Part Four
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WASHINGTON DC AIRPORT
2347 HOURS
The wind whipped all around her, making her trench coat fly out behind her like a cape. One ofher hands held tightly onto her briefcase, the other shielded her eyes from flying dirt and other debris that the wind was tossing up. Her ears were bombarded with load, booming sounds. She looked up, and was rewarded with a face full of sand. She was almost there, just a few more steps.
Scully walked into the airport just as all hell broke loose. People who had once been sitting quietly on benches waiting for people, or watching the arrivals/departures on the airport screens, were now banging their fists on walls, yelling to their companions, or complaining to airport personnel. Scully looked up to read the arrivals/departures.
FLIGHT 204 TO CHICAGO - DELAYED
FLIGHT 327 TO MIAMI - DELAYED
FLIGHT 136 TO LONDON - DELAYED
FLIGHT 153 TO LOS ANGELES - DELAYED
FLIGHT 426 TO PARIS - DELAYED
Scully sighed. Of course with this storm, they couldn't risk letting planes takeoff and land. She hoped it would be over soon. Standing around in the airport, alone, was getting to her. She desperately wanted out of DC, where everyone was spying on her, if you believed what Mulder said. 'Oh yeah Scully, like that's really the reason you want on that plane' said a little voice in her head. Scully ignored it, and settled into an airport to wait for her flight out.
* * *
The little man watched her take a seat, her legs crossed at the ankles, briefcase lying at her feet. He knew it wasn't long before the air traffic controllers figured out that it wasn't the storm that was causing the delay, but a carefully planned and executed illegal entry into the airport's computer system. All the supposedly delayed airplanes were starting to approach the runways, asking for permission to land. He had to act soon. His eyes flicked to the screen as he saw Scully and several other passengers get out of their seats, clutching their belongings. Already, 'ontime' listings began replacing the 'delayed' listings. The small group of people began to move in their own directions, and he knew it was time.
He picked up his light (empty) suitcase and hurriedly rushed into the cluster of people, muttering pardons, and shoving people out of his way. He brushed against Scully, making sure that the tiny micro-listening device that had been resting carefully on his fingertip, was securely attached to Scully's jacket. Not pausing, (to do so would arouse suspicion) the little undercover CIA agent continued his fast shuffle until he rounded a corner, whereupon he entered a washroom.
He pulled out a compact, but expensive looking cellular phone (the newest in CIA accessories) and was connected via private satellite to his superiors at the Pentagon. When he heard a beep in the receiver, he promptly reported on his mission.
* * *
Scully saw the queer little man roughly shove people out of his way, but paid him no heed. All she wanted to do was get out of this crazy airport and into the isolated town that Mulder was hiding in. She got her boarding pass out of her briefcase, and gave it to the flight attendant at the door. The FBI was paying her a first class seat to Miami, where they thought she was going to spend a relaxing vacation at the beach. Boy were they wrong.
* * *
The bell rang for classes to start just as Buffy entered the classroom. She flopped down in her seat, and glanced around the classroom, noticing with some confusion that Hank was there. The teacher closed the door, and that was when the horror started.
The teacher turned to grin at her, eyes laughing, as she changed into the substitute biology teacher, Natalie French. As Buffy stared on in shock, she completed the transformation into the She-Mantis, her jaw bones clicking together hungrily. Buffy glanced furtively around the her, and it just got worse. All her classmates had turned into corpses, their flesh decaying and falling off, maggots squirming out of their eye sockets. She looked at Willow and Xander to see their reactions. She screamed as she saw them, their faces horribly contorted into those of vampires. The last thing she saw was Hank's face, looking normal and calm, staring at her. Buffy looked down at her hands, and found she could see strait through them. She was a ghost.
Buffy woke up in Angel's arms screaming. They were in his apartment, and he was trying to soothe her. Her wild eyes went wide as she peeked over Angel's shoulder and saw a dark shadow creeping forward, something in hand. She stared at it cluelessly, then her eyes opened in understanding and fear. "Angel!" she managed to cry out. "Look out, behind you!" He turned around just in time to see the grin of satisfaction on Darla's face as she thrust the stake in her hand through his ribcage, piercing his heart.
Buffy was jarred from her sleep into a sitting position by a sound, which she realized was herself screaming out in pain and loss. In a moment, strong arms were around her, comforting her, just holding her while she shed her tears. She leaned back into Angel's embrace, shivering. Within a moment, she had stopped crying and fallen silent, listening to her heart beat slow down. When she felt she could do so with out crying, Buffy looked up at Angel. He wiped a few stray tears off her face with the sleeve of his jacket, and waited for her to begin. He didn't pry her for details, he knew she would tell him in time.
Buffy began to describe her terrible nightmare to Angel, who grimaced. "It was horrible, at the end when she..." Buffy could not bring herself to say killed. "I thought... I thought I had lost you." Buffy buried her face in Angel's chest, taking strength from his form while he stroked the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her hair. Eventually. she fell into a troubled, but more peaceful, sleep on her bed.
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