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Slayer, Killer

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  • Slayer, Killer

    An inexplicable attempt to cross Buffy and Battlestar Galactica... injecting the Slayer mythology into the Greek-based Kobol myths...

    Slayer, Killer

    The civilian passengers filed into the hold of the Galactica, nervously looking around the grim surroundings as they prepared to go through the dangerous radiation cluster. Questions rang through their uninformed minds. Would they be safe on Galactica? And more importantly, when would there be food? The military officer Dualla shouted the situation too, and with sinking stomachs they were informed that there would be no food, at least not until it was processed. Many of the civilians quite seriously thought they were going to waste away on the deck right then and there.

    One girl, a brunette beauty of her early 20's, looked around, clearly holding on better without food then the others. She'd been cooped up on her civilian ship, and although had not any sort of useful training, would have liked to be military just to be a part of the action. Anything was better then sitting around and waiting to die, and she had just as many bones to pick with the Cylons as everybody else did.

    Quickly realising that there was nothing, and nobody, of real interest in the hold, the young woman snuck her way out of the hold into one of the hallways of the ship. Admitting to herself that she hadn't a clue where she was or where to go, she went through the door marked ?Hangar Deck'. Deckhands were bustling around, busily repairing damaged Vipers and Raptors, and the brunette could go as she pleased without much fear of being noticed. She took the chance to explore, and, for one of the first times in her life, wondered if she could help out.

    "Frak!" a big man cried, unable to lift a huge part of what the brunette assumed belonged on a Viper. The man turned to the pretty young woman next to him, "Cally, could you give me a hand here?" The young woman snorted and patted him on the back. "Chief, you're going to need a couple of the men for that."

    The Chief looked at her in amused exasperation and laughed. "What?" Cally asked.
    "You called me ?Chief'. You know we're married, right?"
    Cally laughed in spite of herself, drawn away from the seriousness of the tasks around her. "Yes husband Chief, sir." She grinned impudently at him, before returning to his own work.

    The brunette woman smiled and went over to the big man who was called the Chief, who was shaking his head with amusement.
    "Hey," the brunette said, drawing attention.
    The Chief turned to her, looking slightly angry. "Shouldn't you be in the hold?"
    "Ah, well, I came in here to see if I could help?" The Chief raised an eyebrow. The brunette quickly went on, trying to salvage the situation. "Want a hand?" The Chief snorted. "We can try."

    The brunette quickly went over to the ship part and braced herself on the other side of the heavy object.
    "Alright," said the Chief, "one? two? three? lift." With a strained effort, the machine part came up in their hands, and with wide eyes the Chief navigated them across to the Viper. They deposited the part and the Chief stared at the brunette girl. She smiled at him and held out an impish hand.
    "The name's Faith."


    Faith tried not to look too nervous or disrespectful as she sat in Admiral Adama's quarters, looking across at the forms of the Admiral himself, as well as Colonel Saul Tigh and Major Lee Adama.

    "I've heard a lot about you over the wireless, Admiral, and you're a tough old bugger, I'll give you that," Faith admired, "you just won't quit and you won't lose. I like that."

    "I appreciate the candor," the old Admiral smiled, staring down at her, "but I think we'd better talk about you. If we don't address the issues, people might wonder what the hell I'm doing with my command."

    "Why don't you start by telling us why the Chief thinks you're some kind of superwoman?" his son, the Major, put in, straight to the chase.

    "Yeah, I help him out and all he can do is report me?" Faith sighed cheekily, "well. Alright. I'm what's called the Slayer. We got super strength, meant to save the innocent from? falling objects, and Cylons, I guess. We got this predestined thing going on." Colonel Tigh growled with a roll of his eyes. "More of the President's hoodoo scripture crap!" The Admiral turned to Tigh, something in his eyes telling the other man to stand down. "We'll hear this one out, Saul," he said.

    "When the Cylons attacked, all I could do was get on a ship and be a civilian. No chance to fight the Cylons, which I always assumed was this destiny thing."

    Major Lee Adama coughed. "Well we're, ah, doing fine without you."

    "Just here to give that extra push, baby," Faith grinned.

    Colonel Saul Tigh growled as he looked Faith up and down. "Keep her away from Starbuck, will you Bill?" Lee snorted.

    William Adama's face was unreadable as he addressed the Slayer. "You'll have to go back to your bed in the hold, for now. I'll need to confer with the President."


    "I don't know about this one, Laura," Admiral Adama told her, "she seems like a good kid."

    "Yes, I'm sure you're very fatherly," the President replied neutrally, "but I've been looking through Pythia and I haven't been able to find specific mention of something like this. Rough things, but? they could apply to a lot. Pythia didn't know, Bill."

    "There always comes a time when we have to stop relying on prophecy and use our heads and common sense."

    There was an amused twinkle in Laura Roslin's reply as she answered him. "We don't have to start thinking yet. Look at what I found in the texts of Eris."

    "These have proven fairly helpful. Not exactly Pythia, but they describe certain people."

    Bill sighed as he sat back. "Lay it on me."

    "Listen to this? ?they may call themselves Slayer, the slave of men, but are gifted with strength, speed, stamina and life over men. When a Slayer dies, they are resurrected into? a new body?" She trailed off as she stared gravely up at Admiral Adama.

    "She's a Cylon!" he snarled in shock, getting up and moving towards the phone as he spoke.


    The nuclear wasteland around Buffy haunted her continually. She was certain that without the increased stamina that her Slayer power gave her, she would have succumbed to a vile radiation poisoning, just as she had witnessed Xander do. The memory of his slow death, as well as her sister Dawn's obliteration in the explosions and Willow's anonymous murder, nearly drove Buffy insane through the isolation of her journeying.

    She picked at scrap food and lived on very little at all, becoming thinner and thinner, but no less bitter, determined and strong. For all she knew, her home planet of Virgon was entirely free of the Cylon race, but that would never stop her looking for them.

    With no friends, no family, no world, Buffy would make sure that she remained, and even if she died in the process, the Cylons would be driven sniveling back to where they had come from. Buffy had always been about reacting, and stopping imminent destruction just in time ? she had seen to that against terrorists, rebels and even less believable threats that only Gemenon mystics could explain ? but this time there could be no reaction. She had let the world be destroyed.

    "But I'm here," Buffy grated, refusing to let go of her mind yet.

    "A very existential statement," a soft female voice behind her chimed. Buffy's eyes widened in shock and distant hope, and she spun around to find a very tall, attractive blonde woman, somewhat older then Buffy. The woman smiled. "Forgive me. I'm D'Anna Biers."

    "The reporter?" Buffy asked.

    "The very same," the woman smiled.

    "How are you still alive? It's been?"

    "About two years, hasn't it?"

    "Two years?" Buffy whispered, allowing that to sink in. It had felt like millennia, yet at the same time, the sameness of her life meant that it felt like an hour ago she was escaping the blast or watching Xander's decline.

    "Buffy? I'm here to help you." D'Anna smiled. Buffy looked at her, confused, and took a step back.

    "How do you know my name?"

    "The Cylons abandoned Caprica and the other colonies over a year ago, Buffy. I came back to pick you up."

    "What?" Buffy gasped, terrified and angry at the same time. "Y-you're a Cylon?"

    D'Anna took an imposing step towards Buffy. "Have you ever wondered about yourself? A Slayer? So strong? Unaffected by radiation?"

    "I am not a Cylon," Buffy grated.

    "Aren't you?" D'Anna smirked. "You would be a hero of the Cylon! You killed that little weapons designer Willow Rosenberg for us? she could have been troublesome."

    Buffy took a swing at D'Anna, clocking her powerfully in the face. D'Anna's hand went immediately to her cheek, and she looked at Buffy and grinned.
    "Strong girl."

    D'Anna struck back, a kick that sent Buffy backwards and stumbling to the ground. Buffy snarled, scissor-kicking D'Anna's legs from underneath her, and struck at D'Anna while they were on the ground. With a grunt, D'Anna smacked Buffy a powerful blow across the face and kicked her in the stomach, winding her, as D'Anna scrambled to her feet. She kicked Buffy again, who gasped, and D'Anna began to move away, stumbling slightly before she began to run out into the swirling sand.

    "Frak you!" Buffy screamed after her, getting off the ground and stumbling after her, even though she knew she had no chance of finding the Cylon or catching up with her.


    "I'm not a Cylon!" Faith screamed, clawing at the glass of the cell they had put her in. "I hate the Cylons! I'm not a frakking Cylon!" She stopped as she felt tears filling her eyes and touching her cheeks. She never cried. She didn't cry?

    "This is the cell that Sharon had to live in, for a while," the Chief commented, as he entered the room and stood before Faith.

    "Who's Sharon?" Faith asked bitterly.

    "No one. It doesn't matter."

    "Then why mention her?" Faith exploded.

    "I was talking to myself?"

    "Yeah," Faith sneered, "yeah. You know why you were talking to yourself? Because you think I'm a thing! You don't think I'm worth frakking talking to, you don't think I'm worth letting live, you think I'm a Cylon!"

    "I am talking to you," the Chief said unassumingly.

    Faith let out a vocalisation of her disdain.

    "It's your frakking fault I'm in here!" she screamed, "it's you!" With a cry of rage, she threw herself against the glass wall, making a slight crack.

    "I'm? I'm sorry," the Chief murmured, "I didn't know. I was confused. That's the point."

    "The point is that I'm about to die for being something that I'm not," Faith hissed.

    The Chief lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. The door behind him opened, and Admiral Adama, President Roslin and four armed marines entered the room. Faith's eyes widened and she backed away from them, seeking shelter in her cage.

    "Chief," Adama said, somewhat crustily, "I'd prefer this to be a private matter."

    "Yes, sir," the Chief replied, lowering his head and exiting the room. Faith desperately tried to meet his eye, but he was gone without looking at her.

    "Get her out of that cell," the President ordered the two marines. Faith's eyes lit up with a desperate hope, which were crushed with Laura Roslin's next words. "We'll take her to the hangar bay doors."

    The door opened and Faith immediately burst through, trying to fight past the two marines who tried to grab her. The other two, however, cocked their rifles at her, and one of the marines hit her with the butt of his gun, winding her. Two of them grabbed hold of her, an arm each, while the other two kept their weapons trained on her as they walked.

    "Why do you fight?" the President asked, sadly amused, "you'll only resurrect and be safe on one of your baseships."

    "I'm not a Cylon, you frakking bitch!" Faith screamed, struggling in the marine's firm grip.

    The President merely let out a short laugh, refusing to hear Faith's cries.
    "Let's go," ordered Adama.

    As they reached the hangar bay, the marines hit her once again with the butt of their guns and threw her through the door into the bay. Filing into the adjoining room, Adama stared at Faith once more, his hand over the button that would open the airlock and send her into space.

    "Do it," Laura Roslin croaked, trying to remain firm.

    Faith wide, tear-filled stare was quickly removed from Adama's view.


    D'Anna Biers, Number Three, walked up to the Cylon heavy raider with a chagrined look on her face. As she entered the raider and sat down, she turned to her companion, a carbon copy of Buffy Summers.

    "Go convince her," D'Anna spat.


    Faith awoke with a gasp, the goo of resurrection cloying around her skin. Looking around with shock, not recognising faces of Three, Five, Six and Eight, she slowly realised where she had to be.

    "Stay calm," Six murmured.

    "Work through the fear?" Three smiled down at her.

    Her eyes getting ever wider, Faith let out a cry of horror and grabbed Three by the head, slamming her head down and trying to drown her in the cloying liquid of resurrection. Acting quickly, Five, Six and Eight grabbed Faith and restrained her, not letting her go. Three gasped for air as she came up, before smiling vindictively once more at Faith.

    "Now, now, sister?" she smirked, "you don't want to be boxed."


    Buffy stumbled through the dust that the wind consistently kicked up. Squinting her eyes, she realised that a figure was approaching her. Readying for a fight, she called out to D'Anna Biers.

    "Report on my fists, bitch," she called aggressively, inwardly proud that her quipping skills had survived nuclear holocaust.

    "That was weak," her own voice called back to her, and, her world spinning around her, Buffy registered the face of herself walking towards her.

    "I've snapped? I'm?" Buffy gasped, immediately jumping to the preferable option.

    "No, sister?" the identical Buffy replied, "one would hope our programming wouldn't allow insanity."

    Buffy let out a scream of despair before leaping at her twin Cylon and pummeling her, laying into her face with strong fists.

    "You? do? not? look? like? me!" Buffy screamed, bashing the Buffy copy beyond resemblance. The other Cylon, refusing to fight back, died on the ground, bruised and hemorrhaging, with a slight hint of a satisfied smile playing around her lips.

    Buffy got up and began to run, running towards where the Cylon had come, until with a gasp she saw the heavy raider. D'Anna Biers, hearing the sound, came to the entrance and smiled at her.

    "You're a Cylon. Get used to it."

    "Get used to it?" Buffy laughed, "get used to it, huh? I may be a Cylon, but you have no idea what goes on in this mind. Get ready for it, bitch. I intend to see your whole race go down in flames."

    "It's your race too," D'Anna urged.

    "No," Buffy grated, "it never was, and it's never going to be."

    D'Anna let out a small laugh, before speaking with malevolent passion.

    "What's going to happen, Buffy? You'll go find the fleet ? oh yes, there's a small human fleet running away ? and join them? Someone's going to kill you, Cylon or human. You know it. And then where'll you be? Dead, and with the Cylons."

    Buffy stood before D'Anna, refusing to be fazed. With a flash, Buffy swung the solid debris that her hands gripped behind her back. D'Anna, with a grunt, fell backwards to the ground as the club made grating contact against her head.

    Buffy stared contemptuously down at her. "You think I'm going to let myself be beaten by the Cylons?"

    She dropped her makeshift club and kicked D'Anna out of the way, entering the heavy raider.

    "I may be Cylon, but I'll make sure you regret making me the Slayer."