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Something to Sing About by Lilachigh
 
Chp 23 Revelations
 
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Something to Sing About

Chapter 23

Revelations


Willy’s Bar in the alternate Sunnydale was a far superior place to the one Spike knew in the other town; for example, it had a long, highly polished bar instead of the old, scarred pine affair that had absorbed so much blood and whisky over the years. There were soft lights, chairs with cushions and somewhere a selection of tunes from old musicals was softly playing. No one was arguing, fighting or swearing; demons and vampires sat quietly nursing their drinks, eating peanuts, discussing politics and the appalling state of the local blood banks. Spike hated it with a passion that defied belief.

There was an unwritten rule that all disagreements had to be taken outside and any reference to horns, tentacles or colour of skin and scales was frowned on by a Willy who had told Spike that he was a reformed character since Ben had been vanquished. He’d even offered Spike some self-help books to read and had only looked on sorrowfully when the vampire tore them up and tossed them in the street.

Spike sat nursing his fifth glass of Scotch, scowling down at the patterns he was drawing on the bar from a few spilt drops.
He’d decided a couple of months ago that he hated this Sunnydale. Since Ben had gone, the inhabitants had adopted a lifestyle that was based on being nice to everyone. Blood banks had been set up for vamps so they didn’t have to feed off humans, demons were asked to keep to certain parts of the town and not get involved with local politics and so far everyone was keeping to the rules.

Spike was bored and still aching with the pain and anger of losing his wife, a pain that didn’t seem to have diminished one iota since he’d walked away from her.

He hadn’t seen Buffy since their acrimonious parting but he’d heard from various people that she hadn’t left town, which surprised him. He’d thought she’d have gone through the portal like a rabbit down a hole, back to live permanently with Dawn and the Key baby. But then the Slayer was quite capable of travelling backwards and forwards between the two places if it suited her.

The other friends who might have been in contact with her – Xander, Tara and Willow – were over in England. Willow still hadn’t recovered from Oz’s death at Ben’s hands and the short trip abroad to give her something new to think about had turned into a much longer journey.

Buffy hadn’t been patrolling in this Sunnydale; Spike knew that, because Faith was half-heartedly working the cemeteries and had mentioned the other evening that she never saw Buffy. He knew that Faith, too, was bored with this town. No one really worried if vamps were staked or not. There was no need for a Slayer here. She was talking of moving on and he knew she wanted him to go with her.

“Well, perhaps I’ll do just that,” he muttered under his breath, glaring round at the luxurious surroundings. He liked Faith and would always be grateful to her for saving his life when Buffy couldn’t be bothered to come back for him after Ben’s torture session. He knew Faith wanted more from him than friendship. Well, that wouldn’t be difficult! A man would have to be made out of steel not to feel attracted to that body.

Except – Spike knew it would just be sex. Which was OK and he wasn’t going to turn it down if they did leave Sunnydale and travel together. But – he didn’t love Faith. No, his stupid, bloody mind was still tied to a certain blonde girl who’d discarded him when the complications of being his wife got too much for her.

A couple of nights lately he’d walked past her house, but the windows were dark and he could sense it was empty. He wondered if Joyce and Buffy had gone away together – for a holiday, perhaps. He wished he’d had a chance to speak to this Joyce. She liked him; he knew that, almost as much as the Joyce Summers who’d died.

Spike had been tempted to break in and use the portal in the kitchen to get back to the other Sunnydale. Oh, not to stay there. He knew he wouldn’t be welcome. But he might head up to Los Angeles and annoy Angel. That was always fun. And at least that Angel was still alive. The one here – well, just dust drifting in the wind – which was kind of sad, but satisfying in an odd sort of way.

And he knew that as soon as he reached the portal exit in the cemetery on the other side, all his memories of this Sunnydale would vanish. He’d experienced it once before and wiping away the fact that Buffy was his wife, that people here liked him, had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

But this time – well, it would be a relief. It was odd that the memories of that Sunnydale lingered in the mind here, but once they went through the portal, it was as if nothing had happened.

“Well, nothing bloody well has! He threw back the last mouthful of Scotch and banged the glass on the counter for Willy to give him a refill.

The barman cast a shrewd glance at his customer and decided that he was still just the right side of sober. Hopefully he would stumble away into the night before he became aggressive and began breaking up the furniture and fittings.

“Saw the Slayer last week,” he said casually as he poured the whisky.

Spike grunted.

“She was looking good – great in the circumstances. You could have told us all, Spike. You know, your friends here in town. We’d have had a few drinks, sort of celebrated.”

Spike raised his head and stared blearily across the bar. “Celebrate what? I don’t understand one bloody word of what you’re saying.”

“Your wife – the Slayer – Buffy – she’s expecting, isn’t she?”

“Expecting what?” Spike squinted at Willy, wondering if he’d added something to the Scotch - it was making him light-headed.

“A baby, of course. Must admit I didn’t know vampires could produce, but then you’re a law to yourself and what with all the funny magics that Ben was producing, I don’t suppose – ” He looked up from where he was polishing a glass to realise he was talking to an empty bar-stool. Spike had gone and what was more peculiar, an almost full glass of whisky was still standing on the bar.

Buffy put down her suitcase and yawned: she felt exhausted. The Greyhound trip back from her aunt’s had been long and tedious. Leaving her Mom there had been hard. Every time she said goodbye to this Joyce, she wondered if she would ever see her again. Which was stupid, because, hey, this Mom was fine, no headaches, no money worries and no obsessing over having a Slayer for a daughter.

Joyce had promised to return a couple of weeks before the baby was due to arrive, but said her sister needed her more at the moment than her daughter. Buffy had sworn that she wouldn’t patrol, or get into any fights or do anything stupid.

Not that there’s any chance of that happening, she thought wryly as she peered inside the refrigerator to see if there was any soda. She was well aware that Faith had been looking after the vampire population – such as it was. Life here in this Sunnydale was so weird. Buffy hated it. Not that it wasn’t a good thing that people were being nice to each other, but setting up blood banks for vampires just seemed – well, whatever it was, it wasn’t natural!

Her mom insisted there was no need for her to stay in Sunnydale any more; that the Hellmouth was inactive, that she could stop being a Slayer now that Faith was working here. But for some reason, Buffy couldn’t face leaving town permanently. What if Dawn and Willow managed to open another portal through from the other side? She knew that however engrossed Dawn was with Gracie, she would still do everything she could to help Buffy get back.

And she would go – wouldn’t she? What was there to stay here for?

“So – when’s the happy event, then?”

Buffy jumped, the soda fizzing out of the can onto the floor. She hadn’t sensed him standing there in the doorway and realised she must have left it unlatched when she came in. She stared at her husband: he was leaning against the doorframe and although he looked casual, she could see that his hands were clenched into fists inside his jeans’ pockets. And his casual stance was belied by the fury she could see blazing in his eyes.

She shrugged and sipped what was left of the soda – her mouth had suddenly gone very dry and she felt the baby jump inside her, almost as if it had recognised it’s father’s voice. She was suddenly extremely glad that she was still so relatively small. Slayer muscles were holding the baby tight and she knew she didn’t look as far along as she was.

“No wonder you were in no hurry to get back to this Sunnydale to see if I was still alive, sweetheart! Too busy shagging whoever the father of your brat is, obviously. Hey, I suppose I can divorce you for adultery. Bet that hasn’t happened to too many Slayers before now.”

“We’re not married in the other Sunnydale,” Buffy said through dry lips.

“Oh, yes, how could I forget? Only in this one. Where you don’t mind it being known that you’re up the duff and everyone and his dog thinks it’s mine. Well, hope you’re not looking for any financial support from dear old Dad, because you won’t get any!”

Buffy lifted her chin defiantly. “I wouldn’t take a nickel from you, Spike. I’d rather go out on the street and beg.” She was beginning to shake with anger and felt the baby move anxiously, disturbed by the flood of emotion coursing through her body. How dare he! He was the one who’d gone off with another woman; he was the one who’d fed off Faith, had obviously wanted Faith and had got her. Not that that would have been difficult, because hey, Faith would sleep with anything that had a heartbeat – except he didn’t – but – oh damn him to Hell!

She turned away so he couldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes.

“So who is the father? Come on, Buffy, what’s the big secret? Don’t tell me good old Xander managed to get his leg over when you went back with Faith and the Key baby? Bloody hell, he must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. Come at once – hey that’s funny – do you get it? Come – once?”

“Shut up, Spike! Stop being such a pig. What difference is it to you who the father is, as long as it isn’t you? Oh don’t worry, I could tell from your face when we realised it was Faith who was carrying Gracie and not me that you were overjoyed I wasn’t pregnant.”

Spike strode forward. “That’s a lie! And you know it, Slayer. I was as upset as you were. I believed that was our baby, our miracle.” He stopped and sneered at her, desperate for the pain he was feeling not to show on his face, thankful that all the years of living with Angel, Dru and Darla, learning to hide his feelings, were now paying dividends. “I thought you were as upset as I was. But obviously not. And now you’ve got your own kid on the way and one I have no part in. I’m just surprised you bothered to stay around in this Sunnydale. I’m sure the Daddy will be waiting for you to get back to him!”

Buffy felt her temper boil over. She clenched her fists: if he came one stop closer she would hit him! “Yes, he’s waiting for me, just as Faith is out there waiting for you! So what are you doing hanging round here like some big loser? Go back to your girlfriend. I’m sure she’ll be only too glad to let you have a little taste. Does her blood make you feel good, Spike? Jeez, how many other girls have you fed from whilst we’ve been married? You only had to ask, you know.”

The tears she’d been trying to prevent finally poured down her face and she whispered as she turned away, “You only had to ask.”

Spike grabbed hold of her arm, roaring, “You bloody well weren’t there, Slayer! You left me to die. You weren’t there.”

Buffy twisted away, the feel of his fingers burning into her skin. She tried to move backwards, tripped over her suitcase and felt herself falling until strong arms caught her before she hit the floor.

Spike stood holding her close to him and a deep wave of weariness swept over her. All she wanted was to put her head on his shoulder and sleep. Then, suddenly, she felt the baby give a great kick and winced.

Spike blinked, the anger faded from his face and a look of complete bewilderment appeared. “Buffy – ” he said hoarsely – “I can sense – feel – that’s my baby you’re carrying!”


tbc




















 
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