Something to Sing About by Lilachigh

Chapter Two : Welcome Back


Author’s note: For those of you who haven‘t read With This Ring... here is a quick explanation of the characters in the alternate Sunnydale. When they first went through the portal at the time of Something Blue, Buffy and Spike called the people they met Willow Two and Xander Two, etc. but that was shortened to WillT and XanT, etc.

WillT lived with OzT, XanT, the town drunk, had a girlfriend TaraT . AnyaT was the battered wife of ParkerT and worked behind the bar at the Bronze. CordyT was forced to leave town at end of With This Ring after her vampire boyfriend AngelT was staked by XanT.

For ease of reading, I’m dropping the T from now on. Just remember this isn’t Kansas, Toto.



With a tremendous thud, two bodies came hurtling through the purple and orange flashing portal between the two Sunnydales and crashed onto the kitchen floor of Revello Drive, sending the plastic bucket that covered the entrance in this world flying across the room.

For a long minute or two, neither moved. Buffy was lying on top of Spike, her head pillowed on his black T shirt. His hands were tangled in her hair and one leg was pressed possessively between hers, scrunching up her skirt and pushing hard against her bright red thong.

Finally she squirmed to increase the pressure of denim against silk enjoying the sensations that flooded through her. Then she was aware that something else was flooding and two very blue eyes blinked open above her.

“Bloody hell!”

“I don’t approve of you swearing, but yes, bloody hell seems to sum it up pretty well.”

Reluctantly, Spike rolled off her and stood up in one lithe, graceful movement. “We’re back in the other Sunnydale, aren’t we?”

“You remember?”

“The second we came through the portal.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Last time we were here, Xan staked Angel, Will and Oz were a couple and Cordy and Harm had gone to the bad! There’s quite a lot to remember.”

Buffy stared at him. “You’re forgetting the most important part.”

Spike raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh, you mean the fact that we’re husband and wife! No, I think I’ve always remembered that, somewhere in the back of my brain and definitely in other parts of my body! What about you, pet? You were the one who wanted to go back to not remembering the last time we were here.”

Buffy made a show of brushing herself down. The kitchen floor seemed to be incredibly dirty. “I seemed to have so much more important work to do back there than here. And Mom was in Sunnydale but here she was living with my aunt. I wonder - ” She gazed round apprehensively. “Why is it so dark, Spike?”

The vampire frowned and moved to the window. Cautiously he pulled back the curtain but the familiar street lights and lamps in neighbours’ windows failed to cut through the gloom. “Power failure?” he muttered and flicked the light switch up and down. Nothing happened.

Buffy crossed to the fridge. The door was propped open and the inside was empty. Swiftly she opened and shut a few more doors then turned to Spike. “It’s weird. The house seems deserted.” She ran a finger along one of the work surfaces. “And it’s filthy. No one’s cleaned in here for ages, Spike. That means - I suppose Mom is dead in this world, too.” Her voice shook with repeated anguish.

Spike went to her swiftly and pulled her into his arms, his hand tenderly cupping the back of her neck. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Slayer. She may just have gone to live with your aunt permanently. She was spending months at a time with her when we were last here, remember?”

Buffy sighed and pushed herself away from the comfort of his hug. She had to stay strong and relying on Spike for support was not the best way of doing that. “So do we stay or do we go home?” she asked, gazing across the kitchen to where the purple and orange portal was whirling and blinking in the corner.

Spike frowned. The memories were coming back thick and fast. In this world, Buffy had ended up refusing to believe she loved him. She’d always been convinced that, no matter what her heart told her, it was Willow’s spell, forcing them to marry, that made her feel the way she did.

He, on the other hand, had no doubts at all. He loved her in both worlds and was only relieved that whatever magical powers had made the portal between the two universes, they had been kind enough not to let him remember their marriage back in the other Sunnydale.

If he’d had to live through these past months, through Buffy’s death when she jumped off the tower, knowing that they were officially married but he couldn’t tell anyone, he thought he would probably have gone completely off his bloody head.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked softly. “Without checking up on what’s been happening here first? Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested, pet?”

Buffy crossed to the window and gazed out. It was so very dark, not even a flicker of starlight broke the blackness of the sky above. Home - a world that was all hard and bright and angry. Back to trying to bring up Dawn with little or no money; the Scoobies’ pleased faces she’d returned from the dead. And now, after the demon Sweet’s arrival on the scene and her confession about being pulled out of heaven, she would have to deal with Willow’s guilt, Xander’s forced cheerfulness, Tara and Anya trying to say the right things and failing. Giles leaving to go back to England.

And, most of all, she would be returning to struggle against an attraction to Spike that was weird and worrying. Here - well, at least the attraction had some foundation. Here they were married. She felt his hands clasp her shoulders and leant back against him. Peace. Rest. A sense of coming home. All these feelings flooded through her.

Okay, it wasn’t love, she told herself firmly, because she had already explained to herself, over and over again, that those emotions were false, engendered by Willow’s spell, years ago.

But being with Spike made her feel things she couldn’t with other people. Colours were brighter, all her sensations heightened. The moon was bigger, ice cream colder. And she knew that there was someone there, guarding her back, who would never let her down.

Wasn’t that what she had sung to the demon - Give me Something to Sing About. That was what she wanted in her life. To feel again. So, as long as she remembered that it wasn’t love she felt for Spike, she thought sensibly, she could remain in control. But whatever it was she felt, she needed it at the moment. So perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to spend a day or two here in this Sunnydale, just to escape from all her worries for a little while.

Like a little holiday, she reasoned. Two days out. She’d recharge her batteries then return through the portal, ready to face everything that the first Sunnydale could throw at her.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll stay for a while. I must admit I’d like to check in with Will and Oz. See how they’re doing.”

Spike gave her a hard hug. He could feel her tense in his arms and rejected the idea of inviting her upstairs to where their bed awaited. “That’s my girl. OK, let’s get going. Nice and dark out. We can be at Will’s house in five minutes.”

The street seemed deserted outside. Buffy shivered as they walked, hand in hand. along the sidewalk. There were no lights in any of the houses - no cars driving along the road.

“Jeez, this is mega odd, Spike,”’ she said at last. “No street lights, nothing. There must have been a massive power black-out.”

Spike frowned uneasily, his sharp gaze flicking to where bushes on the other side of the street were moving ominously. Whatever was behind them had been following them since they left Revello Drive. “Slayer - ?”

“I know, I can hear them,” she replied softly. “Vampires?”

Spike shook his head, his fingers tightening over hers. “No, but there’s something wrong, pet. They stink of blood.”

Just then the bushes parted and a gang of six or seven creatures lurched out to surround them. Men and women, clothes hanging in filthy rags, hands and arms so thin they were almost walking skeletons. Great sores had broken out on their faces which were contorted with pain. Their hair - what remained of it - was thick with dirt and grease and they drooled from toothless mouths that made deep baying sounds, like a pack of hungry wolves.

Buffy stared in disgust and horror, pulling a stake from her belt, automatically turning back to back with Spike, feeling him vamp into game face. Then she hesitated and put the stake away. “Spike, I can’t fight them! They’re human. I thought demons, but they’re not.”

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Whatever they are, they seem anxious to have us for a little light refreshment,” Spike growled, kicking out as one of the men made a rush at him. His boot caught the man on the knee and he wheeled away, howling.

As if that was a signal, the others shrieked and ran at Buffy, hands outstretched, fingers like claws, what teeth they had left in their mouths, gleaming with blood. Buffy punched two swiftly as Spike fought off the rest. “Spike, don’t kill them! I think they’re sick!” she yelled. “Make a run for Will’s house. Go! Now!”

She lashed out with her foot, tossing a woman aside into a front yard. It broke the circle and together she and Spike raced down the road, their Slayer/Vampire speed taking them clear of the baying mob. But even as they ran, one thought blazed through her brain. In this world, Spike’s chip wasn’t working!

Round the next corner, Will’s house stood, dark and unwelcoming. Spike hurtled up the path and crashed through the front door. Buffy followed into the dark hallway, spinning round to help Spike slam the door shut and barricade it with the heavy oak chest that had once belonged to Will’s grandmother.

The screaming gang could still be heard outside, but after a few minutes, the sounds diminished into the distance.

“Great welcoming committee, pet,” Spike drawled, digging out his cigarette lighter and flicking it on. In the light of the yellow flame, Buffy could see his eyes sparkling, a smear of blood down one cheek.

“Who on earth were they?” she asked, bemused.

“Don’t you know? They’re here because of you!” A familiar voice made them both turn, the flame flaring higher as Spike lifted it up to shed more light.

Will stood on the stairs, a wooden baseball bat clutched in her hand, raised as a weapon. Her red hair was longer, greasily tied back with a green ribbon. She looked weary and pale and her face was streaked with dirt. She was wearing red and green checked trousers and a black shirt that Buffy’s guessed belonged to Oz because it hung on her slight frame.

“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed and held out her hand, thrilled to see this version of her friend again.

To her surprise, Will ignored the gesture. “Why have you come back, Buffy?” she asked hoarsely. “Haven’t you done enough damage, you and your vampire? Is life so boring in your other world that you need to come and gloat over how bad ours is now?”

“Will, I don’t understand - ” Buffy began.

“Just get out of my house, Buffy! Get out! I don’t want you here. You left us to manage on our own. You didn’t care what happened to us. So get out. I don’t want to have to look at your traitorous faces any longer!”

to be continued.