Not in Kansas
Part 6
Spike swaggered out of the shadows and towards the closest posse of vampires. They were led by a pair that, as he drew closer, caused him to do a double take.
Willow and Xander intertwined with each other. Except she had eyes that almost made Dru look sane and Darla a saint, and he had the sinuous grace of a snake in his stride that was the antithesis of Harris’s clumsy ineptitude.
And they were watching him.
“Who are you?” Red had no reticence in this incarnation, as she strode away from Xander’s embrace and undressed him with her eyes and a lick of her lip.
He steeled himself and threw himself into the role. The Big Bad returneth.
“Name’s Spike. New in town, heard this was where the action was. Plenty to eat and the run of the town. The Master’s got a sweet gig going’s the word on the street.”
Willow ran her hand up his arm, inspecting his muscles with a knowing touch as Xander stepped closer, cocking his head. “Spike? As in William the Bloody?”
Bloody hell. Why did he never have a plan? Or think for a minute? His other self might already be here. With Dru, no less. Just because the Slayer never came to Sunnydale didn’t mean he hadn’t passed through these parts.
Xander was still regarding him closely, waiting. In for a penny, in for a pound, Spike decided.
He pressed on. “In the cold flesh. My reputation precedes me?”
“Sure does.” Xander’s eyes flick over him, sizing him up. Another alpha vamp. Spike couldn’t help but preen just a bit. It had been a good while since he’d been taken seriously by a fellow undead.
Xander continued, “They say you killed two slayers. My kind of vamp. Heard you were in Europe, though.”
Spike breathed a small sigh of relief. No running into his other self then and causing an implosion or whatever rot those sci-fi blokes nattered on about.
“Got a hankering for the new world,” he replied by way of explanation.
Xander nodded, his inquires apparently done. Spike thought he’d passed.
“Well, welcome to Sunnydale. The Master will want to see you, I’m sure. And Drusilla?” Xander asked.
Spike smiled and glanced down at Willow, who was now dragging her dark nails up his shirt. “She was otherwise occupied when I left.”
“Mmm, he’s a naughty boy, isn’t he?” Willow purred up at him. He snapped at her, just a bit, and she laughed. “I’d like to play with you.”
Xander nodded. “Of course. Why don’t you join us? We’re headed back to the Bronze.”
Spike lifted a brow. “The Bronze?”
“Old nightclub, few blocks. Master’s headquarters while we work on the plant. We’re only a week or so away from completion. Then this place will be Valhalla for vamps.”
“Glad I hit town when I did, then. Lead the way.”
++++++++++
She should have asked Oz if she could stay with him. But when he’d pulled up in front of her house, she’d felt such a pull, even if it wasn’t her home, that she’d hobbled out of the van and waved him away.
The house remained dark, and she slowly hobbled around to the steps leading to the small porch off the kitchen. She’d spent many nights there in the last few months, just staring at the sky, wondering when all the pieces would fall into place and she’d feel normal again.
She reached the steps and listened for noises within. She’d hate to startle the Robertsons, have them charge out ready to attack whatever was lurking in their backyard.
But it was dead quiet.
She lowered herself to the step and leaned against the banister. She could go back to the crypt, but this was as good a place as any to wait until morning. Her ankle would be better and she’d head for the school, find Giles again, make him see reason.
Then she’d have to find Spike. Of course he was kind of like a bad penny, he always seemed to turn up. She wondered briefly where he’d gotten to. Normally he was trailing right on her heels like a puppy, but he hadn’t followed her when she’d left Giles. Which was kind of a shame, she could have used his help with those vamps.
And maybe his company, if she was the teensiest bit honest.
She rubbed at her ankle. It was a good thing Oz had come along when he did. Weird too that her not being here meant Oz wasn’t wolfy and Larry wasn’t dead. Of course it meant lots of other people were.
Like Willow and Xander. She shuddered. How had it happened? Had one of them turned the other?
She closed her eyes. Everything was spinning. She was hungry and tired and alone and seeing everything like this made her feel . . . responsible. As though somehow it was her obligation to fix this world too, to make up for what her other slayer self hadn’t done.
Can’t save everyone, Slayer. Buffy twitched. She hated it when he got in her head like that. Stupid vampire.
“Well, hello.”
Startled out of her internal dialogue, Buffy glanced up to find a petite woman attired entirely in . . . she mentally groaned . . . leather standing in front of her.
“Hi,” Buffy replied.
“May I ask what you’re doing at my house?”
Buffy glanced back at the closed door. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you live here?”
The woman somehow shimmied a key loose from her tight bodice and dangled it in front of Buffy’s nose. “Indeed, I do. I’m Audrey Robertson. And who would you be?”
Buffy rose carefully to her feet and extended a hand. “I’m Buffy.” As the woman’s face began to shift and rearrange, she finished, “The Vampire Slayer. And I’m taking back my house.”
As Audrey lunged, Buffy plunged the branch she’d broken at an angle into her unbeating heart and watch as the vampire dissolved into a silvery powder. Only then did it hit her.
“Crap. There went the key.” Buffy shrugged and mounted the steps, busting the lock with one well-placed jab.
“Home sweet home.”
Spike swaggered out of the shadows and towards the closest posse of vampires. They were led by a pair that, as he drew closer, caused him to do a double take.
Willow and Xander intertwined with each other. Except she had eyes that almost made Dru look sane and Darla a saint, and he had the sinuous grace of a snake in his stride that was the antithesis of Harris’s clumsy ineptitude.
And they were watching him.
“Who are you?” Red had no reticence in this incarnation, as she strode away from Xander’s embrace and undressed him with her eyes and a lick of her lip.
He steeled himself and threw himself into the role. The Big Bad returneth.
“Name’s Spike. New in town, heard this was where the action was. Plenty to eat and the run of the town. The Master’s got a sweet gig going’s the word on the street.”
Willow ran her hand up his arm, inspecting his muscles with a knowing touch as Xander stepped closer, cocking his head. “Spike? As in William the Bloody?”
Bloody hell. Why did he never have a plan? Or think for a minute? His other self might already be here. With Dru, no less. Just because the Slayer never came to Sunnydale didn’t mean he hadn’t passed through these parts.
Xander was still regarding him closely, waiting. In for a penny, in for a pound, Spike decided.
He pressed on. “In the cold flesh. My reputation precedes me?”
“Sure does.” Xander’s eyes flick over him, sizing him up. Another alpha vamp. Spike couldn’t help but preen just a bit. It had been a good while since he’d been taken seriously by a fellow undead.
Xander continued, “They say you killed two slayers. My kind of vamp. Heard you were in Europe, though.”
Spike breathed a small sigh of relief. No running into his other self then and causing an implosion or whatever rot those sci-fi blokes nattered on about.
“Got a hankering for the new world,” he replied by way of explanation.
Xander nodded, his inquires apparently done. Spike thought he’d passed.
“Well, welcome to Sunnydale. The Master will want to see you, I’m sure. And Drusilla?” Xander asked.
Spike smiled and glanced down at Willow, who was now dragging her dark nails up his shirt. “She was otherwise occupied when I left.”
“Mmm, he’s a naughty boy, isn’t he?” Willow purred up at him. He snapped at her, just a bit, and she laughed. “I’d like to play with you.”
Xander nodded. “Of course. Why don’t you join us? We’re headed back to the Bronze.”
Spike lifted a brow. “The Bronze?”
“Old nightclub, few blocks. Master’s headquarters while we work on the plant. We’re only a week or so away from completion. Then this place will be Valhalla for vamps.”
“Glad I hit town when I did, then. Lead the way.”
++++++++++
She should have asked Oz if she could stay with him. But when he’d pulled up in front of her house, she’d felt such a pull, even if it wasn’t her home, that she’d hobbled out of the van and waved him away.
The house remained dark, and she slowly hobbled around to the steps leading to the small porch off the kitchen. She’d spent many nights there in the last few months, just staring at the sky, wondering when all the pieces would fall into place and she’d feel normal again.
She reached the steps and listened for noises within. She’d hate to startle the Robertsons, have them charge out ready to attack whatever was lurking in their backyard.
But it was dead quiet.
She lowered herself to the step and leaned against the banister. She could go back to the crypt, but this was as good a place as any to wait until morning. Her ankle would be better and she’d head for the school, find Giles again, make him see reason.
Then she’d have to find Spike. Of course he was kind of like a bad penny, he always seemed to turn up. She wondered briefly where he’d gotten to. Normally he was trailing right on her heels like a puppy, but he hadn’t followed her when she’d left Giles. Which was kind of a shame, she could have used his help with those vamps.
And maybe his company, if she was the teensiest bit honest.
She rubbed at her ankle. It was a good thing Oz had come along when he did. Weird too that her not being here meant Oz wasn’t wolfy and Larry wasn’t dead. Of course it meant lots of other people were.
Like Willow and Xander. She shuddered. How had it happened? Had one of them turned the other?
She closed her eyes. Everything was spinning. She was hungry and tired and alone and seeing everything like this made her feel . . . responsible. As though somehow it was her obligation to fix this world too, to make up for what her other slayer self hadn’t done.
Can’t save everyone, Slayer. Buffy twitched. She hated it when he got in her head like that. Stupid vampire.
“Well, hello.”
Startled out of her internal dialogue, Buffy glanced up to find a petite woman attired entirely in . . . she mentally groaned . . . leather standing in front of her.
“Hi,” Buffy replied.
“May I ask what you’re doing at my house?”
Buffy glanced back at the closed door. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you live here?”
The woman somehow shimmied a key loose from her tight bodice and dangled it in front of Buffy’s nose. “Indeed, I do. I’m Audrey Robertson. And who would you be?”
Buffy rose carefully to her feet and extended a hand. “I’m Buffy.” As the woman’s face began to shift and rearrange, she finished, “The Vampire Slayer. And I’m taking back my house.”
As Audrey lunged, Buffy plunged the branch she’d broken at an angle into her unbeating heart and watch as the vampire dissolved into a silvery powder. Only then did it hit her.
“Crap. There went the key.” Buffy shrugged and mounted the steps, busting the lock with one well-placed jab.
“Home sweet home.”