stock: typewriter

Title :: Not In His Storm

Title :: Not In His Storm
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: I do not own these characters and not profit is being made from the use of them.
Spoilers :: Doctor Who ‘The Stolen Earth’ and ‘Journey’s End’ and all of BtVS

Synopsis :: Not all the Children of Time had someone else. (Part of the ‘Voodoo Child’ series)

Not In His Storm

Meaningless, monotone words filled the living room as the newscaster reported the obvious and Buffy’s chin lifted, eyes widening and pupils dilating as she stared out the window and into a sky filled with planets. A sky that should have held a blanket stars, not gaseous giants or dead moons close enough for Buffy to notice the craterous indentations meteors had left behind. Finger prints of the universe.

Her mouth quirked with the odd thought that made perfect sense after her brief time spent with the Doctor. Soft footfalls drew her attention away from the window and she accepted the ceramic cup held out to her with a nod and a faint smile. Her head bent as she inhaled the still seeping tea—Giles’s cure-all—before she looked up at him, met his hazel gaze with a calm that seemed to help steady his more frazzled nerves. Demons and hell dimensions her Watcher knew, but aliens and the outer realms of time and space still confounded him.

The newscaster’s voice faded and she forced a brighter smile onto her face, ignoring the fact that the Doctor remained unreachable, and watched as the corner of Giles’s eyes began to crinkle as he lifted his mug. A quiet static filled the void left by the newscaster, a quiet static that was quickly replaced by an electronic voice that fluctuated between nasal and guttural.

“Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate. Extermi…”

The ceramic cup slid from her fingers, falling, tumbling to crack against the wood floors and spray her legs with hot would-have-been tea. The colored water was absorbed by the cotton of her yoga pants and she ignored the burning heat as a chill settled over her body and her eyes locked with Giles’s. “Call them back. Call all the Slayers, all the Watchers back.”


“No, Giles.” She interrupted and moved around him, towards the perfectly ordinary cell phone, that could call across time and space, and snatched it up before turning back to him. Her mouth set in a grim line as she tried again to reach the Doctor and the television continued to chant the same word over and over.

“Buffy, what is going on?”

She threw the cell towards the couch with a frustrated cry when the same incessant beep as before answered her call. Her jaw tensed before she lifted her frightened gaze to her Watcher and stated, “There’s no time. We need to get them off the streets. Off every street in the world. Tell them to hide.”


“No! Giles, listen to me. We can’t fight this. We just can’t. Sending them out will only get them killed.”

He stepped forward, forced her chin to lift to keep their gazes locked as he asked, his voice carefully controlled, “What is happening? What is this?”

She turned away from him, looked out the window, toward those unknown planets and whispered softly, “It’s the end of days.”


Sunlight speared its way through the thin grey clouds and caught the morning dew covering a slanted hill, bringing forth a kaleidoscope of color and light. The scent of damp grass grew stronger as Buffy stepped from the porch that encompassed the back of Giles’s home and onto the dirt and stone walkway that lead toward the base of that startlingly bright hilltop and Buffy smiled up at the planet-less sky above her. Giles had finally listened and they had pulled all the active Slayers from the streets as quickly as possible.

The suede of her boots darkened, absorbing the moisture from the blades of knee-high grass that rose up along the edge of Giles’s property as she pushed her way through them. The wind slipped around the base of the hill and struck her face, spreading her lips as that breeze brought with it the sweet scent of flowers from the nursery two miles away. A flush darkened Buffy’s cheeks as she ducked her chin and began the trek to the top of the hill.

The quiet that settled around her was cold and calm, silent enough to feel in her bones as she followed the trial. Buffy hesitated, coming to a stop as a familiar wheezing whistle filled that silence. Her head lifted, green eyes trained on the hilltop as a blue police box shuddered its way into existence in this time, in this place. Her smile widened and her steps quickened until she was running toward it.

The wind crept up, burning her throat as she skidded to a stop in the damp grass and one of the narrow doors opened, spilling more light and something close to a miracle onto the grass in front of her. White sneakers crunched the last bits of winter from the steadily growing green and Buffy watched his head lift, lips spreading into the widest grin before he stated, “Hello there.”

A brow arched and she cocked her head. “Hey.”

The corners of his eyes began to gather. “So what have you been up to?”

“Lately?” Her head cocked with his casual nod and the other brow rose to meet its sister. “Well, last night I watched as twenty-six other planets filled the sky before Daleks invaded Earth. Know anything ‘bout that?”

His chin thrust out a bit as stated with a nod, “Yeah.”

“Uh huh.”

The Doctor’s head dipped and he meet her gaze, the humor melting, fading away as he asked, “How’s everyone?”

“They’re good. Alive, accounted for and confused, but still very good.”


His lips quirked, brows rising and Buffy rolled her eyes before asking, “How’s yours?”

He hesitated and her head inclined as his gaze dimmed. “They’re brilliant. All of them.”

There was an echo to his voice, a faint catch that stopped Buffy from giving a flippant retort and she caught his gaze, that dark, familiar gaze and took a step forward, toward him and the TARDIS. “Doctor, where’s Donna?”

His hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket and he turned away from her, stared off into the grey distance. “She’s gone.”

The warmth left her cheeks, her head and Buffy felt tears well to blur her vision as she questioned, “Gone?”

“What?” He turned back and stepped forward. “No, no not gone. Not gone like that. She’s gone—”

Buffy interrupted, hearing the frustration and offered, “Gone like Rose?”

His mouth closed into a thin line and he nodded, before repeating. “Yes, gone like Rose.”

A moment passed, the wind around them rose up to whistle through the grass as the sky opened above them and a light sprinkling of rain began to fall. His chin rose, head tilting back as he gazed up at that cloud-covered sky and his voice took on a slightly lecturing tone, masking his pain, as he stated, “Atmospheric Disturbance. You’ll have quite a bit of this—”


Her interruption drew his focus and his gaze. “Hmmm?”

“Can I pack a bag this time?”

The serious darkness faded as he smiled, “A bag? How big a bag?” his eyes narrowed a bit, “How many? Do I need to make room for them all?”

Buffy snorted, “You’re so much prettier when your mouth is closed.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Oh, shut up.”

The End.

  • Current Location: Home
  • Current Mood: calm calm
  • Current Music: Until It's Time For You To Go - Buffy Sainte-Marie
Thank you! Pol definitely helped me with the ending. It just didn't seem like the best at first but she helped me polish it.