Nine
Tara stared at the doorway her girlfriend had just gone through, unable to reconcile the girl she’d fallen in love with, with this changed version. Some time in the intervening year, sweet Willow had been replaced with this mean, power-hungry person. She chewed on her lower lip wondering if it would betray their relationship if she confided her fears and worries in someone else.
“Giles.” Dawn’s voice broke through her ponderings. “Maybe she’ll listen to you, coz she sure as hell isn’t listening to any of us.”
Replacing his glasses, Giles fixed his gaze on the teenager. “What do you mean?”
“Willow is way out of line.” Dawn eased closer to the table. “She convinced the others that yanking Buffy out of heaven was a good idea and now she’s all Cruella De Vil. This is so not good.”
Before he had a chance to reply, Tara said, “Dawn’s right. Willow’s changed, and it’s not for the better.”
The Watcher shifted his gaze between the two girls, realizing their concerns were completely valid – and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking along the same lines earlier. “It does appear Willow has,” he paused, searching for a diplomatic way to express himself and failing. “However, what is it you expect me to do?”
“I dunno, Giles, but you’d better think fast, before she decides we’re all not worth keeping around.” Dawn left the kitchen, following Anya’s flight.
“Perhaps now is not the time to address this.” Giles mused while Tara fiddled with the food. “I need some time to decide how best to approach her.”
Tara bit her lip and smiled worriedly. “I’m not sure we should wait too long.”
“Indeed.” Giles stared off pensively, wondering how he could reach her without sounding too hypocritical or overly judgmental. Willow wouldn’t react well to either emotion.
By the time Buffy woke up from her nap, little had been done to ease the tension between Anya and Willow, though Giles had made some progress on getting them back home. He didn’t want to bring it up to the others until he was absolutely certain it was the most reliable means of dimension hopping. Especially since it was so bizarrely ridiculous. Although, since this dimension seemed to be equal parts horror and hilarity, he supposed it might make a modicum of sense. If one were insane.
Gathering the weapons they’d brought, Spike listened with half an ear to the chattering around him. The earlier fight had been smoothed over though Anya hadn’t been impressed by Willow’s grudging apology. For now, at least, the two women were working together, which was all he cared about.
They could fight to the death for all the difference it would make to him. As long as whatever they were fighting about didn’t involve either Dawn or Buffy, he’d stay out of it.
“So how are we supposed to get there?” Dawn clattered around the living room, watching the others heft weapons.
“We walk.” Giles moved toward the doorway. “According to the baker and the map, the distance is a little under five miles.”
“Five miles?” Dawn whined. “That’s far! Can’t we find a ride?”
“I’ve seen little evidence of any vehicles large enough to transport all of us. And we’ve no currency to waste on hiring a cab or two.” Ever the voice of reason, Giles easily squashed Dawn’s protestations.
“Walking is good.” Buffy waved away Dawn’s further complaints. “Just deal.”
Finding something else to question, Dawn asked, “Do we know which way we’re supposed to go?”
Tara nodded, saying, “Mr. Giles figured out the best route to Sweet’s and I did a little spell to highlight it on the map.” She held it up to show Dawn. “See?”
Dawn stared at the map, then shifted her gaze to Tara. “So we’re going to follow the yellow line?”
“Yup.” Tara started folding up the map.
“We’re following the yellow brick road?” Dawn stifled her giggles. “We’re following the yellow brick road.”
Spike thunked his axe down on the floor, waving a finger at her. “Don’t start. Jus’ do not start. Bloody song is right annoying.”
Her smirk rivaled one of his and instead of singing, she just started whistling. He glared at her, fighting the grin her cheekiness invoked.
“Brat.”
Dawn blithely ignored him, only stopping when Anya quietly asked her to.
Spike continued grumbling as they made their way out of the apartment and down the block.
Halfway down the street, Tara opened her mouth to say something and instead, she sang, “Pick your left foot up, when your right foot’s down. Come on legs keep moving, don’t you lose no ground.”
Almost reluctantly, Anya joined her, “You just keep on keeping on the road that you choose, don’t you give up walkin’ cause you ain’t got shoes.”
Together, the two girls sang, “Come on and ease on down, ease on down the road. Come on and ease on down, ease on down the road.”
“Oi!” Spike whirled on the two of them. “No yellow brick roads. No easing down the road. No road trip songs.”
When they both opened their mouths again, Spike glared and stepped forward menacingly. “No singing. This isn’t fun an’ games, you bints. ‘S a bit more like work.”
From just steps behind him, Buffy’s voice sounded. “Heigh ho. . . heigh ho! It’s off to slay we go. . .”
His growled “Augh!” could be heard for blocks. That is until the laughter drowned him out.
No one commented on the tinge of madness in the laughter.
His mouth was dry and his head felt fuzzy – like he’d been stealing drinks from his parents and Xander had no recollection of where he was. So he was opting for the stealing and heavy drinking. Except that he didn’t smell any alcohol.
The only smells were clean, crisp sheets and he sniffed, trying to place the other. It was spicy, like cinnamon or ginger and yet there was something else, something he couldn’t place. It was almost like. . . like . . . Xander sat straight up, his bleary eyes looking around.
He could swear it was Fruit Loops he was smelling, but he didn’t see anything that could pass for his favorite cereal. As his eyes focused, reality came crashing back and his tired brain made the connection. He was still Sweet’s captive.
Groaning theatrically, Xander flopped back onto the mattress. “Why couldn’t it have all been a bad dream?”
“Dreams are all about desires and fears.”
Startled by the voice, Xander sat back up. “Oh. No. No desires in these dreams. These are all about the fears.”
“Speak for yourself, handsome. You look like a dream to me.” Sweet sauntered further into the room, watching him closely.
“I’m no one’s idea of a dream.” Xander scuttled back away, his back flush against the headboard. “Trust me. No one wants to dream of me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Xander. You’re a fine looking specimen of virile manhood. You could certainly be someone’s dream.” Sweet stretched out on the end of the bed, his eyes focused on Xander’s and his seductive tone leaving very little to the other man’s imagination.
“Ah. . . I don’t want to be anyone’s dream. It’s safer if I’m just the comedic relief.” He chuckled nervously, trying surreptitiously to get further away from Sweet, who was trailing his hand over the sheets.
He couldn’t tell, but Xander thought the demon’s expression changed. Something glittered in his eyes that had all of Xander’s nerves on edge.
“I could use some entertainment.”
Sweet shimmied against the sheets seductively. “Perhaps we could entertain each other.”
“No.” Xander was frantically shaking his head. “No. There will be no entertaining. Not a good idea at all.” He clambered from the bed.
“Oh, Xander. Let me entertain you.”
Xander kept shaking his head negatively. He tripped over the sheets pooling on the floor, still backing away from Sweet. The demon was looking at him eagerly, and he rose gracefully from the bed, his voice deep and sultry. “Let me do a few tricks. . . some old and some new tricks. I’m. . . I’m very versatile.”
He swayed to a beat that rumbled through the room, while shaking his hips. He practically purred the next words, “And if you’re real good, I’ll make you feel good. I want your spirits to climb!”
Sweet’s voice dropped to a whisper, causing the hair on Xander’s neck to rise. “So let me. . . entertain you. . . let me entertain you. . . and we’ll have a real good time.” The demon grabbed his hand, pulling Xander to his feet. Sweet leaned into him, his hands barely touching him. “So let me entertain you. . . and we’ll have a real good time, yes, Xander. . . we’ll have a real good time.”
Xander froze in Sweet’s embrace, his brain unable to process what was happening. Until Sweet grabbed his butt and squeezed, then Xander reacted without thinking. His elbow came up, catching Sweet mid-chest and he pivoted away, his other hand forming a fist. The blow was wide, but it served its purpose. Sweet danced back, his expression changing.
“That wasn’t very smart, Xander.” Motioning to his minions, Sweet stepped away. “I’ve tried being nice, tried to do this the easy way, yet you’ve resisted my every attempt.” He shrugged, his expression almost pensive as he watched his minions subdue and restrain Xander. “Now we’ll do it the hard way. Take him, boys.”
They were about a third of the way there, when Spike realized they were being followed. He drifted forward past the stragglers, to come abreast of Buffy and Giles. The two of them were walking in relatively companionable silence, though Spike sensed the undercurrents that neither one was willing to discuss. Softly, so only the two of them heard him, he relayed the information. “Got a tail.”
“Damn. How many?” Buffy’s instincts were still a bit wonky, though she had felt eyes on their progress for almost the last mile. “I hoped I was wrong.”
“Nope, got it right.” Spike shrugged. “None of ‘em have heartbeats, so it’s a bit harder to tell. Near as I can guess it’s about five.”
Giles resisted the urge to look around. “Five’s not so bad.”
“Not so good, either.” Spike paused, lighting a cigarette. “That’s only the ones I can sense. There’s pro’lly half a dozen more that I can’t suss out.”
Using his pause as an excuse to turn around and watch out for the others, Buffy nodded her agreement. “Feels like way more than five.” She ducked her head, eyes scanning the surrounding brick buildings and alleyways. “We’re not in a good position. This feels like Sunnydale, but . . .”
Her voice trailed off and both Englishmen nodded. “Not any Sunnydale I remember.”
Giles followed the other two and let his eyes roam around. “Actually, this feels a bit like Sunnydale crossed with a 1940s musical. Have you noticed the fog?”
Once again, like the first night, fog was drifting in and around their feet, seemingly rolling in from nowhere. “We’re far enough away from the waterfront that this shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Think it’s more normal than we’re used to.” Spike looked over the Slayer’s shoulder to where the other girls were now standing. “This place wouldn’t feel right without the wispy dewdrops.”
“Why are we stopping?” Dawn’s voice rang through the night, and the others quickly hushed her.
Willow caught on to the general uneasiness wreathing the others. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got ourselves a tail, Red.” Spike pitched his voice low, so that only their group could hear him. “Gonna drift back an’ see how many.”
Buffy nodded once, shifting the crossbow to her other hand. “We’ll keep moving.”
They started forward again, after a brief consultation with the map. Spike took up the caboose, pushing Dawn ahead of him, urging her to keep pace with her sister.
No more than four blocks further and he materialized at Buffy’s side. “There’s a problem, Slayer.”
“Damn.” She didn’t ask for any more details, she didn’t need them. “Is there any place to hide?”
“Bout fifty yards to the left, there’s a little dead end. Building is unoccupied. We could make for that, an’ then you and I could thin the herd a bit.”
Making a split second decision, Buffy decided to follow his advice. “Take the next left turn, Giles.”
Suiting words to action, Giles headed down the first alley, the girls following quickly behind. Buffy and Spike took up the rearguard, protecting them. It did little good, because the demons following them quickened their pace, catching up to Buffy and Spike without much trouble. Buffy whirled around, yelling at the others to run, and slammed her fist into the first demon.
While they looked nearly identical to the demons Sweet had brought with him, they were much stronger. Instead of crumpling, the demon took the hit, and nailed Buffy with a ringing blow to her cheek.
Spike caught another around the neck, easily twisting its over-sized head. The snap was loud and gruesome, though neither had the chance to revel in the small victory. Every remaining demon converged on them, pummeling the two blondes and cutting them off from the others.
Somehow the two managed to get back-to-back, the demons in a wide circle around them. “Odds aren’t good, Slayer.”
Grumbling her agreement, Buffy took a quick count. “Three to one. We’ve had worse.”
“True.” Spike grabbed one of the more foolhardy demons, wrenching his neck like the other. “This bunch is a bit easier than some. Least we can get them through the cranium.”
Buffy’s reply was grim. “Spike. . . take another look.”
“Oh, bloody. . . hell