PECULIAR   by Jayne Leitch
C. 2000

     There's a moment right before I go patrolling when Walsh holds her clipboard like a
shield in front of her and gives the exact same gruff order she gives every night:  be
careful.  At that moment, Forrest and I exchange a look, nod brusquely, and leave without
actually, verbally confirming that we will.  The really interesting part is that she never
calls us on that little omission, just watches us go and then heads off to the lab.

     As near as I can figure, the reason that neither Forrest or I speak up at that point is that
we can't realistically make that promise, so we won't.  There are very few times in our
lives that we can be totally honest, and that's one of them; at that brief moment, we're as
honest as we can possibly be.  At least Walsh knows that, and doesn't press the issue; it
sounds callous, but in the Initiative you can't care too much whether troops come back
alive or contaminated.  Of course, alive is the preferred choice--but we all know that
sometimes that choice just isn't there.

     Almost every night I go out into the dark with a very big gun and hunt things no one
else would believe in if I showed them colour photos.  Last of the Big Game Hunters,
that's me, and like the song says, Danger is my middle name.

     Well, actually, it's Daviau.  Riley Daviau Finn; strapping country lad with a hearty
Irish father and a delicate French mother, and the best of both worlds name-wise.  Same
initial, anyway, which is what matters on the birth certificate.  And, come to think of it,
my Initiative ID card, which somehow has room for every measurement and piece of
identifying information ever thought up, despite being no larger than your average bank
card.  Everything from middle name to shoe size, it's on that card.

     Also on the ID is whether or not I want extreme measures taken if an HST gets me.
Incidentally, I think that should be on everyone's driver's licence--it would make my job a
whole lot easier if every contaminated individual I came across had their choice of death
or lab study right there for me to read.  Right now, my card says study; if I can help the
professor out at all, I'll do it.  Forrest, on the other hand, would rather be terminated the
second he's infected; he explained once, something about some procedure he watched
during training that gave him nightmares for a month.  He got over it, and has seen much
worse since, but that first one tends to stick with you.  All part of the job.

     Anyway, it's dangerous.  I know that; I've had enough close calls to make me very sure
that being as careful as you can is the only defense.  Still, though--sometimes situations
get out of hand, and someone has to step in, and when that happens, caution goes right
out the window.  The thing is, there are still limits to that kind of recklessness--and Buffy
disregards all of them.

     She had a crossbow, for God's sake.  Wooden arrows.  She explained about being the
Slayer, but it still gets me; she went into combat with numerous hostiles of unknown
capabilities with no protective gear and a weapon that's more likely to give the operator
slivers than hit anything it's fired at.  Not to mention the fact that she went hand to hand
with more of those things than I did and came out with barely a scratch, while I was a
walking bruise for the rest of the week.  Forrest can tell me the Slayer's a myth all he
wants; after the last few days there's nothing he can say to make me believe that.

     Walsh doesn't like us to read "magic books"; like a true scientist, she doesn't believe in
anything that can't be explained by in-depth biology lessons and your basic chemistry.
I've looked at a few forbidden texts since talking with Buffy, though--before she told me
she was one, I didn't even know that Slayers existed, but now I'm up on everything.  The
Chosen One.  The only girl in all the world with the strength and skill to hunt the
vampires, the demons, the forces of darkness.  I can see how the legends got started;
reading those books, it's hard not to draw comparisons with the HST's.  But to think that
that's what they are...and to think that Buffy's not really any different from them...it's a
little much.

     Physically, she's in peak condition.  Years of helping to train Initiative operatives has
left me with a pretty good eye for form and limitations; I've always seen Buffy as being
remarkably fit, but before I saw her in action I never knew just how remarkably that was.
Her speed, her strength--she far surpasses anyone I've ever seen.  Anyone human, that is;
there's any number of HST's that I'd say are roughly her equal in those departments.  But
while they look--different, Buffy looks...well, human.  And that's what gets me, because
humans do not have what she has.

     I always said she was peculiar, didn't I?

     Is the Slayer human?  God, I hope so; I don't want to think about Buffy the way I think
about the things we capture and study.  But how does a human take on one of those
things I helped her with at the high school and end up without a cut, without a bruise?
Everything I know about her tells me that she's as normal as I am--with a really unusual
evening pasttime.  But everything I've been taught about identifying HST's tells me that I
should be careful.  I don't want to listen to that part, but after seeing her fight, it's getting
harder and harder to ignore.

     I haven't told Walsh about this, and I'm really not looking forward to.  I'd really rather
not tell her at all, to tell the truth; I'll bet that she doesn't believe in the whole Slayer thing
any more than Forrest does, and if I tell her about Buffy's abilities--well, she's been trained a
lot better than I am, and for a lot longer.  She might listen to the part I'm ignoring.

     Of course, the worst part of it is--I think I'm falling head-over-combat boots in love
with Buffy Summers.  If that's not a conflict of interest, I don't know what is.

     If I took any of this to Forrest, he'd tell me I'm messed up.  Maybe I am; isn't love
supposed to do that to a person?  Even so, I can't help it.  It's Buffy--and I can be totally
honest with her.

     I only wish I knew that Fate was being totally honest with me.

End.

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