DISCLAIMER:I can't claim any of it. Joss is mean, he keeps saying stuff about how he "owns" Buffy and Angel, how I can't "claim them", and how he won't "let me make any money off of them". I do own Spike, though. Well, I own a life-size cardboead stand-up of Spike, it looks just like the real thing.Joss is just jealous. Bloody ponce.
Summary: Buffy goes to LA after finding the remnants of a prophecy concerning her. The problem? The only other copy of the prophecy is in the offices of Wolfram and Hart. When Buffy, Willow, Dawn, and Andrew arrive unannounced and unexpected, they start to notice some strange things happening around them, and the only Scooby who knows what's going on isn't telling. Between the hushed conversations, and Angel disappearing at a moment's notice, Buffy's also been sensing something... familiar.
Things continue this way for a few days, without any understanding why, until one night, up late watching willow, dawn, and Andrew research, Buffy spots a familiar bleached blond head walking down the halls....
Everything after 'the Girl in Question' never happened. And Fred's not Illyria.
Buffy was patrolling. Yeah, there may be hundreds of slayers in the world now, she may be long overdue for retirement, be in a different country, and one of the two head's of the new Watcher's council, but the patrolling part, that tended to stay the same.
Walking through the dark streets of London, Buffy couldn't help but think how different it was from Sunnydale. No Hellmouth, for one. A lot less vamps, too. But thinking about Sunnydale was something she tried to keep to a minimum. When they had first left, she thought about it constantly. She'd have nightmares about it, about how it ended. Standing there as the walls tumbled down around her, watching Spike die... Spike. That was the reason she wouldn't allow herself to think of it much. Thinking about Sunnydale always led to thinking about him. And that hurt too much. Things weren't the same without him. Patrolling was now a chore, going to clubs was boring, eating seemed unnecessary, living a task... She'd gone out with other guys since Sunnydale, she'd even gone out with another vampire who called himself 'The Immortal', but none of them lasted very long. None of them were him. 'Stop it, Buffy! ' She mentally chided herself. She'd promised herself that she'd try to forget, try to move on, but she never would if she kept thinking about him.
" I 'really need to kill something." She muttered, heading toward the cemetery, slaying always made her feel better. Of course, now that there were so many slayers around. Actually 'finding something tended to be a little bit harder than it used to. Right as she entered the cemetery, she noticed a horned figure heading into a crypt. " Wow, Looks like all my dreams are coming true." She spoke to herself, a smile on her face as she headed toward the same crypt. "let's bag me a baddie."
"Oh, quit whining!"
"It doesn't hurt that bad."
"YES, it bloody does! I told you to use the sweet 'n' low! OW!"
Fred leaned back from the sink, where she was currently holding Spike's head under water. Well, actually, it was just a faucet, but she was seriously considering filling the sink and attempting to be the first person to successfully drown a vampire. When she had agreed to help Spike bleach his hair, she had no idea he was going to be so whiny.
"Ow! This stuff never hurt when I added my bloody sweet 'n' low to it, but you 'just couldn't see the point in wasting the sugar'! Well, it's not a waste if it saves my brains from bein' fried! Can we please get this stuff offa my head, luv? My hair'll fall out!"
Fred sighed, exasperated with the complaining vamp.
"Spike, it's coming out! So just quit whining, okay? And as for frying you brain cells, after almost thirty years of doing this, don't you think most of them would be dead already?"
"Well, really. No-one with a very high I.Q. would go around pouring peroxide and sugar on their head!"
"Its not 'real sugar, luv. It's that fake stuff for fat people and the one's with the messed up blood sugars."
"It's still weird. Can't you just but a kit like everyone else?"
" I don't like 'em. They smell funny. An' that stuff /'really /burns!" Fred turned off the water and handed him a towel.
"There you go, Next time you need help, ask someone else." Spike smiled at herm, water dripping from his head.
"Thanks, pet. I'll make it up to you, k? Promise." Spike put on his truthful, serious face, and Fred felt her annoyance fade. What girl could stay mad at that face? Fred smiled back.
" Well, okay. As long as tour way of making it up to me doesn't involve alcohol, singing, nudity, or blood." Spike looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Oh, come on, now. Those are the only ways of havin' fun. I've got to have at least the alcohol and nudity, luv. I'm quite good with both, you know." He replied, raising his eyebrows. Fred blushed as images popped into her head. ' 'Okay, way past time to go!'
"I-I'll see ya later, spike." She stuttered. She forgot that how long periods of time alone in the same room with Spike usually led to her having not-good fantasies and stuttering a lot. With a wave of her hand, she hurried toward the door and left.
Spike smiled after her. She was a nice girl. Crazy, but nice. Reminded him a bit of Red. ' 'No, no thinkin' about willow.' Because thinking of willow led to thinking of the scoobies, which led to thinking about Buffy... ' 'And thinkin' about Buffy leads no-where good for you. Just a night of drinkin and brooding, Way too reminiscent of the Great Poof. NO.' Spike sighed, heading over to the couch. Fred had found him the first season of 'Passions' on DVD, and he was determined to finish it within a week. Besides, 'Passions' helped him to stop thinking about Buffy, at least until the credits rolled. There
Was nothing like watching other people's problems to get your mind off you own.
"Ugh!" Buffy cried, flying into the wall of the crypt. After driving her sword through the demon's head, it had exploded, sending her crashing against the wall. ''No, not against the wall,' she thought, looking down at the crumbling wall around her. ''Through.'
/' 'What the hell? ' looking around her, she saw that she had landed in a secret compartment in the crypt. ' 'Man, I'm really wishing that I had had the time to ask that demon a couple of questions before kicking his ass. From the looks of this place, he was either guarding this place or about to steal from it.' / And for some reason, Buffy didn't think that he was the thieving kind of demon.
On the wall to her left were some really old swords and a golden cross, whose bottom was mad of whittled wood.
"Look, it's a holy stake. A two-in-one kinda deal." She looked to her right, where on a single shelf stood a box.
Standing up gingerly, Buffy winced at the pain in her left knee.
"Okay, definitely sprained. Shit" Buffy walked over to the box and tried to lift it's lid. Locked, but not well. Grabbing the nearest piece of rubble, she beat it against the hinges until they broke. Smiling to herself, she opened the box from the other end.
Looking inside, she was an old scroll, which was well on its way to deteriorating. Unrolling the top very carefully, she was that it sure wasn't in English, which meant she would have to recruit the nearest smart person she knew.
" Well, looks like Giles isn't getting any sleep tonight." Placing the box beneath her arm, Buffy gathered the two swords and cross and headed back to council headquarters, hoping that everybody was up for another fun research party. Besides, sleep was overrated anyways.
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