Out of the Grey
Chapter Two
Later, she put it down to a hallucination. What else could it have been?
At first, she had been so stunned, so shocked to see Spike there, that she forgot all reason. Reason told her that he couldn’t really have been standing there—he was dead. And if he wasn’t dead, he sure as hell was a vampire, and wouldn’t be able to stand out in the sun without burning up.
She dropped her phone, ignoring the tinny, “Buffy, Buffy?” from the speakers and moved towards him, staring unblinkingly.
He stared back.
“Spike—”
And then—a sound. A seagull crying in the distance, the call harsh and loud amongst the peace of the day. It startled her, made her blink.
When she opened her eyes, Spike was gone.
Perhaps she’d passed out for a few seconds, for the next thing she knew, a dog was barking in her ear and an elderly man was looking down at her.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
She shook her head, but answered in the affirmative, all the while wondering how things could ever be all right again.
Stirring her coffee absentmindedly, Buffy stared out of the café window at the passing crowds on the street outside. It had clouded over when she’d left the beach, the sky turning a milky-grey colour, and the change in atmosphere reflected her current state of mind.
Doubts had started to overcome her on the way up from the beach. Had she really seen Spike? She knew that she’d blacked out for a few moments; perhaps it had been a flash of a dream. She even started to wonder if it was the First back to haunt her, but dismissed this almost immediately. If it had been the incorporeal demon, surely it would have taken the opportunity to taunt her?
The day wore on, the dreariness soon reverting back to the bright sunshine of the morning, and Buffy watched in amusement from her window-seat in the café as people seemingly poured from various doorways and eateries, heading back to the beach to make the most of the good weather.
There was a leaflet stand near her table, pamphlets advertising all manner of attractions—Lyme Regis Marine Aquarium, The Philpot Museum, Dinosaurland Fossil Museum—but the one that caught her eye was a flyer for holiday apartments to rent.
Reaching for the leaflet, she leaned across the table and as she sat back down, knocked her empty coffee cup to the floor. It shattered, and every head in the crowded room turned to look at her. Buffy blushed, jumping up out of her seat to try and gather the pieces back together, but was soon interrupted by a waitress who shooed her out of the way.
The mess was cleared up and Buffy straightened up to pay her bill, embarrassed over the whole incident. She made her way to the counter; leaflet for the holiday apartments still clutched in her hand, and asked how much she owed—including the cost of the broken coffee cup.
“Oh, never mind that, dear.” The woman shook her head and took the money Buffy handed her, before gesturing towards the pamphlet she still held. “Looking to stay awhile? Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Oh—” Buffy looked down at the leaflet. “Yeah, I need to find somewhere to stay.”
The woman smiled and put on the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. She reached for the booklet and picked up the pen that lay next to the till, flicking through the pages for a few moments. “Here we are.” She circled something. “The Garden Flat: best kept secret in the bay. You’ll be hard pressed to find something better this time of year. Half term, all the kiddies off from school, you know.”
Buffy thanked her and said goodbye, stepping out into the street and wishing for a pair of sunglasses. Shading her eyes from the sun, she looked at the page that had been helpfully circled, the pictures showing a large white house and a spectacular view of the bay.
Since leaving her friends and family in London, she had done nothing but allow herself to be swept along by whatever came her way. She was a piece of flotsam floating on the tide, being buffeted from one place to the next.
Her childish method of trailing her hand along the map had decided her destination. The Rose & Crown pub had been the first she’d seen on stepping out of the taxi. The café had caught her eye simply because the décor reminded her a little of the Espresso Pump.
Everything she had done since leaving Sunnydale up to this point had been based on split-second decisions, little meetings of chance that had required no thought at all.
And coming here had let her see Spike again, just for a moment. No matter that it had been a hallucination—had it?—in that precise second, she had been glad of the glimpse.
So now that she had been pointed in the direction of somewhere to stay—the ‘best kept secret in the bay’—well, it was just one more mark on the map, one more brush stroke on the canvas of this trip, and she knew it was where she had to go next.
***
There was something very Not Right about the whole trip, Buffy decided. Shortly after checking in at The Garden Flat—for the woman in the café had been right, the holiday apartment was vacant—Buffy had unpacked her few belongings, washed her face and then felt the immediate compulsion to return to the town centre.
It was as though something—or someone—was guiding her, divining her actions. Part of her felt that she should be worried, but something else told her to go with it. See where this journey took her.
The walk back into town was a quick one, the coastal path quiet until she found herself suddenly overlooking the ocean from the top of a steep incline that led across a grassy slope. The shrieks of holidaymakers enjoying the day filled her ears.
The High Street was slightly quieter, only the hum of cars heading down to the waterside car parks disturbing the afternoon.
Buffy window-shopped, peering through the glass of various stores—a dress shop with old-fashioned designs displayed on creepy mannequins; a tourist shop selling postcards and shells and various other seaside merchandise—and momentarily contemplated sending a card to Dawn. But no, that would let them all know where she was, and she still wanted to be alone. Something told her that she needed to be there on her own. In the end, she bought one for herself, a scenic shot of the beach at sunset.
At the bakery she paused, enticed by the scent of fresh bread and the sight of the pastries in the window. A quick stop inside and she had some food to take back to the apartment for dinner.
A few doors down was a dinosaur-and-fossil shop and the bright glint of gemstone-jewellery in the display drew Buffy in. A bell above the door jangled as she entered and she allowed herself a moment of nostalgia for all the times she’d done the same thing and heard the same noise at the Magic Box.
The inside of the shop was dark and quiet, the shelves lined with fossil displays and wooden baskets filled with gemstones.
There was a man—the owner, presumably—behind the counter and she could see him rocking on the balls of his feet in anticipation of a sale.
In the end, Buffy selected a Rose Quartz necklace for herself, the placard telling her that it was the January birthstone. For Dawn, she picked up a pair of Lace Agate earrings, knowing that the pale blue of the stone would suit her sister well.
As she paid for her purchases, Buffy heard the low beat of a familiar song, though she couldn’t quite place where she knew it from.
The shopkeeper must have noticed her expression—the way she had her head cocked to one side as though concentrating on something—for, when he handed her a paper bag with the jewellery in, he nodded towards a doorway hidden by a beaded curtain. “My son,” he said, “owns the record shop next door. You can always hear some song or other coming through.”
“Oh,” Buffy replied. “Do you know what it is?” As she spoke, the drumbeat of the introduction morphed into lyrics and she suddenly realised why she knew it. I wanna be sedated… Do you like the Ramones? It was a Spike song.
“I really couldn’t say,” the shopkeeper said, answering her question. He stood and drew back the beaded curtain. “Go on through. Jack—that’s my son—should be able to help you.”
Buffy nodded her thanks and walked through, compelled this time not by the strange force that had directed her movements since arriving in Lyme Regis, but by a sudden need to hear more of that song.
The lyrics accompanied her through the doorway, the refrain of twenty-four, twenty-four hours to go sounding more than a little ominous.
Apart from her, the shop was empty—everyone else presumably enjoying themselves at the beach. Seated behind the counter was a young man. He had short dark hair and was flipping through a magazine. Buffy took a couple of steps further into the shop, and the man glanced up at the sound of her footsteps before looking back down at his magazine.
Buffy frowned, then grinned when the man looked up at her again; he seemed to do a double-take. He stood up and came out from behind the counter, tripping over the leg of his stool as he did so.
“Hi,” Buffy said, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you trip.”
“My fault. Completely my fault. Er—did you need something?”
“I was in the fossil shop.” Buffy indicated to the doorway behind her. “Heard uh… the Romans playing and, well… came through.”
“Oh.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry. It’s just that, er—we don’t get many um, people like you in here. And I think you mean the Ramones.”
“People like me?”
“Yes. Girls—women! Or, er... Americans.”
Buffy couldn’t hold back a grin. “I could go, if you like?”
“No! It’s just—” He frowned and took a deep breath, and Buffy could almost see him giving himself a mental pep-talk. She tried not to giggle. “Right, I’m starting again. Hello, I’m Jack. How may I help you?”
“I’m Buffy,” she replied. “And it’s like I said, really. I heard—that song.” She shrugged, trying to put the memories the song had brought up aside. “I wanted to listen to it.”
“Ah.” Jack paused, bit his lip and looked down at the ground. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Ramones fan. Although, you did get the name wrong. So perhaps—?”
Buffy frowned, not sure she wanted to continue the conversation that Jack was so clearly inviting. She could tell from his nervousness and body language that he found her attractive. Perhaps he was building up to asking her out. And right now? So not what she wanted.
“I knew someone who liked their music,” she said, simplifying things down to a single sentence.
Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face, because Jack simply nodded before taking a step backwards.
An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the sound of money being put in the cash register in the shop next door. Buffy moved to look at the CDs on the shelves, idly flipping through them, not looking for anything in particular. She could hear Jack moving closer, his steps slow, until he came to a stop just behind her.
“Um, Buffy, if I’ve said something to upset you, I apologise.”
She started to turn around, wanting to reassure him that he hadn’t done anything of the sort, but as she did so her bag caught on the corner of the shelf, toppling some disks to the floor.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Buffy said, crouching down to pick them up. “What is up with me today?” She picked up the first of the plastic cases, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw the cover art—Billy Idol’s bleached hair and punk eyeliner bringing Spike once again to the forefront of her mind.
Reaching for the other fallen disk, her heart took a U-turn and dove back down into her chest, pounding so hard she thought her ribs would crack.
She stared at the cover, the words Ramones and I Wanna Be Sedated blurring together as she looked at them for too long.
Buffy had felt that something had been guiding her actions, causing her to make choices she might not have otherwise made, and that feeling had been cemented even more by the hallucination on the beach. In the back of her mind there had been a seed of doubt, but now—
Now, she was sure.
Something was going on—something to do with Spike.
And she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found out what.
-TBC-
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to all who reviewed the first chapter! Here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading, please review!