Future Imperfect   by   Lilachigh

 

 

Chapter 26     Into the dark

 

 

Darkness - all around, overhead, under their feet, cloying black fog, broken only by the gold and silver sparkles, kept alive by Joyce’s magic.  The twins were walking, hand in hand, into the dark: “Are you sure someone’s calling your name?” Joyce asked out loud.

Billy tightened his hold on her hand.  “Yes, and it’s getting sort of louder. I think we’re closer.”

Joyce suddenly stopped, pulling him to a standstill.  “But we don’t know who it is!  You said it wasn’t Mom or Granny or Grandad Spike.  I don’t like this place.  It isn’t home. Let’s go back.”

 

“Back where? I know this place feels sort of bad but we’re lost, twin, and some grown-up knows we’re here and is calling for us. We’ll find them and explain. If you sent the key home and we followed, then we must be close to Granny’s house. Perhaps we’re just down the street, in a school basement or museum or something. We’ve been gone ages; I expect Mom has organised a search party. OK, we’re in trouble, but the important thing is to let them know we’re all right.”

“Supper would be nice,” Joyce muttered. “But I bet we get sent to bed without anything.” She totally believed that their mother would be worried sick about Billy, but not so much about her.  She let herself be pulled forward again, into the darkness, sending another shower of glittering stars into the air to light their way a fraction.  It was so weird that she couldn’t do any big magics anymore.   It gave her a cold feeling in her stomach.  Magic was what she was. A witch was what she was. Being different had been fun, even though being different had meant her mom hadn’t loved her as much as Billy.  So would she love her more now she was just an ordinary kid?   The chill in her stomach began to spread through her body. What if Mom still loved Twin more?  What if she just didn’t like Joyce very much and the not liking had nothing to be do with her being a witch.

With an effort Joyce slammed her thoughts away inside her head and, with a mental twist that her Slayer grandmother would have known all too well, locked the door and refused to confront them. She winced, realising she’d lost one of her shoes and the ground beneath her bare foot was hot and hard - and then, for a split second, she glanced behind them and saw.....

 

A few seconds later, Billy said quietly, “I think it’s getter lighter. And the voice is getting louder.”  As he spoke, the cloying blackness seemed to fade away to midnight, then grey, until just a dull steel coloured mist swirled around them.  

 

“Have you shouted back in your head?” Joyce asked.

 

“I sort of said, ‘Hi there,’ a couple of times, but I don’t know if they heard me. It seemed rude to yell.”

 

“I don’t think this place is near Granny Buffy’s house. It’s mega creepy.”

 

The mist was clearing and they could see they were standing in a long narrow corridor that stretched into the distance. The floor was cold under their feet, the ceiling and walls were sullen metal.  It was hard to see where the light was coming from: the glow seemed to come from somewhere up above the ceiling, filtering down.

 

“So where are they?  Where’s the person calling your name?”  Joyce flung herself down on the floor and rubbed her bare foot.  Licking her fingers, she dabbed at a couple of little blisters that had opened under her toes.

 

Billy kicked moodily at the wall.  “I don’t know.  It’s just a voice.  It doesn’t have a direction.  This is all your stupid fault, anyway! You should never have followed those women.”

 

Joyce glanced up at him, startled.  Billy never blamed her for her magic - never. So he must be mega upset. And she could guess why.  They were used to hearing each other inside their heads, but to hear someone they didn’t know: that was horrid. Almost scary.

 

“Is this place magic?” Billy asked suddenly.  “Listen - when I kick the wall, there’s no noise.”

 

“Oh weird!”  

 

“Twin - did you, would you have, perhaps you magiced it into being.  You could do that if you wanted.”

 

“Why would I want to?”   Joyce stood up and kicked off her other shoe.  It was far easier to go bare foot.  “I want us to be home again, not stuck in some dreary old tunnel.”

 

Billy shrugged.  He couldn’t put into words what his mind was telling him - that this was a magic place that Joyce had made to keep them safe.  No doors, no windows, just metal walls protecting them - from what?  It was like a prison,  but they were shut inside to keep them out of harm’s way.   But if Joyce once believed that and stopped feeling safe, then it would vanish and then - Billy shuddered.  He didn’t want to know what was so bad outside that Joyce had made herself forget, because he was sure it was something dreadful.  And what was worse, although he had told twin that he didn’t know where the voice was coming from, he wasn’t sure if that was the truth.  He was almost certain that whoever was calling to him was just outside these magic, metal barriers.  And now he was beginning to sense something else - the thoughts that were crying out behind the voice - thoughts that made him wish more than anything else that he was safe home in his bed with the quilt pulled over his head, with his Dad downstairs, knowing that if he called out, Dad would come racing upstairs to help him.

 

.........

 

Buffy hurtled through the portal, close on Spike’s heels, crouching low, spike in hand, ready for whatever enemy lay in wait on the other side.  And the enemy, if there was one, was hidden in the dark that surged up and around her - thick, cloying fog, the smell made her want to throw up as the dark slid into her nose, her eyes, her ears.  

 

“Spike!”  She tried yelling his name, but the black mist flowed relentlessly into her mouth and she choked at the bitter taste.  

 

“Mom!”  

All of Buffy’s maternal instincts flared into life -  Shanny sounded terrified and where the heck was Angel, why wasn’t he helping her?

 

“Shanny!  Over here!  Walk towards my voice.”  Buffy reached out her hands, pushing through sullen black fog until they thudded into her daughter’s arms.  “Here. I’ve got you. Are you OK?”

 

“It’s vile!  What is it?  I can’t see a thing.  Oh Mom, the twins can’t be alive in this. They’ll be so scared.”

 

“Buffy!  Shanny!  Spike!”  Angel’s voice battered through the gloom and then suddenly, he, too was there.  Buffy could just make out his familiar outline and tried not to feel bereft when Shanny turned and almost threw herself at him, seeking a protection she obviously felt her mother couldn’t give her.

 

“What is it, Angel, this filthy mist?  Can it hurt us?”

 

“Foul stuff, but no, it’s a sort of demon cloaking device, made to stop you getting too close to whoever’s using it.”

 

Buffy coughed, shuddering as the mist coated her teeth and tongue and tried to push its way down her throat.  “Where’s Spike?”

 

She felt, rather than saw Angel shake his head.  “He came through the portal first, didn’t he?  I thought he’d have had the sense to stay still and wait for the rest of us, but you know your husband, Buffy.  William and common-sense, not such great friends!”

 

“He won’t have gone far,” she snapped back, but secretly had to admit that in the sort of mood Spike was in, she couldn’t trust him to be sensible.

 

“I don’t understand - ” Shanny sounded close to tears.  “How could the key have been sent from here? We’ve followed it’s path backwards: but there’s no one, and no twins!”

 

“Show it me,” Buffy said and reached out to take her daughter’s hand, gazing down at the little key that was still fixed in some invisible way to her palm.

 

“Angel, look, it’s moving!  Shanny - careful - don’t drop it.”

 

“Don't blame me - I’m not moving it.  It feels weird, it tickles.”

 

“Buffy, I think it’s a compass!”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes, look, the end with the little ridges - doesn’t that look like a finger to you?   As if it’s pointing?”

 

Buffy nodded. “Makes sense - if someone or something is trying to make contact with us, then showing us the way will help.”

 

“Do you think it will lead us to the twins?” Shanny said, a break in her voice.

Angel shrugged.  “I can’t promise that, Shanny, but it’s the only clue we’ve got.”

 

“Then hurry, let’s go!  Mom, come on, this way.”

 

“Wait up, Shan. Your dad’s here somewhere. If we get too far away, he’ll never find us in this fog.”

 

“I’m going now!  You can wait for Dad if you want.  Angel, are you coming with me?”

 

“No, listen to me.  We mustn’t split up.  Spike will turn up any minute. He can always find me, wherever I am.”

 

Shanny hesitated: she longed to say, yes, he can always find you, but can he find me?  If finding was based on how much you loved someone, on how the strange links between two people worked, then her mom and dad would always come together. But she was outside that magic circle and always had been.

 

“You wait, Mom, if you have to.  Angel and I are going  wherever the key takes us. I have to find twins. They need me, I know they do.”

 

“Wait for Spike. I’ll take care of her, Buffy,” Angel said swiftly as he followed Shanny’s slim form and the fog swallowed them up. “And William can always find me.”

 

Buffy coughed and blinked as the black fog stung her eyes.  She was so angry with Shanny. Why wouldn’t the girl listen to her?   She was the Slayer; ok, not so much these days but she still had a lifetime of skill and experience at her fingertips.  Jeez, what she should have done was insist that they march off in the direction the key was pointing. As soon as she said that, Shanny would have insisted on doing the exact opposite and stayed where she was.

 

Suddenly she yelped as a cold hand closed round the nape of her neck.  “Spike!”

 

“Sweetheart.”

 

“Where the hell have you been?  Angel and Shanny have taken off somewhere, following the key. We reckon it’s a compass and perhaps it’s showing us where the twins are and....”

 

“Wait up, Slayer.  Look.”

“At what?”

 

He took her hand and pulled her forwards, blindly into the dark.  She needed every ounce of trust she had in him to let herself follow and then, as they moved, she realised the fog was getting a little thinner.  She could see Spike clearly now and, with a chill that settled throughout her body, realised what he was holding in his other hand.

 

“Spike - wait.  You’ve got - that’s - oh my god, that’s - ”

 

“One of Joyce’s shoes.”  The vampire’s voice was hard and brittle with anxiety.  “I know. But that isn’t the worst thing, pet.  Look down there.”

 

She realised they’d reached a gentle slope and below them the fog writhed and twisted, great oily fingers slipping out of the sickening, glutinous mess, seeking, feeling, reaching and all the while a smell so vile that it burnt your lungs and throat when you breathed, hung in the air.

 

“What is it?”  Buffy whispered, her hand tightening on his cold fingers.

 

“I’ve no idea, pet.  But just down there, that’s where I found Joyce’s shoe.  The twins have gone into that...that...hell, Buffy.  And if we’re going to find them, we’ve got to follow them.”

 

tbc