Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon and all those folks. Thanks to Sanity Fair for catching a number of it’s-late-and-I’m-tired errors. Thanks to the reviewers for all the encouragement!
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Chapter 18 A Trip to the City
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“I’m making pasta for dinner. Do you want some?” It was the longest sentence Riley had spoken to her all week. She was sitting in the living room, looking over some of her latest notes. Riley had come home from work, said a quick hello, and gone out for a run. Now, he was showered and apparently in a cooking mood.
 
“That would be great. Thanks,” she replied politely. Turning back to her notes she read them over with a frown. She needed more information. Despite Giles’ disapproval, she had searched online and found that Wesley Wyndam-Price had an address listed in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t find the phone number. I wonder if that girl who worked for Angel, what was her name, Fred? Is she in this world? But Buffy couldn’t recall her real name, and anyhow she probably hadn’t gotten rescued or whatever with Angel being all nonexistent.
 
“Dinner’s ready,” Riley called after a while. Buffy set aside her notes and got up, stretching the kinks out of her neck as she did. In the kitchen, Riley was putting a bowl of spaghetti with bottled pasta sauce on the table.
 
“Thanks, that looks good,” Buffy said. She meant it – it seemed that she kept forgetting to eat while she was engrossed in the literature of time travel. She mounded her plate and reached for the parmesan cheese before digging in.
 
“I found out I need to go away next week,” Riley said.
 
“Where?”
 
“L.A. It’s a company retreat. I’ll be gone for 3 nights.”
 
Buffy hesitated a minute, then asked, “Can I tag along?”
 
Riley looked surprised. “I would have thought you’d welcome the chance to be away from me for a few days,” he remarked bitterly.
 
“Riley, I told you, I’m not mad at you. It’s just… awkward, all right?” For God’s sake, get over it already!
 
“Why do you want to go with anyway?” Riley asked, slightly suspiciously.
 
“There’s a guy in L.A., Wesley Wyndham-Price. He used to work for the Watcher’s Council. Anyhow, he might have some books that Giles doesn’t that might help.” She felt a bit guilty for shading the truth, but what Riley didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
 
Riley chewed silently, mulling it over. “Are we going to share a hotel room? Or am I just the chauffeur?”
 
Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I admit I’d feel more comfortable in my own bed. But with two beds, we can share a room. Maybe we can start to… get to know each other again.” The guilty feeling intensified, but she needed to get to L.A. She would even pretend to play nice with Riley, if it meant a chance of getting back to Spike somehow.
 
“I think I could live with that,” Riley said, brightening visibly.
 
What did you get yourself into now, Summers? Forcing a smile Buffy said, “Thanks. When do we leave?”
 
“Sunday.”
 
“Sounds good,” she replied, returning to her dinner. For the rest of the meal Riley chatted about work, telling stories about various coworkers whose names were unfamiliar to Buffy. She made encouraging noises at the right times and generally faked interest. Her mind was wandering down a list of possible avenues to pursue. Maybe I can convince Wesley that there is a demon that I have to go after that is hiding in London in the 1800’s or something. There has to be a way.
 
On the appointed day, Buffy tossed her suitcase into the back of the car and got into the passenger seat. “Do you mind driving?” she asked.
 
“Not at all,” Riley said, sounding more cheerful than he had in weeks.
 
“That’s right,” Buffy remembered. “Didn’t you once go on about how much you enjoyed driving? At a picnic or something?”
 
“You remember!” Riley exclaimed, starting the car. “You told me you were an avid pedestrian. You never have let me teach you to enjoy driving.”
 
“Well, no need to start now,” she replied.
 
As they headed out to the highway Riley asked, “Did you remember any more? That seems like something new.”
 
“Not really. But little things keep coming back. I’m pretty sure it will all come back in time if people just stay patient and wait.” Or I’ll get out of here, and it won’t be your problem anymore. She fiddled with the radio and found a classic rock station. When Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” came on she found herself biting her lip and trying not to cry. Billy Idol got the look from Spike. So what does Billy Idol look like in this world?
 
Not noticing her distress, Riley went on, “I’d like to apologize for being so, I don’t know, pushy about all this. I don’t do well when I feel helpless.”
 
No, really? “I read in my diaries that we had some… issues with our relationship the year when Glory came. Was that what it was about?”
 
Riley focused hard on the road for a moment before answering. “I guess I never really thought about it. I suppose that was a lot of it. It really felt like you didn’t need me.”
 
“Because I was stronger than you?”
 
“Well, that and you and your friends are just so tight, you know? It seemed like I was always on the outside.”
 
Buffy chewed on that for a moment. She and the other Riley had never really gotten a chance to calmly talk things out. It was true that she and Willow and Xander had been a trio for so long that it would be hard to take for an outsider. But the circle had expanded to accommodate Tara and Anya with little trouble. She thought that Riley’s macho bullshit probably had a lot to do with the friction but didn’t think it polite to mention it. “What made you stay then?” she asked finally.
 
“When everything started going down with Glory, and with, um, with Dawn, it seemed wrong to leave.” He still seemed reluctant to bring up Dawn, as if the mere mention of her name was going to send Buffy off the rails.
 
“Were you there in that final battle?” Buffy asked.
 
“Yeah,” Riley said, clearly not relishing the memory. “I was dealing with minions while you went after Glory. Another day when I felt pretty helpless.”
 
“I’ve got supernatural powers, Riley. If I couldn’t change the outcome, how could you?”
 
“I guess I used to have something close to that. Sometimes I wish I still did.” His voice held the faintest touch of bitterness.
 
“That’s right, all the Initiative stuff,” Buffy commented. “But that stuff was killing you, according to the diaries.”
 
“I know. The whole experience really threw me though. There was no one I could trust it seemed.”
 
“Been there.” Trust is for old marrieds. She closed her eyes for a moment at the memory of Spike in her bathroom. She had been crushed by his attack, but the claim and the memories they shared had blunted the sharp edges of the memory. He had felt driven to the edge. She had spent months saying no and then jumping him. The two of them had hurt each other badly all those months but had managed to forgive each other in the end, in Ireland, in a little garret bedroom. She turned her face to the window so that Riley couldn’t see the pain in her eyes. Unable to continue this conversation she said, “Tell me about what it was like for you growing up. How did you end up in the Initiative anyway?”
 
Relieved at the change of subject, Riley launched into the story of his life. Buffy pretended to listen, making appropriate comments as necessary. It was easier to let him talk than to have to come up with something to converse about. In her mind, she went over her plan of attack. Get to the hotel. Lose Riley. Find Wesley. Try to convince him that I need to get to Victorian England. Get the hell out of here and back to Spike. She knew there were details to work out, but this start seemed as good as any. Eventually the conversation lagged and Buffy pretended to doze off. Riley watched her with a smile, unaware of the unbridgeable gulf between them.
 
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Riley stroked her cheek gently until she awoke. “We’re here.”
 
“Sorry I fell asleep on you,” Buffy replied. She had managed to actually fall asleep after a while and had been dreaming about Spike singing the Ramones in his beat up old DeSoto. Now, she regretfully stretched and got out of the car. They were at a good-sized hotel and conference center near downtown L.A. Riley checked them in, and they made their way to the sixth floor. The room had two beds and was simple but comfortable looking. “What time is it anyway?” she asked as she put her bag down on the bed nearest the door.
 
Riley checked his watch. “It’s four o’clock. We’re all meeting for a dinner at five thirty if you want to join us.”
 
“I think it would be pretty awkward,” Buffy said. “I think I’ll go hit the pool for a while, then catch some dinner and a movie later.”
 
“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
 
Buffy fixed him with a slightly exasperated look. “Riley. I grew up here, and I’m the Slayer. Plus, I’m a girl, and there’s a lot of places to shop around here that I am eager to reacquaint myself with.”
 
“Well that’s good,” Riley said. “I’m going to be in meetings all day for the next two days. I guess we can have breakfast together,” he said hopefully.
 
“That would be great,” Buffy said, forcing a smile. She grabbed a small bag with a towel and her swim suit and headed out to the elevator. She changed in the locker room next to the pool and dived in, skimming though the water like a seal. It had actually been a long time since she had gone swimming. Slaying, fighting, training the other Slayers and all that didn’t leave a whole lot of time for recreation. She reveled in the warm water, doing one lap after another. I wonder if Spike could swim? She found herself unable to prevent her thoughts from running to him at any unguarded moments.
 
After an uncounted number of laps she got out, a little breathless. She went back to the room to change then down to the small pub in the hotel. She ordered a sandwich and asked the waitress if there was a local phone book she could borrow. The waitress obliged, and she ran her fingers down the columns of names and numbers until she found and confirmed the address for W. Wyndham-Price. She jotted the address and phone number down and turned to her dinner. She wondered what she was going to say to him. Hi. Do you remember me? Well, I need to take a trip into the past to find my vampire mate. Can you help? She hoped by the time she got to his doorstep she would have a more convincing pitch.
 
She finished her dinner, paid the check with the joint credit card that she and Riley apparently had, and left in search of Wesley. It was late afternoon, and the shadows were starting to stretch long across the streets. The address she had was in a rather questionable part of town, and she endured a few catcalls from local sleazebags as she made her way past dirty alleys and low rent housing. Despite the surroundings, she felt more hopeful than she had recently. The Wesley in her world had known a lot of obscure things, and had gone deep into less orthodox research after parting company with the council and joining Angel’s merry band. Maybe something similar happened. He at least would be less likely to look at her like she had antlers or something if she explained what she needed.
 
At last she arrived at the address she had jotted down. It was a four story run-down apartment building with a dirty glass door which opened into a small dirty lobby. She looked at the names on the bells, but didn’t see Wyndham-Price or anything like that. Is he living here under an assumed name or something?
 
“Who are you?” came a harsh voice from behind her. “If you’re another one of those escort girls, you take yourself right back out of here. Don’t need no trouble of that kind.” The voice belonged to an elderly black woman, who was standing with a hand on her hip giving Buffy the evil eye.
 
“Um, no, sorry,” Buffy mumbled. “I’m actually looking for someone who supposedly lived here. Wesley Wyndham-Price?”
 
“You mean that British guy?”
 
“Yeah. Does he still live here?”
 
The woman shook her head. “He moved out a month ago. Didn’t even give notice. Good riddance if you ask me. Always had shady looking folks coming around to see him.”
 
Buffy’s heart sank, “So you don’t know where he went? No forwarding address?”
 
“No. Just left the rent money in my box and took off in the night. Does immigration come after British guys? Maybe it was trouble of that kind.” The landlady looked hard at Buffy. “He a boyfriend or something?”
 
“No. I was hoping he could help me. That’s all. Thanks anyway.” She turned to go, leaving the landlady shaking her head behind her. Out on the street she looked around, wondering where to go next. In all her life’s journeys she had never felt more lost.
 
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The three vampires that were hanging out in the abandoned building ten blocks from the last known residence of Wesley Wyndham-Price didn’t know what hit them. One minute they were lounging, drinking beer, planning their evening hunt while they waited for sunset, and the next minute the door slammed open and a small blonde woman strolled in. She had a wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and one of them breathed, “Slayer…” as she pulled out her twin stakes and twirled them.
 
“Got it in one,” she quipped. Then she unleashed her fury on them. Normally she was all ‘dust and go’, but today she was pissed beyond all telling and needed the fight. She punched and kicked and tossed them, but didn’t stake them until she had beaten them to the point that they could barely stand. Their yellow demon eyes were wide with fear, and one of them broke off the attack and tried to run at one point. She whipped the stake at him and caught him in the back of the knee, taking him down while she dusted one of his companions. Then she strolled over almost casually, pulled out the stake, and sat on his back, pounding his kidneys over and over until she decided he had had enough and dusted him. She stood up, panting hard and pocketed her stakes. That’s better. She was still upset, but she felt in control again.
 
She left the building and continued on her aimless tour of L.A.’s seedier streets. She had been wandering with no particular destination since she left the apartment house. She had knocked out a wannabe human mugger then continued stalking around until she sensed the vampire nest. Now she turned down another street, her Slayer senses picking up a faint demonic tingle that grew stronger as she continued. At the end of the block she saw a neon sign above the entrance to a bar. As she approached she read the name: Caritas. Why does that sound familiar? She stood in the shadows and puzzled about it for a moment. When she saw a furtive misshapen figure with obvious horns slip in the door it hit her. It’s that demon bar. That demon that worked with Angel… Lorne? Spike had talked about him while they had been catching up on their lost time. Empath demon, Spike had said. Came from some other dimension. Got Angel to sing once or twice, which is once or twice too many times, if you’ve ever heard Angel’s singing voice. Out of curiosity and a desire to see if this Lorne existed in this world she headed down the street and went in.
 
The interior was all glass and blue neon, with a motley collection of demons of every stripe, a few vampires, and a smattering of odd looking humans. When she stepped out of the shadows by the doorway conversation died near her, and all eyes turned toward her with fear and loathing. The bartender noticed the disturbance and came out to meet her. “What’s the problem here? There’s no fighting happening here, you understand? Whole place is under a protective spell. You start throwing stakes around, Slayer, and you’re going to find yourself in a world of hurt, got it?”
 
Nervously Buffy said, “I’m just… looking for a drink. I’m off duty. No slayage, promise.”
 
The bartender looked her over closely then nodded; apparently satisfied that she meant what she said. “Then what’ll it be?” he asked as he moved back around behind the bar.
 
“I’ll have a Long Island iced tea,” she answered, taking a seat at the bar. The bluish demon next to her edged away slightly and turned back to his slightly furry date. She thanked the bartender when her drink came and observed the lay of the land while she sipped. Up on stage a pair of demons that reminded her a lot of Clem were howling through a karaoke version of “We Are Family” that sounded like a pack of wolves gargling. The noise was not to be believed, but they seemed to be having a grand old time of it, and Buffy couldn’t help smiling faintly. When they finished, the assembled guests clapped and hooted, and the two demons made their way over to a table in the corner where a tall, green skinned demon in a bright blue blazer was sitting. He talked with them for a few minutes, and they were apparently satisfied with whatever he said because they high-fived each other and headed over to the bar for another round. The green demon took a long drink of something that looked like mist was rising from it, and as he did so he noticed Buffy’s interested gaze. He put the drink down, cocked his head for a moment then rose to cross the room and take the seat next to her.
 
“Freshen this up for me, will you Ramone?” he said to the bartender. Turning to Buffy he said, “We don’t get a lot of Slayers in here.”
 
“Well, I suppose there’s only one of us in the whole world and all that, so the chances are pretty low.”
 
The demon smiled. “So what’s a nice Slayer like you doing in a demon bar like this, bearing in mind our no-Slaying policy?” Buffy looked into her drink for a moment, trying to think of how to put things. “Honey, you’ve been radiating sad and confused and lost since you walked in here. I don’t know what happened to make the Chosen One such a wreck, but seems to me you need to tell someone about it,” said the demon encouragingly.
 
“You’re right,” Buffy said, nodding without looking at him. She took another drink and said, “What would you say if I told you that the world as you know it is wrong?”
 
“Wrong in a general sense, or something specific? By the way, my name is...”
 
“Lorne. I know. I’ve heard about you from someone who was once a friend of yours. I’m Buffy.”
 
Lorne looked totally confused. “What friend of mine have you met that you didn’t slay?”
 
“A vampire named Spike.” Her voice wavered a little on his name.
 
“I don’t recall ever meeting a vampire named Spike. Not a name I’d forget.”
 
“The thing is, you met him in a different time,” Buffy explained. “And then time changed, so you never met.”
 
“You’re not making any sense right now sweetheart. I think you’ll need to start the whole story from the top. First, though, you need to sing for me.”
 
“Sing?” Buffy’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise and confusion.
 
“I can read your destiny and help tell you what path to take, but it only works when you’re singing,” Lorne explained. “Those two guys butchering Sister Sledge earlier were trying to figure out if they had found good mates. I was pleased to tell them that the girls they had in mind would be great matches.”
 
Buffy had to admit that a little advice on the future would be most welcome about now. She took another big gulp of her drink and stood up, slightly unsteadily. “Okay, what do I do?”
 
Ten minutes later she was standing nervously on the stage in front of the karaoke prompter, with Lorne announcing, “Give it up for our friendly neighborhood Slayer, who has agreed to a truce in exchange for your polite attention.” Buffy could swear she could hear crickets after his statements and felt even more nervous about performing in front of a hostile audience. But as the guitar chords swelled she screwed up her courage and started singing.
 
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

In looking through the list of songs, the one that had stuck in her mind was “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. Her voice was shaky at first, but when she got to the chorus she found it was expressing exactly what she felt.
 
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
 
When she finished there was a small smattering of applause, and the overall audience seemed less completely hostile. Lorne, however, was sitting at his corner table with tears running down his face. Buffy went to join him. “Was it really that bad?” she asked.
 
“Girl, I haven’t felt so much pain in… in forever. You really love somebody, and you’ve lost him.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Sit down right here. You’re going to tell me the whole tale, end to end, and you’re going to tell me the truth.” He motioned for more drinks, handed Buffy hers, and leaned forward, ready to listen.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and launched into her tale. She explained her history as the Slayer, how she met Spike and Angel, the destruction of Sunnydale, the final battle in L.A. Words poured out of her in a torrent as she talked about her mom, her sister, her failed relationships. Glory and the First, and the Circle of the Black Thorn – all her battles and triumphs were laid out in front of the sympathetic demon. Finally after an hour of talking she came to the most recent events. “I don’t know who sent us back in time. But we went, and we stopped Angel from becoming a vampire, and apparently that saved the world. My friends are alive and happy, I’m in a stable, normal relationship, and everything is peachy, except…”
 
“Except your mate isn’t here,” Lorne put in.
 
“Yeah,” said Buffy sadly, looking down into her drink. She was so grateful to have finally told someone the whole story. There was something inherently trustworthy about this demon. But at the same time, laying the whole history out on the table was like pulling a bandage off a wound. She felt no closer to solving her problem.
 
Lorne reached out and patted her hand. “Hey, none of those black thoughts now. I know what you’re going through. I’m an empath and a demon, remember? I know what claims are like. You’ve got a big knife wound in your soul, and you’re never going to have peace until you find your man again.”
 
“But how?” Buffy’s voice was full of despair. “I don’t know how the whole time travel thing happened in the first place, and I don’t know how to make it happen again! Everything I read says that it takes massive amounts of magical power, which I don’t have, and I can’t ask my friends to do. If we reverse what happened, the world’s going to end and my friends are going to suffer. There’s no way out of this!”
 
“Now you listen to me, sugar,” Lorne said sternly. “Your future is pretty complicated. I’m not exactly sure what your ultimate fate is going to be. But when I heard you sing, I knew one thing. You’re someone special. The Powers That Be have had a big hand in your life. You’re going to have to get in contact with them to resolve this.”
 
Buffy sighed. “What, do they have a phone number or a website or something?”
 
“Cute,” Lorne said, one corner of his mouth curling into a smile. “Nothing so simple as that. But you can talk to the Oracles. I can tell you how. If anyone can help you, it will be them.”
 
Buffy’s mouth opened in astonishment. “You mean there’s really a way?” She looked like she hardly dared to hope.
 
“There’s a way to find out what happened to you,” Lorne said. “The Oracles are a go-between. They’re sort of hidden in plain sight – you need to do a ritual to get to speak to them, and only warriors on the side of good get in. No guarantee that they will do what you want, but I have the feeling they’ll listen to you. It’s pretty clear that the resolution of all this will need to come from the Oracles and the Powers.”
 
“Tell me what I have to do. I don’t care what it is. Just tell me where to go.” Buffy’s heart raced at the prospect of actual progress.
 
“Will you still be around tomorrow evening?”
 
“Yes. I’m here for three nights at least.” More if it will get me to Spike.
 
“Then come by around six o’clock or so. If I’m not out here, ask Ramone to come find me. I’ll get you what you need.”
 
“Thank you,” Buffy breathed. “I don’t know why you’re involving yourself in all my problems, but I’m really, really grateful.”
 
Lorne smiled and squeezed her hand. “You’re a force for good, cookie. You saved the world and got royally screwed over because of it. Seems like the world owes you one.”
 
“Thanks,” Buffy repeated. “Tomorrow then?”
 
“I’ll be here.” They stood up, and Buffy shook Lorne’s hand once more before turning to leave. Lorne watched her go with a thoughtful expression on his green face. “Hope it all works out for you,” he murmured to himself before returning to the bar and his other clients.
 
TBC