Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)
Disclaimer: The characters and fictional placings of either of these shows do not belong to me. They belong to Cameron/ Eglee (Dark Angel), Joss Whedon (BtVS) and Whedon/ Greenwalt (AtS). Only the story belongs to me.
Rating: 13 (for now)
Genre: Crossover of DA/ BtVS
Type: WiP
Timeline/ Spoilers: Post Season 5 for Buffy. Up to LAtR for DA. Story set in DA time.
Summary: BtVS/ DA crossover. Life brings about so many changes. Especially when one has just risen from the dead.
Chapter Twelve
May 23rd, 2021
Motel room, Los Angeles
Early evening
"Is she still looking?" Alec asked when he and Max had returned to the motel room with more food. Logan was sitting at the small table near the front door, watching his cousin. He glanced up at them and shook his head with a sigh. As soon as they’d returned to the motel, Buffy had ransacked the room until Alec had demanded to know what she was looking for. When she told him a phone book, he’d pointed out that she’d had to go to the phone booth down the road before. She shrugged; looking slightly embarrassed and then told him shortly that she had needed a walk. The phone book then had seemed incidental until inspiration had struck her.
So Alec had slipped out to procure the phone book for her. And after watching her frantic flipping through the thin pages for a while, both he and Max began to get a little stir crazy. So when Logan suggested they go get some dinner, they both jumped at the chance. Logan elected to stay behind with Buffy, given her reaction at the diner earlier. And while they were out, Alec couldn’t resist asking Max where the LA hot spots were. As they wandered around, Max had pointed out different places that she’d ripped off; good places to eat and places to avidly avoid.
So they were a little later than they expected to be. But they’d found Max’s favorite Chinese restaurant and came back with their arms laden. The smells emanating from the non-descript brown paper bags were enough to make Logan sit up and take notice. Max had asked for and received some paper plates from the restaurant along with the obligatory chopsticks, so they didn’t need to worry about dividing up the boxes. But as she was unpacking the bags, she noticed that Buffy so far hadn’t displayed any interest, in their return or the food. With a sigh, she nudged Alec, who looked up and regarded the blonde woman thoughtfully.
"Hey Logan?" he called softly. "Got a pen and some paper?" It wasn’t really such a long shot. The other man liked to be prepared for any eventuality. Logan nodded and pulled the items out of his bag. He set it on the table, close to Alec, who ignored it for the moment. The younger man busied himself with putting small portions of everything they’d purchased on one of the plates. He next filled another plate with larger portions. Max watched with a roll of her eyes as he picked up both plates, then looked askance at the pad of paper. She picked it up and raised both her eyebrows questioningly. Alec just flashed her a grin and moved over to the bed that Buffy sat on, beckoning Max to follow.
Buffy glanced up nervously as the bed dipped a little, but relaxed when she finally realized that Max and Alec had returned. She’d been locked in on what she was doing. The purpose that was driving her had managed to block out the things she couldn’t think on right then. Like how much her world had changed in her shocking transition from life to death and then back again. Like the fact that her so-called cousin was adamant that her sister was dead. That Angel had disappeared and she’d been unable to sense him or his presence at the hotel. Or about the fact that she very much wished that she wasn’t here. In this world.
All of it seemed to rush back in on her when those green, sympathetic eyes caught and held hers. And Buffy did the only thing she could think of, the only defense she knew at the moment. She shut the emotions down. They were too many and too painful to deal with. She supposed it must have shown somewhere in her face, maybe in her eyes because Alec grimaced. But he regrouped quickly and held out a plate of food to her. Buffy just sat cross-legged on the bed, her hands resting on the open phone book that rested in her lap.
"Take it," he commanded softly, settling the plate closer to her hands. Resigned, Buffy turned her hands over and he placed it on her palms. "Eat. And don’t tell me you’re not hungry." Buffy didn’t make any reply. How could she make him understand that the food was like ashes in her mouth? But Alec pretended not to notice that there was little change in her demeanor as he took a seat beside her. He stretched his legs out and balanced his plate on his lap. He took the paper and writing instrument from Max who casually turned away to go back to her meal.
"You really should eat something Buffy," Logan chimed in from the table. Buffy wanted to ignore him, but sometimes his voice reminded her of a buzzing insect hovering around her, driving her insane with its continual noise. She wanted to swat at him, but that required effort she just couldn’t seem to summon. Her head drooped a little and she squeezed her eyes shut. The length of the day was taking its toll on her, but as much as her body yearned for rest, her mind warred with the images she knew were waiting to torment her in sleep.
"So here’s what we’re going to do," Alec spoke, disregarding the fact that Logan had been talking to his cousin. He flipped open the pad of paper and sat with the pen poised in his right hand. His left hand already was employing the chopsticks expertly, as if he’d multitasked like this before. "I doubt that everyone you knew moved to Los Angeles. So we’ll make a list of everyone you want to find. Logan has some really good connections and possible ways of finding them back in Seattle. If we don’t hear from that lady right away, we’ll head back there and keep searching." He didn’t bother to okay it by her, but quickly wrote down the name of ‘Angel’ at the top of the sheet.
"No," Buffy whispered. Again things were warring inside her. She wanted, needed to stay put until she found some familiarity to ease her painful rejoining of a world she thought behind her. But cold hard logic told her that she needed to do whatever she could to find Dawn. Her sister, the Key. Alone and unprotected in this vile world.
"Yes," Alec countered mildly. "So who else?" He waited expectantly. Finally, she sighed and readjusted herself, careful not to spill her plate. If nothing else, the residual warmth emanating from the plate was nice.
"Giles," she murmured. Alec dutifully wrote it down as he ate.
"Is that a first or last name?"
"Mm, last. Rupert Giles."
Alec added a comma after the first and then wrote in ‘Rupert’. "Any idea where he might have gone?"
"England," she replied unhesitatingly. "He’s British."
"Okay, keep ‘em coming," Alec nodded. And so the list continued. Cordelia Chase, who’d moved to LA around the same time as Angel and worked at the investigation firm with him. Buffy thought she might still be around, thought she wasn’t in the book. Same with Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, who was also British. Then her attention turned back to those that had been the core of her non-blood family.
"Willow Rosenburg," she added and then glanced up, shocked as Logan dropped the can of pop he’d been drinking from. Luckily it was only a short distance to the table and the can remained upright. Her questioning eyes made him falter.
"Sorry," he apologized swiftly; hoping that no one would question why that name had given him pause. As it was, he felt like kicking himself. He should have recognized that name the first time he’d seen it on his computer screen. But Willow most obviously wasn’t the only Willow in the world. And it never occurred to him just a few weeks ago, that the Willow he’d researched and the Willow who had been Buffy’s best friend were the same. It made sense now, with what they’d seen with the redhead’s attempt at resurrecting Buffy… with her Egyptian spells, for he’d recognized the name Osiris. Of course she would have been considered somewhat of a master of that arcane subject. Logan just wished desperately that he could avoid this subject for a while as well. He didn’t imagine Buffy would take to kindly to be told that yet another person was dead.
Buffy simply watched Logan for a moment, then turned back to Alec. But he’d taken the second in which she’d glanced away from him to drop the pen and pick up her chopsticks. He had scooped up some concoction and was offering it to her. She shook her head quickly, but he seemed determined. "No," she uttered again, careful to keep her lips mostly together as she spoke so he couldn’t slip the food in.
Alec sighed and set the food down. "Buffy, you need to eat to keep your strength up. You can’t go looking for these people if you don’t have the energy to move." She turned luminous eyes up at him and Alec swore under his breath. Why was he always a sucker for pretty girls with big, appealing eyes?
"Later?" she offered tentatively. Maybe she could stand to choke some food down, but just not right then. She was having too much trouble with the aftertaste of regret.
"Okay," Alec acquiesced. "Tomorrow. I’ll hold you to that." Instead of the brilliant smile his charm usually rewarded him with, all he got was a small nod. She lifted up the plate and offered it to him. Alec took it and scooped the pitiful portions onto his own plate. He leaned over to set the empty plate on the floor, then straightened up to ask her, "do you think you could at least manage some water?" Buffy bit at her lip, then nodded again. He smiled with relief and then looked up at Max, who was calmly stuffing her face. "Max?"
"In a minute," she waved him off, her mouth full. She swallowed and gestured with her chopsticks at Buffy. "Got anymore names?"
"Xander Harris," she continued. "Alexander," she corrected with a tiny smile. But it was gone in a moment. "Tara Maclay. Anya Jenkins." She paused for a moment as a mild look of consternation passed over her features. "Maybe Riley Finn." She glanced at Logan. "He was in the army."
Logan frowned, trying to associate names with distant memories. "Wasn’t he your boyfriend when your mom…?" he trailed off in horror at the memory he was bringing up. He scrambled quickly to cover. "Uh, wasn’t he the one that…?" he’d been about to say ‘cheated on you’, but realized that wasn’t any good either. But strangely, it didn’t seem to bother her, much.
"He cheated on me and then left when Mom was sick," she finished for him. There was an awkward silence until Alec cleared his throat.
"Ah… anyone else?"
Buffy thought for a moment, her head tilted to the side. "Maybe… Faith?" But then she shook her head. "No, she’s probably gone."
"Might not be," Max shrugged. "You never know." There was a ghost of a smile from Buffy, almost wistful.
"Faith what?" Alec asked, his pen still at the ready.
"Umm," Buffy thought for a moment then shrugged. "Wilkins maybe? I don’t know." She turned back to Logan, since he was the one who they said would be doing this research. "She was in prison."
"What for?" he asked hesitantly.
"Murder," she replied softly, her eyes fluttering shut as a memory flooded her mind. She shuddered and her eyes snapped open again.
"Oh?" Logan formed the word as softly as she had. "What happened?" All three of them were wondering along the same lines, if this Faith had been the one to perpetrate the murder that Buffy had been accused of.
"She killed the deputy mayor of Sunnydale," she whispered quickly. The others exchanged puzzled glances. Apparently, like Logan had said before, a lot of murders happened in Sunnydale.
"Okay," Alec sighed finally, reading through the list so far. "Any more you can think of?"
Buffy’s mind touched briefly on one other. But he’d be just as hard to track, if not more so than Angel would. And he wasn’t someone she particularly wanted to track down. No matter what Spike had claimed, even if he had dedicated himself to helping her and protecting Dawn in those final days. There was no telling what the Vampire was like now, or even if he still walked this earth. "No," she murmured. "That’s it."
May 23rd, 2021
Law Offices of Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles
Early evening
"I can’t believe this" Angel repeated, still somewhat in shock. He was staring across his desk at Tara, who sat in a chair pulled up close to his wide desk. On the surface, she seemed calm, but on closer examination, one could tell how upset she was. From the whiteness around her lips where they pressed together to the clenched hands folded in her lap.
"Well I can!" another voice rang out stridently. "It wasn’t enough that Buffy couldn’t stay dead the first time. Oh no, she has to come back and screw everything up again!"
"Cordy," Angel sighed even as he spoke chidingly. The tall brunette was facing him, leaning against the desk, her arms crossed over her chest defiantly. At his words though, she lost the defiant, mulish look upon her face. There was no denying that there had once been hard feelings between the two women, but Buffy’s death had affected her profoundly. As it had everyone who knew the blonde Slayer. Her emotional outburst was just her knee jerk reaction to the shock and the immediate return of feelings that Cordelia didn’t like. Namely inadequacy.
Angel turned back to Tara, who’d watched the by-play between them as impassively as she usually did. "Can you be sure it was really her?"
"A-as sure as I c-can be," Tara shrugged. "We d-did the spell on the amethyst she touched." Her words grew stronger the longer she talked the more she fell into a subject that was comforting and familiar to her. "The residual signature was Buffy’s. But I don’t know how that’s possible. Unless…"
"Unless what?" Angel demanded. He could tell immediately that Tara knew more than she was letting on. The blonde sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"T-there’s something th-that I’ve never spoken of," she went on. There was no use hiding this secret now. She wasn’t sure that there ever had been, but for the major reason that it had been hope killed between the Scooby gang that they didn’t want to perpetuate by telling the others of their plan. And their failure. She leaned forward, clasping her hands and leaning her arms on the desk. "A f-few months after Buffy died… Willow f-found a spell."
"Oh my God," Angel breathed as he began to imagine precisely what Tara was alluding to.
"What?" Cordy demanded. "What kind of spell." Her eyes darted back and forth between the two. "I don’t understand." Tara took a deep breath.
"A resurrection spell."
Angel seemed to recover his ability to speak, and right along with it, his righteousness. "I can’t believe you did that!" he raged, springing up from his seat. Tara almost cringed back, but she had worked too long and hard on her self-esteem to instantly cower before her friend. "Why? How could you try something like that?"
"W-we were desperate," she told him, trying to maintain her emotions. Even though it had been so long ago, she still felt twinges of guilt about their actions that night. "Gangs of demons were running loose, the vampires were increasing. B-but it doesn’t matter. We didn’t succeed. Obviously."
"But how?’ Angel demanded again. "She would have come back… something dark and unnatural…"
"Not necessarily," Tara shook her head. "It was a magical death, not a natural one." Angel stared at her in disbelief until he finally lowered his head in resignation.
"What are we going to do then?" Cordy demanded. "Are you going to call these people?"
Tara pressed her lips together, coming to a decision. As much as she wanted to trust her eyes and other senses, there was something she needed to see for herself, before she’d fully believe it. "We need to go to Sunnydale."
May 23rd, 2021
Motel room, Los Angeles
Late evening
"We need to go to Seattle," Logan sighed, resigned. He’d been checking his cell phone, but there were no new messages on it. Not that he should have expected any. The phone hadn’t left his side all day. He would have heard it ring. And if he hadn’t, Max or Alec would have. He directed the comment to Buffy, knowing that the two transgenics would be in agreement. There were things they needed to get back to. Namely their jobs and friends.
"Not yet," Buffy continued her previous stubborn argument. She took another sip of water from the glass that Max had finally procured for her. She kept hoping that the sip she took would satisfy Alec, but he was still hovering over her like a prison warden. She had drunk half the glass by now and as she had imagined it would, the hard city water wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. It would have been fine if she’d had something of more substance in her stomach, but at the moment, she didn’t care for that route. She’d suffer the mildly uncomfortable roiling of her abdomen, rather than the certainty of everything coming back up again.
"Buffy, I really doubt this lady’s going to call," Logan finally tried. "Emily said that they didn’t move into the hotel until 2013 and the place was empty long before that. I really don’t think that they have any information whatsoever on your friend."
"And as to that other chick, Cordelia" Max chimed in, "she probably got married or moved away. A lot can happen in twenty years."
"Yeah," Buffy conceded. "I guess. But…" Couldn’t they see that right now LA was the only connection to anything that she had. And it wasn’t even a sure connection. There was no reason for her to stay here, other than the desire to find her sister. And with the strangely developed sensation that she could actually feel her sister’s life force, Buffy didn’t know which way to go on this. Somehow to her, leaving California felt like running away. And if she were truly honest with herself, part of her did want to run. But the overly sarcastic part of her psyche that seemed to have been resurrected as well told her that things wouldn’t change; she wouldn’t change no matter how far she ran.
"Look," Alec broke in, "if the woman from the hotel doesn’t call us by morning, we’ll head back to Seattle. There isn’t much Logan can do here to help you," he pointed out equitably. He reached out to tentatively rub her shoulder, the action growing stronger when she didn’t recoil from the touch. "Just because we’re going back there doesn’t mean we won’t come back here if we need to. Okay?"
Buffy stared up at him. She couldn’t fathom why this stranger was trying so hard to make things easier for her. He’d been blunt with her, tried not to pull any punches. Somehow, his empathy and then complete disregard of taking the gentlest path with her had earned him a little respect. Somehow the pity she could see in Logan’s and Max’s eyes nearly made her come undone. It elicited the fear in her that they’d see something deeper, somehow know the truth of what she was. What she had tired of in her former life. The weariness she’d carried since even before her mother had become sick. And right now, she couldn’t summon the energy to deal with those emotions again. It was so much easier to leave them behind. Focus on the task at hand, finding and ensuring Dawn’s safety. Then maybe she could rest.
And if that was the purpose, to find Dawn, then she needed to go where the information was. And it wasn’t here in LA. Finally, she gave in. She was starting to trust Alec, just a smidgen. He hadn’t steered her wrong yet, and there was something in him that cried out to the person she had been. The person she couldn’t afford to be right now. But she didn’t know how else to behave, so she didn’t. With supreme will, she shut down the small tendrils of what could have been friendship between them, steeling her face as she gave her answer. "Okay."
May 24th, 2021
Motel room, Los Angeles
After midnight
Alec glanced down quickly as he felt the splash of water on his leg. He held back a smile. Buffy had finally fallen asleep. They’d been watching television for the past few hours. Logan was sound asleep on the other bed and Max was sprawled in one of the chairs she’d angled under the lamp hanging by the window. She was reading something, but every so often, Alec would see her attention being caught by the local programming. He’d suggested once that he should move so she could lie down comfortably, but she’d just waved the suggestion off.
He wanted to kick himself that he hadn’t thought to take the glass from Buffy the first time she’d started to nod off. But she’d shaken herself back to wakefulness almost immediately. And had taken another sip of water to cover the fact that she was slipping into slumber. She almost dared Alec to say anything about it when she had glanced up at him, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
But now, there was a damp spot on the thigh of his jeans. It didn’t bother him, since he’d been in much more uncomfortable situations. So with a sigh, he reached now for the empty glass and was relieved when it came loose easily from her slack grasp. He set it carefully on the floor where he’d deposited the plates from dinner earlier. When he straightened back up, he realized his mistake. Buffy had slipped to the side he’d vacated and now she was leaning against him. He glanced helplessly at Max who just grinned arrogantly and deliberately buried her nose back in her book.
This sort of situation wasn’t ever a problem for him. Extracting himself from a sleeping woman didn’t bother him. He usually made himself pretty clear that he wasn’t looking for involvement, so when the time came for him to leave the lady of the evening’s bed come morning, he’d just jump up and head off. If they woke up, oh well. He didn’t have much practice in trying to keep a woman asleep while he maneuvered away from her. But in this instance he knew that was precisely what he had to do. It shouldn’t be hard for a soldier of his caliber, trained in stealth and all that.
So Alec thought on it a moment and then reached across her with his free arm, and hugged her slightly to him. Buffy stiffened a moment in her sleep and then relaxed. Alec carefully scooted himself lower, relieved when her body seemed to follow naturally. He had to let loose of her shoulders and reached down to hook his arm around her knees. A slight tug and her body shifted again to find a comfortable position, her hips shimmying lower on the bed. Finally he was satisfied and let go. Her head rolled to the side as he eased off the bed and he held his breath for a moment, but she didn’t wake.
With a self-congratulatory grin, he padded over to his bag and grabbed up his nightclothes again. He saw Max watching him and he winked cheekily at her. She just let loose a light snort and rolled her eyes. Without words, he headed for the bathroom to change. He’d sack out for a few hours, then see if Max needed him to relieve her so that she could get some sleep.
He didn’t know how much later it was after his quick shower and nightly ablutions. He’d just finished pulling his T-shirt over his head and down his torso to settle about the low-riding sweats, when he heard noises from the outer room. He heard Max call his name and he wrenched the door open to see Max trying to contain Buffy, who was thrashing on the bed. His eyes widened as he took in the blood on Max’s face where Buffy had apparently slashed at her. He hurried to the bed, just as Logan began to wake up.
"What’s going on?" Logan mumbled drowsily.
"She’s having a nightmare!" Max called back as she struggled to keep from being kicked.
"Let her go!" Alec ordered quickly, not daring to touch either woman, lest he be kicked himself. He had seen immediately how Buffy’s hands were curled into claws as she continued to fight some unseen barrier above her. Something that Max had become part of in her nightmare-riddled mind. Max was taken aback by his order, but then let go without verbal question. "It’s not a nightmare," Alec spoke swiftly, even as his mind tried to formulate a plan. "She’s reliving… it."
"Damn," Logan murmured as he sat up, helpless to know what to do for his tormented cousin. But then Max was moving into action again.
"Logan, open the door!" she ordered as she moved to the bed again. Alec was about to stop her but she brushed him aside. "Get some air in here." Logan scrambled from the bed, glad that he’d fallen asleep fully dressed still. He pulled the door open, hoping for a breeze.
Alec finally caught on to Max’s plan as she shoved him to the other side of the bed. If Buffy were reliving it, they just had to complete the actions physically, hoping it would register mentally. Alec held his hand under Buffy’s, bumping into it deliberately and as they’d hoped, her fingers curled around his, the motion repeated on her other side with Max.
"Come out Buffy," Max implored, her voice low and reassuring. At her nod, both transgenics pulled the still thrashing woman upright to a sitting position. Alec stepped to the side as he felt the slight breeze trickle through the room to them.
"Breathe Buffy," he urged, stooping close to whisper it into her ear. "You’re free. You’re safe. C'mon, take a breath." He had to continue along that vein for a moment as she gasped, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen, but finally the change in position, the soft, reassuring voice and the play of wind in her hair woke her up. Her hands clenched convulsively around Max’s and Alec’s and her head whipped around to take in each person as they stared at her.
Logan standing by the door, trying not to sniffle at what horrors his cousin was subjected to. Max, standing to her left, stroking her hand in what the other woman meant to be a comforting gesture. And Alec, closest to her, his eyes soft as he beheld her. Pity in every single one of them. And she was undone.
Her hands slipped from theirs to wrap around the knees she drew up to her chest. Her head fell forward and a shudder ran through her. Max and Alec exchanged concerned glances. "I can’t do this," she cried out, a harsh ragged sob. "I can’t!"
Chapter Thirteen
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