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No title yet Chapter 1 From the danger room control console, high over their heads, Charles Xavier spoke into the microphone. “Are you sure you want the safety off?” Logan nodded, meeting the eyes of Scott, Orroro, Remy, and Kurt, gaining their consent. “If it doesn’t feel real, it ain’t worth doing.” Charles flipped a switch and an automated voice announced, “Safety off. Program: City Fire Beta-7A. All systems ready.” Then, with a loud hiss, the room transformed into a dark urban backstreet. The sky was overcast and wind blew cold against their faces. Silver streetlamps soared up to the third story of the dilapidated buildings, spilling orange light over the X-Men gathered in a loose circle. Thin clumps of trash collected along the curbs and lodged in cracks in the pavement. Scott tilted his head to the left. “Let’s go.” Fully alert, the X-Men moved slowly toward the closest cross street. “Listen,” Logan hissed, as he turned down a long alley. Ororro looked up and launched herself skyward, calling down to the others, “There! At the docks.” Following her direction and Logan’s lead through the maze of back streets, they raced toward the scene of a large warehouse fire and skidded to a halt. Sabertooth and Mystique were carrying wooden crates with US Army logos. Magneto, standing on the end of a long pier near the deck of a large speed boat, used his abilities to lift the crates from his compatriots’ hands and was steadily moving them toward the boat. “Weapons or Munitions?” Ororro shouted to Scott and he nodded in agreement. Shouts from inside the warehouse indicated that there were people, non-mutants no doubt, trapped by the blaze. Suddenly a window on the second story burst outwards, showering the cement with glass, soot, and bits of metal. The heat from inside and thick black smoke rushed out and enveloped Logan, Kurt, Remy and Scott, stinging their skin and obscuring their vision. If it felt this bad to the strong threesome, whoever was still in there wasn’t doing so well. Kurt leapt up and teleported just inside the broken window. Swiftly assessing the situation, he started helping people out of the building. Orroro considered bringing rain to contain the fire, but more likely than not it was an oil or chemical fire. Instead, she flew through the middle of five broken windows, and alongside Kurt, worked to rescue those trapped inside. Relieved of their burdens, Mystique and Sabertooth engaged Remy and Logan. As his friend tussled with Sabertooth, Remy sailed two energy-laden cards in rapid succession at Mystique, who evaded both. Swerving to follow her, Remy reached into his pocket and sent two more at her. Behind them, Scott shot an energy blast at Magneto, who avoided it by quickly levitating himself onto the boat. However, he lost control of the crates, and they crashed into the murky water. Before Scott could aim and attempt another shot, Magneto used the silver in Scott’s X-shaped belt buckle to lift him from the ground and drop him on top of the warehouse’s roof. Leaving one of the last remaining men from the inside the warehouse on the ground, Storm raced to the roof and rescued Scott. Swiftly, Magneto cast off and Mystique ran forward to join him on the boat’s deck. The X-Men gasped simultaneously, as the air was sucked out of their lungs. Before Magneto could call out to Sabertooth, a swirling, 10 foot tall circle of green light expanded vertically in front of the warehouse. The simulations of Magneto, Mystique, and Sabertooth didn’t seem to notice. From the control booth, Charles stared at the scene below. Leaning forward, he pressed a few buttons, trying to discover what had caused the danger room’s malfunction. Using his distraction to sucker punch Logan, Sabertooth sent his opponent sailing back through the air several feet, and crashing into a brick wall. Getting back up, as his friends moved forward to examine the light, Logan angrily rushed Sabertooth, claws extended. From overhead, Charles shouted, “End program!” just as Logan reached Sabertooth. The dock, the warehouse, everything but the green circle disappeared. Suddenly, a young teenage girl tumbled through the light and fell forward, skewering herself on Logan’s 3 adamantium blades. Her cry echoed against the shiny metallic walls of the danger room. Logan was shell-shocked. His heart skipped a beat, and immediately his bloodlust drained away, causing his formidable claws to retract automatically. The girl stumbled forward and he caught her just as another young woman passed through the light. Buffy stuttered to a halt as a sickening realization hit her—Dawn had been injured. She was hurt. Her sister was bleeding from three knife wounds in her lower back, and the apparent perpetrator was holding her up, a look of shock and horror on his face. Buffy shoved at the man’s shoulder, wedging between Dawn and her attacker. “Get back. Get the hell away from her.” Stunned, Logan stepped back, allowing Scott and Orroro to move in to help the girl. She was just a kid! A real kid. How the fuck had she gotten in here? Was she a student? He didn’t recognize her. And who was the blonde? Awkwardly, Buffy slid Dawn to the floor and tore open her baby sister’s shirt, trying to staunch the blood pooling on her stomach with her hands. She looked into Dawn’s eyes and comprehended nothing but the fact that she was about to lose her. “Dawn! Stay awake!” “Can’t…” “Dawn!” she cried again, this time shaking her. “Honey, I don’t know the spell. You have to say it for me. Tell me the words... Dawn!” Dawn blinked and looked into Buffy’s eyes, as if she just realized what was happening. “Oh… Yeah…” she began dazedly. Wincing, she tried to focus. “Blood. There has to be blood. Yours. On the wounds.” Charles rushed through the control room door toward the elevator. He had to get down there, to help the girl, to help his team. The teenager could die at any minute. Down below, the others stared in abject dismay, their minds swimming with questions. Everyone knew that the safety was off, but this was obviously not part of the simulation. Were the young women teleporters? And if so, what was the green light? Why had it doused the minute the second woman passed through it? And how had they gotten into the underground levels? Reaching back, Buffy retrieved a stake from inside her jeans, and stabbed it into her hand. Quickly, she wiped her bleeding palm over Dawn’s wounds. Dawn began to chant. Buffy repeated the words, calling them out to the tense air around her, gripping her sister’s hands with hers. “Isis! Hera! Izanami! Frigg! Holy mother of the spiral, Turning and Winding, Stirring the primordial essence of life. Creatrix of the spring, and the summer, Of the autumn, and the winter, Eternally building up and breaking down, I invoke thee!” Suddenly, an eerie wave of energy snapped through the room. A strange white light enveloped the women and Orroro and Scott stumbled backwards. From behind them, Kurt hissed, “Dark magick!” “The child of the guardians, Keeper of the ancient power, Daughter of Sineya, Warrior of the people, Calls you by name. To offer up that which is mine to give.” “No, mon ami,” Remy shook his head and laid a hand on Kurt’s arm. Kurt flinched, but Remy continued, “As a child, wandering de Vieux Carré at night, I saw and heard many t’ings. In de cemetery of St. Louis, at the gravesite of de Voodoo Priestess, Marie Laveau, I have seen dark magicks and its workings. Dis is a pure healing.” Shifting his feet, Kurt moved forward and slipped his fingers around Orroro’s. “Keep her, your priestess, from the scales of Osiris. Protect her, your oracle, from Hades and his river, Styx. Guard her, your prophetess, against the temptation of the food of Yomi. Hold her back, your warrior, from the halls of Valhalla. Today is not her day to die. Today is not her day to die. Heal her with my flesh.” Louder, so that everyone could hear, Remy said, “Listen. Petite blonde offers her own self in sacrifice. She must love petite brun very much.” “Sacrifice?” Logan asked. “The gods are not so easily appeased… The femme t’inks they’ll take one life for another, maybe?” “Ah Christ…” Logan sighed, shaking his head. He stepped back and crossed his arms, remorse eating a hole at his chest. At the same time, a few feet to the right and in front of them, Orroro whispered, “Lovers?” to Kurt. He looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. But the professor, who had quietly joined them, shook his head and sadly muttered, “Sisters.” It was clear to all that the professor held out little hope for the girl. The young women on the floor didn’t seem to notice the conversations behind them. The older woman rocked back and forth over the younger, power riding her, flowing through her. “Again,” Dawn croaked. “Until it’s done.” “Heal her with my flesh,” Buffy said, concentrating as hard as she could. The magicks forced her head back until it was almost parallel to the ceiling, a great weight pressing on her face. Buffy ached like she had when she jumped into Dawn’s key energy mingling with the ‘lock’ to Glory’s dimension. Her heart began to race, blood oozed from her eyes and nose. Orroro gasped and turned her head into Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt’s cerulean hand slid up over her back and into her hair, cradling her against him. “Heal her with my flesh!” Buffy shouted again, spitting out the blood that ran like rain down her face and between her lips. She stiffened and braced herself. It was working. It was working! Hold on, Dawnie, she thought. I’m almost there. Slowly, from the inside out, Dawn was restored and Buffy was ripped apart. Organs fused in Dawn, and in Buffy, divided. Bone knitted itself back together and fractured. Muscle and skin fused and split. Dawn lost consciousness as a result of the painful transformation. For a fraction of a second Buffy feared that the spell had failed. Then someone was screaming. It took a while before Buffy realized it was her. She released Dawn’s hands and fell backwards. “Dawnie… are you OK?” she whimpered from the floor, too weak to get to her sister. The magical white light retreated back into the ground, but her sister was silent. “Kurt, get them to the infirmary!” Charles directed. The blue mutant started. Wrapped up in comforting Orroro as he had been, he nearly knocked his new girlfriend down in his haste to be of assistance. He reached for the young blonde, but she scuttled backwards. At first, he assumed she was afraid of him, but she tossed her head back and forth, as if through the blood now covering her eyes, she could read the look of sorrow on his face. Even though she was in shock and half out of her mind, the words she said tore at his heart. “No. Don’t let her die. Use me… You have to... Heal her with me,” she mumbled. Rambling incoherently, even though the magick had done it's worst and Kurt was gathering her up in his arms, she called to Dawn. Then she fainted. “Scott, Orroro,” the professor directed. “Please hurry upstairs, see if you can get those wounds closed. I’ll follow you shortly.” “Can I…” Logan began, and Charles reassured him. “Yes-Yes. See if you can be of use, too.” Followed by Remy, Logan ran out of there as fast as he could, but not fast enough to leave his guilt behind. Attempting to get up from the floor, Dawn rolled over on her side and pushed herself onto all fours. Directly in front of her, she heard the soft murmur of rubber wheels against the floor. “Please, allow me to help you.” Bampf! Suddenly, she heard a strange noise and smelled the reek of sulphur. Dawn’s head shot up. Her hair hid most of her face, but her eyes stared at the intruder warily as the deep voice from seconds before spoke again. “It’s alright, Kurt. The lady is going to be fine.” But the speaker wasn’t the blue demon. Instead the blue demon said, in a decidedly German accent, “Danke, professor. I’ll go see if I can help in the infirmary.” Then in another burst of sulfur, the demon was gone. Shifting back onto her knees, Dawn’s gaze met connected with the kindest eyes she'd seen in a long time. He offered her a hand. Deciding to trust this stranger--for now, she took it, bracing her other hand on the arm of his wheelchair. Suddenly, the man gasped and in one swift exhalation, he said, "The monks possessed the ability to transform energy, bend reality… They had to be certain the Slayer would protect it with her life. So they sent the Key to her ... in human form. In the form of a sister." Dawn flinched and pulled her hand away, crossing her arms, trying to close the remnants of her shirt. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. You’re-you’re a psychic,” she stammered. “You’re… good.” “Thank you,” the immaculately dressed man in the wheelchair remarked, relaxing back against his seat. “If you’ll come with me, I’d be happy to take you to see your sister. I am Professor Charles Xavier. You are in my school for the gifted. Do you remember how you got here?” Dawn looked around, shook her head, and followed the man numbly toward the door. When she was stabbed, she remembered being on a dirty street in some city. Somewhere. Somewhere not Rome. “I don’t. I don’t know. The last thing I remember, Buffy and I were with some friends at the Piper Club, near the Circolo Oasi di Pace, in Via degli Eugenii.” “In Rome?” he asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe her. “Yes, in Italy. Where am I now?” she asked impatiently, struggling to keep up. “You’re in Westchester. New York,” he replied, directing her to turn down a long, steel blue paneled corridor. “At my school for mutants.” “Mutants? Like mutated people?” she said, a little too loudly. Two girls passed them in workout clothes, giving Dawn a dirty look. “You’ve never heard of mutants?” he asked, clearly shocked. “No, never. I mean, I learned about possible gene mutations in school… but…” Dawn hesitated. “The fork guy and the blue guy—they were mutants?” Her mind raced. Was this some hell dimension, where people were mutated by demons? Was the guy rolling next to her a demon? He didn’t seem demon-y. Then, her thoughts turned to her sister. Buffy was going to freak. Had her key-ness sent them here? How? Oh man, she was so dead. Charles chuckled and stopped at an alcove. “This is not a hell dimension. And I am definitely not a demon. At least, I don’t think so. And we weren’t mutated by anyone. It’s quite simply the result of evolution.” Dawn nodded numbly and looked at the leather outfits displayed in cabinets. “Behind those doors over there,” the professor said, pointing to the cabinets on her right, “There are some t-shirts and sweat shirts. I’ll turn my back if you want to put something on.” Dawn crossed to the steel lockers and opened one of the doors. Inside, on some shelves, she found a large, dark grey, zip-front hoodie. Slipping into it and pulling up the zipper, she said, “I’m good now. Thanks.” “Of course,” he smiled as she joined him. “Now let’s go check on Buffy.” Next Chapter Back to 'sita's notes |
