How to be Good or Evil, Chapter 5b
Happy Birthday to Kassto!
This is a bit rough -- I just blasted through some parts of it just to get it down -- but I really need to get my momentum back on this story, so I'm just going to push ahead and hope for the best. I may do a little clean-up edit later. But! Things are finally starting to happen.
Title: How to be Good or Evil
Author: thedeadlyhook
Pairing: Probably Spike/Buffy. Eventually. You know me.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters not mine; no infringement intended, and no profit is being made here.
Rating: PG, so far. I'll let you know when that changes. It will.
Warnings: A little horror movie-esque creepiness.
Feedback: No obligation, but it's nice.
Summary: A complete reimagining of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 7, following the breadcrumb trail of where I'd originally thought things might go/what kind of things I'd wanted to see.
How to Be Good or Evil, Chapter 5b: Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves
Inside the school, Buffy quickly covered all the major hallways, looking into each classroom, checking the bathrooms. All the rooms were empty... or at least seemed to be. Aside from a sterile new building smell and the sound of her sensible work shoes squeaking on the shiny polished floors, the place had all the atmosphere of the deserted hotel in that Jack Nicholson movie.
Or maybe that was just the axe she was holding.
"So tell me about yourself, Fluffy."
Or because of the person who was annoyingly fallowing her was making her feel more than a little murderous.
"C'mon, Fluffy, talk to me." Principal Wood was trailing a few yards behind her, practically sauntering in his perfectly cut suit. "I'm new in town, you're--" He chuckled "--an interesting person. I want to get to know you. Come here often?"
"It's Buffy," she corrected. "And can you not be bothering me? I'm working here."
"Really? 'Cause I gather from the uniform that this isn't your day job."
She gripped the axe handle a little tighter and wished she'd thought to at least take off the cow hat.
"So is this a hobby? You learned kung fu in high school and now you're a--" He made a Bruce Lee noise: wa-TAH! "--a part-time superhero?"
"You're not funny. And this is serious." As if to back up her claim, an unearthly howl rolled through the hallway like sounding thunder. They both tensed and froze, warily scanning the surrounding area for approaching danger, until echoes of the sound faded.
"Yeah, I get that," Wood continued, after releasing a long-held breath. "Which is why I'm following you. Because my students are in danger, according to you, and I can't get through to the police. Otherwise, things would be very different right now."
"I know," she sighed. Silence had descended again like a thick blanket, and her own breathing sounded too loud in her ears. For the first time, she felt a little sympathy for Wood and the situation he was trying to cope with. "I know this doesn't make sense, but I can't explain right now. You're just going to have to trust me."
After a pause, he said, "I can't see how you and one fire axe are going to solve anything."
Her sympathy faded abruptly. "You'd be surprised." And then she was walking again. Walking was good. Not looking at him, also good.
They were in an extra-wide hallway with windows on one side, and double-width doors on the other. She pulled one of the doors open.
The gym. Very modern, very nice. Very empty. Except for...
Could it be? Just for a second, she thought she recognized some faint voices. Cordelia, maybe? Or... Xander?
"Xander?" she called out. "Is that you?"
"Who are you calling?" Wood's voice piped up from just behind her ear.
"Shhhh!" The groan came again, with more faint voice sounds. This time she thought she heard... no, it couldn't be.
"Angel...?" she whispered.
"Are your friends in there? This is a prank, isn't it?"
She gritted her teeth. "Could you. Not. Talk."
"You're the reason they're all in there, aren't you? I knew this was a hoax. It was you all along, you're the one who's doing this!"
"Will you shut up!" She spun around.
He was gone. The hallway was empty.
__________
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, everyone, calm down!" Xander waved his hands like a football referree calling Time out! "Let's not all talk at once!"
He was fighting a losing battle, though. Every schoolkid that had come barrelling out of the school with Dawn--twenty or thirty people, not like he'd had time to count--was now milling around in various states of glee and/or hysteria. There was nothing he could do to stop it, either--not from calling their parents on their cell phones, or kissing the ground, or hugging Dawn like she was a long-lost cousin.
Willow, standing at his side, just looked sort of amused. The flowers in her hair twitched as she swiveled her head back and forth to watch all the action.
Xander had a million things he wanted to ask her, but this was not the time. Right now, he had to... well, actually, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Buffy had said something about damage control, but what could he do other than to--
Oh. Oh, yeah!
He made a beeline for the mobile home that served as his construction crew's command center and snatched the loud hailer from its shelf, ignoring the startled looks of the office manager and a couple of members of his crew, apparently on a coffee break.
"Attention, everyone!" he hollered through the device, his amplified voice carrying immediately to the assembled crowd, who all swiveled their heads around to look at him. "There is a dangerous gas leak in the school. I need everyone to move away from the building. I repeat, there is a dangerous gas leak--"
Who knew it could be so easy? The crowd obediently fell back, all the way to the sidewalk by the street. Even the police, who showed up scarely a minute after he'd started talking through the loud hailer, were treating him like he was in charge.
Apparently, if you looked the part -- a foreman in a hard hat with a loud hailer and the nerve to take charge -- people would follow you. He supposed he should have figured that out before, but then again, the person he usually followed really didn't look the part.
He did his best to play the role to the hilt. "We're going to need this whole area taped off while we investiage this leak," he told the police. "It could really be dangerous. The last time this happened, the whole school blew up."
"I heard about that." A police officer who looked too young to have attended Sunnydale high was nodding. "The place was leveled. Are you saying this is the same location?"
"The very same. I was there. We thought we'd fixed it, but there must've been some structural problem deeper down.... wait, hold on."
The front door banged open again, and even more people were now coming out. Administrators, teachers, kids from other classes... and Principal Wood too, confused and blinking. Xander sprinted up the stairs before the police could react or Wood could say anything.
"Don't talk yet, I've got everything covered. As far as the cops are concerned, it's a major gas leak, okay? Just go with me on this, we'll explain more later. Nod if you understand, and is Buffy right behind you? Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at Wood. "Right?"
Wood raised an eyebrow right back at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Buffy. The girl you were just inside with." Xander lowered his voice. "The one who kicked a gun out of your hand." Wood's confused look began to give Xander a bad feeling. "High Noon at the front desk, you thought I was a terrorist... any of this ringing any bells?"
"Principal Wood?" The cops had joined them on the stairs. "What's happening, sir?"
"I've no idea." Wood surveyed the milling crowd, then locked his gaze on Xander. "But I don't know anything about a gas leak, and given the morning I've just had, I'm in no mood for jokes. Just who the heck are you people and what have you done in my school?"
__________
Buffy wandered the hallways by herself for awhile, pushing deeper into the school. The rooms were all dark here, as if whatever had happened had also blown out the lights.
When she tried the light switch, though, the power was still on. The lights were just... off.
Which made no sense.
Anxiety pushing her to move faster, she circled back to the main hallways, trying not to think about the things Wood said, or how he'd suddenly disappeared. After all, there was a lot of that going around, from what Xander had told her. Presumabably, he'd been sucked into the same alternate dimension as Dawn and everyone else.
And at least she wouldn't have to listen to his weird, ego-sapping commentary anymore.
But as much as she didn't want to think about, she couldn't help it. What was it he'd called her, a part-time superhero? That wasn't a very good comparison, and yet... what else was she doing? Working in fast food wasn't a career, and as for the Slaying went, she didn't even have a gang to back her up anymore, unless Xander and Dawn counted as a gang.
The sounds she'd heard, or thought she'd heard... Angel's voice.
She'd had a gang once. They'd all looked up to her, counted on her to know what to do. Even Giles. He'd tried to give her orders, sometimes, but he trusted her instincts.
She didn't know what had happened to those instincts. These days, it felt like she was just fumbling around in the dark, without guidance. Without friends.
Dark. She stopped. It was dark, and she'd just realized where she was.
She was standing right next to the double doors leading to the gym. The windows on the opposite wall were black, showing no reflections. If she squinted, she could see the faint outlines of trees and the dim flicker of stars.
It was no longer daytime outside. It was night. And that really made no sense, unless...
She was the one who'd been sucked into another dimension, not Wood.
__________
From where Xander was standing, it didn't make much difference if Wood was lying about not remembering anything, or not -- he was in trouble either way. The cops were sending a lot of suspicious glances in his direction, and he was sure that he was about to find out what the inside of a police car looked like when Willow suddenly swung into motion.
"Excuse me," she said, easily moving through the crowd, her hair-flowers bobbing as she walked, right up to the cops and Wood on the school steps.
"Step back, m'am," one of the cops said.
"Uh-huh." Willow tapped Wood on the shoulder and did a these aren't the droids you're looking for handwave. "In a minute. You were telling them about the gas leak."
Both the cops and Wood froze for an instand, and then began to nod.
"Yes. Yes... what was I saying?" Wood lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It must be the gas, sir. You were inside for quite awhile." One of the police officers tried to take ahold of Wood's elbow to steady him. "Do you feel dizzy or lightheaded?"
"No, I'm alright. But the foreman is right -- we should clear this whole area and get some EMTs in here to treat the students. Some of them might've inhaled the gas." Wood raised his voice. "Everyone back! All the way to the sidewalk! This is a dangerous area!"
At that point, things began to happen fast. Emergency vehicles were radioed for, along with gas company trucks. The students were corralled into an area on the lawn to be checked for ill effects. Willow moved slowly among them, sometimes making odd motions with her hands, but mostly just walking, like she was taking a stroll in a garden.
Xander could only watch, gape-mouthed.
"What did you do?" he demanded, when Willow eventually returned to his side. "Did you just, like, wipe all their brains?"
"What? No! I just made them more susceptible to suggestion. They'll still remember everything. They'll just rationalize it into something more plausible. I mean, your story about the gas leak is easier to believe than the truth anyway. I just gave them a little push." Her fingers fluttered to illustrate.
"Wow," he said after a moment's pause to digest this. "And there's nothing creepy about that."
Willow studied him for a second, her hair-flowers moving gently with the breeze. "You're worried about me, aren't you? No, don't say it." She waved a hand to stop him before he could answer. "After all that stuff about yellow crayons and being my best friend, you really think that I went to England and hung out with the witches so I could learn more black-eyed evil stuff? Is that what you think?"
"No... no! Of course not!" He was confused, and he was rattled, and yeah, some of what she was saying was sort of close to the bone, because he had been scared of her, that day when she'd almost ended the world. He was still scared of her, just a little, and unsure of what she was capable of, what she would do. "I just... I don't know what's right anymore, Willow." He looked around at the students, who were hovering placidly in the background like sheep. "I still don't know what's going on, and Buffy's still missing, and... is this really okay?"
"It's okay," she said, and everything about her was unfamiliar but her eyes were still Willow's, and the expression was the one he remembered from childhood, the one she wore whenever they were playing at his house and his folks started shouting. The one that said she understood, and that she'd be there for him, no matter how bad things got. "I can't explain right now, but the coven taught me to see things in perspective. You know, like on a grander scale. And trust me, right now, what we're doing out here--" She looked back toward the school. "--this is the small stuff."
__________
It hadn't taken long after her realization that she'd shifted in time and/or space for things to get weird.
She saw things. Ghosts from her past, flickering past her like phantoms. The mayor-turned-snake rumbled through the corridor, followed by the sound of crushed cinderblocks falling in his wake. Chanting and rituals, candles and music. Her friends, also running and screaming. Vampires, nearly all of them familiar.
It was like a horrible film reel of the Greatest Monster Hits of Sunnydale High.
She pushed through it, walking forward with her hands over her ears, trying not to look too closely. There were things here she really didn't want to see again, things that had been more than bad enough the first time around.
It was only when she began to notice things she didn't recognize that she began to pay attention. Visions of the farther past -- kids from all different time periods, running, screaming, being caught and devoured. A horde of bestial-looking vampires, rushing at her like the onrushing offensive line of a football team. A scoop shovel crashing through the ceiling, collapsing the roof in a rain of phantom concrete.
Buffy threw her arms over her head protectively at this last. Nothing touched her -- of course it wasn't real -- but she caught a glimpse of Anya standing in the middle of the rubble and dust. "Anya!" she called out. "Anya! Are you really there?"
The apparition didn't answer. Instead, Buffy's vision blurred, and then she was in another part of the school entirely.
She blinked. It was the basement, from the look of it. At least the flashbacks, or whatever they were, had ceased, and the crushing silence was back, deadening the air all around her.
She had a bare second to take all this in before a blow from behind caught her in the back of the head.
"UGH!" She'd been completely off guard. Dazed, she reeled. Vision spinning, it took a moment before she registered them--a ring of shambling corpses all around her, mocking her with empty eyes.
Nauseous, still dizzy from the blow to her head, she tried to reorient herself, take up a defensive stance. The axe was gone--she'd lost it, dropped it in the darkness. Scrabbling fingers found a pile of wood pallets; she snapped off a jagged splinter of planking to serve as a makeshift stake. Better than nothing.
Fortunately, they didn't seem to want to attack her as much as talk her to death.
"Youuuuuuuu," they hissed at her in unison. "Ssssslayerrrrrr."
"Right, that's me. Slayer." Quipping she could do. Even queasy and unsteady on her feet, she could keep up with a bunch of zombies verbally. When she couldn't, that would officially be time to turn in her stake.
"We arrrrre beneeeeeeeath youuuuu. Everrrrything you doooooo."
"Everything I do, check."
"We arrrre your regretssssssss. Yourrrr failurrressssss. Youuuu arre the reassssson we arrre deaaaaddddd."
"Failures, sure." Her vision was clearing at last. The nausea was... well, not exactly better, but she was feeling a little more like herself. "It's my fault you're dead, you hate me, yadda yadda. Where's my sister?"
"Youuuuu will neverrrrrrr be frrrree of ussssssss."
"Look, you know what?" In spite of what they were saying, or maybe because of it, Buffy felt her stance relax. "You're right. I do regret that you're dead. But there's nothing I can do about that now. And there are people who are still living that need my help, and you're in my way." She rushed through the line of zombies like a linebacker, only to have them melt away into mist.
They reformed behind her and resumed the hissing. "Youuuuuuuu let usssssss diiiiiiee."
"I didn't 'let' anyone die. And why do I get all the credit instead of whatever monster actually killed you?"
"Nooooothing you dooooo will everrrr be enoouuuugh." They advanced.
"I GET IT. I'm doomed, I'm damned, I'm haunted, whatever." Out of patience, Buffy made 'get on with it' motions. "Now tell me where to find Dawn!"
She swung wildly as they zoomed toward her, but couldn't connect--they kept melting away like mist just as her weapon reached them. How had they ever managed to clock her on the head? But even as the ghosts retreated, her senses screamed a warning of another one behind her, and she reacted on instinct, pivoting on the ball of one foot and swinging her arm in a graceful upward arc.
The stake found its target, sliding smoothly through solid flesh and bone, and the movement brought her face to face with the vampire as she turned.
And then she really saw him.
__________
His eyes were bluer than she remembered. They practically glowed like neon in the dim basement light.
That was the very first thought to cross her mind, even as the rest of her situation registered in a heart-stopping crash of alarm signals, vampire vampire vampire in a tiny whistle under a much louder siren screeching SPIKE!
His eyes weren't focusing on hers at all. He was staring off somewhere over her left shoulder. She was grateful for that, because she could barely look at him to start with, and he was way too close. She looked down, away from his face, at her fingertips brushing against his chest--
--because her makeshift stake was driven into it nearly all the way.
Shock froze her; her eyes widened and her mind raced, trying to memorize every detail of him in a single, all-too-short moment.
The way the light caught the edges of his face. His weirdly long eyelashes. His height, the width of his shoulders. The lines of his neck--
At the same time, her stomach rolled in confusion; God, why did she care? Why wasn't she glad that he would finally be gone, gone for good, good riddance! Good riddance to that bastard who'd hurt her, who'd tried to...
His lips were moving. It took a second for her to connect the sounds to actual words.
"Two misses in one day," he said.
__________
She propelled herself backwards, pulling away. The stake came out of his chest with a soft sucking sound and sticky liquid covered her hand like a glove.
Panting, she stared at him.
He might as well have been a statue, unmoving and remote. Blood oozed from a gaping wound just to the right of his heart.
He wasn't falling to dust. He wasn't going to. She'd missed. Missed his heart.
I never miss. It spun in her head like a record, a mantra. I never miss. I never miss.
He titled his head, regarding her, a familiar motion that momentarily made her knees go watery, but at the same time made her rational mind scream at her: you just saw ghost-zombies accusing you about your past, and now this?
Right. This was another trick.
"Lame," she announced, a little more loudly than she intended. He flinched, but she felt stronger now that she'd broken the silence. And besides, he wasn't real.
She squared her shoulders and assessed him more critically. It wasn't even a very good illusion, she decided. He looked older than she remembered, and he was dirty and mussed and his hair was the wrong color. No, not a good illusion at all.
She put a fist on her hip. Tossed her hair for good measure. "What, were you supposed to be the big secret weapon? Something to make me feel all scared and vulnerable and guilty for not slaying you years ago?"
He didn't answer. In the ensuing silence, she had time to realize that looking at him brought on none of those feelings. Not hate or fear or even confusion, just a wary surge of adrenaline and cold calculation. He didn't scare her. If this... illusion fought her, she could take him without even a problem. She was clear and focused, more alert than she'd been in months.
Her hand shifted on the stake, seeking an optimal grip. "Too bad you're not real."
Finally, a reaction. His shoulders hitched and his face split into a dumb smile. He laughed.
"Should be my line, shouldn't it?" he giggled -- giggled! -- his shoulders hitching with mirth. But then his face rearranged itself into a much more recognizable expression, steady and serious, his eyes locked on hers. "The real Buffy wouldn't have missed."
This is a bit rough -- I just blasted through some parts of it just to get it down -- but I really need to get my momentum back on this story, so I'm just going to push ahead and hope for the best. I may do a little clean-up edit later. But! Things are finally starting to happen.
Title: How to be Good or Evil
Author: thedeadlyhook
Pairing: Probably Spike/Buffy. Eventually. You know me.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters not mine; no infringement intended, and no profit is being made here.
Rating: PG, so far. I'll let you know when that changes. It will.
Warnings: A little horror movie-esque creepiness.
Feedback: No obligation, but it's nice.
Summary: A complete reimagining of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 7, following the breadcrumb trail of where I'd originally thought things might go/what kind of things I'd wanted to see.
How to Be Good or Evil, Chapter 5b: Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves
Inside the school, Buffy quickly covered all the major hallways, looking into each classroom, checking the bathrooms. All the rooms were empty... or at least seemed to be. Aside from a sterile new building smell and the sound of her sensible work shoes squeaking on the shiny polished floors, the place had all the atmosphere of the deserted hotel in that Jack Nicholson movie.
Or maybe that was just the axe she was holding.
"So tell me about yourself, Fluffy."
Or because of the person who was annoyingly fallowing her was making her feel more than a little murderous.
"C'mon, Fluffy, talk to me." Principal Wood was trailing a few yards behind her, practically sauntering in his perfectly cut suit. "I'm new in town, you're--" He chuckled "--an interesting person. I want to get to know you. Come here often?"
"It's Buffy," she corrected. "And can you not be bothering me? I'm working here."
"Really? 'Cause I gather from the uniform that this isn't your day job."
She gripped the axe handle a little tighter and wished she'd thought to at least take off the cow hat.
"So is this a hobby? You learned kung fu in high school and now you're a--" He made a Bruce Lee noise: wa-TAH! "--a part-time superhero?"
"You're not funny. And this is serious." As if to back up her claim, an unearthly howl rolled through the hallway like sounding thunder. They both tensed and froze, warily scanning the surrounding area for approaching danger, until echoes of the sound faded.
"Yeah, I get that," Wood continued, after releasing a long-held breath. "Which is why I'm following you. Because my students are in danger, according to you, and I can't get through to the police. Otherwise, things would be very different right now."
"I know," she sighed. Silence had descended again like a thick blanket, and her own breathing sounded too loud in her ears. For the first time, she felt a little sympathy for Wood and the situation he was trying to cope with. "I know this doesn't make sense, but I can't explain right now. You're just going to have to trust me."
After a pause, he said, "I can't see how you and one fire axe are going to solve anything."
Her sympathy faded abruptly. "You'd be surprised." And then she was walking again. Walking was good. Not looking at him, also good.
They were in an extra-wide hallway with windows on one side, and double-width doors on the other. She pulled one of the doors open.
The gym. Very modern, very nice. Very empty. Except for...
Could it be? Just for a second, she thought she recognized some faint voices. Cordelia, maybe? Or... Xander?
"Xander?" she called out. "Is that you?"
"Who are you calling?" Wood's voice piped up from just behind her ear.
"Shhhh!" The groan came again, with more faint voice sounds. This time she thought she heard... no, it couldn't be.
"Angel...?" she whispered.
"Are your friends in there? This is a prank, isn't it?"
She gritted her teeth. "Could you. Not. Talk."
"You're the reason they're all in there, aren't you? I knew this was a hoax. It was you all along, you're the one who's doing this!"
"Will you shut up!" She spun around.
He was gone. The hallway was empty.
__________
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, everyone, calm down!" Xander waved his hands like a football referree calling Time out! "Let's not all talk at once!"
He was fighting a losing battle, though. Every schoolkid that had come barrelling out of the school with Dawn--twenty or thirty people, not like he'd had time to count--was now milling around in various states of glee and/or hysteria. There was nothing he could do to stop it, either--not from calling their parents on their cell phones, or kissing the ground, or hugging Dawn like she was a long-lost cousin.
Willow, standing at his side, just looked sort of amused. The flowers in her hair twitched as she swiveled her head back and forth to watch all the action.
Xander had a million things he wanted to ask her, but this was not the time. Right now, he had to... well, actually, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Buffy had said something about damage control, but what could he do other than to--
Oh. Oh, yeah!
He made a beeline for the mobile home that served as his construction crew's command center and snatched the loud hailer from its shelf, ignoring the startled looks of the office manager and a couple of members of his crew, apparently on a coffee break.
"Attention, everyone!" he hollered through the device, his amplified voice carrying immediately to the assembled crowd, who all swiveled their heads around to look at him. "There is a dangerous gas leak in the school. I need everyone to move away from the building. I repeat, there is a dangerous gas leak--"
Who knew it could be so easy? The crowd obediently fell back, all the way to the sidewalk by the street. Even the police, who showed up scarely a minute after he'd started talking through the loud hailer, were treating him like he was in charge.
Apparently, if you looked the part -- a foreman in a hard hat with a loud hailer and the nerve to take charge -- people would follow you. He supposed he should have figured that out before, but then again, the person he usually followed really didn't look the part.
He did his best to play the role to the hilt. "We're going to need this whole area taped off while we investiage this leak," he told the police. "It could really be dangerous. The last time this happened, the whole school blew up."
"I heard about that." A police officer who looked too young to have attended Sunnydale high was nodding. "The place was leveled. Are you saying this is the same location?"
"The very same. I was there. We thought we'd fixed it, but there must've been some structural problem deeper down.... wait, hold on."
The front door banged open again, and even more people were now coming out. Administrators, teachers, kids from other classes... and Principal Wood too, confused and blinking. Xander sprinted up the stairs before the police could react or Wood could say anything.
"Don't talk yet, I've got everything covered. As far as the cops are concerned, it's a major gas leak, okay? Just go with me on this, we'll explain more later. Nod if you understand, and is Buffy right behind you? Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at Wood. "Right?"
Wood raised an eyebrow right back at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Buffy. The girl you were just inside with." Xander lowered his voice. "The one who kicked a gun out of your hand." Wood's confused look began to give Xander a bad feeling. "High Noon at the front desk, you thought I was a terrorist... any of this ringing any bells?"
"Principal Wood?" The cops had joined them on the stairs. "What's happening, sir?"
"I've no idea." Wood surveyed the milling crowd, then locked his gaze on Xander. "But I don't know anything about a gas leak, and given the morning I've just had, I'm in no mood for jokes. Just who the heck are you people and what have you done in my school?"
__________
Buffy wandered the hallways by herself for awhile, pushing deeper into the school. The rooms were all dark here, as if whatever had happened had also blown out the lights.
When she tried the light switch, though, the power was still on. The lights were just... off.
Which made no sense.
Anxiety pushing her to move faster, she circled back to the main hallways, trying not to think about the things Wood said, or how he'd suddenly disappeared. After all, there was a lot of that going around, from what Xander had told her. Presumabably, he'd been sucked into the same alternate dimension as Dawn and everyone else.
And at least she wouldn't have to listen to his weird, ego-sapping commentary anymore.
But as much as she didn't want to think about, she couldn't help it. What was it he'd called her, a part-time superhero? That wasn't a very good comparison, and yet... what else was she doing? Working in fast food wasn't a career, and as for the Slaying went, she didn't even have a gang to back her up anymore, unless Xander and Dawn counted as a gang.
The sounds she'd heard, or thought she'd heard... Angel's voice.
She'd had a gang once. They'd all looked up to her, counted on her to know what to do. Even Giles. He'd tried to give her orders, sometimes, but he trusted her instincts.
She didn't know what had happened to those instincts. These days, it felt like she was just fumbling around in the dark, without guidance. Without friends.
Dark. She stopped. It was dark, and she'd just realized where she was.
She was standing right next to the double doors leading to the gym. The windows on the opposite wall were black, showing no reflections. If she squinted, she could see the faint outlines of trees and the dim flicker of stars.
It was no longer daytime outside. It was night. And that really made no sense, unless...
She was the one who'd been sucked into another dimension, not Wood.
__________
From where Xander was standing, it didn't make much difference if Wood was lying about not remembering anything, or not -- he was in trouble either way. The cops were sending a lot of suspicious glances in his direction, and he was sure that he was about to find out what the inside of a police car looked like when Willow suddenly swung into motion.
"Excuse me," she said, easily moving through the crowd, her hair-flowers bobbing as she walked, right up to the cops and Wood on the school steps.
"Step back, m'am," one of the cops said.
"Uh-huh." Willow tapped Wood on the shoulder and did a these aren't the droids you're looking for handwave. "In a minute. You were telling them about the gas leak."
Both the cops and Wood froze for an instand, and then began to nod.
"Yes. Yes... what was I saying?" Wood lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It must be the gas, sir. You were inside for quite awhile." One of the police officers tried to take ahold of Wood's elbow to steady him. "Do you feel dizzy or lightheaded?"
"No, I'm alright. But the foreman is right -- we should clear this whole area and get some EMTs in here to treat the students. Some of them might've inhaled the gas." Wood raised his voice. "Everyone back! All the way to the sidewalk! This is a dangerous area!"
At that point, things began to happen fast. Emergency vehicles were radioed for, along with gas company trucks. The students were corralled into an area on the lawn to be checked for ill effects. Willow moved slowly among them, sometimes making odd motions with her hands, but mostly just walking, like she was taking a stroll in a garden.
Xander could only watch, gape-mouthed.
"What did you do?" he demanded, when Willow eventually returned to his side. "Did you just, like, wipe all their brains?"
"What? No! I just made them more susceptible to suggestion. They'll still remember everything. They'll just rationalize it into something more plausible. I mean, your story about the gas leak is easier to believe than the truth anyway. I just gave them a little push." Her fingers fluttered to illustrate.
"Wow," he said after a moment's pause to digest this. "And there's nothing creepy about that."
Willow studied him for a second, her hair-flowers moving gently with the breeze. "You're worried about me, aren't you? No, don't say it." She waved a hand to stop him before he could answer. "After all that stuff about yellow crayons and being my best friend, you really think that I went to England and hung out with the witches so I could learn more black-eyed evil stuff? Is that what you think?"
"No... no! Of course not!" He was confused, and he was rattled, and yeah, some of what she was saying was sort of close to the bone, because he had been scared of her, that day when she'd almost ended the world. He was still scared of her, just a little, and unsure of what she was capable of, what she would do. "I just... I don't know what's right anymore, Willow." He looked around at the students, who were hovering placidly in the background like sheep. "I still don't know what's going on, and Buffy's still missing, and... is this really okay?"
"It's okay," she said, and everything about her was unfamiliar but her eyes were still Willow's, and the expression was the one he remembered from childhood, the one she wore whenever they were playing at his house and his folks started shouting. The one that said she understood, and that she'd be there for him, no matter how bad things got. "I can't explain right now, but the coven taught me to see things in perspective. You know, like on a grander scale. And trust me, right now, what we're doing out here--" She looked back toward the school. "--this is the small stuff."
__________
It hadn't taken long after her realization that she'd shifted in time and/or space for things to get weird.
She saw things. Ghosts from her past, flickering past her like phantoms. The mayor-turned-snake rumbled through the corridor, followed by the sound of crushed cinderblocks falling in his wake. Chanting and rituals, candles and music. Her friends, also running and screaming. Vampires, nearly all of them familiar.
It was like a horrible film reel of the Greatest Monster Hits of Sunnydale High.
She pushed through it, walking forward with her hands over her ears, trying not to look too closely. There were things here she really didn't want to see again, things that had been more than bad enough the first time around.
It was only when she began to notice things she didn't recognize that she began to pay attention. Visions of the farther past -- kids from all different time periods, running, screaming, being caught and devoured. A horde of bestial-looking vampires, rushing at her like the onrushing offensive line of a football team. A scoop shovel crashing through the ceiling, collapsing the roof in a rain of phantom concrete.
Buffy threw her arms over her head protectively at this last. Nothing touched her -- of course it wasn't real -- but she caught a glimpse of Anya standing in the middle of the rubble and dust. "Anya!" she called out. "Anya! Are you really there?"
The apparition didn't answer. Instead, Buffy's vision blurred, and then she was in another part of the school entirely.
She blinked. It was the basement, from the look of it. At least the flashbacks, or whatever they were, had ceased, and the crushing silence was back, deadening the air all around her.
She had a bare second to take all this in before a blow from behind caught her in the back of the head.
"UGH!" She'd been completely off guard. Dazed, she reeled. Vision spinning, it took a moment before she registered them--a ring of shambling corpses all around her, mocking her with empty eyes.
Nauseous, still dizzy from the blow to her head, she tried to reorient herself, take up a defensive stance. The axe was gone--she'd lost it, dropped it in the darkness. Scrabbling fingers found a pile of wood pallets; she snapped off a jagged splinter of planking to serve as a makeshift stake. Better than nothing.
Fortunately, they didn't seem to want to attack her as much as talk her to death.
"Youuuuuuuu," they hissed at her in unison. "Ssssslayerrrrrr."
"Right, that's me. Slayer." Quipping she could do. Even queasy and unsteady on her feet, she could keep up with a bunch of zombies verbally. When she couldn't, that would officially be time to turn in her stake.
"We arrrrre beneeeeeeeath youuuuu. Everrrrything you doooooo."
"Everything I do, check."
"We arrrre your regretssssssss. Yourrrr failurrressssss. Youuuu arre the reassssson we arrre deaaaaddddd."
"Failures, sure." Her vision was clearing at last. The nausea was... well, not exactly better, but she was feeling a little more like herself. "It's my fault you're dead, you hate me, yadda yadda. Where's my sister?"
"Youuuuu will neverrrrrrr be frrrree of ussssssss."
"Look, you know what?" In spite of what they were saying, or maybe because of it, Buffy felt her stance relax. "You're right. I do regret that you're dead. But there's nothing I can do about that now. And there are people who are still living that need my help, and you're in my way." She rushed through the line of zombies like a linebacker, only to have them melt away into mist.
They reformed behind her and resumed the hissing. "Youuuuuuuu let usssssss diiiiiiee."
"I didn't 'let' anyone die. And why do I get all the credit instead of whatever monster actually killed you?"
"Nooooothing you dooooo will everrrr be enoouuuugh." They advanced.
"I GET IT. I'm doomed, I'm damned, I'm haunted, whatever." Out of patience, Buffy made 'get on with it' motions. "Now tell me where to find Dawn!"
She swung wildly as they zoomed toward her, but couldn't connect--they kept melting away like mist just as her weapon reached them. How had they ever managed to clock her on the head? But even as the ghosts retreated, her senses screamed a warning of another one behind her, and she reacted on instinct, pivoting on the ball of one foot and swinging her arm in a graceful upward arc.
The stake found its target, sliding smoothly through solid flesh and bone, and the movement brought her face to face with the vampire as she turned.
And then she really saw him.
__________
His eyes were bluer than she remembered. They practically glowed like neon in the dim basement light.
That was the very first thought to cross her mind, even as the rest of her situation registered in a heart-stopping crash of alarm signals, vampire vampire vampire in a tiny whistle under a much louder siren screeching SPIKE!
His eyes weren't focusing on hers at all. He was staring off somewhere over her left shoulder. She was grateful for that, because she could barely look at him to start with, and he was way too close. She looked down, away from his face, at her fingertips brushing against his chest--
--because her makeshift stake was driven into it nearly all the way.
Shock froze her; her eyes widened and her mind raced, trying to memorize every detail of him in a single, all-too-short moment.
The way the light caught the edges of his face. His weirdly long eyelashes. His height, the width of his shoulders. The lines of his neck--
At the same time, her stomach rolled in confusion; God, why did she care? Why wasn't she glad that he would finally be gone, gone for good, good riddance! Good riddance to that bastard who'd hurt her, who'd tried to...
His lips were moving. It took a second for her to connect the sounds to actual words.
"Two misses in one day," he said.
__________
She propelled herself backwards, pulling away. The stake came out of his chest with a soft sucking sound and sticky liquid covered her hand like a glove.
Panting, she stared at him.
He might as well have been a statue, unmoving and remote. Blood oozed from a gaping wound just to the right of his heart.
He wasn't falling to dust. He wasn't going to. She'd missed. Missed his heart.
I never miss. It spun in her head like a record, a mantra. I never miss. I never miss.
He titled his head, regarding her, a familiar motion that momentarily made her knees go watery, but at the same time made her rational mind scream at her: you just saw ghost-zombies accusing you about your past, and now this?
Right. This was another trick.
"Lame," she announced, a little more loudly than she intended. He flinched, but she felt stronger now that she'd broken the silence. And besides, he wasn't real.
She squared her shoulders and assessed him more critically. It wasn't even a very good illusion, she decided. He looked older than she remembered, and he was dirty and mussed and his hair was the wrong color. No, not a good illusion at all.
She put a fist on her hip. Tossed her hair for good measure. "What, were you supposed to be the big secret weapon? Something to make me feel all scared and vulnerable and guilty for not slaying you years ago?"
He didn't answer. In the ensuing silence, she had time to realize that looking at him brought on none of those feelings. Not hate or fear or even confusion, just a wary surge of adrenaline and cold calculation. He didn't scare her. If this... illusion fought her, she could take him without even a problem. She was clear and focused, more alert than she'd been in months.
Her hand shifted on the stake, seeking an optimal grip. "Too bad you're not real."
Finally, a reaction. His shoulders hitched and his face split into a dumb smile. He laughed.
"Should be my line, shouldn't it?" he giggled -- giggled! -- his shoulders hitching with mirth. But then his face rearranged itself into a much more recognizable expression, steady and serious, his eyes locked on hers. "The real Buffy wouldn't have missed."