Welcome to Your Alternity: Nine
by slayerfest
Spike stumbled and found himself back in his crypt. “Oh, bollocks,” he said to himself, and he leapt toward the door.

Outside was graveyard. Just graveyard. No lava, no exceeding warmth aside that of your standard Southern California.

Well, there was sunlight.

Spike leapt back into his crypt and tended to the part of his finger that had been exposed. He laughed, though; he was back where he was supposed to be.

Things started rushing back to him now; Oz left months ago, Willow was with Tara. Jenny Calendar’s dead. But the best part was that the incredible poof lived in L. A., hadn’t been with Buffy for ages and wasn’t human.

Instead, the Slayer was dating soldier boy.

Bloody brilliant.

Ah, well. He still had a better chance than he ever would have against Angel. At least she never loved the boy.

Spike picked up a thick blanket and wrapped it around himself. He threw open the door and ran out into the now setting sun.

***

Buffy blinked her eyes open, smiled, and rolled over to greet Angel. The left side of the bed was empty. “Angel?” she asked groggily, sitting up. She noticed that the closet doors were open, and that the clothes they were wearing earlier were sitting in a basket.

Buffy got up and threw on one of Angel’s shirts. Still smiling, she walked out into the main room. “Angel?” she asked again.

She checked outside. He was there standing on the grass in the partial shade of a tree. She stopped and just looked at him for a while, marveling at how amazing he was. He had been a vampire for centuries. He had eternal life. Most of it was spent killing and torturing people, but she was choosing to overlook that tiny detail. She stared and took in how handsome he looked with bits of sunlight splayed against his face, just standing and looking out, wearing black pants and a black silk shirt. He was all hers. She couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be in love with her and for her to love. He was so handsome, too, especially when he smiled. He was doing a lot more of that lately.

Right now, though, he looked really worried. She stopped staring and crept up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Not tired?” she asked as he turned around to meet her.

“Not really,” he answered, kissing her softly and then hugging her small form. “Besides, it’s much too nice out here.” Buffy looked up and saw that the sun was setting.

“You really do love just watching the sun, don’t you?” she asked teasingly.

“Well, after two hundred years of never seeing it, it doesn’t get tiring soon.” He noticed something glinting on the ground. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, letting go of Buffy and crouching down to pick up the shining object.

He stayed crouched over it in such a way that Buffy couldn’t see what he’d picked up. “Buffy,” he said seriously, a hint of a tremor in his voice. “I need to ask you something.”

Buffy put a hand on his back in concern. “What’s wrong, Angel?”

Angel turned, one knee on the ground, with an extremely serious look on his face and presented the object he found on the ground to Buffy.

It was a ring.

***

Spike threw open the door to the Summers’ house and charged through into the shady hall, still holding the blanket. Joyce and Dawn looked lazily over from the kitchen.

“Oh. Spike. It’s… uh… nice to see you,” Joyce said haltingly as she went over to the door and closed it. “It’s been a while. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Joyce, everything’s…uh… super. Say, where’s Buffy? Seen her today?”

“Yeah, she came down for breakfast and then left with Xander. Why? Is—“

“Everything’s fine. Do you mind if I just… go into her room for a moment?” Catching Joyce’s alarmed look, he added, “You should come with me. If I’m right, there’s something you’re going to want to see.”

“Oh… okay,” Joyce said reluctantly and followed Spike up the stairs. Dawn, interested, followed her mother.

Spike opened the door to Buffy’s room and was not at all surprised to see Buffy, fast asleep in bed.

“Oh,” said Joyce, surprised. “Well, I guess she crept back in when I had my back turned. She got up early this morning, so maybe…”

“That’s bollocks and you know it,” Spike said as he turned rather angrily toward Joyce. “Buffy’s been up here all day. Besides, she’s still in yesterday’s clothes and she isn’t even under the covers.”

“You noticed what clothes she was wearing?” Dawn asked, slightly disbelievingly.

Spike widened his eyes ever so slightly and hesitated. “Yeah, well, it happens, occasionally, that when she’s kicking my ass, I catch a glimpse of what she’s wearing. Is that so unlikely? Hmm?” He leaned in towards Dawn in what he hoped was an intimidating manner. She moved back an inch or so, and he stepped back again, satisfied with himself. “Now, look,” he said to Joyce again. “The sun’s setting, and if Buffy got to bed about ten minutes after she came to see me last night, then I’d say she’s been asleep for at least 18 hours without moving a muscle. That’s abnormal,” he added softly, turned back to Buffy and absently moving a hand out to her face. “There’s something wrong.”

“What are you doing?” asked Joyce.

Spike moved his hand back and fumbled for an explanation. “I… was… going to poke her face to see if she woke up.” He lashed out a finger and it collided lightly with her cheek. “Hey, you,” he said loudly (and falsely). “Wake up, Slayer.” He poked her face several more times. She didn’t so much as twitch.

“Nothing,” he said with an amount concern that was surprising to Joyce. He stared at sleeping Buffy for another moment and then turned back to Joyce and the Little Bit. “All right. I guess I’ve got to go see if the Superfriends are awake. If not, then we’ve got a touch of a problem on our hands. Nothing the Big Bad can’t handle, o’ course,” he added in an afterthought to himself and then strode out of the house with a last look at the fam without his blanket; it was dark.

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