Finding the Way Home
by
Sandy S. <mailto:ssoennin@juno.com>
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN. I own nothing.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through “Chosen” of BtVS and the end of Angel Season 4.
Summary: Buffy doesn’t feel quite right after the gang goes to L.A. for rest and relaxation. What will she do about it?
A/N: 1) The song excerpt is from “When Love Takes You In” by Steven Curtis Chapman.
2) To see the beautiful fanart made by dear Thia to accompany this story click the thumbnail! (Thanks for the inspiration, sweetie!):
* * *
“I know you’ve heard the stories,
But they all sound too good to be true.
You’ve heard about a place called home,
But there doesn’t seem to be one for you,
So one more night you cry yourself to sleep
And drift off to a distant dream. . .
Where love takes you in
And everything changes,
A miracle starts with a beat of a heart.
When loves takes you home
And says you belong here,
The loneliness ends and a new life begins
When love takes you in. . .”
From “When Love Takes You In” by Steven Curtis Chapman.
* * *
After she and her friends reached Los Angeles and celebrated with Angel and his group, she found that she didn’t feel quite right.
She wasn’t sure when she realized that she felt that way.
Maybe it was when Angel embraced her with joy upon her arrival and gave her a personal tour of Wolfram and Hart.
Or it could have been when Giles stood up, insistent that as one of two remaining Watchers if they counted Wesley, he needed to recount the story of what happened.
Maybe it was when, after a day of their scheduled, enthusiastic shopping spree, Xander burst into tears over his triple chocolate mocha and wept like a baby over the loss of his beloved Anya.
Perhaps it was when Willow came to her for a quiet chat about the events of the battle... what happened when she went beyond the darkness and revealed the joy and ecstasy of her consequent release from the murky swamp of insecurity.
And maybe the feeling came when she was standing in the bathroom, brushing her curling, wet hair with the cheap plastic brush she bought in the hotel gift shop. Through the fog of shower steam, she had had one of those elusive moments of self-awareness. Despite her revelations about who she was, where she was on the journey, and her plans for the future, she found that she still couldn’t bring herself to tell her friends exactly what happened to the one who sacrificed himself for them all. She had set aside the brush and smiled at the irony that even now, she remained who she was.
No matter when the feeling came to life, she was certain of a discomfort in the depths of her being, and when she woke in the middle of the night in the hotel room she was sharing with Dawn, Giles, and Xander, she went to the balcony, stared up into the moonless sky, and just *knew*.
With fresh surety, she sat at the cramped desk and scribbled out a brief note on the pad of hotel stationery that said she was going somewhere, that she needed to do something, and that she would be back in a few days at the most. She wanted to reassure them that she wasn’t running away from them.
She also took Giles’s credit card and left an “I.O.U.” in his wallet.
* * *
The rental car only drove so far to the edge of what once was Sunnydale. She persisted though and was able to go a little further by driving off the highway before she grew wary of reaching the edge and falling over. Jerking on the parking brake, she exited the vehicle with the urgency of one who had somewhere to go. . . someplace to be.
Despite her show of confidence, the hollow in the pit of her stomach told her that she really didn’t have anywhere to *be*.
The sky was still dark and cloudless, and only the stars lit her path. As she picked her way across the rubble mosaic that formed the border of the giant crater that she would inevitably face, she wondered about what lay in the pit beyond.
She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the scraps of people’s lives that were utterly destroyed in an instant. . .ripped to ribbons.
She didn’t know if she wanted to attempt comprehension of the thousands of memories scattered like broken souls in the wind.
Eventually, the city would be long forgotten. . . valued only as a would-be phenomenon to stop, stare, and marvel at. People would ask their loved ones, “What could have happened here to form such a huge hole in the Earth’s surface?”
But she. . . she would never forget what happened. . . even if she had to tape the shreds together.
The memory still thrummed with vibrant intensity, creating a long, deep wound in her mind that would turn to scar tissue but never completely disappear. She’d borne such injuries in the past. . . injuries that damaged her very essence. However, this time, she didn’t want the memory to wound her soul.
Beyond a shadow of doubt, she knew he wouldn’t want that to happen.
She walked. . . pushing aside the random but familiar surprise of her muscles contracting and releasing that comes with surviving something so dramatic.
A wind blew.
Tugging her jacket around her mid-section, she peered through the invisible push and found the edge of the pit.
The drop-off was steep. . . more abrupt than anything she could ever climb down without ropes and anchors. . . even if she was a Slayer.
“Where’s Riley when you need him?” she grumbled to herself, thinking that perhaps her ex-boyfriend would have some sort of tools or even technology to get her places.
But then, Riley would never be out here. . . not based on a feeling of unease. He would have needed a goal to pursue, and he would have had to assemble a team. . . or at the very least, brought his wife, which was *so* not something she needed to deal with right now.
She kept traveling.
Every perfect shape had a flaw if a person looked hard enough, and she wasn’t taken aback when she found a tiny, less sheer path she could descend without falling several hundred feet.
Trusting her instincts, she avoided the pitfalls of loose dirt, sharp glass and metal that dotted the sediments. She almost lost her balance once when she stumbled over a chunk of broken roofing that she didn’t see, but she caught herself by bracing against the wall of the crater beside her. A cascade of dirt and other bits and pieces flew past her, coating her in a light cloak of dust. . . Sunnydale’s flesh.
She kept traveling.
A few wispy clouds formed in the sky above, partially covering her only light source. When stray raindrops began to fall, officially staining her light-colored clothing, she paused.
Eyes wide at the sky above, she shivered.
What was she doing here when she could be safely tucked away in a warm bed next to Dawn?
Rain droplets expanded in size as she watched, drenching her in individual water balloons. As a strong gust of wind and water washed over her, her eyes widened further.
Something whispered on the edge of her mind. . . in a voice that she would have recognized no matter how garbled by outside forces.
Was it. . .?
It was a memory. . . nothing more. . .
She bit her lip and remembered what he’d said to her the last night. She’d curled up against him and felt his arm strong around her waist. His voice had been soft as a song in her ear before she drifted to dreams, “I believe that we’ll be all right.”
And she had believed.
The precipitation let up, and frowning slightly, she shook off the hopeful chill that had momentarily filled her soul.
Even though she doubted her senses, she felt the urge to keep going. . . to continue her climb downward.
She took fifteen steps more and lost her equilibrium again.
And this time, she didn’t regain it.
As if on cue, the rain gushed in buckets.
Heart leaping in her throat, she seamlessly pulled herself into a roll to reduce any injuries she might incur. Simultaneously, she reached out for anything to stop her motion. She felt lost in the force of gravity, in the pounding rain, without the chance to analyze what was happening. . . like she’d been lost in the chaos of the final battle, in which she’d only relied on her instincts.
When she was starting to believe that the falling would never end and that she would certainly drown, her body contacted something hard. . . large. . . and warm. . . something very real and very alive.
Rain cascading over her, she remained unmoving until the dizziness that enshrouded her began to evaporate.
As the lightheadedness dissipated, she began to match the rain with her own inner storm. Sobs wracked her small frame so hard that she almost couldn’t take in further oxygen. All she felt was a primitive emotion she could only tentatively name loss. Her mind could not wrap itself around the feeling enough to overcome or make full sense of it, and she rode the waves as she had never done until she was gasping for breath and her ribs ached so much she thought they might burst.
Hiccups took over briefly.
Then, she quieted.
She focused on her heart beating and her chest rising and falling.
Her mind returned to itself and drew attention to the body before her.
The first coherent thought she had was that someone had not evacuated Sunnydale and that he or she had somehow survived and ended up on this. . . apparent ledge. Was this what she was to return for. . . to search for survivors?
Harnessing her inner strength, she raised herself slightly and opened her eyes, blinking away the steady raindrops.
She ignored the mud that caked her clothes, hair, and body, and she disregarded the loss of one of her shoes.
Between the darkness and the water, the body before her was indistinguishable to her vision. So, she reached forth with shaking hands and blindly *felt*.
The body’s muscles were compact and firm.
*Male.*
With the discovery that she’d found a member of the opposite sex, her thoughts tripped unwittingly over a montage of memories of *him*. Nothing was specific. . . remembrance of his touch, the way he smelled, the way he sometimes talked. . . or cried out. . . in his sleep.
Further exploration led her to discover that the male was completely naked. . . except for something around his neck. She fingered the heavy chain, and her fingers fumbled rapidly over each link until she found what lay heavily at the end.
Her heart nearly stopped in her chest, and a small cry escaped her lips.
At that moment, she noticed that the rain had ceased, and she brushed the remaining precipitation and mud from her eyes. In the low starlight that persisted in peeking through the clouds, she was greeted by something she wasn’t sure was real.
Impulsively, she rolled the man onto his back, knelt beside him, and ran adroit fingertips over his forehead and cheeks, astonished at the heat radiating from his skin into her hands. She found his chest and pressed her hands lightly down, so they could rise and fall each time he inhaled deeply. Behind the movement of his lungs and ribcage, a faint beat thrust itself forth, telling her that he was alive. . . very much alive!
Tears rose anew in her eyes, but they were happy tears. She had to make sure her senses were telling her the truth.
Impulsively she closed her eyes and brought her face parallel to his, hovering over his mouth and nose. For the first time, they shared air heated by both their bodies. She was enthralled by the simplicity and significance of this.
Slowly, she lowered her head until her lips were on his. Her skin tingled with his presence.
But she didn’t kiss him.
She merely mouthed the words he’d said to her when they woke up for the last time together, “Looks like we made it another day.”
His body jerked beneath her, and their eyes flew open concurrently as he woke.
His initial expression was one of confusion and disbelief. He opened his mouth once to speak, but no sound emitted. She just watched him. Then, sadness rooted itself in his eyes.
His hand reached up and cupped her face. His next words were barely audible, but she heard them anyway, and she perceived the defeat. “You didn’t make it out in time.”
She couldn’t find a response, so she just shook her head with glittering eyes and a smile that said she was holding back.
“You did?” He was uncertain.
Mutely, she nodded.
“Then. . . you didn’t make it afterwards,” he stated without emotional intonation. “And you ended up here with me in this. . .” He paused to glance around at the desolate surroundings. . . or what he could see of them. “. . . hell.”
She shook her head again.
“And somehow, they took out your tongue when they put us in this godforsaken place,” he added with a trace of his old spunk. “Well, hey. . . at least we have each other. . . . Or in your case, maybe that’s not so good.”
When she didn’t respond but continued to stare, he asked, “What happened? Do you know? I mean. . . I think I remember some of the end but. . . .”
She’d been a little afraid to speak aloud in case she might wake from a dream, but now she summoned the courage. “You don’t know what you are?”
“What I am?” He was attempting to process too many things at once, and nothing was very clear.
Taking his hand in hers, she placed his palm flat over his heart. His face registered the heartbeat and breathing immediately, and he sat up abruptly, forcing her backwards. She held onto his knees to keep from falling.
Now, it was his turn to be speechless, and he stared down at himself as if expecting somehow that he would have a completely different appearance.
Her smile broadened into a grin. “Yep. You’re *alive*.” Her eyes widened. “And you’re *naked*.” She scrambled to peel off her saturated jacket.
Wrapping the tiny coat around his waist, he wondered aloud, “I’m *alive*? But why?”
She threw her arms around his middle, embracing him tightly, and his arms held her with equal strength. “I honestly don’t know, but I’m sure Giles will figure it out. . . o-or one of everyone else who does prophesy research.”
“Then, . . .” His fingers ran through her wet, dirty hair, and she felt like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“All the core Scoobie group made it. . . all but Anya.” She swallowed back tears of regret.
His tone matched hers. “Anya?”
“She died saving Andrew.”
He said nothing. Then, “And Faith? And Wood?”
She smiled. “All fine. Alive and kicking in L.A. They should make a T-shirt with that on it.”
He chuckled, and she relished the sound rumbling against her ear. “Or ‘I survived apocalypse number fifty-two.’” His good humor faded. “And Dawn?” He was ashamed that he hadn’t asked about her first.
“She’s fine! She bought a new wardrobe this weekend. . . or at least, the beginning of one.”
“Because you lost everything.” He laid his cheek on the crown of her head.
“Yeah.”
He took her by the shoulders and held her back. “So, we’re not in a hell dimension? We’re not dead?” he asked as if the truth was slow to register.
“Nope.” She pointed over the edge into the giant crater that still extended several hundred feet below them. “*That* is Sunnydale. The hellmouth: officially *closed* for business.”
“Wow.” He panned the pit. “I did all of this?”
She picked up the medallion that was resting on his moving chest. “Yeah. You and this thing.”
Their foreheads were almost touching.
He smiled almost shyly. “I’m a champion?”
“Yes.” She studied his face as he gazed at the jewel in her hand. He didn’t seem to believe what he had done, so she repeated her confirmation, “Yes, you are.”
The sky was becoming a faint navy blue. Dawn was approaching. Clouds were struggling to re-configure themselves into a more organized formation before the sun’s arrival.
She unexpectedly felt extremely uncomfortable in the dirt and realized that she didn’t want to get caught in the mud again. Disentangling herself from him, she stood self-consciously, aware that she didn’t exactly look her best. In the past, his face would have been a mirror of hurt at her departure from his arms, but now, his eyes were merely filled with a uncertainty.
“We should get out of here before it starts raining too hard again. It could make the ascent even more slippery.” She glanced at his half-naked form. “And we aren’t exactly dressed for hiking.”
He surveyed the path from which she had come and nodded. “I agree.”
She helped him up, and they began climbing with an amicable silence between them.
Sprinkles of liquid were starting to hit them when he asked from behind her, “How did you know where to find me?”
She didn’t look back. “I don’t know.”
Not letting the topic go, he asked, “I mean, you went to L.A., right?”
“Right.”
“And. . . you came back,” he continued.
She sighed because she wasn’t really sure of what to tell him. “I just had a *feeling*.”
“A feeling?”
She reminded herself that just because he was alive didn’t mean that he wasn’t the same annoyingly persistent person. She elected to like that about him. . . for the moment. She reached back for his hand and squeezed gently when he laced his fingers with hers. She cast him a fleeting glance and said, “I didn’t feel right inside. And something told me to come back here.”
“Oh.”
The rain began to come harder as they climbed. Dry mud and grime slipped off of them as if they were shedding a second skin. With each step, she felt a little cleaner.
At last, they reached the top, and when they did, the precipitation lightened to a drizzle.
“Where’d you park? You did drive, right?” he asked a bit breathlessly from the exertion of climbing. He touched the area above his heart. “And. . . and my heart is pounding.”
She smiled at his wonder.
“I forgot what that felt like.” Then, his eyes caught the image of the giant crater behind him. “Whoa,” he breathed as if he hadn’t just seen it down below
She rubbed his arm with her free hand. “Yeah. Pretty big, huh?”
Astonished at the vastness of the view, he said the first thing that came to his mind, “Goodbye, Sunnydale.” Part of him was filled with sorrow at the loss of the tiny city that had been his home for so long, and the other half of him was oddly relieved to be moving on.
“Understatement of the year,” she remarked wryly.
She broke his thrall when she tugged on his arm. “Come on.”
Following her lead, he kept his eyes on the gigantic hole in the ground. “Where’d you park?”
She squinted but couldn’t see the rental car despite the continually lightening sky. She hadn’t thought she’d walked such a long distance. “Far, far away.”
He didn’t have a response to that, and they journeyed with a comfortable quiet between them.
Approximately twenty feet from the vehicle, the sun chose to peek above the horizon.
Being used to seeing the sun start its daily march across the sky, she remained unmoved, but he dropped her hand and knelt to the ground.
Alarmed, she turned to face him and was relieved to read the wonder painted across his face.
She went down beside him with aching legs, trying to put herself in his shoes.
“I never thought I’d see this,” he whispered, gaze unwavering.
The rays deliberately grew and expanded like golden streamers, granting red-blooded life to the edges of the remaining clouds and warming their skin.
He sat back on the dirt, knees jutting up to hold his wrists. Distracted by his change of position, she smiled at him. Slipping her arm through his, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Well, Spike, it looks like we made it another day,” she said in a low voice, repeating her earlier words. Her expression was full of peace and contentment.
Smiling, he scooted her closer to him so that she was flush against him as they continued to watch the sunrise. “And, Buffy,” he said her name purposefully, “I think we’ll be all right.”
Without a doubt, she knew that she felt right again and that they would find the way home. . . together.
* * *
The end.
Chapter 1
Three years had passed.
Three bloody years had passed without a word from Buffy outside of the occasional postcard, Christmas card, or phone call about Dawn’s life landmarks.
Why hadn’t she been in touch?
Soon after Spike and Buffy returned to L.A. from Sunnydale, she’d fed him some line about baking cookies, and he’d given her his trademark eyebrow lift, which shut her up real fast. She knew that he saw through her and that there was more to her running away than half-cooked dough. . . something more than a simple analogy could explain.
Hell, he was scared, too. He’d even told her as much.
She left him even though she knew he was struggling. . . that he was trying to adjust to being human again.
Where had she gone?
Buffy had followed Giles around the world, gathering up the new Slayers-in-Training/Slayers and setting up a training facilities and programs for them. She’d settled in one spot after about a year and was trying to provide a stable home life for Dawn.
Spike understood all that. . . but why did she have to stay so separated from him?
And just when Spike was learning to live without her presence, learning to be around Angel and his crew without tangible tension in the air whenever they inhabited the same room, she returned.
She returned as if she’d never left. . . .
He’d glimpsed her in Angel’s waiting area. . . being that Angel’s waiting room was right across from his grandchilde’s office.
She embraced Angel with an energy he hadn’t seen her possess in a while. Thankfully, this time, she didn’t kiss the poof. Spike didn’t know if his heart could take it.
Wait. His heart *could* take it because he was *long* over her. . . with her thick blonde hair and glowing green eyes. He shivered but donned a mask of indifference, straightened his suit jacket, and marched into the waiting room, unflinchingly confronting Angel and Buffy’s sign of affection.
Buffy’s face lit when she saw him, Angel frowned, and Spike felt his heart leap in his chest, but he pushed his feelings aside, keeping his face neutral.
“Spike,” she whispered in his ear as she hugged him tightly. When she drew back, she ran her tiny hands over his chest with joy and surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a suit before.” Her voice was a little hoarse as if she’d been laughing a lot. He vaguely wondered with whom she’d been having such a good time.
He dropped his eyes from hers. “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen me in a while. And I only wear it to work. . . part of the dress code here. Actually, I don’t wear it unless I have someone I have to impress.” He paused to keep himself from babbling further and studied her again. “You look. . . happy.”
Buffy beamed. “I am. I am.”
“That’s wonderful. How’s Dawn?” He could still show concern for the Bit without seeming too obvious.
“She’s good. She’s started college this year.” Buffy was proud of her little sister.
“So she finally decided that she needed an education?”
“Yeah. Your little speech about school’s producing mindless automatons didn’t help motivate her, by the way. She used that as an excuse for quite a while.” She was more amused than annoyed.
Buffy was bringing up things Spike had said years ago. . . things he hardly recalled saying. Did that mean she still thought of him sometimes? He mentally shook himself. “Well, she always did look up to me.”
“True.”
A familiar throat clearing filled the air. Buffy turned from Spike, whom she had continued touching, and smiled at the source of the noise.
Angel was expertly scowling with crossed arms. “Shall we?” He waved her toward his open office door, implying they should leave Spike behind.
Even though Angel and Spike had developed a tentative trusting relationship, when it came to Buffy, old rivalries died hard.
Intent on following Angel, Buffy broke away from Spike, allowing the air conditioner to sweep cold air between them.
Thinking of Dru and Angelus from Days of Sunnydale unlife, Spike shook off the feeling of déjà vu, swallowed the lump in his throat, and straightened his shoulders. She wanted to be with Angel. She always had. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what she’d get.
But Buffy turned back and grabbed him by the elbow. “Come on, Mr. Stoic. You’re involved in this, too.”
“I am?” He smirked at Angel. “Good. I think.”
* * *
“Vampire Villa, I’ve heard of that before, I believe.” Wesley placed his fingers to his lips with a contemplative expression on his face.
Angel, Buffy, and Spike had been interrupted by the ex-Watcher before they settled down enough to discuss Buffy’s reason for being in L.A. As the only remaining person on Angel’s team that knew Buffy from the beginning or near the beginning, Wesley had been excited to see her again. Now, he was deep in the discussion.
“I have,” Angel noted. “And so has Spike here, but neither of us has ever been there.”
“It’s a vampire city wedged between this dimension and the next,” Wesley thought out loud. “The Council never was able to uncover it. In fact, they believed it to be a myth if I remember right.”
Spike sat forward on the leather seat, touching the tips of his fingers together. “The city has no sunlight. Blood and death twenty-four seven. A vampire paradise.”
“Yeah,” Buffy acceded to both of them, “that’s what Giles said, too. But recently, something’s come up as a new inter-dimensional hotspot, and he believes that it has to do with this city.”
“And what does he want us to do about it?” Angel asked.
“Well, with all the Slayers in the world, the vampire populace has been thinned quite a bit. Additionally, we think. . . Giles thinks that the city has grown a lot and that there may be some sort of mystical push for it to spill over into our dimension. It needs to be investigated. Willow senses these changes in our dimension, in the Earth, and she said it’s pretty urgent.”
“Hmmm. We could check with the evil bunch here. See if they have anything on the place,” Spike suggested.
“Good idea.” Wesley stood. “That’s my area.” He didn’t appear proud about saying that. “I’ll check into it.” He nodded to Buffy. “Good to see you.”
“Very good.” Buffy smiled and reached for a brief hug.
Wesley exited, shutting the door with a soft click.
“Thanks,” Angel said belatedly after Wesley, who probably didn’t hear. “So, Buffy, what exactly does Giles want *us* to do about it?”
Buffy wandered to the open window. Sunlight poured over the furniture, spilling onto Angel. “I still can’t get over this. . . seeing you in the sunlight.”
Angel returned her affectionate look, and Spike wanted to gag. He could stand in the sunlight anywhere. . . anytime he wanted.
“Yeah. Even Fred hasn’t been able to duplicate it,” Angel mentioned.
“Too bad,” Buffy sounded a bit sad, and Spike thought that perhaps she was pondering what might have been.
“So,” Spike interjected, disrupting the reverie, “why do you need us?”
“We’re going into Vampire Villa. The three of us to stop them from overtaking the world,” Buffy replied simply.
“What?!” Angel exclaimed.
Spike used Angel’s flurry to remain calm. “Now how would that work, love?”
Angel glared at his use of endearments with Buffy, but Buffy merely smiled.
“Well, there’s a prophecy,” Buffy explained. “And it sa. . .”
“There’s always a prophecy, and prophecies aren’t always right,” Angel stated, thinking of multiple instances where they’d proved greatly inaccurate. Spike snorted in agreement.
Buffy kept speaking as if the two hadn’t made a sound. “And the prophecy says that the Slayer who is a vampire and her two vampire companions will stop the vampires from overtaking the world.”
“I hate to say it, but there’re three problems with that,” Spike said. “One, I’m not a vampire anymore. Two, don’t we already stop the vampires? And aren’t there tons of Slayers now, helping to do just that? And three, you’re not, nor have you ever been a vampire.”
“Well, technically, . . .” Buffy started, recalling a time when a boy’s nightmare had made other nightmares come to life. Then, she shook her head. “But that doesn’t really count. I mean, think about it. We three are probably the strongest warriors in this dimension. Who would be better to stop the city from crossing over?”
Spike leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, which he knew Angel hated. “But you’re not thinking of having me re-vamped or getting vamped yourself, so how’s it going to work for us to go into a city of thousands, if not millions, of vampires?”
“It’s awfully risky, Buffy,” Angel agreed.
Buffy held her hands up, so she could regain the floor. “Well, that’s the thing. . .”
The door banged open, and Fred burst into the room with Wesley on her heels. “Buffy, hi!” she said exuberantly and slightly breathlessly. Buffy gave her a wave in return.
Wesley held a book in his hand and read aloud, “There’s a prophecy. In the time of the. . .”
“We know,” Buffy, Angel, and Spike said at the same time.
“Oh.” He was a bit deflated until he remembered that he had something to add. “Well, Fred here has a solution to getting you three to blend into the vampire society.”
Fred’s brown eyes shone, and she tucked her hands into her white lab coat modestly. “Yes. Buffy, if you haven’t heard, our lab has found a way to blend magick and technology. We can create a spell slash miniature computer chip to insert into your brain to give you and Spike the appearance, strength, and feel of a vampire form without actually turning you into demons. You’d blend seamlessly.” She hesitated briefly. “That is, if you trust our lab. . . and the staff here. . . in this inherently evil establishment. We wouldn’t want you to do anything you felt uncomfortable with.”
“I trust you guys,” Buffy reassured.
“And what did our token evil representatives say?” Angel directed at Wesley.
Wesley clapped the book shut. “They said that what Giles and Willow suggested or found is quite true. In fact, they gave us the coordinates to an entrance from this dimension into theirs.”
“Really,” Spike said without removing the irony from his tone. “How convenient.”
“Willow gave us some, too,” Buffy established. “We’ll use those. . . and be sure to check out the others. . . for clues or something.”
“Sounds good.” Angel rose and picked up the phone. “Let me make some calls, and we’ll be all set.”
* * *
The doorbell rang just as everything in the skillet was sizzling out of control. Cursing to himself, Spike slung the towel on his shoulder to the cabinet top, placed the skillet on a cool burner, and hurried to the door just as the bell rang again.
He jerked open the door in a huff and was surprised to view Buffy standing in front of him. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her hair was pulled up on the sides, giving her an aura of youth. She blinked up at him with a small smile.
“Buffy.”
She sniffed the air. “Somethin’s burnin’,” she teased.
“Yeah. My dinner.” Unsure if he wanted her to invade his personal space, he blocked the entrance with his arm propped up on the wooden frame. Truth be told, his heart was hammering despite his outward calm.
“And you look much better in jeans and T-shirt. That suit didn’t suit ya.” She giggled at her own humor. “I wanted to see your place,” she said brightly, trying to peer around his body into his home. “Angel said you moved into your own apartment.”
“Yeah, and you’ve seen it. Now go away. I’m cooking dinner.” His words came out harsher than he meant them to, and he inwardly cringed.
Hurt drifted across her face. “Really? I can’t come in?”
He felt like she was requesting entrance into his heart. “Um, no. Not right now.”
“Why not?” Stubborn Buffy was emerging.
He was quite familiar with stubborn Buffy. Was he willing to fight her? He reminded himself that he should pick his battles, and he sighed. “Okay. You can come in.” Backing away, he held the door for her as she entered, taking everything in with wide eyes. “Not that I really understand why you want to come in,” he included under his breath.
Buffy stopped in her tracks and rounded on him, sending tingles of desire he’d thought long dead rippling over his skin. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
She advanced on him with her finger pointed. “No, mister. You said something. Something about not understanding why I wanted to come in.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Explain yourself.”
Bloody women always wanted explanations for everything. Still, the truth came flowing out of him like he’d been a huge water balloon, and she was a needle who pricked his skin. “What happened? I mean, between us. I know you don’t like to talk about. . . *us*, but I need to. If I’m going to work with you, I need to. You came and found me in Sunnydale on a *feeling*, and you never bothered to explain that to me. You just brought me back to L.A., stayed a few weeks, and left with your Watcher. Nothing was explained, and I-I was trying to be human again, you know?”
He couldn’t look at her anymore, so he stared off to the left. “You can’t just come in here after three years and act like you never left. . . touching me, coming inside. It’s not fair.” He inhaled deeply. “And. . . and I have to know. Are your cookies cooked yet? And by the way, Angel *told* me that you *told* him the same thing you *told* me. Only you told *him* first.” His last words came out accusingly and ended in him being a little amazed at what he’d just said.
Buffy stared at him.
He waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry, Angel didn’t tell me all that sober. He was right drunk when he told me that one, so there, his precious reputation stays intact.”
Feeling deflated, Buffy plunked down on the edge of his leather sofa, folding her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry. I-I thought I was doing what you wanted.”
Now she was turning on her tears, and Spike was falling for it. He wanted to fall for it. He sat beside her and spoke softly, fighting the desire to take her into his arms. Not for the first time, he wondered how human Buffy would feel in his human arms. One time was hardly enough to go on. “I don’t understand. What did you think I wanted?”
“You wanted me to go. . . to be myself. . . to be strong. . . to be ‘the One.’”
He tried to catch her eye. “But Buffy, you don’t have to be ‘the One’ anymore. There’s more than enough ‘the One’s’ available.” He chuckled. “That didn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
She sniffed. “Yeah, it did.” Wiping her eyes, she apologized, “I didn’t mean to cry.”
“You’re allowed. You got to hear my outburst. It didn’t come out exactly right, but it’s there nonetheless.” He handed her a tissue, and her fingers brushed his.
“Yeah. I needed to go. I was twenty-two-years-old, and I had no clue who I was if I wasn’t special. . . if I wasn’t *the* Slayer, aside from Faith, and I-I felt overwhelmed. There were too many pressures from my friends, from the new Slayers, from you. Something had to give.”
“And that was me.” He kept his tone even and low.
“I couldn’t exactly give up my identity completely. It would be too scary to go from. . .”
“From being a Slayer who was responsible for so many lives to being one person helping just one other person?”
She nodded. “Uh huh.” She took his hand in hers, and he allowed the touch. “Your hand is so warm.” She smiled through fresh tears. “I forgot that it would be.”
“Did you figure it out? Did you figure out who you want to be?”
“Almost, yeah, I think so.” Her lips lifted a bit as she peered up at him. “What about you?”
Squeezing her hand and then letting it go, Spike sighed and moved back against the sofa. “I’m still figuring. Took me a bit to get my human legs, get used to not having extra physical strength. But it’s coming. I’m a work-in-progress.”
Buffy imitated his movement. “Me, too. You think we ever stop being works-in-progress?”
“Only if we’re dead, pet, only if we’re dead.”
“That’s good. ‘Cause I think I may need all the time I can get. A-and I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I? Think we can work together?” Spike asked, playing with the tips of her long hair.
She smiled. “We’ll muddle through. Now. . . what’s for dinner? All that emotional release made me hungry.”
Chapter 2
How did she get involved in such a mess?
Had she ever thought getting Angel and Spike together for a mission would be a *good* idea?
Last night had involved an emotional discussion with Spike followed by a nice dinner and a lively discussion about the merits of reality television shows. What had Spike said? Oh yeah, “The wankers from Trading Spaces better never come renovate my home with their cheap bits and pieces.” Buffy almost laughed at the memory of his expression, but she held back.
Now, she was about to be put under for the vampire chip surgery, Spike hadn’t arrived yet, and Angel was fussing at her about Spike’s humanity. . . like she had anything to do with what happened to him.
“I just don’t understand how *he* got to be human, and *I* didn’t!” Angel was rambling. . . and pacing in the tiny cubicle where they waited for Fred to come prepare her for anesthesia.
“I don’t know, Angel,” she said in a placating fashion, having heard the same complaints before. Shifting uncomfortably in her hospital-type gown, she decided that she might have to play referee the whole mission.
“Me either!” He threw up his hands. “I mean, the prophecies all pointed to *me* becoming human. And what do I get for all my hard work. . . for all my years of having a soul and suffering? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Wesley never figured out about whether Spike was shamp-whatever-ed?” Buffy asked, thinking that surely in three years they had an explanation for Spike turning human.
“That’s the shanshu prophecy, and no, he didn’t,” Angel snapped, “but I think he might have been the one the prophecy referred to instead of me.”
“Well, maybe there’s a separate explanation for Spike’s humanization. Is that even a word? And maybe yours will come later. Until then, you have your health, your friends, and skin that will never ever wrinkle,” Buffy refuted playfully.
“But what I wouldn’t do to get a wrinkle here and there! Wrinkles give you distinction, show where you’ve been, show your life. And Spike. . . he goes and gets a soul and a year later, *bam* he’s human!” Angel socked his hand with his fist. “Do you know how long I’ve had *my* soul?”
She already knew the answer. “Years and years?”
Angel agreed adamantly, “Damn right, years and years! And it’s so frustrating to see him happily figuring out his human body. . . learning how to, to eat real foods again to sustain himself. . . how to shave. . . how to get a tan. . . how to grow a garden. . .”
“Spike doesn’t look like he has much of a tan, and I *so* cannot picture Spike growing a garden,” Buffy pointed out. “And there are things about being a vampire that have benefits. . . like the whole extra-human strength deal.”
“Yeah, but still! It’s the idea that he has that option to do human things!” Angel plopped down heavily next to her. “It really sucks.”
“Angel, what’s the real reason Spike bothers you so much?”
He was silent for several seconds as he studied his hands. Then, “I guess that things just fall into his lap so easily. . . things it takes me forever to figure out. You know what I mean?”
Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think so.”
Taking that as a cue to keep going, Angel extended his argument further, “I mean, Dru vamps him, and immediately, he uses us, his stable vamp family, to start breaking the rules. And Dru, she loved him for it.”
“Stable vamp family?” Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”
“Well, he had three master vampires to guide him. . . and Dru’s love to sustain him for over a hundred years. And then, then, he came to Sunnydale, saved the world, ran off with Dru. . .”
“I’m well aware of Spike’s history,” Buffy cut Angel short.
“I know. And then, he decides he wants a soul, goes out and gets it, and just becomes this champion.” Angel was starting to repeat himself, which he tended to do when he was upset. He slumped forward in defeat.
Buffy hugged his arm close to her body. The touch was easy and familiar, and she was grateful that no matter how much time had passed, things would never be awkward between them. “So you’re upset that Spike seems to get things too easily? Trust me, he hasn’t had it easy. You weren’t there to see him struggle with his soul. I saw it all. And you’ve seen him struggle with being human. And, and you should be proud of him. He’s your childe in a sense, and he’s done quite well for himself. Shouldn’t you feel good that he’s learned from his predecessors?”
Taking more time to respond, Angel’s expression slowly went from one of self-pity to determination. “You’re right. You’re right.” His voice grew steadier on the repeat. “I am proud of Spike.”
The door opened at that moment, and Spike stood before them dressed in a hospital gown that mirrored Buffy’s. Buffy couldn’t read his body language.
“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Spike said quietly, and Buffy became very aware that she was touching Angel with affection.
Angel had a quick comeback, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Spike.”
Slowly, gently, she pulled away from Angel as if she was trying to avoid a scene between the two. Addressing Spike, she asked, “You ready to be chipped?”
Spike shrugged. “Not looking forward to my brain becoming a science experiment again, but yeah. Gotta get my strength back, so I can help on this mission. Feels almost like I’m regressing. And I never thought I’d say that.”
Long dark hair in bouncing curls, Fred poked her head around the corner, “Now that you’re both here. Let’s get you ready to go under. Now remember, you’re going to wake up feeling very different. And it’s really a very safe procedure. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve read the books.”
At the young scientist’s words, Buffy’s eyes grew round, and Fred’s brow wrinkled in worry.
Angel intervened, “Fred is the most brilliant scientist here. . . probably in L.A. She’s taught herself medicine in the last three years, and I would trust her with my life.”
Fred flashed him a grateful smile. “W-well, I don’t know about th. . .”
“I *do*. We all do,” Angel reassured her.
Spike and Buffy weren’t completely convinced, and they walked side by side as they followed Fred through the empty halls of her science lab. Angel lumbered along behind them, no doubt sullen with apprehension.
They entered a small, extremely sterile room furnished with two hospital surgery tables. Spike and Buffy climbed onto them, sharing a nervous grin. They were going under the knife together.
* * *
The world came seeping back into her mind like a rushing river. She’d dreamed of something, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she explored her other senses.
Her arms and legs moved of their own accord beneath the sheets, and she was struck by how different her muscles felt. . . almost as if they were humming with energy. She was used to her Slayer strength. . . it felt like home to her, but this. . .this was completely different. The desire to leap up and find something to pummel was stronger than she ever expected.
A low growl escaped from the back of her throat.
And her ears sprang to life. Immediately everything sounded louder than normal. She heard the steady beep of the heart monitor hooked up to her chest and the whoosh of the air conditioner. She could even hear the drip of the IV that was fed into her arm.
Was this what vampire hearing was like?
Her hand flew to the place where her heart should be, and she felt nothing. . . no steady thrum touched her fingertips.
But the sound from the heart monitor?
She was confused, and another growl sprang forth involuntarily.
Then, she heard a snicker.
Her eyelids popped open, and her world was awash with brilliant color and heightened awareness of motion. Her eyes darted from the machines to her left to the clock on the wall to the unlit lamp beside her bed to the man. . . er, pseudo-vampire, sitting up across from her.
Abruptly, Buffy righted herself, aware that her muscles were still tingling. “Spike!”
“Yeah, pet?” Spike, who was still wearing his hospital gown, was watching her with an amused expression.
“You giggled at me.” She pouted and crossed her arms.
“I did not. . . I *do not* giggle,” he insisted, jutting his chin out.
“*Some* kind of laughing noise came from your side of the room.”
“Never heard you growl before,” he returned. “It was cute.”
“I didn’t growl! Did I?” She paused. “Why is everything so bright? And, and my body feels like. . .”
“Like you might burst unless you go out and get into a nasty scuffle?” He balanced his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, smiling at her.
Buffy’s eyes shone. “Yeah. That’s it exactly. It’s like I’m. . .” She trailed off as she glanced down at her bare arms. “Oh my g. . .”
Spike was concerned. “What’s wrong now?”
“Where did my tan go?” she lamented, holding her thin, pale arms up as if they weren’t part of her.
“The appearance is pretty perfect, isn’t it? Science girl did an amazing job on our disguises. I haven’t felt this good physically in. . .” He cocked his head to one side. “Well, I guess it’s been three years.” He knew exactly how long it’d been but wouldn’t admit that to her.
Buffy didn’t seem to comprehend what Spike was saying. “It sucks,” she sulked, drawling out the second word. “I worked hard on that tan. Hours and hours in the sun.”
“Your disguise wouldn’t go over too well in Vampville if you looked as if you’d been sunbathing, pet.”
“I know,” she said resignedly. Then, her mind switched gears. “I just thought of something!”
Spike marveled at her excitement and said with nostalgia in his tone, “I remember the moment I first discovered all these little things. Dru was with me, and she kept spinning in circles and singing to me about how wonderful it was that she had made me.”
Buffy studiously ignored him. Mindful of the IV line in her arm, she climbed out of the bed and scanned the room. “If I were a mirror, where oh where would I be?”
“I don’t think there’s one in here.” Spike spied the tall reflective glass doors of the cabinet above the small sink and nodded to them. “Check over there.”
Dragging her IV stand with her, she hurried over to peer at herself and found that she didn’t have a reflection. “Damn it. I wanted to see if I could make bumpies.”
“No mirror image, love. Part of the vampire package.”
“Oh, yeah. I knew that.”
He patted the bed beside him. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
Buffy faltered for a moment but then perched on the edge of the bed next to Spike. “Tell me how to make my bumpies.”
When he was certain that he had Buffy’s full attention, he began, “Okay. Close your eyes.”
“I have to close my eyes every time I want to get ridged?”
Spike laughed lightly. “No. Just trust me. Do you trust me?”
With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, reminding Spike of a little kid trying too hard, Buffy nodded.
“Okay. Now think of something that really pisses you off and focus on that urge you have to fight.”
She frowned. “Something that pisses me off?”
Spike thought a moment. Then, “You know, pet, this is actually one of my oldest fantasies.”
“What is?”
Spike licked his lips in anticipation as he bent toward her ear, turned on his gravelly, evil tone, and whispered an assortment of fragmented, suggestive statements, “. . . having you by my side. . . turned to the forces of darkness. . . having you vamped so that I can have you any way I want you. . .”
With a roar, Buffy’s eyes flew open, and rage shot through her system as Spike’s tone triggered some dark memories from long ago that she had thought were long forgotten. She leapt at the man sitting next to her, tackling him to the ground and yanking out her IV line and his as well.
Before she could pin him down, he used her awkwardness and inertia to send her over his head to the ground behind him. As soon as she contacted the hard surface, she sprang to her feet, breathing hard at the shock to her body.
Blood flowed from the jagged cuts on each of their arms, filling the air with a coppery smell of which she had never been aware in the past. The smell was intoxicating, and she held up her arm, fascinated by the scarlet streak swimming down her fair skin.
Ignoring the brief fracas that had served its purpose, Spike smiled and distracted Buffy from her trance, “Buffy, love. Your forehead.”
She stared at him with something feral and wild in her eyes before she realized what he was saying. Touching her now bumpy forehead tentatively, she broke into a toothy grin, flashing long, pointed canines at him. “Wow!” She ran her tongue over her teeth, drawing blood when they pierced her flesh. “And wow!”
“You’ll just have to practice, and then, you’ll be able to do it anytime you want. Just draw on your anger,” he informed. He couldn’t help but be amazed by the excellent combination of magick and technology that Fred had put into their transformation.
“I’m pretty sure I can do that.” She was still feeling her forehead. Then, she seemed to regain her uncertainty, and she asked, “How come I can’t feel my heartbeat, but it still shows up on the monitor? And how come I am attracted to the blood on my arm, but I have absolutely no desire to drink it?”
Buffy’s eyes shone at him with a light that he hadn’t seen since she was in high school and her freshman year of college. Spike enjoyed being the expert in the matter of vampire experience, and he opened his mouth to reply.
However, before he could give an explanation, a happy Fred lit into the room, still wearing her white coat and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Propping her clipboard on her hip, she enlightened Buffy, “You’re still human, so you have a heartbeat; it’s just disguised from others’ senses, but the technology like heart monitors can still detect it. And you’re attracted to the blood because you’ll need to be to survive in the vampire society. But, you can’t get nutrients from the blood. You’ll have to eat human food. Human flesh can’t survive solely on the blood.”
“Oh.” Buffy slid back into her human visage without realizing it.
“And I gave you guys heightened senses, so you’ll respond like a normal vampire, and if you happen to get into a fight, you,” here she nodded to Spike, “will have the strength to survive.”
“Sounds like you covered all the bases,” Angel said as he appeared in the doorway, surveying Buffy and Spike’s rumpled hospital gowns and broken IV’s with a funny expression.
“I think I did,” Fred said, adding, “I hope I did.”
“You did quite well, pet,” Spike acknowledged. “I haven’t been a vampire in a while, but I remember, and it feels exactly right. . . except for the not craving blood part.”
Fred colored slightly. “Thanks.”
“Spike,” Angel intoned a bit grimly. “We need to finish getting ready for the mission.”
“Right. Give a fellow a few to put some proper clothes on.” Spike wondered why Angel seemed so serious.
Angel turned to Buffy as if he was dreading revealing what he had to say next. “And Buffy?”
“Yeah?”
He held up a cordless phone, and Buffy’s heart sank as what he was about to say dawned on her. “You have a phone call from Cleveland.” His brown eyes bore into hers. “From your boyfriend.”
Buffy ducked her head and accepted the phone as if it were a snake. . . as if she didn’t want to touch it. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
She expected the neutral, quiet disappointment on Angel’s face. He was used to her having new significant others. She cast a quick glance at Spike. . . the one she was most concerned about. Apparently, none of Fred’s technology and magick could change how openly Spike displayed his feelings. The hurt was raw and pure in his eyes. . . etched into his features as if permanently imprinted.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him, and his hurting meant she hurt, too. Even though she half-expected it, she was surprised just how much his feelings still had the ability to affect her. With a heavy heart, she watched him follow Angel and Fred out of the room to give her some privacy.
She fervently wished that she could reach out to him and tell him that she wasn’t serious about the guy on the other end of the phone. . . that they’d only been dating two weeks. . . that the guy was completely ignorant of who she really was.
But she didn’t.
She was afraid he would turn away.
With reluctance, she clicked on the phone. “Hello?” she whispered hoarsely into the receiver.
C
hapter 3
Shifting the small pack he’d slung over his shoulder, Spike tramped in silence behind Buffy and inhaled the sharp pine scent that thickly permeated the air. They’d been traveling on foot for hours because no manmade roads pointed to their destination. Angel’s car was long forgotten on the side of the highway.
Angel was leading the way ahead of Buffy, and Spike was content to let him play tour guide through the dense forests somewhere along the border of East Texas and West Louisiana.
First, they were going to check out the coordinates given to them by the Wolfram and Hart crew, and then, they planned to head a bit further south to the spot Willow had pinpointed as a probable entrance to Vampire Villa.
Crickets and katydids chirped and hummed in the humid night air, and Spike tried not to let Buffy’s closeness disturb his determined stoicism. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to forgive her betrayal.
It wasn’t the fact that she was dating some other bloke that bothered him. . . well, actually it did bother him. It felt like she’d twisted a bloody knife in his gut, and that was a feeling with which he was well acquainted.
However, what got his gander even more was the fact that she’d left that tiny detail out when she’d arrived in L.A. He’d thought that was something she wouldn’t forget to mention like Dawn started school, she and Giles were training the Slayers, Xander was married. . . and oh yeah, she had a sodding boyfriend.
For three days after the surgery, he’d hidden from her within the walls of the massive law firm. The first day, after the painkillers had worn off, he’d had a massive headache despite what Fred had done to speed his healing with magick. He’d slept on the sofa in his office most of the day after discovering, interestingly enough, that despite his outward appearance as a vampire, he could still enter the sunlight without harm.
Buffy must have been recuperating as well because the next day, just as he had been feeling a little less like someone had pounded his head in with a sledgehammer, he had heard her uncertain knock on his office door. He had marveled at how vastly different her hesitancy was from the past when she would have kicked down the barrier between them and entered in a huff.
She’d probably known better.
She had given up after ten minutes or so of waiting for a response, but she’d returned every couple of hours like clockwork to try again. A couple of times she’d left him covered plates of food just outside the door as if she were trying to make up for her mistake by attempting to fill the hollow pit in his stomach for him.
After a whole afternoon of Buffy’s persistence, Spike had headed into the extensive hidden and dank passageways of the evil law firm, searching for an empty room to train and get re-acquainted with his fake vampire senses and muscle flow.
Lilah had approached him in the unlit halls, bragging to him about how easy he was to find because she’d used Gunn’s overhauled security system to pinpoint all the demons in the building. She’d guessed where he was on the first try, and she’d had some important message for him about Angel.
What had she told him? It was a message from her evil superiors.
Oh, yeah. She’d said that on their quest, Angel would be finding out something very important about a prophecy that he had been meant to fulfill but hadn’t. He was supposedly in charge of making sure Angel stayed on track when and if he learned whatever it was he was supposed to learn.
Spike had no clue what Lilah had been prattling on about, but he’d found over the years that even though they had evil ulterior motives, Lilah’s bosses could be dead-on accurate about a lot of things.
Just then, Spike was shaken out of his memories by running smack into Buffy. Her unique essence filled his nose, and he silently cursed himself for being moved by her very presence.
Outwardly, he groused, “Some warning would have been nice.” He was distinctly aware of the double meaning behind his words.
So was Buffy. She shot back a clipped shush but didn’t look back at him. She hadn’t really looked at him since they’d started the trip.
Spike stepped away from her, directing his senses into the trees and beyond their small group. The sound and sight of movement caught his attention. Leaves rustled loudly, and branches snapped.
With the instinctual trust that they had built the last few years and in their prior years of hunting together as vampires, Spike and Angel fell into a well-used pattern.
Spike circled left and back the way he’d come while Angel took the path right and around. Buffy followed their lead and stayed alert and unmoving in the same spot.
Predictably, their quarry walked right into their trap, and they hurriedly closed in on a male who seemed to have been running a long way because he was stumbling and crying and panicking.
In fact, he didn’t see where he was going through his emotional state, and Spike caught him, pinning his arms at his sides.
Vampire. . . a very young but surprisingly clean vampire.
The vampire rolled his eyes wildly and thrashed about, cursing. “Let go of me! They’re after me, and I can’t let them get me! I need out of here now!”
Angel loomed behind him and aided Spike in slamming their prisoner against a nearby tree. Buffy hovered at Spike’s elbow, and he resisted the urge to pull away from her.
The vampire blinked away the shock of their force and stared into Angel’s glowing yellow eyes.
“Listen,” Angel growled loudly to get him to stop fighting them. “Who’s chasing you? Maybe we can help.”
“You can’t help me against them. *No one* can help me,” the youth insisted. “I just have to get away. . . get back to my home. It’s safe there.” He lunged against them again to no avail. “Let go of me!”
Spike and Angel exchanged knowing glances. They’d caught themselves a young vampire who was afraid of something. That wasn’t good. Youthful vamps were supposed to be fearless and reckless. . . not afraid.
The vampire continued, “Listen. Can’t you hear them coming? You’d do best to hide until they pass.”
Something was thundering in the distance. . . a lot of something.
And that something was rapidly getting nearer.
“Hide? Hide where?” Buffy asked, not wanting to be left out of the vampire bonding moment.
The vampire lurched forward again, and this time, Spike and Angel let him go. “The city.”
“What city?” There was no place that could be considered a city for miles. . . except for a small rice-farming town.
The vampire gave them an incredulous look as if they were crazy. “You don’t know the city?” He gave their attire the once over. “I guess you don’t *look* like you know the city.”
Spike nudged Angel, and Angel realized what the young vamp was saying and offered, “That’s actually where we were headed. Mind if we tag along?”
The source of the noise was within a hundred feet, and it almost sounded like slithering. And branches weren’t just snapping. . . trees were emitting sharp cracking sounds and crashing to the earth.
The youth nodded and began jogging slowly until they matched his tempo and then ran more rapidly.
Whatever was chasing the vampire began increasing speed and as Spike brought up the rear of the group, he dodged trees and fallen limbs with alacrity, relishing the power of his new body.
Abruptly, the vamp leading them halted, and immediately their pursuers seemed louder. The young vamp whipped out a small, handheld device and traced a line in the air.
A portal swept open, glowing green with invitation.
Once it was wide enough, the vampire ducked through the crackling doorway.
Spike paused to glance back into the darkness as Angel hurtled through behind the youth. Squinting his eyes against the pitch black, he couldn’t make out anything distinct, but he thought he almost saw. . .
Before he could let his mind comprehend what his eyes were detecting, Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hazy cloud of the gateway to Vampire Villa.
* * *
Spike landed neatly on his feet at Buffy’s side. Disorientation from the dimensional shift overcame him for a few seconds, but Buffy’s hand, steady on his arm, brought him back to reality. The sky above was completely free of heavenly bodies. However, the ground was similar to the one they’d just left, and they were standing on a small cliff with a few random pine trees surrounding them.
“It’s like this is the overlapping edge between dimensions,” Spike mumbled to himself.
The young vampire, who had pocketed whatever device had opened the portal, heard him. “That’s right. And down there, that’s the city.”
Spike, Buffy, and Angel peered over the edge of the cliff to view a massive array of dense lights shimmering in the valley. Buildings of various heights jutted up like a thick field of corn stalks, and either direction the three gazed, the sea of the metropolis was endless.
“Oh my god,” Buffy whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth in horror at the thought of all the vampires that must live there.
Their vampire companion took her shock as amazement and moved to stand in her personal space, breathing in her ear, “Yeah. Isn’t it wonderful? I bet you’ve never seen anything like it!”
Buffy moved back from the violating vampire and into Spike’s chest. Spike’s protectiveness won out over his annoyance with her, and he allowed her to remain against him. They were entering a turf that was most definitely not their own, and they would have to support one another. Other personal issues could be dealt with later.
Angel caught Spike’s eye and telegraphed an entire conversation in the space of a second. They needed to get away from this vampire to discuss strategy. On the other hand, the young vampire might prove to be an invaluable resource.
Angel cleared his throat. “We haven’t properly been introduced. My name is Liam, and this is William and Elizabeth.”
The vampire raised an eyebrow. “What century are you guys from?”
The three didn’t respond.
The youth let out an awkward laugh. “Right, right. You guys must be old.” He held out a hand to them and announced, “I’m Michael. I’m two. . . er, two in vamp years. Nice to make your acquaintance.”
Angel grasped the proffered hand, and then, Michael turned on his heels and started jauntily away from them as if they had never met.
Typical vampire.
“Wait,” Angel called after him.
Michael glanced back over his shoulder but didn’t turn fully around. “Yeah?”
“Could you at least let us know a good place to stay in the city?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Michael thought for a moment. “Stay at Kooch’s. It’s right at the edge of the city in neutral territory. Got free blood in every room, and the owner is discreet with newbies to the city like yourselves. Welcome to Vamp Villa. You got a free ticket in.” Then, he flipped Angel and Spike each an oddly-shaped coin, which was different from the monies the Wolfram and Hart crew had given them for use in the vampire city. “Those are for the hotel. Enjoy your stay.”
Without another word, he resumed his trek away from them.
When Michael was out of earshot, Spike was the first to speak, “What the hell was that out there?”
Buffy scooted back from Spike, and he silently mourned the loss of her presence at his side. . . no matter what she had done. She gave him an almost timid glance and said, “I don’t know, but it seemed like it might have been reptilian.” She held up her hands in confusion. “It? They? I think there was more than one.”
“A whole lot more than one,” Angel acknowledged. “What matters right now is that we’re still intact and that we made it into the city.”
“On W and H terms,” Spike added in a tone that said he felt a little uncomfortable with that. He reached for his pocket without realizing what he was doing. Patting the empty jeans, he sighed. He hadn’t smoked a cigarette since becoming human, but he was sorely tempted right about now.
“Wonder where Willow’s coordinates would have taken us?” Buffy wondered aloud, crossing her arms and changing the position of her feet. She was attracted by the notion of sitting down after their run, especially since they had been walking long before they’d met Michael. She gazed longingly at the city. Any place of rest would do. “It looks so innocent from up here. . . warm and safe with all the lights in the darkness.”
“It’s hardly going to be that,” Spike admonished.
Buffy turned to Angel for confirmation.
“Spike’s right. We’ll have to be on our toes here on out. But at least, we made it. Willow’s coordinates or no.” Angel paused. “We’ll make a plan in the morning.”
Buffy made a list of goals, “Find out about scary reptilian things and what they’re doing in our dimension. Check. Uncover and thwart evil vampires from taking over the world. Check. Got the plan ready.”
“Great. All in a days work. . . that we’ll accomplish tomorrow,” Spike said wearily. “We need to get ourselves acquainted with the city first and get some shut eye before that.”
Angel agreed, “Some respite should come first.”
With that, they headed single file down the narrow path that Michael had paved for them. Silence prevailed among them as they were too exhausted to make even polite conversation.
* * *
Kooch’s turned out to be an extremely small human-style motel on the very edge of the city. It was so far on the edge that nothing but a few trees and brush surrounded it. A flickering neon sign with several unlit letters, reading “Kh’s,” greeted Angel, Spike and Buffy, and an almost imperceptible glow lit the vacancy sign below. No cars filled the lot, but would the vampires really drive here?
They circled the place a few times before determining that there was no office and no staff. Instead, they found a squat, vending-like machine under a pole with a rusty metal shelter/roof. No wonder the place was newcomer friendly; it seemed virtually deserted.
Angel and Spike examined the machine while Buffy played lookout for loitering vamps.
“Looks like there’re two rooms available,” Angel concluded.
“Yep. And only one has a bathroom for showering,” Spike added with a touch of amusement.
Attempting to peer around Angel’s tall form, Buffy perked up at the notion of a shower. “I could definitely use one of those. I call that room.”
“Guess we’re stinking roomies, mate.” Spike grinned at Angel as the only real vampire among their party shoved the coins Michael had given them into the machine.
Angel carefully pushed the proper buttons to obtain the two remaining rooms. As he gathered both sets of keys into his palm, he said quietly to Spike, “I don’t like the idea of Buffy staying by herself surrounded by who knows what kind of vampires.”
Frowning and planting her hands on her hips, Buffy jutted herself in between the two males to remind Angel that she was standing right there. “I can take care of myself. Come on. I thought you knew that by now.”
Pushing aside the events of the last few days, Spike allowed himself to be entertained by Buffy’s stubbornness. He crossed his arms and smirked at Angel. “Looks like you have a dissenter.”
Angel ignored Spike and focused on the woman he still loved with a passion. “You haven’t been around vampires that much.”
Buffy tensed. “Um, beg to differ. *Vampire slayer* here.”
“I meant. . . never mind.” Angel leaned toward her and glanced around fearfully. “Be careful how loud you say things, Buffy.”
Buffy’s eyes flashed yellow. Angel was irritating her, mainly because she was exhausted and just wanted the comfort of a private room. “Elizabeth. If you’re going to be that sensitive about everything I say, call me Elizabeth here. *Liam.*”
“Fine, Elizabeth. I don’t want. . . ,” Angel changed his words mid-stream, “I *won’t* have you staying alone.”
“Okay, then.” Buffy snatched the key to room with a bathroom from Angel’s hand and spun on her heel. She tugged loose one of Spike’s hands from his crossed arms and dragged the startled man with her. “Spike will stay with me.”
“Pet.” Fear and hurt ripped through Spike’s gut. He did *not* want to be trapped alone with her in a small room. He’d rather go out and face the reptile buggers again than face her and the absent boyfriend that hung between them like the proverbial elephant.
“Buf. . . Elizabeth,” Angel called. “If you’re doing this to spite me. . .”
Buffy stopped in her tracks and faced Angel. “I’m not. I’m just tired and rapidly getting beyond grouchy, and I just want to go to sleep without someone fussing over me.”
Angel’s face was an unreadable mask as they left him behind. Spike wasn’t fooled by the vampire’s surface placidity. He knew what kind of hurt lay underneath it.
He knew what lay underneath it because he felt the same sense of betrayal.
And would either of them really benefit from staying in a room with her, recognizing that neither of them ever stood a chance in the arms of Buffy Summers?
In that moment, Spike believed that he had somehow gotten the short end of the stick.
* * *