Written for the Watcher's Diaries Reverse Art-A-Thon. Inspired by the wonderfully talented Sandy_S's stunning banner.
 
Rating: R 18 + (probably at some stage!)
 
Set in Season 6 somewhere around 'Life Serial' and goes very AR from there.
 
Author's Note: Thanks go to my wonderful beta AmyB, and to Slaymesoftly for her helpful suggestions. And of course to my lovely cheer squad who keep me motivated! lol (you know who you are!!) Thanks guys! **hugs**
 

A Grain of Sand
By Always_jbj

Chapter 1


Gone!

In a heartbeat. No. Less.

Light pulsed and flashed blindingly. The scent of ozone hung heavily on the air, and an eerie, high-pitched scream rent the deathly-still night, tearing painfully at his ears. And then she was gone, as if she had never been there at all.

“No!”

A ragged cry sounded from somewhere, a painful tormented keening that left the listener heartbroken. It was long moments before he realised that the grief-ridden cry was being torn from his own throat.

*****

She had thought that she had known what pain was; after all, pain was all that she had known since she had been dragged back here to this world. Pain, or numbness, but nothing in between the extremes; she wasn’t entirely sure which of the two was worse.

The only time things were bearable was in the dim light and the quiet, soothing company that she found, ironically enough, in a crypt. That was where she belonged. With the dead. Only her friends wouldn’t allow her to stay there, no more so now than when she had been in heaven. If she was gone too long, they asked questions. If they found her talking to Spike, there were the glares and the worried looks, the nasty, cruel words spoken when they thought she could not hear, the spiteful cruelties directed towards the vampire who had fought at their sides and protected them over the summer months. So she put on a happy face, tried to make them believe that everything was alright, that she was happy to have been brought back here—to where everything was hard, and harsh, and a constant daily struggle.

She couldn’t tell them, couldn’t let them know what they had done; it would break them, she knew that. It would just cause more pain. And then there would be more of the sideways glances and the worried looks. No, she couldn’t tell those who were nearest and dearest to her the truth about where she had been; the only one she could tell was Spike. He didn’t look at her like he expected her to ‘get over it;’ he didn’t give her pitying glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was just there for her. He allowed her to be quiet and still—not pushing her for conversation or asking her to be all right, not asking her to be… anything. Just allowing her to ‘be’. He offered her peace in a world of pain.

Now, there was no peace that could be offered, and the pain she had known seemed meaningless—an empty echo in contrast to the excruciating agony that currently gripped her.

Gone!

She was gone. In less time than it took to draw a breath, her world was turned upside down, and she learned the true meaning of pain.

*****

They had been walking through the early evening, Dawn chattering away as usual, and both of them had smiled indulgently at her enthusiasm. Spike distracted Dawn whenever her nattering touched upon something a little too raw, a little too close to the painful wound that Buffy carried in her heart—where she had been while she was ‘away’ for the summer.

Anyone watching them would have thought they were a happy family out for an early evening stroll, albeit a stroll through the unlikely setting of one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. And there, in that setting, Buffy knew one of the moments of almost-happiness that she had experienced so rarely in the weeks since her resurrection.

For some reason, time spent with Dawn and Spike was like that; it was strange to her that, amidst the mayhem of Dawn’s relentless noise and boundless energy, she was still able to find peace. Not that time alone with her sister and her former enemy was a common event; her friends seemed to feel the need to surround her at all times. She knew that their actions stemmed from concern, worry, love; she knew this, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear.

One moment, Dawn had been regaling them with a story about an unfortunate classmate and a pot of paint in art class that day, her face animated as she recalled the incident in every minute detail.

In the next, a blinding light had incapacitated them all, a shrieking high-pitched wail accompanied by the distinctive scent of ozone hanging heavily on the air. A large red demon had appeared before them; watched through tear-blurred eyes by her companions, it had snatched Dawn up before either of them could move and, in yet another light-accompanied scream, had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, Dawn’s terrified cries for them to help her echoing plaintively in the still night air.

*****

Spike forced himself to his feet, his ears still ringing from the strange, siren-like wail, his eyes streaming—whether as an after-effect of the light or from the grief that filled him at the loss of Dawn, he couldn’t say. He couldn’t think far beyond the fact that she had been taken, this little girl who had become, over the last few months, his world, his only reason to continue after the slayer’s death. He staggered to where Buffy lay, curled tightly in a ball, her sobs wrenching further at his already aching heart. He knelt, gathering her into his lap and holding her tightly against his chest as he soothed her gently, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly. He made meaningless sounds of comfort until he had succeeded in calming her enough that he was able to break through the grief that gripped the girl to reach the slayer within.

“C’mon, luv. We need to move, Buffy. Need to find a way to get her back.”

His words cut through the miasma of pain and grief—‘get her back’—and she latched on to the phrase with all the tenacity and determination of her former self. The Slayer picked herself up from the ground. “Let’s go,” she said firmly, drying her tears with a rough swipe of her hand. “We’ll stop by my place and call the others; my guess is the Magic Box is the best place to meet up. Whatever we do is probably going to involve hocus pocus of some variety. At least we know Willow is up to it,” she continued bitterly.

tbc


Chapter 2


By the time everyone had gathered at the Magic Box, Buffy was pacing frantically, desperate to be on her way in search of the hideous red demon that had run off with her sister. Spike was sitting quietly on the counter, knowing better than to get in Buffy’s way while she was like this; he offered responses to her randomly voiced questions but was otherwise silent. To an outsider the vampire would have appeared relaxed, the stoic contrast to the Slayer’s ceaseless motion; to anyone who knew him, however, the tenseness of his jaw, the ticking muscle in his cheek, the lean muscular body coiled for action, and the occasional flicker of amber in the deep blue eyes told an entirely different tale.

As the last of the Scoobies filed into the room, Buffy launched herself into the details of the evening, with Spike filling in what gaps he could.

“So, there you have it.” Buffy looked at each of them in turn. “Now, how do we find her and bring her back?”

“From what you’ve described, it appears as though we are talking about a demon with the ability to transfer across dimensions.” Giles reached for a large tome amongst the stack of books currently littering the top of the research table. “There are a few different species with this inherent ability, although they are remarkably rare. Most fascinating, really,” he mused, looking up from the pages he was thumbing through. The scholarly enthusiasm in his eyes slowly fizzled and then died as he caught his slayer’s irritated gaze.

“Just tell me how I go after it,” she demanded.

“What’s this ‘I’ business, pet?” Spike interjected, catching and holding her eye. “I’m going with you. I told you I’d protect her to the end of the world. Way I figure it, that means in this universe or any other… makes no difference to me.”

“You don’t have to, Spike.” Buffy’s voice was quiet; she was thankful for his offer but was unwilling to drag anyone else into the danger she was bound to be facing in order to reclaim her sister. If she’s even still alive. The thought flashed mercilessly across her mind, only to be banished firmly as she clung to the certainty that whatever this creature had been, it seemed to want Dawn alive—at least for now. All she knew was that she had to hurry; all this standing around talking—when all she wanted was to be catching and kicking some demon butt—was killing her.

“Yes, I do.” Spike spoke slowly, emphasising each word.

They stared silently for a moment, two warriors locked once more in battle, until one of them backed down. “Thank you, Spike,” Buffy, capitulated gratefully.

“You’re welcome, luv. But ‘m not doing it for you.” There was no malice in his words, just simple truth. He would cross universes for the young girl who had won his heart, the girl who reminded him of his long-lost sister; he had been unable to protect her from the cruelties of life, but he was determined that he would not likewise fail Dawn.

Anya frowned thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure that she could make them understand the futility of their quest, but felt she at least owed them enough that she should try. “You guys, do you realise what you’re talking about?” All eyes shifted to focus on the ex-demon as she continued. “If you picture the universe and all of its dimensions as a beach, a really big beach, then looking for Dawn would be like looking for a particular grain of sand on that beach. It could take you a millennia, and even then you still might not find her. What you’re suggesting is essentially impossible, even with the aid of something like an Iemlenu amulet.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to do the impossible.” Spike turned unwavering blue eyes on the woman at his side, never doubting for a moment that they would be in accord. “Right, pet?”

Buffy smiled gratefully, allowing herself to take strength from him, from his confidence and determination. They would find Dawn; of that, she was certain. “Right,” she affirmed. “I mean, it’s not like the impossible is… impossible. We’ve done it before; we can…”

“What was that you said, Anya?” Giles interrupted, frowning as he tried to recall the details of a distant memory that was tugging urgently at his mind.

“That finding Dawn would be like looking for a grain of sand…”

“No, not that. The amulet. You mentioned an amulet.”

*****

Spike scooped the newly-blessed amulet from the counter and handed it to Buffy, his gaze capturing hers for a moment, conveying silently his support and encouragement.

Dragging her eyes away from the intensity of his stare she turned to her friends, offering each in turn a bittersweet smile in lieu of the long speeches and tight, clinging embraces that she knew they would have preferred. She didn’t have it in her to offer such comforts, even had they the time. She reached out and took Spike’s hand, her fingers entwining unhesitatingly with his.

Turning at last to her Watcher, she tried to ignore his suspicion-filled glance at her companion, and at their intricately joined hands. She tried instead to focus on the love she felt for the man who was more a father to her than her own flesh-and-blood father. “We’ll find her, Giles; we’ll be back in no time. You’ll see.”

Giles swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened at the thought of losing her again so soon after she had been returned to them. “Yes, I have every confidence. Of course,” he offered, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his slayer and refusing to allow it to wander to the vampire at her side.

“Will, Tara, do you mind?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Buffy, please, can’t you…” Willow’s pleas were cut off as Tara wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.

“She’s my sister, Will. I have to find her. I can’t not try. Please?” Even as she spoke the words, Buffy didn’t know if her entreaty was for understanding, or for compliance; maybe it was designed to elicit a little of both.

With a nod, Willow drew herself up, settling her features into a determined mask, grasping Tara’s hand as they spoke the last of the ritual words in unison. A faint glow began to form, and the stone warmed within its setting; as the chanting continued, the glow grew steadily stronger, until the light pouring from the amulet was unbearable to watch. Just as Buffy began to fear that the stone would crack, that their only chance to find Dawn would be lost forever, the blinding light blinked out, leaving only the faintest trace of its luminosity trapped deeply within the enchanted amber of the Iemlenu amulet.

Tightening her fingers around the vampire’s, she settled the amulet around her neck; grasping the stone firmly in her free hand, she spoke the words they had both practiced. She looked up in time to mouth a quick “thank you” to her friends before the world was spinning around her a bright, blinding flash, the air thick with the scent of ozone. Then darkness engulfed her as the world disappeared, the firm, steadying grip of Spike’s hand in hers and a deep penetrating coldness that seemed to settle in her bones the only sensations she could discern.

tbc


Chapter 3

The amulet was very closely related to those used by vengeance demons; where theirs were aligned to hone in on and guide the wearer towards pain in keeping with the individual’s specialty, however, the Iemlenu was aligned to pinpoint an individual’s signature. Anya had explained to her captivated audience how each individual being had its own unique signature, or aura if you will, and that no other being in any of the multitudinous number of worlds and dimensions carried the same signature. Even doppelgangers, did not share a signature, given that each was an individual life-form capable of existing independently of the other.

Creating the amulet had not been particularly difficult; it had, however, required that several hours of rituals and blessings be performed on the recipient stone, hours that had tried Buffy’s and Spike’s patience almost beyond the limit. The ritual had required some of Dawn’s hair; retrieving her hairbrush from the Summers’ house had at least given them an excuse to escape for a while and burn off some of the edginess that the seemingly overlong delay was producing.

Whilst Anya and the two witches had worked on the amber, Buffy and Spike had memorised the words required to activate the amulet. Once they were both decreed to be adequately proficient, they had poured over the books with Giles and Xander, trying unsuccessfully to find the demon responsible for kidnapping the Slayer’s sister.

Giles had explained to them both that the different dimensions they could visit may well be as alike to their own as walking outside the door at that moment, or as different as waking to find themselves in the middle of the Sahara. At his words, Buffy had expressed concern that they could possibly find themselves without shelter from the sun; as her travelling companion tended to barbeque a little in the sunlight, that was a situation she wanted to avoid at all costs.

“There must be a spell, like a magical umbrella or something?” she offered weakly, concern creasing her features as she looked at Spike. “Please, Giles, there has to be a way to make sure that Spike is safe from the sun. If only Angel hadn’t destroyed that ring.” The last was mumbled quietly to herself, and none but preternaturally enhanced ears could have made out her words. Spike had smiled silently to himself, basking in the knowledge that she would even consider allowing him the use of something as powerful as the Gem of Amara, especially seeing as it had once been such a source of contention between them. Granted, at the time, he had been making use of its power to try to kill her.

Giles spoke quickly as Buffy drew breath to continue her tirade. “There is no need,” he assured her. “My research shows that Spike will be perfectly safe in the sunlight of any dimension but our own.”

“Research?” Buffy looked quizzically at her watcher. “You have research on this?”

Giles gave her a small, discomfited smile. “While you were… what I mean to say…”

“Giles, it’s ok, you can say it you know. While I was dead. Yeah, ok… what?”

“Yes, indeed. While you were—dead—I found research to be a somewhat welcome distraction.”

“Ok, I get that. But why this? I mean, there are lots of things you could research, so why this particular thing?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Just seems like an odd thing to be doing research on, you know?”

“Oh, yes, I see.” Giles’ eyes lit up as he warmed to his topic. “It seems that Angel and his co-workers had occasion to visit an alternate dimension in the weeks before you… passed. Willow mentioned to me in passing that, while in this dimension, Angel had been unaffected by sunlight. I found it interesting enough to delve further into the reasons. From what I gather, it has something to do with the molecular structure of the vampire in question, in much the same way that amulet knows the difference between our Dawn and any other dimension’s Dawn. The sun from the vampire’s own dimension is, in fact, the only one that will adversely affect it.”

“So you’re saying I’ll be able to stand in the sun in these other dimensions?” Spike asked, tentatively, a wistful look on his face.

“Yes, that is precisely what I am saying.” Giles frowned as he answered Spike. “That does not, however, mean that any of your other—vulnerabilities—will be removed; a good stake to the heart will still cause you to become dust. I suggest you remember that.”

“Giles!” Buffy admonished. “What was that all about?!”

“I don’t trust him, Buffy, and I would feel considerably better about this if you were not taking a renowned killer with you.”

“Oi!” Spike complained indignantly. “’s been a bloody long time since I have made any sort of move to hurt Buffy, or any of you lot for that matter.”

“Giles, you know Spike wouldn’t hurt me. He’s been working with you guys all summer. And looking after Dawn. How could you say that?! Besides, would you prefer I went alone? Spike is strong, and we fight well together.”

Giles gave a long, defeated sigh. “No, I don’t suppose that I would prefer that you go alone. I just... well, I worry.”

“I know that, but you don’t have to. I know Spike has my back. I’ll be fine,” Buffy assured him. “We’ll be fine,” she added firmly.

They had spent some time packing a backpack for each of them. Several stakes and other easily concealed and transportable weapons, as well as food and a change of clothing filled Buffy’s pack; into Spike’s went additional weapons, several bags of blood, and he had thrown in some extra food for Buffy. After that, it had simply been a matter of trying to be patient until the rituals were completed, ignoring the barely-veiled insults Xander aimed at Spike whenever the opportunity arose, and not allowing themselves to give in to the almost overwhelming fear that gripped each of them whenever they allowed themselves to dwell on Dawn’s possible fate.

Finally, the time had come for them to be on their way.

tbc

Chapter 4

The world came rushing back to them, dizzyingly, causing in them a vertigo much like that which comes from looking over a steep cliff or down from the roof of a very tall building. Buffy stumbled slightly as sensation returned; Spike tightened his grip on their linked hands even as he turned to face her, reaching out to steady her with the other.

Looking around they quickly recognised their location; they weren’t far from Spike’s crypt in Restfield Cemetery.

“Well, at least we don’t seem to have gone far,” Spike commented.

“Great, all that and we end up here.” Buffy looked around them, “Home sweet home.” Her brow creased, “But why would he bring Dawn back to the cemetery?” she mused quietly.

“Don’ know, luv. My guess is we’ll find that out when we find the Nibblet.” Gazing up at the clear night sky he added, “Stars are different, though; more like early spring than mid-autumn.”

Buffy stared sceptically at him. “Ok, see… now, you’re scaring me.”

Spike laughed. “Knowin’ the position of stars in the sky is just second nature, pet. Guess I’m showing my age, yeah?” he asked, his laughter faded to an uncertain smile.

It was Buffy’s turn to laugh when she saw his uncertainty. “Yeah, you are. But you know,” she continued, running her eyes appraisingly up and down his body, “you look pretty good for someone who’s, like, ancient,” she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood and put paid her companion’s sudden insecurity.

“Ancient, am I?” Spike growled. “I’ll show you ancient, little girl.” He lunged for her, fingers wiggling as he threatened to tickle her, and she squeaked and made to run off only to be captured and pinned tightly against a hard, muscular chest. “Looks like I caught myself a slayer,” he purred against her ear. “What should I do with her, I wonder?” His agile fingers worked teasingly across her vulnerable ribs, tickling slightly and threatening further retribution.

“Don’t. No, Spike, lemme go!” Buffy giggled helplessly. “’kay, you win. You’re not ancient. Now, please, Spike, lemme go!” she begged through her laughter. She may have supernatural strength, and be Chosen to save the world from all that is evil; despite all of that, however, Buffy was incredibly, unbearably, debilitatingly ticklish.

Spike released her, his hands skimming lightly down her waist to her hips as he reluctantly dropped his hands. The happy smile faded from his lips as he recalled the reason for their current situation. “Right, luv. Best we see about trying to find the Nibblet, yeah?”

Buffy sobered instantly, the brief moment of enjoyment quickly brushed aside for more pressing matters. “Yeah, I just... don’t know how. I mean, I kinda figured we’d pop in wherever she was. I guess it’s not going to be that easy, but then again, when is it ever? D’you have any ideas?” she asked hopefully.

Spike closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, searching for Dawn’s scent on the crisp, cool night air. A faint trace of her, clearly recognisable despite its weakness, tickled his nostrils. “This way,” he indicated, setting off in the direction in which his keen vampire senses told him his charge lay.

They set off through the cemetery towards the industrial side of town, with Spike pausing every now and then to test the air and make certain they were still on the right track.

As they left the grounds by a rarely-used side gate, a slight disturbance in the air—just the faintest hum and a warning prickle along the back of her neck—caught Buffy’s attention; in an instant, she reached out, grabbing Spike and pulling him towards her as the crossbow bolt flew with a sickening whirr through the space his heart had occupied only seconds before.

The vampire and the Slayer quickly adopted fighting stances, covering each other’s backs as their eyes scoured the shadows for their attacker.

Buffy’s voice came to them from the darkness below the left hand wall. “Don’t move.” The command was barked sharply in a voice slightly rougher and harsher than Buffy’s own. A figure stepped into the moonlight; the woman before them was clearly Buffy Summers, although a much leaner, more muscular version. This version was certainly absent the more prom queen of Buffy’s tendencies; her hair was tied back tightly, and her face was pinched into what appeared by the deeply etched lines to be a permanent scowl of displeasure.

“Spike,” she stated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion as she held the crossbow levelled at the vampire’s heart. With one hand she reached into the pocket of her jacket, fishing out a cigarette and placing it in her mouth before reaching once more for the lighter. She took a long, slow draw on the cigarette, releasing her breath in a cloud of smoke as she continued. “Now, I know I dusted you years ago. So, would you like to explain to me how it is that you came to be here, in my town, again? And what’s with the slayer-wannabee vampette?” she sneered as a parting shot.

“Vampette? Slayer-wannabee?” Buffy glared indignantly at her doppelganger, “Why, you cheap knock-off...”

“Easy, Slayer,” Spike interrupted, his words directed at his slayer while his eyes never left the other. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a bit of a situation here, pet. An’ somehow I don’ think you’re gonna be helping matters going off all slayer-on-a-mission. How’s ‘bout we all just take a deep breath, an’ start again, yeah?”

“You don’t breathe, fang-face. Remember?” the less-friendly Buffy snapped.

Taking a long, steadying breath, Buffy conceded that Spike was probably right; there was no point in escalating the situation any further. “Look,” she reasoned with her counterpart, “this isn’t your Spike. He’s not from here; we’re not from here. We’re from another dimension. This big, ugly, dimension-skipping demon kidnapped Dawn, and we’re just trying to get her back, ‘kay? So you know, how bout a little less of the John Wayne routine? Just let us get on with the whole rescue thing.”

“John Wayne used guns, pet, not arrows. Now if you’d said Ton…”

“Spike! So not helping here!” Buffy snapped, cutting him off sharply.

“’m just saying,” the vampire mumbled sulkily.

“Ok. That’s enough,” the other slayer growled, raising the crossbow further. “You seriously expect me to buy this dumb and dumber routine?”

“Ok, I have so had it with you and your insults,” Buffy shot back, grabbing Spike’s arm and, in a furious burst of speed, slinging him into the shadows and out of the crossbow’s deadly sights. That accomplished, she flung herself sideways as the deadly bolt whistled past; recovering quickly, she threw herself into the fray.

The first blows were exchanged in a blinding flurry of motion: punch, block, and kick, repeat, mix up the combination and start again. The two slayers were seemingly evenly matched as they sized each other up, each searching for a weakness, some kind of opening that would give her the advantage over her sister-slayer.

Buffy’s came in the form of one mightily pissed-off blonde vampire. Blue eyes that of late had shone with tenderness or danced with barely suppressed mirth were instead hard and cold as he moved silently, intently, easily closing on the two combatants as they concentrated fully on battling each other. His Buffy landed a kick that had the other slayer spinning, staggering towards him as she attempted to recover from the blow. With all the speed and agility of the deadly predator that he was, he struck.

“Spike, no! The chip!” Buffy’s warning came too late, leaving her to watch in horror as Spike’s fist connected with her double’s cheek. To both her surprise and the vampire’s, the anticipated pain did not eventuate. With a resounding roar, Spike smashed his fist once more into the other slayer’s face, a satisfied smirk firmly in place as her knees buckled and she slumped, unconscious, to the ground.

tbc

Chapter 5

Spike turned, grinning smugly, to face Buffy. “Well, that was…” His words trailed off as he caught the look on her face, her eyes wide and horrified as she looked back and forth between him and the unconscious slayer on the ground. “Buffy? Pet?” He took a step towards her, his extended hand dropping as she took a hesitant half-step backwards; his smile melted, his eyes filling with confusion and hurt before blazing with anger.

“Right. So that’s how it is, eh? What—do you think I’m gonna rip your bleedin’ throat out now? Is that it?” Pain and anger coloured his tones in equal measure as he glared furiously at the girl before him. How could she think he would hurt her?

“Spike. No.” Buffy shook off the sudden fear that had gripped her as she watched William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, take down—well—her. “I’m sorry… I know you’re not going to… I just… it was a shock, that’s all.” She stepped quickly forward, closing the distance between them and placing her hand gently on his arm, willing him to accept her apology. “How long has it been?” she asked quietly.

“How long has what been?” Spike snapped, pulling away from her roughly as he stubbornly refused to understand her question.

Buffy swallowed hard; she had really hurt him, she knew that, but she wasn’t quite sure how to make things all right between them again. “How long has the chip not been working?” she clarified.

With an exasperated sigh, Spike squatted next to the fallen slayer; after rifling through her pockets for a few moments, he came up with several stakes—which he cast aside—and a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one and settling himself more comfortably, he answered, “I don’t know. Didn’t know it had bloody well stopped working. Figured taking out Miss GI Slayer here was worth the headache. I was as surprised as you were that it didn’t go off.” He looked up at his slayer. “I’m not plannin’ on going out on some kinda killing rampage, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” He paused to take another long drag on the cigarette before continuing quietly. “That’s not me anymore. Thought you knew that,” he added sulkily.

“I do, Spike.” She sank to the ground beside him, once more placing her hand on his arm and waiting until he looked at her, earnest green eyes capturing and holding his hurt blue ones. “I really do, and I am sorry. It was just… for a moment, I remembered how really scary you can be.” She smiled softly at him, hoping that he would listen to her and that she could muster the words to undo at least some of the harm she had done.

Buffy watched in amazement as a cocky smile spread across the mercurial vampire’s face, the hurt in his eyes replaced by a twinkling mischievousness. “’m scary!?” he asked with a smirk.

Buffy rolled her eyes; only Spike would take being called scary as a compliment. “Yes, Spike, you’re scary. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know it!”

The conversation was interrupted by the stirring of Buffy’s counterpart; the slight movement, the indrawn hiss of breath as the insentient girl began her journey back towards consciousness reminding them that they had a situation requiring their full attention.

“So, what d’you want to be doin’ with her?” Spike asked, climbing quickly to his feet and offering Buffy a hand.

“I don’t know.” Buffy took the proffered hand and allowed Spike to help her to her feet, grateful that she had so easily, if somewhat unintentionally, found the right words to ease the pain she had caused. “I just want to find Dawn,” she sighed resignedly. “But I guess if we can somehow convince her to help us, we’d stand a better chance of beating Mr Big Ugly.”

Spike frowned, not sure that convincing this slayer to help them was going to be all that easy. Stooping, he quickly removed the unconscious slayer’s belt and set to work; rolling her onto her side, he looped the belt around first one wrist and then the other. Checking that it was firm enough to restrain without constricting the blood flow to her hands, he then threaded the remaining belt through the girl’s rear belt-loops, tying her hands securely to her own pants. “Right then,” he said as he stood and looked at Buffy, “you better give her a good check over for any less obvious weapons.” He turned away, lighting another smoke and surveying the darkness as Buffy carefully checked the other girl for concealed weapons.

“Ok, done,” Buffy announced, holding up two more stakes and a small knife for Spike’s inspection as he turned once more to face her.

Spike discarded the half-smoked cigarette and moved to gather the now softly moaning girl in his arms. He carried her over to the wall and settled her gently against the rough brick. Brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face and tucking them neatly behind her ear, he surveyed the large purple welt marring her cheek and muttered quietly, “’m sorry, luv.”

They didn’t have long to wait for the downed slayer to regain consciousness; once she had, they watched dispassionately as she struggled furiously against her bonds, snarling angrily when she realised that she couldn’t escape them.

“Are you done now?” Buffy asked calmly. The only answer she received was a scathing look of hatred.

With a sigh, Buffy continued. “Look, we didn’t ask for you to go all damage-bound on us, so stop making out like you’re the wronged party here. All I want… all we want,” she clarified, waving her arm to indicate the impatiently glowering vampire, “is a few answers and then, as long as you promise to let us get on with finding Dawn, we’ll let you go and no one is the worse for it, ‘kay?”

A grudgingly-given terse nod was her only answer; Buffy smiled tightly, exhaustion and worry beginning to take their toll. “First,” she began, some of the pent-up anger and frustration she had been feeling since Dawn’s kidnapping seeping into her voice, “where the hell do you get off attacking us like that? What, you see another you and the first thing you think is kill!? No hey, gee, I wonder what that is all about? Or That’s interesting. She looks just like me? Just… Kill!? I mean, my Giles would have a fit if another me showed up and I just straight out killed it—her. He’d be all ‘scientific discovery’ this and ‘research possibility’ that. I wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.”

“Giles?” The captive slayer spoke the name quietly, her voice shaking and her face momentarily haunted before the cold, hard shields of bitterness and anger were once again in place. “Giles is dead,” she shot back angrily.

“Dead?” Buffy’s bottom lip trembled fractionally at the thought of her Watcher—her friend, instructor and, more importantly, father figure—being dead. “How?”

“Does it matter?” The other girl’s face closed off even more as she ground out her bitter response.

“Where are the Scoobies?” Buffy inquired more gently, changing the subject, trying to somehow break through the angry shields her counterpart had erected.

“Who?”

“My friends. Your friends here, I guess… you know, Willow, Xander…”

“Oh, them. They’re around, I guess. I run into them sometimes,” she answered dismissively.

“Oh.” Buffy fell silent; although she hadn’t been able to let go of her hostility towards her friends just yet, she couldn’t imagine her life without them in it. If she was brutally honest, sometimes they were downright self-centred, but they were always there for her when it really mattered… no matter what. She looked up at yet another of her friends and, swallowing hard, she asked the question that she had been putting off. “And Spike?”

The other slayer sneered, her eyes narrowing as she was reminded once more of the vampire’s presence. “Dust,” she answered coldly.

“Yeah, think we got that much earlier, princess,” Spike interjected snarkily. “I think what the Slayer is askin’ you for is a few more details. Isn’t that right, luv?” He turned to Buffy, a cocky smile still firmly in place as he placed himself in the line of sight between the two girls. He listened to Buffy’s heart pounding wildly in her chest and silently willed her to regain control of her emotions; the last thing they needed was for this hard-arsed bitch to realise just how much her words were affecting her counterpart. Buffy offered him a tentative smile and a short discreet nod, both indicating her gratitude and acknowledging the reason for his intervention.

Safe in the knowledge that his slayer was quickly pulling herself together, Spike turned back to the other, far more bitchy version. “A little help from you, an’ we’ll be on our way. You won’t have to be seeing us again. An’ we won’t be having to put up with your delightful company any longer than we have to.”

“And why would I help you?” the girl on the ground retorted bitterly.

“Maybe because it’s your job, pet. You know, sacred calling an’ all that. ‘s not like we’re askin’ you to help us tumble a Red Cross van or rob a soddin’ bank. We’re talking about rescuing your sister.”

“Sister? I don’t have a sister.” Allowing her aggression levels to drop from murderous to just plain antagonistic for the first time since encountering the dimension-hopping pair, the downed slayer frowned bemusedly at her counterpart. “You have a sister?”

“Yeah, I do. And I could do with your help if I’m gonna get her back.”

tbc

 

Return to Bloodshedverse Home
 Use scroll bars to see reviews