Prompt 97 - Delirious - Ronin - Alex Foster - BTVS

[alexfoster451.livejournal.com]

Title: Ronin
Fandom: BTVS -- Season Eight Comic
Prompt: 97 - Delirious
Word Count: 2,046
Warnings: Femslash in later chapters, but nothing offensive in this one
Rating: R overall
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mutant Enemy, Dark Horse, and Joss Whedon. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Summary: On the run from a powerful force, including the slayer army, Satsu must unravel a mystery surrounding a mystical object and the phantasm taking a familiar form surrounding it.

Chapter One

It was a forgotten and neglected cottage set far away from civilization and prying eyes.

Satsu killed the engine of the motorcycle and stared for a moment up the winding pathway to the front door. Vines and weeds stretched their fingers across cracked cobblestones of the walk. She thought that long ago, when the hedges were trimmed and the garden cared for, the house was probably very quaint and nice. Now, however, white paint peeled from the walls and a rain gutter hung in disrepair across the covered porch. Aged and worn wicker furniture atop the veranda completed the abandoned look.

For what she needed, the house was perfect.

Putting most of her weight against the bike, Satsu began walking toward the house. Slung over her shoulder was a pack containing all her remaining worldly possessions and the mystery she had to solve. As a slayer the cottage technically belonged to her; Mister Harris and Buffy had set it up as one of the many fall back points for slayers around the world. It was used only if all else failed.

And if Satsu did her job correctly, no one—not even the slayer army—would know to look for her here.

The second story windows caught the setting sunlight and reflected the Scottish countryside around her. Far from even a paved road the nearest neighbor was miles away. Cold highland air prickled her exposed skin and birds twittered happily from nests hidden in the overgrowth.

She put the kickstand down and pulled loose brush over to conceal the bike. Wincing as sharp pain shot through her side, Satsu leaned against the porch for a moment before continuing.

“This is nice,” a voice said above her. “In a fixer-upper kind of way.”

Satsu glanced over and saw Buffy Summers on the veranda. Like the Asian slayer she was clad in heavy body armor and combat gear. Uninjured and still perfectly pulled together, Buffy draped her arms over the wood railing and looked out at the quickly sinking sun.

“It’s defendable, too,” she continued. “With those hills out there. And I’d bet you banknotes to doughnuts—never did understand that expression—that there are some booby traps out there waiting to be set. By the way, did you know Scottish money is not legal tender? How is that possible?”

“Go away,” Satsu breathed. Fresh pain flared along her side. Speaking hurt. Her ribs were almost certainly broken. “You’re not real.”

“Yes I am.” Buffy sounded hurt. “We’ve been over this. I’m as real as you are.” She rapped her knuckles firmly on the rail. "See? Not go through-able."

Aware daylight was slipping away, Satsu pushed off the support beam and limped to the front steps.

“Oh,” Buffy said snapping her fingers, “ask me something only a non apparition would know.”

Satsu ignored her and climbed the steps slowly. Her boots clopped loudly against the aged wood. She passed Buffy and felt along the top of the doorframe. Finding the hidden key, Satsu unlocked the door and walked inside.

Buffy made no move to follow and when Satsu glanced back, the porch was empty. Not real. Never was.

Pocketing the key and throwing the dead bolt on the door—for her own peace of mind if nothing else—she walked deeper into the home and took stock of her new surroundings. Dust covers blanketed most of the furniture in the foyer and living room. The floors were bare with heavy rugs rolled and stacked in the corner of the entrance hall. Orange-yellow light shining in through the many windows cast a warm glow throughout the house that she knew would not last.

There was no power this far out in the countryside for furnaces or light bulbs so her only source of light and heat was the wide-mouthed fireplace made of roughly hewed stone along one wall in the living room. Next to a full set of fireplace tools was a stack of newspapers, matches, and wood.

Satsu hobbled toward the hearth. She noticed oil lamps and candles set throughout room. Useful later, the slayer said to herself. The fireplace was her first priority. At night the temperature fell below freezing and she was not in any condition to fight hypothermia as well. She unceremoniously collapsed in front of the hearth and pulled herself closer with a gloved hand on the wrought iron log cradle. Her backpack tumbled from her shoulders and hit the cold floor with a thump.

Mindful of her sore ribs, Satsu stacked kindling and logs into the fireplace and bunched up newspaper around them. Looking at the headline of one paper, she found that it was over twelve years old. The matches were old and brittle too. She broke seven before finally getting one to catch. Careful not to waste such a precious item, she lit the paper and kindling on fire. She watched as the paper blackened and the kindling slowly curled inward. Blowing gently she coaxed the logs to catch the flame.

Soon she had a small but strong fire going. Instantly the stale coolness inside the cottage began to abate and the woody smell of burning oak filled the air. Satsu rested her head against the stone and closed her eyes against the enormity of what she still had to face. She couldn’t even remember the last time she slept.

The last couple of days blurred together into one long nightmare of doubt and running. Here in the cottage she finally had the isolation so desperately desired to work and plan, and all she wanted now was someone to take charge. Choking back a half sob, Satsu felt striking loneliness sweep over her.

“You’re a slayer,” Buffy said.

Satsu was not surprised to suddenly see Miss Summers crouching beside her. She’d grown used to the apparition since it started appearing several days ago. After seeing the other slayers behave strangely and her subsequent flight from the citadel very little could surprise her. “Ma’am?”

“You are a slayer,” Buffy said again. “I didn’t just pick some girls off the street at random to give superpowers to. You were born to be a vampire slayer. That means you can handle this and anything else they throw at you.”

“I don’t even know who ‘they’ are.”

Buffy glanced into the fire for a moment. Her lips compressed into a tight line as she thought. “Well, for now anyone that isn’t you counts as an enemy.”

Satsu reached for the backpack with her left hand, thought better of it, and used her right instead. “Where do I even begin?”

“The fire was a good start,” Buffy said. “Next you heal and then tomorrow we can figure out that thing in there.”

Satsu dug past the clothes she’d jammed into the pack and pulled out the object Buffy meant. Only slightly larger than her palm it was a perfect square box. Seemingly solid and made of smooth metal the box caught and reflected the firelight. Satsu saw her own mirror image turned upside down there as well. Buffy, still kneeling beside her, had no reflection.

Not real, she had to remind herself again.

“You’re not crazy,” Buffy said.

“Then I am at the very least delirious.”

“Not so much that either.”

Satsu looked away from the magical box and to the elder slayer’s green-eyed gaze. “Can you read my thoughts?”

“No. But I did see the look of panic that flashed across your face. Something is up with the slayers and you are not imagining things.”

“Except you.”

Buffy didn’t answer and just let silence hang between them for a long while. The box was hypnotic, Satsu thought. Its metallic skin seemed to ripple like quicksilver in the moody light. Magic radiated from it, but she had no idea what the box could actually do…or why the real Buffy and the slayer army wanted it so badly.

She did know setting off the explosion and vanishing with the box was the right course of action. That she could feel in her bones even if she had no idea what to do with the object now that she had it.

“Put it away,” Buffy said. “That’s for another day. You have to rest and heal tonight.”

Reluctantly, Satsu agreed and slipped the box back into the pack. She pushed it aside and settled against the stone fireplace. Looking down at her gloved hands, she grimaced and began pulling the left glove off. An explosion was the only way she could think of to steal the box and escape from alpha team before they could return to the citadel. She had to create the impression she was dead and the box lost. It was a very large and violent explosion.

Satsu’s leather glove came free with a slight ripping sound. She cried out as several layers of skin stayed behind inside. Drawing her knees up as far as the injured ribs would allow, she cradled her hands against her chest.

Buffy shushed and then rubbed Satsu’s back in a strangely comforting way. “Slayers heal fast,” she said. “This won’t last.”

Satsu threw both gloves into the shadows and looked at her bare hands. Burns covered her left palm and wrapped partly around her knuckles. But, she noted, the flesh had already begun to regrow and the blisters shrink. Her right hand had only slight burns; she could still handle a weapon if necessary.

The elder slayer wasn’t real, Satsu repeated, but she felt herself relaxing into the other woman's presence nevertheless. Secluded from the rest of the world with Buffy caring for her was a fantasy she’d had more than once. Under completely different circumstances she could have enjoyed this mission.

Perhaps the false Buffy really could read her mind because she smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Satsu’s ear. “Feeling better?”

Satsu nodded.

“Wait here.” Buffy pushed to her feet and walked deeper into the cottage. The apparition moved surely and with such purpose it was as though she’d lived in the house her entire life. If she was a by-product of Satsu’s mind then she had an additional source of information because Satsu had never been inside the cottage before.

The sun had long since set and the only light was from the flickering firelight. Shadows danced over covered furniture, hardwood floors, and bare walls. Cozy warmth had soaked into the stones underneath her.

Buffy returned minutes later carrying a chinaware bowl and pitcher. She set them down next to the hearth and stripped off her armored vest. Underneath she wore a red T-shirt with braided stitch work along the collar and sleeves. She tossed the vest offhandedly over the back of a covered chair and knelt beside Satsu.

The young slayer watched warily as Buffy reached out and unbuckled her vest. Mindful of Satsu’s sore ribs, Buffy gently pulled the heavy armor off and set it on top of hers. Next she reached down and began picking at Satsu’s bootlaces. Sliding the boots off, she set them near the woodpile.

Sitting cross-legged beside her, Buffy poured water from the pitcher into the bowl and doused a small rag folded inside. After wringing the rag, Buffy took Satsu’s hands and lightly dabbed them clean.

Once done she dipped the rag into the water again, squeezed it out, and pressed it to Satsu’s cheek. Satsu flashed back to a mission several months ago when the actual Buffy Summers had cleaned mud off her face. Then, like now, a multitude of emotions stirred at her touch. Not real. Could not be real. A log shifted in the fire sending orange sparks up into the flue.

“Lie down,” Buffy ordered.

Suddenly too tired to protest or even wonder how anything in the past few days was possible, Satsu slid onto her back and let her head rest on Buffy’s knee. With the cool compress on her forehead, Satsu allowed herself to feel safe from the slayer army and the dark force that would doubtlessly come for her once it realized she was still alive.

Tomorrow she would get answers and figure out what the box did and why a phantasm had suddenly appeared to help her. But now all she wanted was to sleep.

TBC