Chapter 3 – Late Monday, Alternate Reality

It took a few minutes of crying before she realised she had to take control of herself and the situation. Whatever was going on, she was the Slayer and she had faced worse. She had even been alone before. There had been times when, even though the others were around, she had shut them out, or times when she knew they would not like her plans. Picking herself up, she started to think. Spike had been quite happy with the idea of getting some information for her. And he had been seen. That must mean he had a way of getting around in daylight. She took a good look around. She followed the walls of this strange basement to a crypt, until she found an area where damage seemed more severe than elsewhere. Logically, if there was an exit, that would be a weak point in the structure. The damage could be worse there simply because of some specific action of the explosion, but it was worth checking out. She made her way to that part of the wall, picking her way over the debris. As she got closer, she had to move several large slabs of rock and earth, and she was glad she still had Slayer strength. After a few minutes hard work, she spotted the exit. It took another half an hour of lifting chunks of rubble before she could get through. When she did, she stepped through gingerly, unsure of what she would find. The floor seemed solid enough, so she took a few steps further in. Once inside, she noticed a little light filtering through grills in the ground above. She had heard of the system of tunnels installed when the old Mayor was in power, but hadn't really understood the extent of them. The floor in here was still covered with rubble, but it was much thinner on the ground. She started to explore, looking around for some sign of Spike – some indication he had managed to get away. What she saw, made her heart sink.

About 10 metres from the tunnel entrance, she saw him. He was lying in a heap, looking exactly as if some much bigger monster had dropped him. Which was almost exactly what had happened, if you simply exchange 'monster' for 'explosion'. She rushed over to him, not knowing what she would find. He was crumpled, more or less on his front. Very little of the backs of his clothes had survived the blast, and what she could see of his skin was badly burned. She called his name, hoping he was not so injured he couldn't hear. At first there was no response, but as her voice gradually increased in volume, he reacted, groaning in pain. Buffy gently put a hand on an arm which didn't seem to be too badly hurt. As he felt her touch, his head tried to turn in her direction, and his eyelids flickered open.

"B..Buffy?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied softly, "I'm here."

"Did you say something? Sorry, my ears'r still ringing from the explosion."

He attempted to get up, but fell back down again, moaning in pain.

"You've got some pretty bad burns on your back and legs," she said, louder, hoping he would hear.

"I noticed," he answered her, grimacing. "Still, can't stay here. Can you help me up?"

Buffy tried to help him, wincing with him as the pain in his burned back threatened to make him pass out. When he was vertical again, he leant heavily against her.

"I heard them coming. Got some information today, tell you later. Don't know where we should go." He was obviously finding it hard to remain conscious. In her own world, Buffy would have called on one of her friends for help. Here, she was on her own.

"Could you help me find the way to my house from here, Spike?" she asked him. "I don't know my way through the tunnels, and they might have someone watching your front door."

He took a deep breath and nodded, deciding that words were too difficult at the moment.

It took them more than an hour to walk the distance to Revello Drive. Even then, the hardest part was still to come. They had to hoist Spike up out of the manhole closest to her house. He went first, taking the steps slowly, with Buffy supporting him as well as she could. Trying to be inconspicuous was difficult, but they made the short journey without seeing anyone.

Once inside, Buffy quickly thought of the sofa and just as quickly dismissed the idea. If he could lie on his back, it might have been an option. As it was, he would be better off on a bed. The only one currently made up was hers, so that was where she headed. As soon as he flopped front down on the bed, Spike passed out – something Buffy thought was probably for the best. She headed for the bathroom to find a first aid kit. Fortunately, even in this world, she kept a well-stocked kit, and she was able to find what she wanted.

She returned to her room, finding Spike was still unconscious. Taking a pair of scissors from her own drawer, she started to cut the remains of the jeans and T-shirt off his charred skin. He moaned a few times, but didn't seem to come to. Next, she started to clean the burns as gently as she could. This elicited much more groaning, and she found she was upset to be causing him pain. When everything was as clean as she could manage, she gently covered the damage as well as she could. While waiting for him to be up to talking, she went to the linen cupboard and brought out enough to make up her mom's bed. While she worked, she tried to decide what to do next. The priority, as she saw it, was to get Spike back on his feet. To do that, needed blood – human preferably, although animal would do. From what Giles had told her, demons were now the prey of various vigilante groups around the town. She assumed it was one of these which was responsible for Spike's current plight, and if they were equipped with Initiative equipment, they could be tracked. More importantly, she suspected that Spike's usual sources of blood would be unavailable. That only left one option. Her. She wasn't happy about it, but she couldn't think of an alternative.

When she finished with the bed, she returned to her room, noticing that Spike seemed to be awake again. She sat down on the bed beside him, trying not to jar him with her movement. He managed a half-hearted grin.

"You need blood." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah,"

"Any suggestions?" She had decided to see if he knew of any options before she offered.

"No," he whispered. "When I was out today, found, almost no demons left. Usual sources won't supply." The effort of even these words seemed to cost him dearly.

"Ok," she said, leaving the room.

Spike had been lying in a haze of pain for some time. He had been more or less aware of everything she had done while cleaning and dressing his burns. He had found that she hesitated when he reacted, and he wanted the whole thing over as soon as possible. So he had grit his teeth and let her believe he couldn't feel what she was doing. The effort involved in his recent conversation was major. He didn't know how to get some blood, and he knew that without it, he was useless.

When she returned a few moments later, Spike turned his head to see what she was doing. Afterwards he realised it was just as well that he was lying down, because he would have fallen down when he saw what she intended. In her hands she held a sharp knife, some bandages and a long strip of cloth. Holding her left hand close to him, she slit her wrist with one quick stroke, pushing it to his mouth. The smell of her warm blood could was all he could sense. Instinctively, he put his mouth to her wound and sucked. He lost track of time, not knowing anything except the sensation of warm, human, Slayer blood running down his throat. A whimper from Buffy brought him back with a start and he pulled his mouth away, not sure how much he had taken. "Not too much," he realised as she still had the presence of mind to tie the strip of cloth around her arm, slowing the blood flow, and apply a pressure bandage to the wound. She looked pale, but that was hardly surprising.

The power of the blood coursed through his body. He could feel the healing process start immediately. There was no reduction in pain, if anything the opposite, but he knew he was on the mend. "You ok?" he asked her, suddenly unsure because of her silence.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she sighed. "I've lost blood before. Slayer recovery's pretty good. How about you?"

"Better," he agreed. "You didn't have to, you know. I wouldn't have asked."

"If you had, I wouldn't have given," she smiled back at him. "Feel up to telling me what you found?"

Spike swallowed hard. The taste of her blood was still fresh in his mouth, and even in his currently weakened state, his demon only wanted to drain every drop. "Found very little. All the usual demon haunts – empty. Didn't find any demons, no vampires, whatever. Something big hit this town. It wasn't always like this. The signs of demon occupation were there – just out of date. How 'bout you?"

"Yeah, had to call a man in England to find out, but I got some news." Buffy continued to talk, telling Spike about her meeting with Willow and Xander and more importantly about her talk with Giles.

"So, you put the kibosh on Giles, then," he said, smiling. "That's almost funny. You know, for someone who was always into telling me I'm bad, to end up being deported for stalking a minor. But – the Initiative? They didn't do much good in our version of reality, did they? Why were they so successful in this one?"

"Don't know. Funny thing is, they did all this without a Slayer. Maybe even because there wasn't a Slayer. Maybe our reality'd be better if I hadn't tried to live up to my calling. Maybe everything I suffered, everything I put my friends through, maybe it was all a waste of time. Should've just waited for Riley Finn to come along and make everything right." Buffy sounded depressed.

"Riley? Where'd the cardboard wonder come into this? He was one of the Initiative in this reality too?" Spike sounded amused.

"From what I heard, he was the head honcho – he ran the show. He was the one who came up with the idea of arming the vigilante groups – like the one that blew up your place. According to Giles, the Initiative left a while ago. Only the vigilantes are left."

Buffy hadn't exactly been happy since she woke up that morning. Everything in her world had changed. As she thought over her recent past, she realised. "Last night, as I was falling asleep, I wished for something. Not this, but this is what I got. I wished I could just live my own life without everyone making demands on me. You know, sister, Watcher, friends. Then I woke up, and none of them are in my life any more. None of them are making any demands any more. The only person I have from my previous existence is you. And now I find, that if I'd done what I wanted to do in the first place, if I'd just put two fingers up to the whole Slayer thing, Sunnydale'd actually be better off. Ever felt a complete waste of space?"

Buffy realised as she finished, that she had tears on her cheeks. She only noticed because Spike had raised a hand to brush them away. She pushed his hand away abruptly, immediately sorry when she saw that her sudden movement had caused him pain.

"You'll never be a waste of space, love. Even in this reality, you've got a purpose. There's something about you, pet. Something the Powers or whatever controlling entity there is, needs. If you're here, I'm damn sure there's something wrong with this version of reality. And we're going to find out what."

For some reason Buffy couldn't really understand, she found Spike's words comforting. He was right. There was something wrong here – not least with the idea of vigilante groups existing at all. In her time as a Slayer she'd learned a middle way. It was something Xander had never understood. It was the reason Spike hadn't been dusted as soon as he was chipped. The idea that demons were generally not a good thing was still there, but it was tempered with the idea that some of them were pretty harmless. If they didn't threaten human kind, why should they be automatically killed? When she looked back at Spike, his eyes were closed, but he looked peaceful now. The haggard expression on his face when he had been unconscious was gone. She got up as quietly as she could and went to her drawers and wardrobe to find night things and clothes for the morning and took them into the other bedroom. Looking at the remnants of her skirt and blouse, she made a mental note to check her finances. If she was going to find out what was wrong here, she'd need to update her wardrobe. She didn't necessarily expect to be rescuing injured vampires from bombsites regularly, but she definitely needed something harder wearing than she had chosen for today. Not merely muddy, not merely bloodstained, it was also ripped in several places. Sighing, she rolled the set up and placed it in the waste-paper basket. She pulled on a wrap and went to take a shower.

The feeling of the hot water on her body seemed to revive not only her body but her spirit too. Spike was right. She was here for a reason. And the sooner she sorted it out, the sooner she could go back. When she had finished, she checked on her houseguest. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, so she simply light-proofed the window and left.

Spike watched her from under lidded eyes as she checked on him, wearing only her wrap and with her hair in a towel. He thought she looked lovely like that, but knew she wouldn't thank him for the opinion. He was still in a lot of pain, but knew that a night's sleep was the best thing for him. He'd need more blood tomorrow, but hoped he'd be in a fit state to find some for himself –– even if he had to cause one or two animals to meet an untimely end.