dream.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She was lying on her back and she quickly
discovered that she was being held there with restraints around her wrists,
waist, ankleskles. She slowly turned her
head to the side, partly to see what she could of her surroundings, and partly
to avoid the glaring overhead lights.


 


She was in a stark white room.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> It reminded her of the Initiative containment
cells, but from what she could see there wasn’t a glass wall.st'mso'mso-spacerun:yes'> She shifted her head in the opposite
direction and saw an imposing steel door.
There was some kind of security device mounted to the wall next to it
that looked like a keypad set under an expanse of blue screen.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Once she had seen as much of the room as her
restraints would allow, she tilted her chin toward her chest.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The thin white material covering her body
looked a lot like hospital scrubs, and she sighed in relief.


 


Who do I thank for not
being naked?


 


She was just beginning to test the strength of her
restraints when she heard a whoosh of air coming from the direction of the
door. She turned her head just in time
to see a man in an obviously expensive dgreygrey suit enter, the heavy door
sliding shut behind him. He appeared to
be in his mid-to-late thirties, with dark hair that was just beginning to turn
prematurely gray. The gray hadn’t yet
found its way to his dark goatee, though, and his eyes were a beautiful,
piercing blue.


 


“Hello. I’m glad to
see you’ve finally awakened. We weren’t
sure how much tranquilizer it would take to safely transport you and I’m afraid
we may have overestimated. Please
forgive us,” the man began, his voice soothing, but tinged with a certain
hardness.


 


She wanted to ask how long she had been out, but she decided
to stay quiet for the moment. She simply
stared impassively into his handsome face, waiting for him to continue.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


It was several moments before he spoke again.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> First he approached the table she was
strapped to and hit a button that tilted her prone body forward so that she was
facing him in a quasi-standing position.


 


“We’ve run your prints through the database and we know your
name is Buffy Anne Summers, most recently of Sunnydale,
California
,”


 


“You’re wrong,” she spoke for the first time, a small, cold
smile touching her pink lips. “Buffy is
gone, died about 3 months ago actually.
But I’m here, and if you think these leather restraints and that fancy
steel door with a security code are going to keep me from leaving, you’re
deluded.”


 


“Oh, but Buffy, we don’t want to keep you from leaving,” the
man answered with his own calculating smile.


 


The slayer ripped her right arm free from the restraint and
had her hand clasped around his throat in a heartbeat.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “I’d suggest you stop calling me Buffy and start
telling me what you want from me, then,” she gritted out between her teeth.


 


If the slayer hadn’t seen the tiny speck of fear that
flickered in the man’s eye for a millisecond before disappearing, she would
have thought him immune to the threat of her hand painfully squeezing his
windpipe.


 


“We want to offer you a job,” rasped the man.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He was rewarded when she loosened her grip
and dropped her hand, giving him a calculating look.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He stepped back out of her reach and rubbed
his throat before continuing, “and what would you like to be called, if not by
your name?”


 


“You can call me Slayer.”


 


“Ah, the Vampire Slayer.
Of course—whatever you want. My
name is Harris, by the way. I’ve been
assigned to be your contact with the organization and I’ve been authorized to
offer you a position that will make good use of your unique skills.”


 


Slayer narrowed her eyes and studied his face for signs of
deception. When she couldn’t detect any,
she shrugged her shoulders and moved her free hand to the restraint at her
other wrist.


 


“I’ll probably be more open to your offer if we can have
this little meeting without me being tied to a cold table—dontcha think?” she
asked, signaling to him that he should start unfastening her ankles if he
wanted her cooperation.


 


“Yes, of course,” he replied, moving to help her out of the
restraints. A minute later, Slayer and
Harris stood face-to-face on the cold white floor.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> At least it was cold to her—they hadn’t
provided her with any shoes or socks.


 


Hey, you whiner.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Naked feet better than naked ass.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Get over it.


 


Harris watched Slayer as she moved to lean one shoulder
casually against the wall, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her slight
weight restingone one leg as the other crossed casually over its mate and rested
on the toes of her bare foot. He was
impressed with her causal aloofness, with her apparent lack of panic at having
been captured and removed to an unknown location.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She was either very brave or very stupid, and
from what he had seen on the infrared cameras that had recorded the action in
the alley where they had found her, he would bet on the former.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“You’re probably wondering where you are,” he began.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “I’m not able to give you specific details
until you accept our offer, but I can tell you that you are still in Los
Angeles
and we are. . .”


 


“A secret government agency that’s aware of the existence of
demons,” the slayer interrupted with a roll of her eyes.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Tell me something I don’t already know.”


 


Harris raised an eyebrow in surprise and chuckled.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “All right.
We’re not associated with The Initiative, if that’s what you’re
thinking. We’re more like a
demon-world-acknowledging version of the CIA.
In fact, our mission is to help protect and ensure the stability of the United
States
government in this dimension while
developing relationships with the governing bodies of other dimensions.”


 


A very unladylike snort came out of Slayer’s nose.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “So you want me to be some kind of
hell-dimension ambassador?” she asked in amused disbelief.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


Her amusement was quickly obliterated at the hard look that
stole over Harris’s face.


 


“No. Your appointment
would fall more in the ‘protection’ arena.
Why don’t I take you on a little tour of the facility?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> What we’re offering you might become more clear
in the context of our assets,” he suggested as he moved toward the door.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


Slayer shrugged in indifference, but uncrossed her arms and
pushed off of the wall she had been leaning on.


 


As long as I’m not
wanted in Heaven, I might as well see what Hell has to offer.


 


Harris pressed his hand over the blue screen that Slayer had
noticed as she was lying prone on the cold table.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Apparently it was some handprint scanning
device. He pressed in a code and the
door slid open, revealing a much less harshly lit hallway that was carpeted in
standard office Berber. Standing back,
Harris swept his arm out in front of him.


 


“After you,” he said.


 


**********************


 


Two hours later, the blonde slayer was trying to process all
of the information she had gathered on their tour of the sprawling underground
buildings. In addition to rooms devoted
to the latest technological advances. . .


 


I hope they don’t
expect me to know what to do with a computer


 


. . . there were rooms of ancient, modern, and space-age weapons,
facilities for training on those methods, and additional space devoted to other
aspects of physical training. Weight
rooms, swimming pools, a full-size indoor track, three dojos, and a room
devoted to boxing that included a full-size ring were all part of the training
complex.


 


She had watched as some very buff men and a few muscular
women had sparred with a master ju jitsu instructor in one training room.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The slayer could not help but appreciate the
things that she could learn from the instructors in this place, not to mention
the other students. She had been
surprised to see two pairs of boxing gloves bouncing around in the ring,
seemingly suspended in mid-air. When she
had looked at Harris quizzically, the man had smiled at her before answering
her unvocal zed question.


 


“We have a cadre of invisible people who are employed in the
agency,” he said.

 


“Cool. I think,” she
had replied.


 


Now she found herself seated in a large chair in Harris’s
office. She was fairly certain he was
planning to offer her a job slaying for the agency.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She soon found out she wasn’t far off the
mark.


 


Harris slipped on a pair of stylish glasses and pulled a
contract out of a folder labeled “Summers, B.A.” that was sitting on his
desk. He handed it to her from across
the desk.


 


“Miss Summ. . . pardon me, I mean Slayer.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> We are prepared to offer you a position as an
agency asset in the Department of Problem Elimination.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> DPE is a highly sensitive and secretive department
even within our own agency—they take care of the things that ‘go bump in the
night’ that even other things that ‘go bump in the night’ are afraid of.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> They also are charged with dealing with
protecting this country, the world even, from those in this dimension and in
others who would threaten it magically or demonically.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As an asset, you would be asked to fulfill
duties very similar to those you have already employed in the capacity of
Vampire Slayer on the Hellmouth.
However, your assignments might sometimes include targets with whom you
are less familiar dealing with.”


 


“Like. . .” Slayer began, instructing him to fill in the
blanks with the single word.


 


“Humans. Sometimes we
are forced to deal with humans who are involved in magic, demon-worship, or
just plain greed. With the security of
our country at risk, we often cannot or will not differentiate between a
non-human threat and a human threat,” Harexplexplained, his sharp blue eyes
boring into the slayer so that he could read her reaction to this news.


 


She was a little surprised.
One thing that Giles had taught her early was that humans didn’t fall in
the slayer’s domain of justice-delivery.
She herself had condemned Faith for taking the life of a corrupted
man. Slayer’s eyes momentarily darkened
in something like consternation, but the soothing caress of deadened emotion
beat back any distress that she might have felt in her former life.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“So you’re saying you want me to be an assassin,” she said,
her words more of a statement than a question.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>


 


“We prefer the term “asset”, but yes, you would essentially
be an assassin,” Harris affirmed.


 


Slayensidnsidered this for a moment.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “Why, though?
Why should I agree to this and why do you want me?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I had this responsibility long before you
came along and you saw yourself tonight that I’ll kill demons if they cross my
path—I don’t need a formal assignment to do it.”


 


Harris smiled at her again, but this time it didn’t quite
reach his eyes. “Why do we want
you? That’s easy.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Your performance tonight was
outstanding. Three separate
highly-trained DPE assets have tried to take out that particular foursome of
Ro’schar demons, and two of them were killed in the process.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The third is the one who tranq’ed you and
brought you in. You killed those demons
in less than 5 minutes with no weapon but your own body.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Having you join the agency as an asset would
be unprecedented and we would be positioned to move ineraleral problem areas
that have been put on hold while we attempt to cover the biggest threats.”


 


“What are we offering you?” he continued.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “You have worked for 6 years as the slayer
with no compensation. We are willing to
make up for that lost earning potential as well as pay you handsomely for your
current service. You will be provided
with the finest tactical training in this dimension.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> In short, you will have the opportunity to
hone your skills to their optimum level with full agency support.”


 


The slayer considered the offer in silence, her eyes boring
into those of the man seated across the desk.


 


“Sounds great. So
what’s the catch?” she asked, breaking the silence, but not her stare.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> If he was lying to her, or hiding something,
she would know.


 


“The catch is that once you’re trained and in the field, you
work at your own risk. This is a
dangerous occupation—physically and politically.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The agency has to be able to maintain
deniability,” he answered smoothly.


 


“Ah-hah! So don’t
come crying to you over my spilled blood, right?”


 


“Something like that,” Harris answered.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “If you sign the contract, you will spend 6
months living and training in the facility.
At the end of the 6 months, you will be returned to civilization, so to
speak. You will be given the access
codes to an off-shore bank account where we will send you untraceable payments
for your services. The physical location
of this facility will never be divulged to you.
You will not have access to this facility after 6 months.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The only person in the agency you will
communicate with is me, and you will be expected to carry out my orders without
question.”


 


The terms of this arrangement weren’t looking very appealing
to Slayer. Her instincts told her that
it was wrong to sell her services to the government, wrong to even consider
slaying humans no matter their crime, and definitely wrong to put her trust in
this mysterious man who would be her only connection to her employers.


 


Then again, what good was right for a freak like her?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Doing right hadn’t gotten her a permanent place
in Heaven, and she certainly didn’t think anything that had been described to
her was so wrong that she’d be banished immediately to a hell dimension.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As Buffy, the slayer was trained to see the
world in black and white, good and bad, right and wrong.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As Slayer, the woman seriously considered the
concept of moral grayness for the first time.
The more she considered it, the more she liked it.


 


“O.k. I’ll do it, but
I have some conditions of my own. While
I’m here I want privacy and I don’t want to stay in a cold, bright white
room. I need darkness.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> And once I’m out I get to say no to a job
once in a while without having to explain why,” she told Harris.


 


“I can give you privacy, I can give you the darkest, most
morbid accommodations we have, but I can’t give you veto power.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> That’s a no-go,” he countered.


 


Slayer considered the terms for a moment, then pulled the
contract closer to her on the desk. She
frowned at the name that was typed on the signature line, but signed it ‘Buffy
A. Summers’ anyway. She was a DPE
asset.


 


It’ll give me
something to do with my sentence here on earth, I guess.


 


************************************************************************


 


 


 


 


 


 




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