title: Stupid Prophecies: Hurry Up and Wait

author: lisa roquin

rating: 15?

fandom: BtVS/AtS/Firefly (post Serenity)

series/sequel:

characters/pairings: Xander, Wes/Fred (sorta), Dawn, Cordelia/Doyle, Mal/Inara, Kaylee/Simon, River, Jayne, Zoe.

disclaimer: all copyrighted characters and their "universes" belong to their respective authors, writers, creators, production companies, producers and long lists of people that are so very much not me. Quite simply, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. No profit made, no harm intended, just having fun.

summary: In 2006, Dawn finds a prophecy about seven resurrected souls assisting the Lost Slayer save many worlds at the "edge of space" and something about a River of Serenity.

author's note: written for tth5000 claim of Xander. Prompt #8, Prophecy involving a Dead person. tth5000 was called to a halt before I got this to the point I decided I wanted to post it.

wordcount: 6949

Prologue 2006

Willow's hands shook as she looked at the translation again. Bits and pieces jumping out.

Gentle Witch, struck down before her time

Scholarly Hunter, born to those who Watch,

Brought forth by the blood of the Sunrise Key

taken onward to where they must be.

World lost, worlds made,

Slayer's Rebirth

"Have you shown Buffy?" Willow whispered.

Dawn shook her head. "It's Wes and Tara. It's a prophecy about Wes and Tara and me."


Willow nodded again. "The rest of these pages..."

"Spelled. Not time for them to become clear. There's a time limit, it's not up yet."

"The next page....I think it's Xander, and well--Doyle Cordelia and Fred if the emails Cordy sent when she was alive are anything to go by. Well.."

"Xander's still alive." Willow whispered.

"Yeah, which means that we have time to prepare." Dawn swallowed.

"I --"

"You're the only witch strong enough. Will, it could be centuries before there's another like you."

Willow nodded.


"We're going to need every bit of our time, and Buffy can't find out. She'll stop us."

"How much longer?" Willow managed.

"Dawn of the year of the Rat," Dawn bit her lip.

Willow looked at Dawn, waiting for the elaboration.

"Chinese Astrology. Next Rat-Year is 2008. We've got two years."

Willow looked at the book again. "Tara..." she whispered her voice breaking as her finger traced over the symbol. "You'll--If--If I give you a letter?"

Dawn swallowed and nodded. "Of course, as long as we can make the gear go with me, absolutely."

"We've got two years." Willow said determinedly.

"So, no apocalypse when Xan--"

"No Apocalypse." Willow promised, resolve face on. "Stupid powers and their stupid prophecies anyway."

"We'll be okay. Tara's good with the Mojo. Fred was supposed to have been really smart. Wes is good with the books and the what is it and how to kill it identification game. Doyle had the demony thing going on and the visions, which huh maybe him and Cordy will take turns or something, and she had some demony there at the end. Xander's--Xander."

"This spell will--"

"Destroy the Key." Dawn swallowed. "But seven souls travel--seven--to live again where they need to be." Dawn ticked off on her fingers. "Wes, Tara, Xander, Cordy, Doyle, Fred...me."

"You." Willow nodded. "Key to mortal Sunrise."

 

 

 

~~Phone Calls, October 2007~~

"Dawn?" Willow picked up the phone absently as she scowled at the book Dawn had brought her, the book that had consumed her for nearly two years.

"Nope," the voice on the other end said with forced cheerfulness.

"Xander!" Willow smiled. "You're still alive!"

"Uh yeah, last I checked, Willow,"

Willow winced. She'd talked to Xander only a week before. "Is this the call I made you promise to make?"

"No, this is--G-man is stuck with bankers and lawyers?"

"Bethany's father is trying to have Giles arrested for kidnapping and murder but will take a grief settlement and drop charges."


~*~*~*~*~

Xander shook his head. He knew which one Bethany was. Mini-Kennedy, only more of the poor little rich girl and more of a vindictive bitch, even if she was from a slightly less mind-boggling wealthy family and only fifteen when she died. Bethany had fallen with Rona, Vi, Robin and Kennedy herself in Cleveland in May.

What was it about May and Apocalypses? Demons get Spring Fever or something?

Xander shook his head. Not sure if it was exhaustion or the poison that was making him weird. Halloween was less than two weeks away. Samhain. The Night of the Dead. Whatever you wanted to call October 31st it was coming and right now, that was apocalyptically bad. Even if Spring was Apocalypse season, that didn't mean that was the only time of year demons tried to end the world.

"I need a demon ID, Will. I need it now." Xander blurted. Every phone call to Willow the last year had been bizarre. Lots of I love yous and dredging up things from Kindergarten and crap. Promises to call.

"Demon ID?"

"Willow Rosenberg, put that goddamn prophecy down and listen to me!" Xander snapped. He had no idea where the book had come from but it had obsessed Will since just after the Christmas Ivana, from that little bitty town he'd never pronounce in a million years in Belarus, died. Almost two years now.

The prophecy or whatever it was had been the death knell for Willow and Kennedy's relationship. He worried about his Willow, but he believed Willow when she said that the prophecy was important. Beyond important. Not just one world but many hinged on it.

He described the creature, obsidian fish like scales that covered every bit of hide not covered in blue-black quills. Red eyes. Kind of an unoriginal color for demony eyes but the pupils were diamond shaped like a cats, widened and narrowed like a cats. Vampirey teeth and a taste for livers, preferably torn from a living food source--mostly it seemed to live on whatever it could get as far as still warm guts and organs, didn't turn it's nose up at hyena or lion or monkey, but thought fresh human innards was akin to a delicacy made by a five star chef.

Skinny. About seven foot tall and skinny, anorexic skinny and strong. And damn near invulnerable, there had to be someway to kill them but wood, steel, silver, and holy water had all failed.

"Uhm."

"Willow. I lost three girls this week. I've got two witch doctors screaming about the world being over ran with these guys if we don't stop them. Put the book down. Please."

"Oh, Xan, which three?"

"Temi, Kahliya, and..." Xander's voice cracked. "Beans"

"Oh, Xander," Willow's voice carried nothing but sympathy and pain. Hurting for him. She knew how much Beans had meant to him. One of the youngest Slayers they'd found, and one of those from the early days, from when they were still reeling from the Sinkhole that Sunnydale became. Beans name was honestly bigger than she was, at least when Xander had first stumbled across her. She'd been the seventh born and the first to survive past a month old, given a long superstitious jumble of names completely unpronounceable to Xander. She'd been dubbed Beans and Beans she'd stayed. "Give me an hour."

"I'll call back then. Please, Will,"

"Putting the book down. I'll find out what they are I promise."

Xander closed his eye. "Talk to you in an hour, Willow." he turned off his satellite phone and leaned back against the wall of the hut. Gods he hoped she actually did put the book down.

"Drink!" was barked at him by Beans grandmother as she thrust a tin cup at him.

Xander didn't ask what the scary old witch had brewed up for him to drink. That wasn't an insult, Grandma Beans had a name as unpronounceable as her granddaughter's had been and was one scary scary witch, a lot more of the toe of frog and eye of newt than hocus pocus, tending to stick to potions or spell work involving potions rather than Willow-style one word and boom, reality's changed.

Xander thought demon piss probably tasted better than what was in the cup Grandma Beans gave him to drink. He knew better to argue with her though, and no matter how foul her brews they didn't kill anyone she didn't intend to kill with them.

"No one live, ever." Grandma Beans narrowed her eyes at him.

Xander shrugged. "Long enough to stop them's all I want."

"Red Witch--"

Xander shook his head. "Cost of fucking with Mother Nature's too high. Not worth it for me."

The scratch on his cheek burned. Just a goddamn scratch from a twig that then got a fucking speck of broken quill from one of these demons in it. He had black streaks on his cheek, growing, raising up, burning like hellfire as whatever poison it was slowly killed him. Grandma Beans potions were keeping the fever at bay and as much lucidity as he could muster at the moment.

"You are worth,"


Xander snorted. "Ten years. Too damn long." He offered.

Grandma Beans nodded. "Love harder than you fight. Takes toll."

Xander snorted again.

An hour later Willow had the information. And the key to killing the damn things. They'd hurt them. But killing them seemed to take...grapefruit juice. Which Willow had somehow hijacked a priest to bless all in that hour. Fifty thousand gallons of blessed grapefruit juice.

He would have laughed if he could. If he started laughing he just might not stop until he bawled himself unconscious or went insane.

Blessed grapefruit juice. Demons would be so much easier if they had one-size-fits all type exterminations methods.


The black streaks were getting bigger, down his neck now and hurting worse by the second. Grandma Beans potions weren't going to keep him sane much longer anyway. The fever would fry his sanity before grief did. And he'd be dead in a day, two at the tops.

"Will, promise me. No Darth Willow. No Apocalypse. No...no urn of Osiris-y type stuff if this goes South. I--I can't do this, I need you to promise."

"I swear," Willow said shakily. "I won't end the world, and...only a prophecy that specifically names you will get me to resurrect you."

"Love you," Xander managed. Offering up a vague prayer to any non-hell-or-demon type god that might be listening to keep Willow on the straight and narrow. No Apocalypse Girl from Will. "Talk to you next week, Willow, if I can," He turned off the phone before she could make him promise. The lie was bad enough.

~*~*~

"Liar" Willow sobbed holding the phone after Xander's end of the connection went dead.

 

~~Resurrection, 2518~~

Dawn shook as she looked around.

Dirt, lots of dirt. some scrubby desert bushes.

"Xander!" she cried out crawling over to the one eyed carpenter. Tears started filling her eyes as she looked at the ropy blackened scars down his cheek and throat.

"Dawn?"

"Xander"

"She didn't. Oh God, Gods whatever...Dawnnie, she didn't. Tell me she didn't."

"Prophecy," Dawn whispered.

"Where is she?"

"Dead. Centuries." Dawn whispered. "Not sure how long."

"Why?"

"I--I was dead too. For a minute. A minute. I think."

"What?"

"I--she used the Key--"

"WHAT!"

The groan distracted them, thankfully.

"Wes. Tara." Dawn breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the two, awakening and moved over to them.

"Dawnnie?" Tara's eyes filled with tears as she reached out and touched Dawn's face. "Dawnnie, you're all grown up."

"Twenty-three now" Dawn whispered. "Or I was."

"Willow did this?" Tara asked tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Willow?" Wesley croaked.

"She had to." Dawn whispered. "She had to."

"Had to?"

"Apocalypse, prophecies" Dawn swallowed. "We're up for multiple world saving."

The whimper a little ways away caught Dawn's attention. Fred, the tiny brunette had to be Fred, curled up in a ball. "Not gonna be a cow again. Not gonna be a cow again."

"Dear God. Fred?" Wesley scrabbled weakly over to her.

Cordelia's groan came next. "Oh god, what happened."

"You were dead for a few hundred years," Dawn offered. A glance over at Xander showed he was sitting up and had moved to Tara. Who was touching the scar on his face.

"Aw, Jaysus, what th' hell happened?"

"Doyle!" Cordelia sat up too quickly, dizziness hit hard and she fell flat on her face on the Irish demon's chest.

"Princess....what did y' do with yer hair? It's new right?"

"Oh man do you have it bad," Xander snorted. Man gets resurrected and the first thing he did was comment on Cordelia's hair.


Tara's tenuous smile turned into slightly hysterical giggles.

Dawn merely laughed in relief as her eyes took in their surroundings. And their gear. Willow had done--Willow had done so much.

Clothes. The clothes they'd died in, buried in wouldn't be appropriate but then again judging by the clothes laid out on top of the seven leather sort of duffle bag style satchels they weren't *that* out of the mark. At least not Xander's and her own. Steel toed boots, guns, knives, axes. crossbows and bolts. Laptops? A second satchel/duffle type thing each.

"We need to change and move." Dawn swallowed.

Xander nodded. He didn't like the open in unknown territory. He'd learned that lesson well in some of the more demon infested, and war infested areas of Africa.

Fred cringed and murmured what was taken as agreement among something about head going smoosh like a tomato and cows and--tacos. Evidently she liked tacos and moving was good like tacos.

"She's worse than she was after Pylea," Cordelia murmured.

"God only knows what happened when Illyria booted her out of her body. Illyria kept a lot of the host, bits and pieces, enough she could impersonate Fred and remember a lot of Fred's life."

"Ya think she's only got what Illyria booted out?" Xander raised an eyebrow.

Wesley glared.

"That would suck." Cordelia frowned. "She was just a mess when we found her in Pylea."

"Where's Pylea?" Doyle frowned, "And blonde streaks, Princess? Just never imagined you as a blonde."

"You were dead four years longer than me. You really expect me to keep the same hair style for four years. As if. Now clothes changing. Dawn's right."

"Aye" Doyle nodded. "Got a case of the shivers m'self," he agreed looking around. Nothing but dirt and scrubby little bushes, "Are those--sagebrush?"

Everyone looked at him.

"What? It's like something from a cowboy movie, Arizona or Nevada or Utah or something. Don't they have sage brush?"

"Change your clothes, Doyle" Cordelia ordered.

"Wait a minute I was dead?" Doyle frowned. "Four years longer than you--"

"We found a prophecy in 2006. The spell was cast in 2008." Dawn said quietly. "I'm the one that found the prophecy. Andrew and Willow did the spell. It--It probably killed them both, drained them beyond what they could...just drained the life out of them. " Dawn shivered. "Maybe, maybe a few Slayers too."

"A few. There's only one, well two," Doyle frowned.

"The Spell to stop the first. There's only one again. Has been only one for ages. The one called when Faith died, and down that line. The activated Slayers...they fought til they died. None were called when they died because there weren't enough baby potentials born after the First. And the world could only handle one Slayer. So it fixed itself. But there was about twenty years or so, with first thousands, then hundreds then dozens of slayers. The demons adjusted to the Slayers and kept the foothold once there was only one Slayer again, at least that's what the prophecy seemed to indicate."

"So the world ended?"

"Reborn in many worlds...." Dawn shook her head. "Humans aren't gone. The Slayer Line directly from Buffy to Kendra to Faith to however long..."

"Why us?"

"The Blood of the Key of the Sunrise used to resurrect six and seven Souls go to live again to help the Lost Slayer. And basically save the universe is what it amounts to. "

"Why us?" Xander demanded.

"Gentle Witch Struck Down Before Her Time" Dawn pointed at Tara. "Scholarly Hunter Born to Those Who Watch" she pointed to Wes. "A Slave dispossessed by a God" Fred. "The Ascended Seer" Cordelia. "The Half-Breed Who Sacrificed Himself" Doyle. "The One Who Sees and is the Heart of the Slayers."

"Can I freak now because that was almost obvious. A prophecy that mostly makes sense is just...scary" Xander scowled.

"Quite" Wesley muttered.

 

"Boys look that way, Girls look that way, no peeking" Xander declared.

The clothes set out on top of the bags they decided was their best bet. Certainly better than funeral attire or what they'd died in.

Tara coaxed Fred into at least putting on the duster over her jeans and tank top. The dusters were hot in the desert like sun but sunburn would be worse.

Willow had set them all clothes much the same, and somewhere between Jesse James and Spike in style. Steel toe boots, dark brown pants, gun belt and knife belt. Belted on calf- sheathes to strap on the outside of the pants for knives. Tight pants but just enough stretch in them to kick, run, climb and in general fight like hell, or fight hell, which they seemed to do both more often than not the first time around. Why would this resurrection be any different? Especially with an apocalyptic prophecy about a lost Slayer and a dimensional key involved?

Cream colored shirts that looked more like cowboy western style button downs than anything else. The coats were dark reddish brown. Almost the color of old dried blood in Xander's opinion. Knee length but made for movement and fighting in mind. Sturdy but lightweight wool type material with some kind of weather proofing if it was a spell that made the slightly slickened feel of the outside of the coat or something more natural Xander didn't know and didn't care. He added the shoulder holster under the coat. He noted Wes and Doyle did the same.

He put the sword on last. It was designed to go across the back in it's sheath. All the belts and straps perfectly sized of high quality leather.

He did a quick inventory of his bag when the girls shouted they couldn't turn around yet. Off to his side Doyle and Wes did the same. Five changes of clothes. Clips and bullets, sharpening stones for the knives. Crossbow bolts, what was evidently money Xander stuffed a wad of that in a duster pocket, just in case. Wes had some books in his second bag. Xander had some carving knives, sandpaper and files. Well, that was nice, but not exactly practical. He shook his head. Willow was too soft hearted sometimes.

Tara was unarmed when they turned around. So was Fred.

Not that giving Fred any weapons just now when she was still mumbling about not being a cow again was probably the best of ideas.

"I wont' touch a gun." Tara said quietly and bit her lip. Her eyes on Xander.

"Why th' hell not!" Doyle shouted. It was madness to him to turn down a perfectly good weapon in a situation like this--resurrected, some unknown place in some distant future?--was madness.

Tara kept her eyes on Xander.


"We get trouble cast a shielding spell around you and Fred and sit on her if you have too." Xander said gently.

A glare from Cordelia kept Doyle from asking more. He wasn't quite that thick as to not catch on this was something that everyone who died after him at least vaguely understood except for the crazy going on about cows.

"So which way?" Wesley sighed.

"All the boots were pointed that way. Willow is literal like that." Xander shrugged and pointed. Dawn and Tara nodded after a moment's consideration.

"I suppose it's as good as any direction." Wesley agreed. "Ms. Rosenberg would pay close attention to detail and give us as much clue to our continued safety as she could regardless, but especially with you, Ms. McClay and Ms. Summers along."

"Oh Gods, Wesley, you sound as prissy as you did when you first got sent to Sunnyhell. Use our names." Dawn groaned. "We're stuck."

The group picked up their bags.

"These have magic on them, to keep them light." Tara said a couple miles later.

"UberWicca being a worry wart mama hen," Dawn grinned.

"We look like a reject army from the OK Corral all we need is cowboy hats" Cordelia snarked half heartedly.

"How much do you know about the prophecy Ms.--Dawn" Wesley asked.

Dawn shook her head. "I told you basically all I know. Willow did the translating and the work--the book the last couple years Xan. That's what the book was about, this."

"Kinda guessed that Dawnnie,"

"She didn't say anything about it though. She got all evasive and...kicked me out when I started asking too much." Dawn sighed. "Not that there was a lot to work with. The book was cursed not to have the ink show up on the pages until like the year 2525 or something."

"Great..."Xander groaned.

"Is that what I think it is or am I hallucinating?" Cordelia asked hours later.

"If you're hallucinating then so am I," Dawn muttered.

"It's a bloody space ship," Wesley gaped.

"Looks like the second time around is gonna be freakier than the first." Xander sighed.

River Tam sat, smiling as she listened to the sounds her brother was making Kaylee make. Mal, Jayne and Zoe had gone into the town of Desperation for supplies and hopefully a job. Inara had a wave a bit ago from a Companion friend of hers.

The border planet of Wisteria was mostly desert. It had two large cities on the northern hemisphere--Kabrish and Babylon and lots of...dirty dusty little towns scattered about near the few streams and ponds that led to underground aquifers. There were some exceedingly rich folk on Wisteria, those in Kabrish and Babylon that owned the mines and mining equipment. And there were a lot of small mining towns that were worse off than the mostly outlaw port of Desperation.

At least the Alliance had very little to do with Wisteria, it's cities, mines or it's less than law abiding population. The miners had enough money to stay just outside of Alliance influence. The mines and the running of them too costly, too far out in the border planets to bother with. As long as they reaped the benefits by decent rates on the ores and metals mined from the mines, the Alliance pretty much left Wisteria to do as it would so long as the rich in Kabrish and Babylon kept some semblance of rule.

"They walk again!" River cried out and dropped down from her perch in the cargo bay's rafters. Landing only inches from a wide eyed Kaylee and Simon.

"River!" Simon gasped out horrified.

River was gone, running out the open cargo bay door.

"Go se" Kaylee said weakly.

Simon scrabbled off of her and they both threw on their clothing and shoes.

~*~*~*~

"Welcome Committee?" Doyle frowned at the slim figure that came bounding from the ship toward them.

The girl moved with a speed and grace that was nearly inhuman.

"I do believe we've found an Heir of Faith," Wesley said quietly, reluctant to use the term Slayer or...well reference anything to their 'first lives'.

"What?" Doyle frowned

"Direct line, Buffy to Kendra and from Kendra to Faith," Xander offered.

"Buffy? Angel's Buffy?" Doyle was confused.

"Angel's Buffy. My sister." Dawn said,

"Oh so you're sayin she's a--"

"Duh!" Cordelia snapped.

The girl stopped in front of them eyes roaming over them. "I'm River. That's Serenity"

"We're here for you then, in a good way. To help." Dawn said quickly.

"Huh? Dawnmeister?"

"River of Serenity was part of what I did get in on translating before Willow went all secret agent Wicca."

"RIVER!!!"

Two more figures came running from the ship.

River dropped to a crouch and screamed. "They're coming they're coming they're coming."

The sound of whizzing machinery and gunfire reached the group before the other two figures from the ship.

"Tara, guard her and Fred." Xander ordered.

~*~*~*~

Simon gasped out a breath. "Go fire up Serenity!" He told Kaylee who spun and raced back toward the ship as she shouted, "DONT YOU DARE GET ATE!" over her shoulder.

"Gun or axe," was the offer made by the slim brown haired girl who looked little older than his sister.

"Gun," Simon said without hesitation. "We need to get to the Serenity. NOW"

"Tare?"

"FRED, SNAP OUT OF IT! YOU"RE NOT ONLY GONNA BE A COW YOU"RE GONNA BE SUPPER IF YOU DON"T MOVE YOUR BUTT TO THAT SHIP NOW!" Cordelia pointed toward the space ship and shouted at the hysterical Fred.

Fred's head snapped up. Wide-eyed terror oozing from every pore as she stared for a moment then bolted.

"Good Lord, Cordelia! Was that really necessary?" Wesley glared.

"M'Princess got her goin for the ship now didn't she?"

"Fight each other later. Bigger problems now. Can you get her going?"

"River, c'mon, River, we've got to get back to Serenity." Simon grabbed his sister's arm. "C'mon, mei mei,"

River sobbed and stumbled.

"Tara, go after Fred. Now. Dawn cover her. MOVE!" Xander barked the order. Tara ran. Dawn on her heels looking over her shoulder as much as in front of herself.

"We didn't come all this way to help you, didn't come all this way period to be some freaky monster's breakfast sweetheart so let's haul ass, okay?" Xander said to the sobbing River. "You're tougher than this, sweetie, now..."


"Haul ass," River hiccupped and began running for the ship.

Cordelia grabbed the shocked Simon's arm and drug him along with her.

Doyle looked torn for a moment.

"Go with them. Wes, you too."

"Y' ain't stayin here."

"Don't intend to just going to make sure everyone gets back and I'm easier replaced than you two."


Xander followed walking backward as he watched the three flying car things approach. The first was yellow. Two men shooting, one woman flying it. The other two were loaded with...who cared. Bullets seemed to work judging by the two men shooting--that's all Xander really needed to know. The presence to his blindside caught his attention. Wesley. And beyond Wesley a furious Cordelia and a slightly green Doyle.

"Y' know running sounds really good..." Doyle frowned.

"Yep." Xander agreed.

"The--engine, thruster sort of thing. Our left. Left ship. Left thruster. Xander and I aim for it. Doyle Cordelia, right ship, right thruster."

"With luck they blow each other up."

"Crossbow bolts. Spelled" Wesley snapped And cast a simple exploding spell on four bolts. "We'll have one shot.

~*~*~*~


"CAP'N!" Zoe shouted at the crazies on the ground. Easy pickings for the Reavers. Four of them. Three men and a woman. Moving with --

Jayne gaped.

Mal saw the short arrow go past, then a second the Reaver engines exploded, timed...the Reaver's ships crashed into each other in a fiery explosion that left the mule and it's three passengers singed.

Mal frowned.

"Cap'n do we go check?"

"Yeah," Mal nodded. "They gave cover to Simon and River. Least,"

"They were all dressed alike, same coats." Zoe nodded.

~*~*~

Singed and unconscious from the explosion but alive. Jayne and Mal managed to get the four on the ship, Jayne leering a bit at the woman. "She's right pretty."

"She's carrying four knives, two guns and an axe. And a crossbow." Mal pointed out. "And that's just what we can see.

Jayne's leering grin widened a bit.

Mal shook his head.

"Cap'n, ever see scars like that?" Zoe looked toward the man with the eye patch and the corded black scars down his cheek, made by claws or whip then left untreated possibly the way they were so thick and raised but they were black as space.

"I surely haven't," Mal frowned. Noticing the oldest man's scarred throat.

"Bugger," the man rasped out as he opened his eyes and then sat. "At least it worked." he looked at the flaming wreckage. Then at the three loaded into the mules backseat half piled on top of each other and him. "Oh please kill me now. Cordelia's hair got singed." he groaned his tone nothing short of pure sarcasm.

"Up yours, Wesley," the woman moaned out opening her eyes. Then narrowed them at Jayne. "If you're done drooling I'll have you know I'll use my axe to carve off dangly bits you might be rather attached to if you don't keep your hands to yourself."

"Huh?"

"I do believe the translation is to the effect of--touch her and be castrated. Bloody Californian is a language all its own. You could let Doyle at least pretend to have some retention of his manhood in your presence and threaten it on your behalf, Cordelia."

"Ah no, M'Princess is much scarier than I am, man. Yer alright there, darlin'?"

"My hair got singed."

"Xander?" the woman frowned..."Concussion. He's got one big time goose egg already." she said as she ran her hands through the still unconscious man's dark hair.

"We'll have the doc take a look at him. If ya don't mind my askin' you know how he got those scars?"

The woman shrugged. "No clue. But they probably fall under don't ask. Cause ya know--ow. And they're just plain fugly."

"I'm Mal Reynalds. Captain of the Serenity. This is my first officer Zoe and this is Jayne."

"Jayne?" the woman raised an eyebrow.

"M' sympathies, man. M' mother was out of her mind on pain killers and stuck me with Francis as m' middle name. Francis really? I'm Doyle. M' Princess is Cordelia."

"That's Wesley and That's Xander." Cordelia continued. "Hey, stop, we need our stuff. Wes and Jayne can carry it to your ship?"

Mal nodded as Zoe slowed the mule to drop off Jayne and Wesley. They were too heavy and too slow at the moment.

Jayne grumbled under his breath but followed.

Mal stared at the group in the cargo hold. The tall slender brown haired girl with a crossbow trained on them. The woman with dirty blonde hair trying to calm a hysterical brunette, a dangerously hysterical brunette shouting that anyone who was gonna try to turn her into a cow again was a-gonna get sliced and diced.

The dark haired man on the mule groaned and came to slowly at first. Mal studied him, curious, and a bit worried what a man with scars like those would be like. If he'd be a danger to his crew.

"NO! Dawnnie RUN!" he bellowed and less than steadily got to his feet and launched himself at Mal.

Some how everyone was there. Hands fists, feet, a close call with a knife that grazed along his side but thankfully didn't go deep. Mal couldn't quite say what the gui had happened when the dark haired man was pulled off him a few moments later.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee was at his side frowning at the blood.

"Just a scratch Kaylee, I'll be fine." Mal said pushing her hand away as he sat up.

A dark eye was trained on him. "You're not. Gods. OH Gods. Sorry." The dark haired man whispered brokenly at Mal.

"What was that? And you better be done being all Psycho Boy! Fred back in tree bark taco craving mood is bad enough!" Cordelia glared.

"You going to be attacking anyone else?" Mal demanded.

Zoe had her gun trained on him, though a clear shot was unlikely the way the two young women were holding him down, holding on to him.

"No. I'm sorry." the young man said. "Just. Disoriented. And..." with a grimace he pulled off the patch over his eye, revealing the scarred socket. "Guy who did this, could be your twin. You look--I thought you were Caleb."

"I see," Mal nodded and pushed away Kaylee's hand again as he got completely to his feet. The young man, Xander did the same, though Cordelia was not at all reluctant to call him an idiot as he did so. "You got some mighty interesting scars."

"We all do, I'm just worse at ducking."

Mal stifled a snort of amusement. "Are those interesting scars trouble for my crew."

"They walk for me!" River said.

Mal tensed. "You mean harm to my crew?"


"Uh hello, singed hair here. We coulda let those things have you for lunch and did what we wanted. You three are the fighters obviously. If you were lunch for those things, we'd have easy pickings with this bunch." Cordelia rolled here eyes.

That was uncomfortably true. At least until River decided to do something about it, Kaylee, Simon and Inara would fight but none of them were fighters. Where was Inara anyway?

"We don't mean any harm to you and yours." Xander said

"So you're not here for River." Mal glared.

"We are, but not to hurt her or take her away." was the surprisingly honest answer.

"You gonna explain that?"

"There was another girl like her once. We lost her. We found out about River, we wanna help what we can, and to keep her safe if we can."

"My sister, Buffy," Dawn said shakily. "Buffy was like River. A little less with the psychic and crazy but she was like River."

"Where's your sister now?" Mal's gaze slid off Xander long enough to study Dawn for a second.

"Dead" Dawn said flatly. "Long time."

"You lead this bunch?" Mal demanded. The smallest of the three men, wasn't a leader, didn't want to be a fighter. Mal had already gathered up that much. He'd fight, follow his "warrior woman" like Wash had followed Zoe and fought when he had to but...no he wasn't a leader. The leader was the woman, the oldest man or the one eyed scarred crazy who attacked him.

The woman was the one that answered. "Xander's good at planning. Depends on what we have to be doing. We don't have a leader, we just have, experience."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "Well for the sake of argument."

"We follow Xander," the quiet, soft looking blonde spoke up with the now shivering but quiet brunette woman cradled in her lap.

"Yeah, Xander," the girl smiled.

"Xander," the armed woman sighed. "Him or Wes and...Xander's more stable at the moment I think,"

"If you say so, Princess," Doyle agreed.

Mal turned his attention back on the man, Xander, "Seems to me you're the leader."

Xander looked less than pleased about that. "Lucky me. Just what I need more blood on my soul."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kaylee blurted.

"There's an old curse where we come from. May you live in interesting times. We've lived in some really interesting times. And when you're the leader, you got the blood of the ones who die following you, the blood of the innocents caught in the crossfire, the blood of the ones you failed to save, on your hands, on your soul. Doesn't wash away, doesn't fade, and there just gets to be more and more, til it drowns your soul and you're just too fuckin' tired to fight any more."

Kaylee looked at him confused as hell. Simon frowned slightly even as he tried to soothe River. Zoe stiffened near Mal. She understood that. So did Mal. Even if he wasn't technically in charge, this man was a leader. A soldier who'd commanded and lost men. A man who'd fought his own version of Serenity Valley maybe more than once. A man who'd make one hell of an ally or one nightmare of an enemy.

"Wes, we voted Xan leader." Cordelia said as Jayne walked up the ramp with the other man.

Mal watched the silent stare down between the two men.

"I cannot believe you're the boy I met in Sunnydale."

"Been a lot of years and a lot of funerals since then Wes."

"True. Do try not to get us killed, and I will kill you if I have to if you lead us into something that we'll die for no reason." the older man said.

"I so don't want to be head honcho,"

"Well, neither do I. I'm bloody tired. And as much as it pains me to say it, you truly are a credit to Rupert. You have never lost sight of the heart of things, I have. More than once and stubbornly stayed my course once the blinders were removed."

"Wes' is right. Giles would be proud of you," Cordelia smiled.

"He was." Dawn swallowed. "Said so at--" she broke off.

"So who are Rupert and Giles?" Mal demanded.

"Rupert Giles was the guy that--he helped Buffy. Taught us how to do the same, and how to fight."

"Buffy," Jayne made a face. "What kinda name is that?"

"My sister's name and I'll kill you if you say another word." Dawn snarled. "She paid in more blood and pain just to be able to live than you can imagine. Don't you dare even think of..."

"Dawnmeister."

"It's fresh. Really really fresh. A week before--" Dawn whispered.

"Yeah." Xander swallowed.

Mal looked at the group, all dressed so similarly and armed so heavily. Damned if he didn't kind of like them.

~*~*~*~

Xander was shocked by the big lug breaking into something not English. Guy just didn't seem bright at first glance enough to be bi-lingual.

"Golden, laughter and pretty dresses until the voices and monsters came and it was time to kill" the little Slayer who seemed to be making Dru look like the picture of mental health said in an eager voice.

"Yeah. Yeah that was Buffy," Dawn smiled.

"Huh?"

"Buffy was--like her. Like River." Xander said. "Special. And if you want to have a chance in staying alive, in keeping the innocents alive, you protect the girl. Protect the girl, love the girl, keep her safe and don't let the wrong ones take her and use her as a weapon. Cause then, kiss your ass good bye, we're all fucked. But most of all, you can't forget, she's just a girl. Just a little girl and as damn scared or more so than the rest of us."

The guy holding River looked at Xander. "I've tried treatments, drugs,"


"I can cauterize a wound and put in stitches, and I can deliver a mercy bullet. That's the extent of my medical skills. Meds don't work, don't last as long as they should or do funky things--bad reactions make things worse rather than better? She's--she's just a little girl, but what's changed her is gonna make your drugs about next to worthless. You might get lucky for a while but her tolerance will be built up to near lethal too quick. I Don't know... she might be too broken to completely piece back together but she won't be pieced together with drugs. She's---she's beyond that, physically, her body and brain chemistry shifted, changed enhanced just enough that it's not gonna fly."

"I have to try--"

"You might end up doing more harm than good."

"I'm a doctor."

"Doesn't count for shit. You love her?"

"She's my sister--"

"That's what counts. When one like her gets broken this badly, that's the only chance they have is being loved. Their bodies can't, won't accept the drugs."

"I'd say you folks have certainly seen some Really Interestin' times," the leader of the ships crew said.

"Can we sign on, book passage, something?" Xander asked.


"River?" the captain looked over at the broken Slayer.

"They walk for me."

"Uh,"

"Knight and Key. Watcher and Witch. Seer, Warrior, and Scientist. They Walk for me. We need them."

"Well at least you didn't end that in so it was written so it shall be" Xander snorted. "And forget Keys, we ain't dealing with Keys. Just you."

River giggled.

"You gonna bring trouble?"

"None following that we know of, not looking for any but--if all hell breaks loose out of the blue, we're usually at ground zero."

"Any particularly useful skills?"

"Tara's good with herbs and teas and things. She's got a steady hand and gentle, she'd be able to help out the doc. Fred when she's not crazy is a physicist. Wesley's good with research and books and history and shit. I doubt you have much need of a carpenter, which I am when I get the chance to be. But mostly, we're just good for fighting."

~*~*~

Mal sighed. "Really interesting times,"

"Yeah, and, she's--well she's special. That mean's interesting is about guaranteed in her general vicinity."

Mal snorted. "We've got a job. Headed for Persephone. You can ride along that far at least."

 
~*~*~*~



Xander looked around the room. It wasn't terribly small as rooms went, about ten by twelve. It was just crammed with three narrow cots and three adults.

Cordelia and Doyle had the room to their right. Tara and Fred across the narrow corridor, Jayne's room next to theirs. Further down, in the next cluster of crew rooms, were the Captain's, Zoe's, Simon and Kaylee's, and River's rooms. Inara lived on her shuttle in the cargo hold and had been particularly skittish about them. Maybe she figured that he or Wes would try to hire her for a couple hours.

Dawn had rolled her eyes but hadn't protested about getting stuck in the cot bolted down in the center of the room. She was nervous too and they weren't leaving anyone alone.

Fred did better with fewer people and Tara's naturally calming gentle presence was the only one she seemed to tolerate well. Course when Fred told Dawn she wasn't real, shouldn't be, green light shouldn't be...Dawn hadn't really wanted to stay in the same room with Fred and Tara.

The book with the prophecy had been in Dawn's bag, but it was still mostly blank.

Prophecies, portals, time spells, resurrections, slayers, psychotic space cannibals nothing was too far from the realm of normal. Well, yeah, the psychotic space cannibals, and the part where he was one of the people resurrected and a big player in a prophecy supposedly....

According to the best they could sort out so far, which was not much more than Wes confirming Willow's original translations and guesses. They were still eight damn years away from the apocalypse they were supposed to be here for. Seven years.

Not that prep time for an apocalypse was a bad thing, but it would help if the book would reveal what they needed to know before the apocalypse was immediately pending, and it didn't show any sign of doing that.

So hurry up and wait. Get resurrected to -- psychotic cannibals accidentally made by an intergalactic government and cruise around on a freaking space ship with people who randomly spurted off in Chinese, especially when they were pissed off.

No matter which way you looked at it, prophecies sucked.