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Series Title :: War Drums

Series Title :: War Drums
Rating :: FR18
Disclaimer :: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
Spoilers :: All of series three of Doctor Who, but mainly the episodes ‘The Sound of Drums’ and ‘Last of the Time Lords.’
Note :: This series is a sequel to the drabble, ‘What She is Now.’
 
Synopsis :: The Master will attempt to protect Buffy from her will to survive and the voice of reason—also known as the Doctor. A series of drabbles. 

Title :: A Moment’s Hesitation
Word Count :: 200
 
The wood beneath her cheek was hard and uncomfortable and Buffy’s brows dipped as her eyes opened and she blinked at the paneled wall across from her. The knit cap covering her blonde, beacon-like, hair tickled the back of her neck as she shook her head and rose. Her stomach twisted as she shoved herself to her feet and glanced around the empty hallway, silently thankful of Willow’s transportation spell—no matter how adverse the side effects.
 
She turned suddenly, eyes narrowing on the shadows along the far side of the hall and her stomach tightened, knotting worse than before as Buffy began to hear the faintest echo of drums.
 
“And who might you be?” The shadows parted and she nearly stepped back as Harold Saxon, the man she’d been sent to kill, came forward. His head inclined as he strolled forward and revealed that he still wore his pajamas and his hair was rumbled as if he’d been sleeping.
 
She hesitated in her mission. 
 
“No matter.” The drums grew louder and his smile widened as he lifted his arm and aimed a delicate metal device at her. There was a high-pitched whistle, the scent of burning flesh and then nothing more.
 
 
Title :: Narcissism vs. Torture
Word Count :: 200
 
The first attempt on his life lay motionless, though not for long, on the floors of his home. He squatted, taking only a moment to admire the comfortableness of his pinstripe pajamas before refocusing on the surprising issue of an assassination attempt. Perhaps humans weren’t as weak willed as he thought—he snorted—of course they were.
 
He nudged her shoulder with the laser screwdriver and her body rolled onto its back, smoke curling up from the rather large hole in her chest. The cooling tip was pushed against her chin and he turned her face towards him, brows quirking as he studied her slack features.
 
His voice was conversational as he stated, “Pretty, for a freak.”
 
A spasm rocked her body, spine bowing as green eyes opened wide. Her upper body lifted from the wood floors and she turned those startled, frightened eyes on him. His smile softened and he used the laser screwdriver to push at a strand of hair that had slipped free of her cap before placing it to her temple and firing once more.
 
His nose wrinkled with the scent of burning tissue even as his lips spread wider. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.”
 
 
Title :: …to the Rhythm of the War Drums
Word Count :: 100
 
It was dark.
 
That was Buffy’s first thought upon wakening. The wall of black pushed against her eyes and her eyelids when she closed them to escape the dark, except she couldn’t escape it.
 
The air around her was cool and dry. It held her suspended, weightless and yet heavy beyond reason. She hadn’t the strength to lift her arms, to cover her face. To feel the dampness of her own tears as they slipped from the corners of her eyes to wet the hair at her temples.
 
She was without touch, without sight, without sound—save for the drums.
 
 
Title :: The Whole of Man
Word Count :: 200
 
This was the end, the end of the universe.
 
Buffy’s jaw tightened as she looked up at the vast, starless sky above her and she felt Lucy step closer, felt the younger woman’s cool, dry hand clasp hers as they stared up into the darkness.
 
“That’s not the best part.”
 
They turned in unison, both seeing the intellect and humor that twisted Harold Saxon, made him more than just a man. Buffy stepped ahead of Lucy, slightly before her as she moved toward the one who called himself the Master—it was ironic that another would attempt to take her life and fail so miserably over and over.
 
“I am pleased to introduce to you to the Toclafane!” The Master spread his arms to encompass the canyon just beyond his back and several spinning spheres rose up from the darkest parts. Three separated from the faction and moved toward Buffy and Lucy and sharp, chipper voices bombarded them.
 
“Who are you?”
 
“Are you the Mr. Master’s friends?”
 
“We love the Master.”
 
“We’re to play a game.”
 
“A wonderful game.”
 
“Want to come?”
 
Toclafane by the thousands erupted from the canyon to blanket the sky—that was bad, so very bad.
 
 
Title :: Moments that Define
Word Count :: 200
 
“Now my pretty freak, earn your worth. Kill Martha.”
 
She turned, saw the handsome—in an annoying way—guy push the young woman behind him as if she’d do the Master’s bidding. Her head inclined and the Doctor caught her gaze, held it and the sound of drums receded. “No.”
 
“What?”
 
The dangerously calm question forced her to face the bastard and she lifted her chin, defiant. “Hells, no.”
 
“Kill Martha, end her life.” His head inclined, lips lifting at the corners. “Or it’s back in the box.”
 
She looked back at the young woman, Martha, and her eyes narrowed in determination. “No, I won’t.”
 
“Buffy!”
 
She spun towards Lucy but the familiar pain of the Master’s displeasure struck her upper back and she collapsed. Her vision darkening as their voices began to fade. “Laser screwdrivers, who’d have sonic? Oh ho, don’t frown, Doctor. She’ll get back up in a bit and then I can do it again!” The high-pitched whine of the screwdriver sliced across the room and Buffy’s perception with the scent of burning flesh and another thud as a body struck the floor. “Just like your little friend.”
 
Then her eyes widened, sightless, and the drums returned.
 
 
Title :: Ms. Summers
Word Count :: 200
 
A shudder skipped down Jack’s spine in the oddest, most unpleasant way as he watched the Doctor point his sonic screwdriver at the blackened ceiling and the slim form of the woman who had refused to kill Martha collapsed. The Doctor fell to his knees and caught the woman’s shoulders, turning her towards them so that Jack could see her tear stained face.
 
For a moment there was nothing, not the spark he’d seen when she’d defied the Master and then slowly understanding filled her gaze. “He’s gone?”
 
The Doctor’s chin dropped in agreement and he stated, voice solemn. “He’s gone.”
 
“The drums have stopped.”
 
“And they’ll never start again.” Her shoulders sagged and a muffled sob escaped her as the Doctor leaned forward, drew her chin up with a light touch. “There’s much we still need to discuss, Ms. Summers, but first, introductions are in order.”
 
He rose, helping the blonde to stand and she leaned against him as the Doctor turned them. “Ms. Summers, I’d like you to meet Capt. Jack Harkness.”   
 
The shudder returned, tightening his shoulders because, in that moment, Jack was more than certain he’d seen the briefest flash of jealousy in the Doctor’s gaze.
 
 
Title :: Quite the Pair
Word Count :: 200
 
The wind picked up, whipping her now shoulder length hair up and around her face as Buffy crossed the wide pasture towards the blue police box and the ‘man’ leaning against it. She tugged the cotton sleeves of her hoodie further down her wrists so that they covered her hands as she crossed her arm under her breasts and stopped a few feet away from the pair.
 
“She looks good.”
 
The Doctor flashed her a grin. “The TARDIS is made of tougher stuff than most.” He stepped forward, through the tall grass, towards her. “Thought I’d find you with Jack.”
 
Her brow arched. “Did you?”
 
“Yes, well, he does have that effect on… well… everyone.”  
 
Her other brow rose. “Everyone?”
 
“You’re not the first to imply that.”
 
“Or the last.”
 
“Yes, well…”
 
He trailed off and Buffy inclined her head. “Did you need something? Or is this just a courtesy visit?”
 
“Little of both, perhaps.”
 
“How so?”
 
“How is Willow?”
 
Buffy stiffened and uncrossed her arms, giving herself a moment of to gather her thoughts. “She’s good. Upset, but good.”
 
“And you’re not?” He frowned, corrected. “Upset, I mean.”
 
She shrugged and stated simply, “Spilled milk.”
 
His chin rose. “Ah.”
 
 
Title :: The Beginning
Word Count :: 200
 
Her recount of the reunion between herself and the Scoobies, and Dawn stretched on, past the sun setting until their words had eventually tampered off and now they stood in companionable silence. The Doctor inclined his head, “Suppose I should be going then.”
 
“Doctor,” Buffy paused, hesitating.
 
“Yes?”
 
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth before asking, “Can I go with you?”
 
His brows shot up over his glasses. “You want to go with me?”
 
“I’ve only ever seen the end and that,” she sighed, “That kinda blew. I’d like a better memory of the future.”
 
“What of the past? Don’t suppose you’d want to go there too.”
 
She smiled. “Whichever way the wind blows.”
 
He returned her smile with a grin, correcting. “Whichever way the TARDIS pulls.”
 
“Do I need a bag?”
 
He turned, slipping a hand into the pocket of his slacks. “No, not this time.”
 
“This time?”
 
The Doctor stepped up to the doors of the TARDIS and slipped the key in before turning what looked like a brass knob and pushing the door open. “Come now, people to see, places to meet.”
 
“Is this where I say, it’s bigger on the inside?”
 
“Oh, shut up.”
 
 
The end.
 
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How much do I love this? More than I can say. Please say you are going to continue in this verse?
Yay! I was nervous 'cause the Doctor Who 'verse is new to me.

I want to continue. Hopefully with a ficlet or two about Buffy and the Doctor's adventures. No, romance between them though, but I think he'd feel better with a companion that can't die - even if she makes his skin crawl.

Though I've been talked into a crossover that takes place about 700 years in the future of this verse. Where something or someone pulls Jack and Buffy into the Stargate'verse (present day)... I blame Pol and Meri for feeding that plot bunny.

OMG! So Buffy and Capt Jack meet SG1? Cool beans!

I've had VooDoo Child running through my head ALL day.

Beboppin through the kitchen, "Baby baby baby...."