The Centre Cannot Hold
by Kirayoshi
Things Fall Apart
[reviews]
Chapter four
Things Fall Apart
"Bobby's got a gun that he keeps beneath his pillow,
Out on the street your chances are zero!
Take a look around you,
It ain't too complicated;
You're messin' with Murder Incorporated!
Now you check over your shoulder everywhere that you go,
Walkin' down the street, there's eyes in every shadow.
You better take a look around you,
That equipment you got is so outdated
You can't compete with Murder Incorporated,
Everywhere you look now there's Murder Incorporated!"
--Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
"Murder Incorporated"
I am so not looking forward to this, Buffy thought sullenly as she stared at the hospital building a few blocks away.
Ever since she was a child, witnessing the gruesome death of her beloved cousin Celia, Buffy had hated hospitals. But she knew that she had to face her private dread again today. Riley was waiting for her.
Riley. As good and decent as any man she had ever known in her life. A man whom she knew loved her with everything he had in him. And now she had to break his heart.
It was the right thing. She knew that. And she had to constantly remind herself of that fact as she made her way toward the hospital. She had found her true companion in Willow, and she couldn't lie to Riley about her feelings. She only hoped that the soldier would understand.
She found herself remembering a few weeks ago, before the Gentlemen, before she learned about Riley's connection to the Initiative. While heading to her next class, she caught Riley helping some girls hang a banner for a Gay and Lesbian support group, and in his embarrassment he looked almost adorable. "I guess it's time I told you the truth," Riley said to a skeptical Buffy. "I'm a lesbian."
Well, Buffy thought with a faint sardonic smile, I guess we have something in common after all.
"Buffy," a friendly voice called out, shaking the Slayer out of her malaise. She shook her head slightly and turned to greet the gentleman as he strolled up the sidewalk to meet her.
"Hey, Jarod," she answered back, smiling. "What's up?"
"Just doing some research," Jarod said simply as he met up with Buffy. "Mr. Giles informed me that your boyfriend is a member of the Initiative. I thought I'd pick his brain, find out some things."
"Don't know how helpful he'll be," Buffy admitted, "but I'm meeting him today at the hospital."
"He was wounded pretty badly, wasn't he?"
"Yeah," Buffy sighed nervously. "But he's getting better, and he's expected to check out in a couple of days." She glanced around nervously. "But he's not really my boyfriend. Not anymore anyway. I have to break the bad news to him today."
Jarod glanced knowingly at Buffy. "About you and Willow, right?"
Buffy stared hard at the strange man next to her. "H-how did you know..."
"I just noticed how close you two were yesterday at Giles' place," Jarod admitted gently. "You're in love with her, and she with you. Am I right?"
Buffy nodded her head hurriedly. "Yeah, you're right. She's everything to me. And I can't let Riley go on thinking he's got a shot with me. Does that make me a bad person?"
"Not at all," Jarod assured her, his gentle voice and warm eyes calming the agitated Slayer. "There's not enough happiness in this world as it is. I'm not going to tell you that you can't pursue happiness where you find it."
"Thanks, Jarod," Buffy said, smiling.
"Be honest with him, Buffy," Jarod advised her. "He deserves the truth."
"I will," Buffy answered. "Hey, you want to walk with me?"
"I'd be delighted," Jarod nodded as he strolled beside Buffy toward the hospital. "Actually, I did have a question I wanted to ask you."
"Fire away," Buffy shrugged her shoulders.
Jarod pursed his lips in thought before he plunged forward; "You and your friends," he started, "you call yourselves the Scooby Gang."
"Uh, yeah," Buffy answered automatically.
"After a popular animated series," Jarod continued, "about a group of young detectives and a dog, who's arguably more intelligent than his masters, and together they face off against various monsters." Buffy nodded, uncertain where Jarod's line of questioning was leading. "But at the end of each episode, whatever 'monster' they've spent the last half-hour pursuing invariably turns out to be a person wearing a disguise to scare off the local populace, in order to hide their own criminal ends. So why compare yourselves to this cartoon series, when the monsters you and your friends face are all too real?"
Buffy opened her mouth for a second, and closed it again as she considered Jarod's question. Finally she nodded, answering, "I think it's called 'dramatic irony'."
"Ah," Jarod smiled. "Thought it might be something like that." Buffy chuckled at the obvious interest that Jarod took in even the most obscure minutiae of her life as the Slayer. He was nothing like Travers, who scarcely tolerated Buffy and her friends, the bonds that they had forged to survive. He genuinely cared for Buffy's welfare, and the welfare of those whom she loved.
Jarod for his part was enjoying the company of the Slayer, this kindred spirit to his own, when his pleasure was somehow diminished by a faint sensation of evil. A vague awareness of dread slowly crept into Jarod's spinal column, causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end. It was a familiar feeling, not quite a 'sixth sense', but something that he had learned to trust over the years, something that had saved his life many times. Keeping the pleasant expression on his face, he darted his eyes left and right, surreptitiously scanning the area around him, until he noticed the black sedan lurking like a vulture in the parking lot.
He's here, the thought crystallized in Jarod's mind.
{{}}
He lay impatiently in his hospital bed, pushing aside his half-eaten breakfast and staring out the window of his private room. It wasn't the discomfort of the heart monitor diodes stuck on his chest or the I.V. tube dripping saline into his arm that made him uneasy. It was the company he was expecting later. For the first time since he had met her, Riley Finn was not looking forward to seeing Buffy.
He had no doubt in his mind that she was the woman with whom he wanted to spend his life. From the first moment he saw her, he felt a connection, an attraction that went beyond the simply physical. Not that her physical was anything to ignore. Whenever he was with her— whether in the Bronze, in class, or in her dorm room—he simply felt more at ease, more comfortable in his own skin. He laughed more when he was with her. He could put aside the rigors of his life, the responsibilities of being part of the Initiative.
The sea change in their relationship started when he fought against the Gentlemen, and wound up aiming a pulse rifle at Buffy. At the exact same moment that she was aiming a crossbow at him. He was astonished to learn who she was, what she was. The Slayer. She probably knew more about what went down at night in Sunnydale than even Dr. Walsh. Which must have been why Maggie hated her, Riley realized belatedly. She felt threatened by the idea that a civilian was doing her job better than she could.
And then there was Adam. Whatever the hell that walking crazy quilt was, he was dangerous. Even Buffy, who (if testimonies from the Scooby Gang were to be credited) had faced creatures powerful enough to plunge the world into Hell, was scared.
And he wasn't the one to whom she turned to for council. That's what Riley feared, more than Adam or any of the monsters the Initiative tagged in the past. He feared that he was losing Buffy. And somehow, without knowing how he knew, he knew that she was going to leave him. It was only a matter of time.
The door opened silently, and Riley jerked out of his reverie. Two figures that Riley didn't recognize walked slowly through the door; a tall man, mid-thirties, built like a linebacker, his skin the exact color of a semisweet chocolate bar; and a short, gnarled, bald man, with a plastic tube under his nose that ran to a portable respirator he carried behind him like a roll-a-way suitcase. The gnarled man raised his free hand slowly as he spoke; "Mister Riley Finn?"
"Uh, yeah," Riley answered, somewhat puzzled, "and you are?"
"I am Mr. Raines," he answered as the linebacker quietly took his place on the other side of the hospital bed. "Following the untimely death of Dr. Margaret Walsh, I am taking over the Initiative."
"Forgive me, sir," Riley stated calmly, "but I was unaware that her replacement had been chosen so quickly."
"There is a chain of command involved, Mr. Finn," Raines wheezed, his voice reminding Riley of the sensation of tinfoil on a metal filling. "But that does not matter at this time. I wish to ask you about your girlfriend."
"Buffy?" Riley asked, suddenly worried. "What do you want to know about her?"
"Calm down, Mr. Finn," Raines answered. "I only wish to confirm what I saw of her in some of the video footage in my late predecessor's files. She is known as a Slayer, is she not?"
"Uh—" Riley hesitated, not certain if he should reveal Buffy's secrets to Mr. Raines. The more time he spent in the cadaverous man's presence, the more he was reminded of the Gentlemen.
"I shall take your silence as conformation, Mr. Finn," Raines breathed after a few moments. "Very well, Finn, there is only one thing I need you to do for me at this time."
Riley began to breath a little more easily that Mr. Raines didn't seem any more interested in Buffy. "And what is that, sir?" Riley asked.
"Die. Willie?" Raines addressed the linebacker, who suddenly grabbed Riley's arm, restraining the struggling soldier, as Raines removed a small leather case from inside his jacket. Riley blanched in terror, thrashing against Willie's iron grip with no avail as Raines pulled a hypodermic and a small vial out of the case. He punctured the seal of the vial with the needle, and siphoned off a measure of pale yellow liquid from the vial into the hypo.
Steadying his hand, he placed the needle's tip against Riley's arm. Wild-eyed and panicking, Riley desperately tried to wrench his arm away from the deadly needle. "You should feel a slight sting, Mr. Finn," Raines stated clinically, almost conversationally, as the needle pierced Riley's vein, "but that should fade soon. And don't worry. You'll see Buffy soon. I'll make sure of that." Without any further preamble, Raines pumped 100 ccs of insulin into Riley Finn's arm.
Riley Finn's last conscious thought as he closed his eyes forever was, Run, Buffy! Run!
{{}}
"Code red!" the nurse shouted, galvanizing the staff immediately around her. "We need a crash cart in room 227! Stat!"
A sudden flurry of action greeted Buffy and Jarod as they entered the hospital. A faint stirring of her Slayer senses sent Buffy rushing to the information desk. "Ma'am," she tried to flag down the first available nurse, who rushed past her without even an acknowledgement of Buffy's existence. "Excuse me," she spoke out to any passing figure, most of whom wouldn't even slow down as they passed her.
"Something's happening," Jarod intoned darkly, and Buffy could only nod her head in agreement. Jarod stood quietly in the background while Buffy tried to stop one of the rushing figures around her, desperate for any information. Finally a doctor stopped beside her, asking, "Miss, is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes," she answered hurriedly, her words flying out in a rush of breath. "I'm Buffy Summers, and I'm here to visit my boyfriend. Riley Finn."
The doctor took Buffy's arm in his hand and gently pulled her aside. "Miss Summers," the doctor answered gently, in a somber tone that Buffy knew could only mean trouble. "I'm sorry, but Lieutenant Finn's condition has worsened."
"Wha—"Buffy stammered, her voice rising in fear. "What do you mean 'worsened'? Where is he?"
"We haven't moved him from his room, Miss..." Before the doctor could continue, Buffy broke free of his grasp and ran frantically down the hallway to Riley's room. She had visited him in the hospital just two days ago and remembered the door number.
She found the door open, as several doctors gathered around the bed, a cart of equipment at his bedside. Buffy could just barely make out Riley's head amid the hubbub, and gasped in shock at the sight of Riley's lifeless eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. "Clear!" a doctor shouted as she pressed defibrillator paddles to Riley's chest and fired off a jolt of electricity into him. "Again," the doctor barked, "we're losing him!"
Buffy didn't even register the gentle, persistent tug at her shoulder, guiding her body away from the door. Almost on autopilot, Buffy stumbled backward toward the waiting figure. She kept her eyes on Riley's body, up to the point where the doctors stopped zapping him with the paddles and slowly pulled the white bedsheet over his head.
"I was afraid of this," a voice Buffy absently recognized as Jarod's whispered. "We're too late. He's here."
Buffy turned sharply toward Jarod, tears shining in her eyes; even if she no longer loved Riley she cared for him, and certainly didn't wish to see him dead. "What do you mean, Jarod? Who's here?"
"C'mon, Buffy," he snapped suddenly, as he turned and walked briskly toward the front entrance.
Buffy followed, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. "So that's it?" she asked, fear and anger fighting for dominance in her voice. "Riley dies and we just walk out of here?"
Jarod glanced behind him, his eyes scanning the hallway. He glimpsed a pale, balding head emerge from the hallway, and swallowed hard as his suspicions were confirmed. The bald man's eyes glanced upward, locking Jarod's in a death's-head stare. "No," he growled low in his throat, breaking eye contact with his nemesis, "we run out of here!" He charged quickly toward the front door, Buffy following quickly.
Ten feet short of the door, she heard a gravelly voice shout out, "Stop them, they're wanted by the police!" Jarod's pace didn't slacken, and Buffy managed to keep up with the young Watcher. By the time hospital security made it to the door, Buffy and Jarod were outside of the hospital, still running.
"C'mon, Buffy," Jarod called out, "we need some distance!" Cutting across the parking lot, he located a small blue new model Volkswagen Beetle, and quickly ushered Buffy into the passenger's side. Once he got behind the wheel, he gunned the engine, backed out of the parking lot and sped away from the hospital.
"Okay, what the hell's going on here?" Buffy shouted once she caught her breath. "Riley's dead, and now we're being chased around Sunnydale?"
"Riley Finn was murdered," Jarod answered plainly, a mounting rage underlining his tightly controlled voice. Buffy sat in quiet shock as Jarod continued. "Insulin poisoning, very likely, something that wouldn't show up on an autopsy unless specifically requested. He was executed on orders of a man named Mr. Raines. I saw Raines skulking about the corridors just as the doctors declared Riley dead."
"Raines," Buffy quipped. "Is that R-A-Y-N—"
"No," Jarod answered, "it's R-A-I-N-E-S."
Buffy huffed a strained sigh of relief. Well at least it ain't Ethan again. "So this Raines person, what's his connection to Riley? Why did he order him killed?"
"Raines is the leader of the Centre, Buffy, the secret power behind the Initiative," Jarod answered, his eyes never leaving the road as he executed a sharp right turn. "Whatever Maggie Walsh was up to, Raines was calling the shots. Once Walsh died, Raines must have decided to take direct control of the Initiative. And trust me on this, Buffy; no matter how powerful Adam may be, Raines is ten times more dangerous."
"We gotta contact the Scoobs," Buffy shouted. "If this Raines creep killed Riley, he'll be after them too!"
"He will," Jarod agreed gravely, "and that's why we can't contact them, at least not yet." Before Buffy could protest, Jarod continued, "Any attempt to contact your friends or family would lead Raines and his sweepers directly to them. Don't worry, Buffy. We will contact the others. But first we need some back-up of our own."
Buffy managed to steady her breathing, damming the tide of panic that threatened to overtake her voice. "Where are we going to find back-up?" she asked nervously.
Jarod flashed Buffy a conspiratorial smile as he steered the car into a sharp left turn. "Let's just say that I have a Scooby Gang of my own. I promise you, Buffy. We will find your friends."
Buffy sat in silence, Jarod's vows the only comfort she could feel. Her only thoughts centered around a young wiccan with the sunset in her hair and magic in her eyes. Stay safe, Willow, she prayed soundlessly. I will find you.
{{}}
Broots sat alone at the edge of his bed in the dank silence of their suite at the Sunnydale Holiday Inn, while Miss Parker serviced her Smith and Wesson for the third time and Sydney locked himself in the master bedroom with the Initiative file. The thick sheath of papers that Jarod had left for them at the Rialto hotel, Jarod claimed that the file proved the link between the Centre and some covert paramilitary organization that supposedly experimented on monsters.
And not for the first time that night, Broots found himself wondering if he had finally lost his mind.
He glanced furtively at Miss Parker for the hundredth time, considering starting a conversation but then thinking better of the idea. He knew that any effort on his part to engage her in any diversion would be shot down unceremoniously and probably with a withering comment on the state of his manhood. But now, even her caustic remarks would have been a welcome break in the silence. It was over an hour since the three of them had returned from the Rialto theater with the Initiative file. The moment they returned to their suite, Sydney locked himself in the bedroom, making it clear that he didn't wish to be disturbed. Miss Parker hadn't said a word since that moment, and the silence was stretching, growing longer with each iron-tolled tick of the clock.
Finally, the bedroom door swung open, and Sydney charged out, the file in his hand. He dropped the file on the nearby coffee table, and announced, "Miss Parker, Broots, having read the information that Jarod has provided, I feel it appropriate at this moment to announce my resignation from the Centre, effective immediately." The steel in Sydney's normally reserved voice was unmistakable, almost frightening, and Miss Parker looked up at the Flemish doctor, and for once her eyes registered a genuine undisguised shock. "Given what I have learned from this file," he continued, making only a token effort to hide his mounting rage, "I can no longer remain with the Centre in good conscience."
"Sydney," she gasped. "Why are you buying into Jarod's lies? You know he would do anything to keep us off his tail."
"Believe me, Miss Parker," Sydney growled angrily. "Even Jarod wouldn't make up what I read. As fantastic as it sounds, I have to believe the evidence of this file. I even cross-referenced much of the information in this file with the Centre databases, via a secured internet connection, and it adds up. Raines is using this Initiative, and the army of..." he struggled for the right word, "creatures to overthrow world governments! Read the file for yourself if you doubt. Raines wants nothing more than global domination, and with the Initiative at his beck and call, he might pull it off!"
He grabbed his hat and coat and turned to the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to locate Jarod, and take him up on his offer. You're free to follow me." Without further ceremony he marched out the door and into the night. Parker and Broots glanced at each other for a second, before following after Sydney.
Miss Parker rushed after the psychiatrist, almost frantic as one of the few constants in her unhappy life threatened to leave forever. "Would you just listen to yourself, Sydney? You're talking like you suddenly believe in vampires!"
"I didn't say that, Miss Parker," Sydney snapped angrily, "but you know what Shakespeare said about there being more things in heaven and earth!"
"Look," Broots argued between pants as he breathlessly caught up with Sydney. "The way I see it, either Jarod is yanking our chains with this or Raines finally lost what few marbles he had left!"
Sydney stopped suddenly and faced Broots, shifting with some effort into his 'kindly shrink' persona. "You saw the fear in Jarod's eyes, Broots," he exclaimed. "I do not believe that he is deceiving us. Which leaves us with one of two possibilities; one, that Raines is indeed insane, or two, that this Initiative really is controlling an army of vampires and other monsters. Neither prospect particularly fills me with hope for our immediate future."
"You're smarter than you look, Sydney," a darkly menacing voice answered from the shadows. A dark figure strode out from behind a copse of trees, a Glock .45 nestled in his hand. Miss Parker and Broots stopped dead in their tracks as they recognized the greasy figure who had waylaid them.
"Lyle," Parker snarled. "What the hell are you doing here? We have the Jarod situation under control."
"Since when?" Lyle leered. "You've been chasing your tail with that lab-rat for six years. The Tower may have tolerated your incompetence while dear ol' Daddy was in charge of the Centre, but he's dead now." Parker swallowed a red-hot lump of rage as she recalled the sight, months ago, when the man she believed was her father happily threw himself out of a Centre private jet at 20,000 feet. Right after revealing that he was probably not even her father.
"The Centre's under new management, Miss Parker," Lyle continued, casually swinging the Glock around until its barrel was pointed directly at Parker's nose. "Thanks to the lab-rat, all the major newsgroups and several federal officers descended upon the Tower like the plague. Most of the higher-ups were dragged away in cuffs, and will probably never see the outside of a jail cell again."
"And Raines, being the chameleon that he is," Parker answered tersely, "took the opportunity to fill the sudden vacancies with Centre officers loyal to him."
"The coup couldn't have gone more smoothly if he had planned it himself," Lyle announced. "And you know what they say, a new broom sweeps clean." He beckoned with a sidelong nod of his head to the shadows, and a gangly young-looking man strode up beside him. Yellow hair slicked back over a bony skull, as electric blue eyes glared arrogantly from their sockets.
"Can I have the dark-haired bit?" he asked eagerly in a filthy Cockney accent. "Now that your boss had my chip removed, I'm rarin' for a little action."
"You can have the next one, Spike," Lyle snapped at the snarky Brit. "Raines promised me that I could kill Miss Parker." He squeezed the trigger of the Glock, just enough to cock the hammer back. "Tomorrow's a new day at the Centre, dear sister. And you and your playmates won't live to see it. Don't worry, Broots," he added to the now trembling computer hacker. "I'll make sure your daughter — Debbie, was it? — won't suffer before she dies." He chuckled mirthlessly at a joke only he could know. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'll take her through hell, laughing all the way!"
"YOU SONOVA—" Broots exploded as he charged blindly at Lyle, his hands reaching out to claw the mad gunman's eyes out. Before he could reach the Centre assassin, Spike grabbed Broots' arm and yanked him hard enough to dislocate his shoulder. Sydney and Parker started to rush toward their fallen friend, as Spike turned his attention toward him, his features changing, shifting under the skin. The ridges of his brow enlarged, his canines extended into fangs and his eyes shifted from sharp blue to a sickly yellow.
"Uh, uh, uh," Lyle scolded. "Naughty, naughty. Dear sister, I always wondered what it would be like to kill you. I must say, the reality is far more satisfying. Say goodnight, Gracie!"
"Goodnight Gracie!" The blow came without warning. In a heartbeat, Lyle found himself sprawled on the sidewalk, his gun knocked out of his hand by a linebacker's thrust. The attacker pinned Lyle to the ground with a hard knee thrust into his gut, and began punching his jaw with rapid heavy blows. "You ought to know by now," Jarod shouted as he continued to pummel Lyle, unleashing years of rage at the human monster who had helped make his life a misery, "that I don't like guns!"
"Jarod!" a voice shrieked from the side. "Behind you!"
Jarod turned around, just as Spike sprang toward him. Jarod rolled off of Lyle just as a young blond woman flew at Spike, spinning into a high roundhouse kick, her foot connecting with the vampire's head. "Thanks for the heads-up, Buffy!"
"No problem," the young blond girl answered Jarod stood up. "Y'know Spike," Buffy smiled as she stalked her prey, "I'm glad to see you got that chip out. Now I can stake your ass with a clear conscience."
"Listen, Slayer," Spike snarled as he scrambled to his feet. "As much as I'd enjoy our regular song and dance, you've got more pressing issues. My new employer sent out some sweepers to take down your friends and family! You want to save them, you'd better hustle."
"Well spoken, mon ami," Lyle answered happily as he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his slacks. "Shall we away?" As Lyle and Spike began to walk away from the others, Buffy was about to run after them, but Jarod stopped her. "You heard him, Buffy," Jarod warned her. "Your family comes first."
Buffy growled in spent rage, before facing the Pretender. "You're right, Jarod. So," she turned to the frightened faces of the three spectators to the bizarre scene that had played out just seconds ago. "These guys are your posse?"
"That depends," Jarod regarded Sydney, Broots and Parker with a level, steely eye. "Have you given any consideration to what we discussed last night?"
The three former Centre operatives stood in shock for a second as Jarod's words filtered into their minds. That yellow-haired man — no, thing — that had sided with Lyle, that had bared his fangs at them and bellowed his defiance — there was only one word for him, as much as they would wish to deny it. Vampire.
"Here," Jarod stood beside Broots. "Just relax for a second, let me fix that shoulder." He cradled Broots' shoulder for a second, then made a sudden yanking motion, causing Broots to howl in pain for a second. When Jarod let go, Broots tested his arm gingerly and breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that his shoulder was no longer dislocated.
"Jarod," Broots whispered intensely, surprising Miss Parker with the steel in his voice. "I have to fly out to Delaware, like now. You heard what Lyle said, right? The Centre's going to try and kill Debbie. I just can't—"
"Debbie's fine, Broots," Jarod assured the nervous hacker. "I made arrangements with Dad and Ethan."
"Thank you," Broots sighed with visible relief. "I owe you, man! You want to take down the Centre, count me in!"
"Glad to have you aboard, Broots," Jarod shook his hand gladly.
"You may rely on my aid as well, Jarod," Sydney added. "I will do whatever it takes to help you take down the Centre, once and for all."
"Thanks, Sydney," Jarod answered, taking his hand in a warm shake. He then turned to Miss Parker. His long-time nemesis stared at him, wishing she could summon her familiar level of contempt for him.
Finally, she nodded, her normally saturnine features softening. "I'll join your cause, Jarod," she announced, "on one condition. Once we finally take down Raines and his crew, I wish to go through the rest of my life never seeing your face, or hearing your voice, ever again."
Jarod regarded her face, with a faint sadness in his eyes. "If that is what you want, Miss Parker," he agreed solemnly, "you got it. But until then, the three of you follow my lead. Buffy and I are the experts here. We know what you'll be facing in the days ahead. You don't. So from this moment, any orders Buffy and I give, you follow. No debate, no argument, no discussion. Do we have an agreement?"
Miss Parker, Broots and Sydney exchanged glances for a second, before Sydney turned back to Jarod. "We accept your terms, Jarod. It's your show."
"Good," Buffy spoke in a voice of quiet authority, one that even Miss Parker found herself respecting. "Okay, gang, let's make plans..."