TITLE: Dollhouse: DC
AUTHOR: brave-little-toaster
RATING: PG-13 for now.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own BtVS and Dollhouse. I’m just twisted enough to try to put them together in some form or another.
FEEDBACK: Makes me do the Snoopy happy dance of glee.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey all! So this one lines up with episodes 10 and 11. Many thanks to Binky, who was nice enough to read this over and help me with a few points! I’m really sorry this took longer than I would have liked… I’d tell stories about where I’ve been, but I’m pretty sure nothing can beat my previous one!
- - -
A black van sat just beyond the light of a streetlight on a side street in Los Angeles. Inside the van, a man in a tweed suit was looking back and forth between a pair of screens. The screens looked incredibly similar, except for the fact that one had a piece of masking tape on the top that read “Echo”, while the other had a piece of tape on the top that read “Tango”.
After a moment, the man shook his head and sat back. He sighed heavily, before he began muttering to himself. His tone was high pitched and mocking. “Mr. Giles, we have a new assignment for you. Yes, we know you’re about to go into retirement. We’re having trouble finding people who are qualified to be handlers.” He shook his head again, as if he were trying to get something off of his head, or perhaps out of it.
“Working with two actives. They’re lucky I like challenges, otherwise I might not have taken it.” Giles’s voice was normal now, in his own range. He checked the screens again, and snorted when he saw that there was no change. “These two shouldn’t be out on assignment together.”
He seemed to contemplate his statement for a moment, before correcting himself. “This assignment shouldn’t be happening at all, even if it is DeWitt’s nearest and dearest. Giving someone the chance to continue to live after they’ve already died, even for a short while, is just sick. And imprinting Tango as an undercover police officer who knows everything? About the Dollhouse, about the situation? It’s asking for trouble.” Giles sighed heavily again before picking up one of the many Thai food take-out boxes around him. He might as well make himself comfortable, it was going to be a long night.
- - -
Inside the house that Giles was currently sitting outside, Echo, Tango, DeWitt and a few others were enjoying a round of drinks. One of the men in the group had just made a pass at Tango, currently a detective calling herself Halle. When “Halle” nearly choked on her drink at his comment, Echo had smiled at her before looking at the guy.
With a smirk on her face, she informed him that “Blondie here doesn’t drive stick”. DeWitt’s eyes widened as everyone in the room roared with laughter, and the blonde’s face began to impersonate a tomato.
- - -
Topher had just finished an imprint. The chair was making its way back up to the upright position, and he was nervous. What if the imprint acted funny? Of course it wouldn’t, he knew that. The more important question was what would happen if DeWitt realized that he was not doing this for a routine diagnosis check on the system, but so that he could have someone to hang out and have fun with, just for a little while?
The girl in the chair grinned at him, and Topher grinned right back. Sierra didn’t have any scheduled engagements within the next day, so for 24 hours, she was his best friend.
- - -
Upstairs, DeWitt smiled at the screen that gave her a view of Topher’s lab. She knew perfectly well what he was doing, and really, she should have stopped him. But he only did it one day a year. No harm done in letting him have a little bit of fun.
After a moment, her face turned from a slight smile to a scowl. She had more important things to focus on. Echo and Tango had helped her best friend solve her own murder. Now, DeWitt had to ensure that they were safe within the Dollhouse from prying eyes. That former FBI agent, Ballard, was getting awful close.
If he got any closer to finding the Dollhouse, she would have to pull out the big guns and take him out of the picture.
DeWitt was very sure that Ballard would not like the attic, but that was where she was sure he was heading. Then again, they were probably all heading to the attic, every single person in the Dollhouse. It was just a matter of time and circumstance before they were sent there.
- - -
Sierra and Topher were tossing a football back and forth, from one balcony to the other. They were standing on pathways suspended over the room where many of the active’s activities happened. Below them, a group of actives were participating in yoga, while others painted at short tables.
As they threw the ball, they were talking about various science-fiction universes, trying to decide which universe was better. Sierra took a moment, football in hand, to collect her thoughts so that she could come up with a better point than the one Topher had just thrown at her. She looked down over the edge of the balcony, and noticed a man in a grey tee-shirt and sweats about fifteen feet below her. He looked up and smiled at her, and waved. Sierra bit her lip before smiling back, her face taking on a light blush.
Their gaze was broken when Topher cleared his throat. She looked up at him, her blush increasing, as she knew she had been caught. Topher seemed to be at a loss for what to say for a moment. Sierra tossed the football to him without saying a word. Just before he tossed it back, Topher smiled a little bit. “Victor’s a good guy. I’d say he’s cute, but that’s not my area of expertise.” This got a laugh out of Sierra.
Topher caught the football again, and he raised his eyebrows in an expression of excitement. “3-D chess?” She laughed again, and nodded. He threw the football one more time, and she caught it just before she turned around.
Victor. She would have to remember that name.
- - -
In a room that neither Topher nor Sierra could see from their places on the balconies, Langton and a woman in a doctor’s coat were talking. Neither of them seemed happy as the woman pulled a sheet away from the face of a man’s corpse, showing Langton the cuts on his nose, cheekbones, and forehead. Langton nodded.
“Dr. Saunders, I’ve seen this before.” His tone was disapproving. Saunders’s eyes met Langton’s, and he only said one word. “Alpha.”
The woman shook her head, her shoulder length brown hair swishing back and forth. “Alpha is dead.” She winced as she said it, because even though she had meant to make it sound like a statement, it sounded more like a question. “They tracked him down and put a bullet in his brain.”
Langton’s eyes spoke of worry as he posed a question to her. “And they would never lie to us about that, would they?”
- - -
That night, Tango sat on the floor, with her toes brushing her bed. She smiled at Echo as she came in, and watched Echo climb into her bed. As soon as Echo was out of sight, Tango followed her lead.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tango thought she saw Sierra and Victor getting into the same bed. But that wasn’t possible, was it? She must have been mistaken.
After the top of her bed slid closed, Tango took the small journal out from underneath her mattress. Every night, she began the same way, by lifting the cover and reading the name that Echo had written on the inside, in the top left corner. Tara. Echo had told her that she still didn’t know why, but she was sure that the name somehow belonged to Tango.
She hadn’t been able to remember much, and not nearly as much as Echo. Her brunette friend hadn’t been able to remember too much either, though. Echo remembered flashes; a face, a smell, a place, a feeling.
All Tango had been able to remember so far was the same small, red-headed girl. A small sigh escaped her lips. She missed the red-head, although she had no idea where they had met, under what circumstances, or even her name.
Instead of writing, she doodled for a little while. There was no point in writing the same description over and over, especially when she had no idea who the girl was or why she knew her. A little while later, she had filled the page with a beautifully drawn tree.
She tucked the small book under her mattress, and rolled onto her stomach so she could fall asleep. Just before sleep overtook her brain, she wondered; why a tree?
- - -
Two days later
- - -
Alpha shook his head. He had lost everything. Lost his cover, both as dead to the Dollhouse and as that environmental scientist, Stephen. Lost his apartment, although it had really been Stephen’s. Lost all that marijuana, too, and a few of the people in his head mourned the loss. Most of that, he had just taken it from Stephen. More importantly, he was sure he had lost his Echo, and any chance he had at ever having her for his own. Things were not going as he had planned.
Then again, when there are 49 different people in your head, things never go according to everyone’s plan.
When that man, Ballard, had come knocking on his door, he was sure that he had found his chance. Ballard wanted to get into the Dollhouse to get that girl, Caroline. Alpha had been waiting for an opportunity. Ballard was the perfect distraction to help him get back in, because leaving is easy. Going back is harder.
They had gotten into the building with no problems. Ballard had been the perfect distraction for his purposes, taking DeWitt’s attention away from the fact that someone else might have gotten in, too. Something. While Ballard was busy getting his butt yelled at by the higher-ups, he had made it out with Echo, with only two people standing in his way on his escape route.
The first had been a blonde girl, asking to go with them. Of course, he had just slashed her face and left her there, bleeding onto the floor, hands cradling her face.
The second one had been a slightly… larger problem. He had actually had to fight Echo’s former handler. Where had Echo’s current handler, the British one, been the entire time? He was probably taking care of the other girl, the blonde one. Like DeWitt, he had no idea that Alpha himself was even in the building, never mind taking off with his other girl.
Langton hadn’t been too difficult to deal with. If you had let me deal with it—you would have killed him!
From then on, everything had gone as planned. I hadn’t planned it. Shut up. Removing the tracking device from Echo’s neck had been a cinch. He had taken all of Echo’s imprints from the imbecile’s lab, and taken his girl to one of his hiding places. They had played games for a while, with a girl named Wendy. He had given her Echo’s original personality, Caroline, before frying the girl’s brain and cutting her up.
Then, the moment he had been anticipating. He knew Echo was special, like him. She would be able to handle all the personalities in her mind. And once he had dumped them into her head, she had not disappointed any part of him.
Except me.
Shut up!
Echo had handled all 38 of the personalities perfectly, maybe better than he expected. But then she began to talk back. She wanted her original personality, which they were not willing to give her. Caroline was not ready to go home. Yet. She also wanted to leave, and Alpha wasn’t willing to let that happen. Not before he filled her in on their plan.
Finally, he had shot at her in the shoulder as an attempt to get her to do what he wanted. He had shot at his perfect Echo.
She got out anyway, hurt shoulder and all, and Langton and that traitor Ballard had just taken her away. Away from him, away from the perfection he and Echo could have achieved together. They could have brought the Dollhouse down, and they could have controlled it. Alpha and his Echo, saving the world.
Now, he would just have to wait and see if she was able to do it herself. Most of Alpha’s 49 imprints hoped that she was capable of doing it and willing to do it, because otherwise he was out of options.
And the Dollhouse needed to be brought down before someone got hurt.
- - -
Things were going well in Cindy Perrin’s world. Well, except for the fact that she was Mrs. Perrin. She could do without that bit.
Her husband had been on the campaign trail for almost a month now, and he would soon be one of the Senators for the state of New York. Perrin was certain to win, the people loved him. A man of good values, who just wanted what was best for the people.
Due to his imminent win, he was already working on putting together his agenda for when he became Senator. Cindy smiled to herself as she lay there in bed next to her husband. He was becoming increasingly interested in the Rossum Corporation, and the medical benefits it could provide the public that it was not sharing. Soon, she knew he would be interested in the Dollhouse.
Cindy had to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Her active would bring the Dollhouse to light, and then make it seem like an elaborate hoax. All the while, he would have no idea that the people surrounding him had anything to do with the Dollhouse, or that he himself was an active!
Outside the door, Cindy could hear the two bodyguards exchange a few words as they changed shifts. She carefully got out of the bed and put her ear to the hotel room door, and listened to a pair of receding footsteps. Once she could no longer hear them, she carefully opened the door.
She opened the door, the small red-head outside of it looked up at her, smiled, and went back to the paper tablet in her lap. Instead of going to get a cup of coffee as she normally did this time of morning, though, Cindy sat down next to the bodyguard.
As she sat down, the other girl put her hands on her knees and sighed in frustration. “I can’t get the smile right. I’ve been trying for weeks.” Cindy looked at what Willow was talking about.
The blonde nodded at the picture for a moment before commenting. “She’s pretty. Who is she?”
Willow shook her head. “See, that’s the thing. I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before, but I know how she’s supposed to look.” Cindy took this in for a moment, then nodded.
It made sense. She had been told that Oboe, Willow’s name in her doll state, was not able to be put out on romantic engagements anymore. This was probably why.
Cindy cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m going to go get coffee. Would you like me to grab you a mocha?” She smiled at the bodyguard, who had sort of become her friend, in a strange sense of the word.
Willow grinned back. “Yes please.”
The senator’s wife got up and walked down the hallway as Willow went back to working on her picture.
- - -
Willow heard Mrs. Perrin’s footsteps fade. She knew that the entire short conversation had been odd. Why had she been so quick to dismiss the discussion about the blonde girl whom neither of them knew?
She turned to a blank page in her sketch pad. For a few minutes, she looked at the page as if the absence of color on it could give her answers to life, the universe, and everything. Some part of her brain told her that she should draw something, so she would have something to look at.
Another part of her brain answered that the entire world was there to be looking at, that she just hadn’t drawn it yet.
Willow began to sketch the outline of a whale.
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I actually went to the Dollhouse Wiki page to catch up a little. Looking forward for more. 
I’m glad it’s kinda sorta clear what’s going on. I’m trying to make this make as much sense as possible for those who don’t know much/anything about Dollhouse as possible.
