Author: Shona, aka Mara (whiskyinmind)
Disclaimer: Neither of these are my sandboxes, I'm just playing in them for a while.
Fandoms: Buffyverse, Leverage
Master Post: here
Summary: The dust starts to settle, but is it really over?
Watchers' Council Headquarters, Cleveland. One month later
It was never quiet around here, not even in the dead of night. As a matter of fact, the dead of night was probably the worst time to sneak around. In fact, the only way to ensure a clear path was to create a diversion. The Fyarl's didn't know who employed them; he'd made sure of that, they just knew to attack at 7:47am. It would be carnage and, as he made his way down to the vault, he wondered briefly if he should have clued them in as to what - or rather who - they would be attacking. They never stood a chance against what was in essence the core body of Slayers. And since he'd arranged to pay them after the job was done, he wasn't even out of pocket.
He checked his watch as he reached the vault door - 7:49. That gave him just over ten minutes to get in and get out without being noticed. He allowed himself a small smirk of triumph. No problem.
As the vault door opened he couldn't hold back the gasp. The high-security room was filled to the brim with countless dangerous magical artefacts and grimoires. He could have a field day in here! He forced himself to focus. It only took him a minute to find the Palcha box Xander had sent back from Boston, after the idiot had wrecked his scheme. Well no one would be able to stop him this time. A simple spell and she would be entirely under his control; it was in her blood after all.
He tucked the surprisingly heavy box under his jacket and turned to leave.
"What are you doing?" Damn! Since when did Slayers not run straight into the fight? And it would have to be one of Xander's finds. If he let her she'd go running straight to the fool and telling him everything. He had no choice. He had to stop her.
"Inventory." He said as he reached for the weapon he had stashed in the waistband of his pants.
"What? But no one should be here. An-" her eyes went wide and she stared at him in disbelief before crumpling to the ground. He tucked the gun back into his belt and shook his head a little sadly. They just never got it did they?
7:54. He had to get out of the vault and get the ritual done. He pulled the door closed behind him and didn't looked back.
Eliot Spencer's Apartment, Boston. 8am
He liked watching her sleep. Especially when she was sleeping curled up against him. It had been a long month and she still wasn't completely comfortable around the others no matter how much she protested. The upside of that was that she spent a lot of time here and he had absolutely no complaints about that. But they really needed to sort this out - he was part of a team now and he needed to be there for them as well. Hopefully this morning would show her just how well she could fit in with them. If they got there in time.
Eliot stroked a finger up her bare arm and smiled as she groaned and shifted closer to him.
"Hey there sleepyhead," he said, "time to get up."
"Do I have to?" she mumbled, stretching like a contended cat as she did.
"Yeah you do." Regretting it, he got out of bed and pulled the sheets off her.
"You're no fun."
"That's not what you were saying last night," he said teasing her. "I'm gonna grab a shower, you want me to put the coffee on first?"
"How about I join you in the shower?"
Damn she was such a tease, but they had to be over at Nate's in less than an hour. Eliot stood firm. "Coffee?" he repeated.
Faith's head was buried in the pillow again, "Yeah, black and-"
"And strong as I can make it. Think I got it by now." He frowned as a phantom itch burned on his arm.
"Babe?" She was looking at him with something like worry in her eyes. "You ok?"
He rubbed at his arm absently. "Yeah, it's just…" he stopped. Something was wrong, it was almost like a concussion, the whole room seemed to be slipping in and out of focus and he staggered back to the bed before he hit the floor.
Faith was up in an instant, reaching for him but she stopped just short. He saw the worry change to shock as she looked at his arm. He glanced down, the cut had healed over quickly enough but now the scar it had left seemed to be glowing. He looked up to meet her gaze but she was looking down at herself with her hand pressed against her stomach. Gently he took her hand away and saw the faint scar she had there also glowing. He rocked back.
"What the hell?" he managed to say just as the blackness took over.
Watchers' Council Headquarters, Cleveland. 8:15am
With the ritual complete he blew out the last of the candles and sat back. Well that was an unexpected surprise. Still, maybe he could find some use for Spencer. The man was clearly a time-bomb with an unstable fuse. But explosives did have their uses after all.