SIDE BY SIDE CHAPTER 4
Title: SIDE BY SIDE
Pairing: Spike/ Ori (OC). Spike/Angel (Liam)
AU (Well at least three of them)
Warnings. There will be violence, there will be sex. And adult themes. And techno babble.
Summary: Spike falls through a portal, into an alternate reality
Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Spike realised one thing: this mirage in a dark blue uniform, with her golden hair wound into a prim bun was not her!
The real Buffy- his Buffy- had been dead and buried under six foot of cold Sunnydale earth for more than a year.
“Fuck this, you’re not her!” he shouted, struggling awkwardly to his feet. “You’re not Buffy! Where the fuck am I? An’ where’s Fred?”
To his satisfaction, the Buffy look-a-like recoiled from his fury, a look of total confusion replacing the air of professional concern.
“I am Buffy. Major Buffy Connors. We conducted a thorough sweep of the entire area. There was no one else. Don’t be afraid. Please, let Damir get you back into bed.”
There was no fucking way Spike was going to let this Damir git anywhere near him. Not only was the guy huge, and built like a footballer, he had the short hair and bearing that just screamed military. And he definitely wasn’t human.
When he reached for him, Spike reacted instinctively, slipping into gameface. When neither Buffy nor the Neanderthal sidekick even blinked at the appearance of his bumps ‘n fangs, Spike was convinced.
If this wasn’t the Initiative, it was something just as bad, and fucked if he was going through that again.
‘Rather be dust,’ he vowed, as he slid sideways along the wall, eying the door just off to his right.
“Don’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you, Citizen,” the big guy growled, moving forward.
“Spike. M’ name’s Spike- not bleeding citizen! Get back! Now! I’m not stayin’ around for another round of torture the demon, you Initiative fucks!”
“No one is going to torture you! We only want to help.” He had to give it to them. Who ever had set up this little deception was good.
“Get back. I want out of here now!” he shouted, edging towards the door. He didn’t know when or if the pain would start again if he tried to escape, but he was willing to take the chance.
“Please Spike. Calm down. It’ll be alright,” she pleaded.
His hand touched cool metal, and he nearly flinched in anticipation. When nothing happened, Spike turned and crashed through the doors. He was surprised when the Buffy clone and her sidekick made no attempt to grab him, but he wasn’t going to hang around wondering. He needed an exit, and quickly. The damned cast made running difficult, and he cursed it at every step.
He kept expecting pursuit, soldiers, guns, but there was nothing. And it quickly became apparent that wherever he was, it was a maze. The corridors all looked the same; plain, clean and silent. Somewhere along yet another barren corridor, the alarms suddenly died. Shortly after that the lights came back on, flooding everything with bright, clear white; and taking with it his last advantage.
Doors slid open automatically as he passed, revealing deserted offices, empty living quarters and even a large dining room; all with the air of long disuse. There were no windows, and none of the doors led anywhere except to more vacant rooms. And none of the signs were in any language Spike had ever seen.
Finally, he came to a dead end. There seemed no way out, no stairs, nothing. He growled in frustration, and tried not to think that perhaps there were only himself and his captors in this white hell.
Then behind him, the wall suddenly split open to reveal what looked like a lift. For a long time he debated whether it was a trap, but in the end he resigned himself to the fact that he had little choice. Pulling his Big Bad persona tightly around him, Spike stepped in.
The doors slid shut with a barely audible sigh. To reveal featureless pale walls: with no buttons or controls.
“Work you fuckin’ thing. Work!” he screamed, slamming his fists against the whiteness.
‘What level do you wish Citizen?’ a voice asked.
Never in all his unlife was he more grateful to the whelp’s Star Trek obsession.
“Up, out whatever. I want out of here. The exit, take me to the nearest exit,” he ordered.
‘The surface is not permitted for civilians,’ the voice chided.
“Fuck that! Just take me as close as yer can, then.”
There was a long pause.
‘Your destination has been selected, Citizen.’