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Something to Sing About by Lilachigh
 
Chp 16 Catching Up
 
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Something to Sing About

Chp 16 Catching Up

The first thing Buffy noticed this time about the other Sunnydale as she came through the portal was that the sun was shining! It poured in through the half drawn curtains of the house on Revello Drive, lighting the spirals of dust that lay on the carpet, golden specks floating in the beams.

Buffy pulled a face. She felt weary and a little sick; hurtling through the portal had upset her stomach again. The fact that her house was looking so neglected didn’t make her feel any better. She and housework had never been best friends, but this was beyond bad.

Outside the warmth of the afternoon sun hit her face in a welcome home blaze. There was a letter in the mail-box – from her mom. It gave her a gut churning moment to see the handwriting, know that Joyce Summers had written the words, posted this envelope. That she wasn’t dead, but happily, healthily alive.

Buffy stood on the sidewalk, reading greedily. In this world, of course, her mom was living with her sister, happy and contented with her life. Here were details of a new car, her job at the local tourist centre, a funny day out with neighbours, a date with a nice man she’d met at the library, when was Buffy coming to visit and did she realise there was something wrong with her phone because no one ever returned her calls? Was she OK?

The words blurred as the tears began. Buffy wondered why she’d never made any attempt to contact this Joyce Summers. But in her heart of hearts she knew the answer. She couldn’t have born to see her mom alive and well, knowing she was dead in the other world.

Did that make her a dreadful daughter? No, just a damaged one, she thought wearily.

But this Joyce is worrying about you, a little voice inside her head said stubbornly. You have to speak to her – or at least write. Tell her you’re off to Tibet, or England, anything so she won’t worry for a few months. Because that was one of the weird things about the two universes. Weeks had passed in the original Sunnydale since she and Faith had returned there, but here – it was only a couple of days later.

She stared along the street, aware with a growing sense of thankfulness that things were very different from the last time she’d been here. People walking, cars and vans passing by, a couple of dogs barking in a fenced in yard, a guy up a ladder mending a power line. Life was obviously back to normal and that could only mean one thing – Ben had gone.

The walk through Sunnydale to Willow’s home convinced Buffy that the hellgod had indeed left town. The roaming gangs of zombie like figures had vanished and in the children’s play area, mothers sat watching little ones toddling around the sandpit. There was no way the children would have been let out if Ben had still been around.

“Buffy!” Tara had opened the door and gazed at Buffy, her face glowing with welcome. She looked happier, far less careworn than she had a few weeks ago, although to her, of course, only a few days had passed since Buffy had half carried the heavily pregnant Faith back through the portal.

“Tara! Hi. Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. Willow and Xander will be thrilled. Xander has work; a new mall just out of town. I’m not certain where Willow has gone. But come in. Can I get you a coffee, a cola? Something to eat?’

Buffy shook her head and sank down on the squishy sofa in the family room. “So, how is everything? Sunnydale looks good. Ben’s gone, I take it?”

She clasped her hands nervously between her knees, trying to stop them from shaking. She knew Spike was dead; there was no way Ben would have left town with him still alive, unless he’d taken him along, of course.
But she wanted to hear the news from Tara.

“Yes, he left the morning after you and the other Slayer girl went – well, went away. How is she? Did she have her baby OK?”

Buffy nodded. “A girl, Gracie.”

Tara smiled and nodded at her friend. “That’s lovely. And you, Buffy – you’re – feeling okay?”

Buffy bit her lip. How easy it would be to break down, to tell this sympathetic, warm-hearted girl of the desperation that surrounded her, night and day. That without Spike her life no longer seemed to have any focus, colour or direction.

And this Tara would understand because she, too, had liked the Spike she’d known in this world.

“I miss Spike,” she said at last, her voice hoarse.

Tara’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh Buffy. I can only guess how much. If I lost Xander, I don’t know what I would do. But at least you have the baby. That’s a comfort.”

Buffy nodded vaguely, only half listening. Was Gracie a comfort? Well, keeping her from Ben had been important. Little key baby would have died and this Sunnydale would have sunk into unimaginable hell. So yes, holding her firm, wriggling body, watching Dawn rock her and love her, was sort of comforting. Spike had died so she could be born. It was a legacy to be proud of. She knew he would have thought the price of his death a small one to pay to save a whole world from a hellgod.

“Yes, the baby’s a comfort,” she said slowly and stood up suddenly. She had wanted to come through to this world, longing for sympathy from the friends who had known Spike, would grieve for him, would let her shed tears, show her feelings and not judge her.

But now she was here, it was all too much. Too cloying. Too heavy. She wanted to shout and scream and batter at the walls with her fists. She didn’t want him dead, she wanted him alive and annoying and loving her and being his usual sarcastic, stroppy self. All the key babies in the world couldn’t make up for that.

“I’m going to have a patrol around,” she said briefly. “Check everything over. I‘ll be back later to catch up with Willow and Xander.“

“Do you want company?”

Buffy smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks, Tara. I’ll be okay. Just – need a little time on my own.”

Her friend’s anxious gaze followed her as she walked out of the house and down the street. Tara sighed. Buffy seemed less than excited about the baby she was expecting. She thought it would ease Spike’s loss for her, but perhaps some pains were too great to soothe.

The looming bulk of the old hotel where Ben had made his headquarters didn’t appear quite so formidable in the evening sunshine. Now it just looked like a run-down building that had seen better days. A few windows broken, damp stains on the concrete pathways, a wooden door hanging by its hinges.

Buffy pushed her way through the rubbish that had blown into the hallway and stared around. She jumped as a flutter of wings broke the silence and a bird flew in through one window and out another.

There was no sign in the great hall to show that Ben had wanted to sacrifice Faith, to cut the living Key baby from her body. But there were bloodstains! Every nerve in her Slayer body quivered as she walked across and knelt by the dried black pool on the floor.

Vampire blood! Spike’s blood! She could feel it. And there was so much of it! They had tortured him. While she and Faith were escaping, he had died, right here.

The sickness in Buffy’s stomach rose up to her throat and she was desperate to vomit. Why had she come here? What good was this going to do – he’d gone and his dried blood couldn’t tell her how or when, or if he’d died with her name on his lips or cursing the fact that she’d left him.

“Well, look, it’s our lucky day! New Sunnydale, old Slayer!”

Buffy spun round. Two vamps were prowling towards her – guys who could only have been in their late teens – they still had dreadful spots – and one was still wearing a brace on his bottom teeth.

“Hey, watch who you’re calling old! You really don’t want to upset me at this particular moment,“ Buffy snapped. “Just go your way and I’ll – “ But with all the impetuosity of youth, they launched themselves at her, fangs glistening.

Buffy spun, her foot catching one under the chin, knocking his brace clean out of his mouth. She finished her spin, a stake taking him out before he had a chance to blink.

The other vamp hesitated, turned and bolted for a door. Buffy sighed. All she wanted to do was go back to Willow’s and hang out with her and Xander, find out if her friend was slowly recovering from Oz’s death, ask her how she’d coped with losing the man she loved.

The last thing she wanted was to start chasing vamps, but – hey, Slayer, so no choice. She couldn‘t just let it run free.

She followed it through the door and realised this was the way down to the cellars. The stairway was dark; no light reached it from outside. Buffy found the pencil flashlight she carried in her jeans’ pocket and padded down the stone steps. Ahead of her she could hear the terrified flailing footsteps as the vamp headed for whatever safety he could find.

“God, this is boring,” she called. “You know how this is all going to end. Why not be a good little vamp and get it over and done with fast. Save your energy for when you’re dust.”

The spiral stone steps ended abruptly: here were the cellars - that was the one where they’d been imprisoned, her and Faith. Stone archways marked entrances to various tunnels that led away in different directions and Buffy sighed, trying to work out which way the vamp had headed. The echoing clatter of his footsteps could have come from anyone of the passageways.

Then the little hairs on the back of her neck wiggled – the signal she’d always received when a vampire was close. Well, perhaps he hadn’t run that far, after all! Perhaps he was just inside one of the tunnels, lying in wait for her. Oh goody, there was going to be a fight after all. She was glad. Dusting the first vamp had made her feel a little better; she was just in the right mood to kill something else.

Stake in hand, she crept forward and hadn’t gone more than five or ten yards when her foot hit a body sprawled on the ground.

All her nerves yelled vampire – but this time, as her stomach lurched and nausea flooded her mouth, she knew that her heart, blood and brain were also shouting – Spike!


To be continued









 
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