Chapter Text
"Sunny came home with a list of names. She didn't believe in transcendence. 'And it's time for a few small repairs,' she said. Sunny came home with a vengeance." - Shawn Colvin, Sunny Came Home
*** May 15, 1999, La Lima, Honduras, 6:10 am CST, 5:10 am PDT
One second, he was standing at HQ with Buffy's hand in his, and not more than two later, her hand was gone and Spike was suddenly in a cheap hotel room which wasn't even vaguely familiar. He didn't recognize any of it, not even the smell. What he did recognize was the look in the Hispanic vampire's eyes when he removed his hand from her lace-covered breast and used it to pull her head back from sucking on his neck. He recognized the feeling in his body that told him it was already past dawn, taking note while the woman was running her hands seductively over his chest and down his stomach. Beautiful, with jet black hair and deep brown eyes, she had to be one of the numerous women he shagged on his drunken rebound tour after Dru hooked up with that Fungus Demon. His guess about where he would land had been pretty damned accurate, sod it all.
Both her closeness and touch felt like an unwanted invasion, so Spike firmly reminded himself it wasn't her fault before he reacted and threw her across the room. Instead, he grasped the woman's wrists and stepped back a few feet while informing her, "Lo siento, señorita, he cambiado de opinión."
"¿Qué dijiste?"
Where's my bloody goddamn duster? "Cambié de opinión."
Her confusion rapidly morphed into outrage. Incensed by his rejection, she demanded to know what game he was playing and why he was suddenly so sober and cold.
"No importa. Lo siento."
"¡Pero me amas...y...y estabas borracho!"
Turning away, Spike simply said, "No, no te amo." Almost tripping over an empty bottle behind his feet, he buckled his belt, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and located his duster on a faded chair.
"¿Qué diablos te pasa?"
Unable to explain, Spike tuned her out. As he put his coat on, he checked the pockets for the DeSoto keys and found them where he had kept them. He turned aside from the sight of the room's real occupant lying pale on the floor. The bite mark on the bloke's broken and bloodied neck was recognizably his. Spike's conscience rebelled in visceral remorse and guilt. Knowing what he had been was a pale imitation of the actual tactile experience, so he had to get out of this room that contained both the wrong woman and the corpse of his latest meal.
The wrong woman, who was still squawking heatedly at him in Spanish, wildly speculating about his sudden change in demeanor and exactly what the hell was wrong with him. All of which Spike figured he deserved, so he couldn't bring himself to harm her. She switched to calling him a series of profane names as he yanked his duster over his head and slung the door open, leaving without a backward glance. A glass shattered against the door just before he swung it shut behind him to find himself standing in a long, narrow hallway.
Finally locating a relatively safe exit onto a shaded side street, Spike looked around, trying to determine precisely where he was. He had only briefly rejoined Dru before she started ranting about the Slayer and hooked up with a Fungus Demon. After that, he'd stormed off, and she'd disappeared. She was a seer and couldn't be found if she didn't want to be, and he couldn't remember if there were any days he had wanted to try. He did know he'd spent a few months in another drunken haze. He moved around frequently in search of information on the Gem of Amara and retained no clarity on where he had been at any given time.
Let's see. He had been in San Pedro La Laguna when he discovered clues that suggested the Gem of Amara had been taken to a mission near Sunnydale, but that was a few months from now. Before that...was... It was no good. He could not sort anything solid out of the blur of hazy images and impressions. Although...the unknown woman in the room had a dialect which suggested Central America. That indicated he was over a thousand miles closer to Sunnydale and Buffy than he had feared he would be, but why in the bloody hell couldn't he have gone on a bender in Tijuana?
Glancing around, Spike found a bloke stumbling towards the hotel's entrance and decided to ask where the blooming hell he was. The man looked at him strangely as he informed him they were in La Lima before shaking his head and mumbling about the loco gringo.
So, he was in Honduras, not far from San Pedro Sula, and very near an airport where he should be able to hop a flight heading in the right direction. Spike figured he could find a flight directly to San Diego if he was lucky. No bloody way was he spending one more day than necessary away from his girl, although he needed to quickly locate a covered place to be. The sun was already rising higher into the sky, so he would need to be careful about choosing a delivery truck headed to the airport.
At least LA was still there.
*** May 15, 1999, Lorne's Apartment, LA, 5:10 am PDT, 6:10 am CST
Lorne arrived in his old bed with a terrible case of vertigo. Groaning, he glanced at his clock. It was nearly dawn, and the sky outside his windows was already fairly light. He figured if he had made it mostly intact to where and when he should be, the others had, as well. So, what he needed more than anything right now was painkillers, which he used to keep in his bathroom.
Throwing the covers off and turning to put his feet over the edge of his bed, he noticed the old pair of raw silk pajama bottoms that had once been his absolute favorite. Right now, he hated them, and not for their soft texture. No, it was the bright, sunny yellow assaulting his pounding head that drew his ire. He made his way to his bathroom to grab a handful of ibuprofen, hoping the pajamas would be less offensive about twenty minutes after a handful of these babies. His trip to his kitchen for water was more urgent, since he wanted the bad boys in his stomach as soon as possible.
After that and another stop by the bathroom, Lorne crawled back between his sheets and rolled over to get some sleep, thankful that his club didn't open until much later in the day.
*** May 15, 1999, Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, 5:10 am PDT, 6:10 am CST
Willow gasped as the power of the Hellmouth surrounded her. Never before had she been able to feel it like this, probably because she had grown up accustomed to it. That dark power tainted everything around her, as if it had seeped into the walls and objects near it. She hadn't felt it this strongly when she'd visited to retrieve her friend's Christmas present or the Seed, likely because Spike had closed it so many months before.
Now, it felt like... Well, she couldn't describe it. The best she could come up with was a thin coating of grime, making everything slightly off and nudging her to let it inside. She quickly collected herself and cast a minor protection spell. No way was she going down that dark path again. Once was more than plenty.
Once she found her center, she straightened her head. Thankfully, the guys were staring at Angel, since Oz had just taken wry note that the vampire was cured. Giles and Xander were instantly too busy berating Angel to notice her, and Angel was occupied with trying to skirt around and minimize what he had done. Willow took advantage of Xander's observation that Angel was more than happy to feed on the woman he loved to save his own life to hoist the attaché at her feet over her shoulder. Using all-too-familiar phrasing, Giles was able to send Angel away, warning that the sun was about to rise.
Xander muttered sarcastically, "Gosh, I'm really gonna miss him when he leaves town." No one disagreed with him.
Giles simply said, "Let's find out how Buffy's doing."
Goddess, this is weird. Willow was still wrapping her head around the fact that somewhere in town, Tara was alive and probably sleeping when, minutes later, Buffy emerged with her bag slung across her body and announced that it was time to prepare for war.
*** May 15, 1999, Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, 5:10 am PDT, 6:10 am CST
When the swirling darkness ended, Buffy found herself in a bed in the Sunnydale hospital, covered in pinkish mauve blankets and lying on pink sheets. Even her hospital gown had little pink flowers dotting it. She sat up, wondering where her travel bag had landed. She shuffled around until she was upright and discovered the bag on the floor. The familiar and hated smell of the room hit her, sending a wave of nausea through her stomach. She choked up as she realized that in her house on Revello Drive, right now, was her sleeping mother. Alive and very huggable. Mommy.
Knowing there was no chance of sleeping right now, she searched her brain for a way to calm herself, so she could greet her friends without completely wigging them out. When she was sufficiently in control, she swung her legs out of the bed, thoroughly scrubbed her hands, and searched for her clothes. After she was dressed, she slung the strap of her bag over her head.
Just as before, she found Faith lying one curtain down, with her face pale and bruised. She gently touched her sister slayer's cheek and said, "I'll be back, Faith. We'll get through this together, I promise." She kissed her head and straightened up with resolve.
Her team didn't have a minute to spare, so she marched into the hall confidently. Greeting and reassuring everyone, she told them they needed to prepare for war - which was close enough to what she thought she said previously - and asked Xander and Willow to round up the gang, including Angel. She was pleased that she didn't even choke on his name or spit it out in disgust.
"I'll drive Willow," Oz stated matter-of-factly.
"No, Oz," Willow stopped him. "I need you to go straight to the school with Giles and Buffy."
Oz shook his head. "No. We just saw what Angel did to-"
"He's not dying anymore, and I don't have a drop of slayer blood." Willow reiterated, "I'll meet you at the school."
Buffy turned and strode out of the hospital like the woman on a mission she was. She planned to swing by on her way to the school and retrieve the knife she had plunged into Faith's gut.
*** May 15, 1999, Outside Harmony Kendall's House, Sunnydale, 5:40 am PDT, 6:40 am CST
The first part of their graduation day plan went off without a hitch. Harmony was inside her house, sleeping in the early dawn hour. Willow simply held the hair Spike had obtained months ago and honed in on her using a basic locator spell. Holding her hand out with the palm toward Harmony's sleeping form, she cast the sleep spell with a whispered, "Somnus." Happy with her success, Willow headed toward the gloomy old mansion on Crawford Street to enlist Angel in the battle.
The energy of the Hellmouth permeating everything was still slightly unsettling, but the upside was that Tara was still alive. Gloriously, brilliantly alive with her sweet smile and caring heart. Willow was determined that, this time, Tara would stay that way.
Of course, Oz was also still around, so she'd get to spend some time with him, as well. She did miss him terribly sometimes, especially his unflappable calm. He'd been so much more than her boyfriend. He'd been her closest friend and the engine that had pulled her from childhood into a more normal teenage existence. Maybe this time around, she could handle things in such a way that they were in contact more regularly afterward. She looked forward to seeing him again within the hour.
She reached Angel's abode to inform him that the battle was on and Buffy needed them all to gather at the school library, even managing to mask her deep distaste for the vampire. He agreed, so now all she had to do was head to the meeting point. Xander would take care of notifying Cordelia.
Author's Notes:
- Honduras observes CST all year long (no Spring forward Fall back nonsense). So, at this point in the year, they are one hour ahead of Sunnydale, which is in Pacific Daylight Time. Daylight time began on April 4, 1999.
- I pick a Saturday in mid-May for graduation, because the ceremonies generally happen on Saturday and before the rest of the classes end their school year.
- On Saturday, May 15th, 1999, dawn happened at 5:29 am PDT in Santa Barbara (aka: Sunnydale). And at 4:59 AM CST in Honduras. That's why Spike has problems with the sun that Angel does not.
- Buffy has to thoroughly scrub her hands, because she was still holding Spike's hand after the de-scenting spell and could possibly be meeting up with Angel before she has a chance to have Willow zap her again. By this point, she's pretty used to worrying about what scents might tell Angel. After all, she lived it for six months.
- Here, I'm assuming the hospital is the same one we see later in BtVS.
- One of the reasons I think Buffy/Spike are the far more workable pairing in canon is that their relationship happened at their worst times, really. Spike was alone, without Dru, chipped, and socially isolated from what he'd known. Living in a crypt, nice as he made it after a while. Same for Buffy. She was working at a fast-food grease pit with a house that needed huge repairs. They loved each other anyway. The people who are still around at your lowest - not when you've accessed a shit-ton of money or are running an international Slayer organization - are the long-haul people. Trust me, I've learned this the very hard way. It was shockingly gut-wrenching to look around at my lowest and see who wasn't there. In canon, I look to see who wasn't around for them, particularly Buffy, and find a lot of missing spaces. One notable one is Liangelus. Of course, in Buffy's canon life, he's always more notable for his absence than presence. While one major incident won't destroy love, even the romantic kind, a series of that behavior does erode it to nothingness. Bit by bit. Blow by blow. I've been known to refer to it as 'death by a thousand paper cuts'.