CHAPTER TWO
Travelling with a baby is never an easy matter, and for Ms Freeman in the back of the cheapest public bus available it was damn near impossible. Natalie didn’t like the commotion and was sickly. Buffy had never liked buses, and was also trying to keep travel sickness under control.
The hot California sun beat down on the arid scrubland the bus drove through, and to the east the rays shimmered on the Pacific Ocean. Buffy looked out of the window as the suburbs of Sunnydale grew up from the desert around them. She recognised little of the sprawl, it had expanded and evolved since the last time she saw it. When the bus reached the depot, evening was approaching, and Buffy felt all too exposed without a weapon to wander in Sunnydale after dark, so she headed straight for the nearest motel. The price of a room was a stretch for Buffy’s wallet, but for Natalie’s sake she paid it and settled her daughter in her travel cot.
Sunnydale after dark was a quiet place. Too many incidences of ‘neck trauma’ and various homicides had made residents cautious, and the only social hotspots were the bars and cafes on the UC Sunnydale campus, and the Bronze nightclub. Inside the Bronze sat Willow and Xander, he slouched in one of the large couches, and she perched awkwardly on the arm of the chair. They were concentrating on each other’s faces, talking intently. Xander was updating his friend on Anya’s condition, which was stable and as good as could be expected in the middle of a cycle of chemo, and Willow was in turn sharing the latest slayage reports. If they had chanced to look around they would have spotted a petite figure clad in denim and a black leather jacket standing watching them from the entranceway. Buffy hadn’t expected to see her old friends so soon, and she found it impossible to approach them. Instead she turned and plunged back out into the night, comforted only by the press of her stake against her arm and the clunk of her room keys in her pocket.
Spike was patrolling. He was now Sunnydale’s most reclusive resident, and he was only ever seen in graveyards, so he was a familiar sight to the town’s expanding vampire population, and they just loved to piss him off. Because of his chip, and growing feelings of love for the slayer, he had turned ‘good’ and the demons took every opportunity to rub this misfortune in. So it was fitting that Spike was the first of the Sunnydale citizens to see Buffy, while she was walking through a cemetery. He saw a woman bending over Dawn Summers’ grave, laying a small bunch of flowers and removing a few weeds. Incensed, Spike began to run to accost this woman who was quite obviously interfering with beloved Dawn’s peace. As he drew closer he finally recognised the woman, and this realisation brought him to a dead standstill. He couldn’t bring himself to make a sound, he knew it was the first time Buffy had visited her sister’s final resting place. Instead, he watched in awe as she demurely placed her bouquet down and walked away, shoulders bowed. Spike felt an irresistible magnetism between himself and Buffy and he followed her as she walked back towards the motel.
About two blocks away from the motel, Buffy was alone in the street, and she began to feel the used-to-be-familiar cold prickling sensation which meant vampires were nearby. As she passed the entrance to another street, Buffy was aware of eyes watching her from inside the darkness. She was reaching for her stake when the vamp lunged. It swung her backwards into a wall and she crumpled with the sudden shock. Three others joined the creature as Buffy staggered to her feet. As she drew her head up to look at her attackers they hissed and snarled. When they recognised her face they drew back and fell silent.
“Slayer!” One growled, “you died!”
“Maybe,” Buffy found herself replying, searching for a quip “but at least I kept my looks.” Slightly inspired by a new take on an old pun, she widened her stance to lower her weight as they approached her.
The once natural fighting moves felt weird to Buffy, as if they weren’t quite real. She struggled to unleash her full strength and down the vamps. After a few unsuccessful strikes the vamps began to get cocky and two pinned her to the wall. The third moved towards her neck, but she had strength enough to loosen her right arm and send the approaching monster back down to the ground. All four surrounding her then overcame her, and she felt so hopeless she closed her eyes and resigned herself to the fact that she would never see the morning.
Spike had not been far behind Buffy and had seen her attacked. He didn’t intervene, a small remainder of his common sense telling him she had to fight her own battles. But her apparent surrender really riled him and he launched in. The two larger vamps were immediate victims of his stakes and the other two dropped Buffy to see off this new and deadly foe. They too met their – very pointy – ends. When the dust settled Spike saw Buffy sagged against the wall, ashamed by her defeat. He touched her chin, lifting her head up to look into her eyes. Buffy met his gaze and began to cry, her slender shoulders shaking under his touch. Spike felt pity for the slayer, and relaxed his stance.
“Welcome home.” He said, simply, as Buffy sank forwards into his arms.
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