Chapter Two: If I'm here . . .
Dawn slowly pushed open the door to Buffy's room. Glancing at her sleeping sister, the teen silently snuck across the room to the closet. Pulling it open and blessing Buffy's habit of oiling the door, which had started when slaying was still a secret and Buffy needed to put away her weapons at night without waking up their mother with squeaky doors, Dawn bent over and scanned the closet floor for the pair of brown leather boots that were the subject of her quest. Spotting them in the far back of the closet, Dawn leaned over and reached for them. Unfortunately, the boots were farther back than Dawn thought. She leaned too far forward and, in an effort to keep herself from falling, grabbed onto clothing hanging in the closet on her way down. Regrettably, Buffy's packed closet meant that the wooden hanger bar was already supporting more weight than it was meant to. The addition of Dawn's slight weight was more than the poor bar could bear and it snapped in half. Dawn and the entire hanging contents of Buffy's closet collapsed in a noisy heap, accompanied by Dawn's shriek of surprise.
The teen froze, and then sheepishly dug her way out of the mountain of clothes, fully expecting her sister to be glaring at her from the bed. Instead, Dawn's carefully arranged expression of innocence met her sister's still sleeping form. That's odd, the teen thought. Buffy usually slept lightly, a feature of being a warrior. Dawn's brow furrowed in concern as she realized that not only had Buffy not woken up, she hadn't even moved. Crawling the rest of the way out of the avalanche of clothing, Dawn crossed the room to her sister's bed calling her name.
"Buffy?" Dawn leaned over and shook Buffy's shoulder, pulling slightly, and causing the blonde to roll over on her back. However, the Slayer still remained asleep. Dawn grew more worried as she started to shake the other girl harder, still receiving no reaction. Turning, she bolted to the door and yelled out into the hall.
"Willow!"
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"Darla? Dru?" Angelus looked between the two, taking in their defensive postures. "What's going on?"
Buffy was the first to put the pieces together in her head. The weird dress she was wearing; the fact that Darla had said "Drusilla" earlier, even though there was no one else in the room, and Angel – no, Angelus had just addressed Darla and Drusilla. Somehow she had woken up in Drusilla's body.
Taking in the fireplace along one wall cheerily blazing, the old-fashioned atmosphere and furniture of the room, and the clothing the other two vampires were wearing, as well as the presence of one dead and one un-cursed vampire, Buffy concluded that not only was she in Drusilla's body, but she was in Drusilla's body sometime in the past.
Oh, God. I'm a vampire.
Oh, God. I'm Drusilla.
Buffy felt almost hysterical laughter welling up inside of her. She had been so worried when she awoke and found herself next to a cold body that she'd done something stupid. That she'd given into lust and cruelly used the vampire that was in love with her, the vampire that had gotten a soul for her, yet again. But no. She'd just woken up as his crazy ex. Even better, though, was the fact that she'd woken up next to her first love's dead, bitchy, and, oh yes, dead, sire and said first love, version un-souled 1.0. As if the un-souled sequel she'd been treated to a few years back wasn't enough. Was that the legacy of loving her? Vampires either gain or lose a soul; humans just try to get turned into vampires?
All of these internal ramblings passed though Buffy's mind in the space of a few seconds. She realized that Angelus was still waiting for an answer – Darla had not yet spoken. She wracked her mind for a response. What would Dru say? Buffy thought frantically, taking time out only to remark to herself, And there's something I never thought I'd say. Finally she took a deep breath, and reminding herself that she was crazy and British, she spoke, in a passable accent.
"I had a bad dream, Daddy. All sorts of scary . . ." Buffy paused, internally wincing at the endearment of Daddy and desperately trying to think of a word to complete the sentence. "…frogs," she finished weakly. Frogs? What the hell? she admonished herself before explaining in what she hoped was a perfectly logical tone. "They wanted my dollies. They're mine. They can't have them."
Angelus snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention away from his crazy childe. Buffy almost let her shoulders slump in relief, before catching herself. Apparently her Drusilla impression was close enough that she was safe for now.
As Angelus moved across the room to sit in a chair by the fire, Buffy realized that she needed to find out exactly when she was in order to judge how much leeway she had in her impression. Perhaps Drusilla wasn't that old and the other two just weren't used to her yet. Buffy realized that she hadn't seen Spike, nor was there evidence of another person sharing this room with them. That didn't mean, of course, that he wasn't there, but the chances were good that she was sometime before he'd joined the group. Buffy sighed internally, wishing she'd paid more attention to Spike and Angel's pasts. She knew Drusilla was older than the bleached-blond, but not by much. Twenty, maybe fifty years at most. So, this is likely sometime mid-to late 1800's, she concluded. Well, not that it matters all that much, I guess, since I don't know when Spike was turned exactly. Late 1800's. Buffy mentally chided herself for not knowing. I can't believe I was sleeping with him and I don't know how old he is!
"Go back to bed, Dru," Angelus commanded, and, having no other plan, Buffy obeyed.
First things first, she thought as she lay down on the bed. Don't blow my cover and find a way out of here!
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Frogs? What the hell? Cordy thought uncharitably as mentally unbalanced vampiress explained why she'd jumped from the bed shrieking. A shiver passed though the seer and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, still trying to put the pieces together. Let's see, I woke up next to Drusilla. And thank God we were both clothed! We're wearing these funky old dresses, in some room that looks like a movie set, and neither Angel or Dru acted like it was odd to see me. And wait, is Angel taller? She cocked her head to the side, studying her friend. Or am I shorter?
Remembering her earlier consternation with her reduced cleavage, Cordy looked down at herself, taking in the fancy and obviously expensive and old dress she wore. As she looked, a strand of long, blonde hair fell forward. The young woman pushed it behind her ear. As she lowered her hand, she froze, realizing that while her hair was currently blonde, it wasn't that blonde. Nor was it nearly so long. She pulled the hair back out from behind her ear and studied it. She looked around for a mirror. Seeing one hanging on the wall behind Drusilla, Cordy moved to the side so she could see herself in it. However, the mirror remained empty, reflecting neither Drusilla nor herself. All of a sudden the pieces clicked into place and Cordy realized with horror whose body she had woken up in.
It's some kind of punishment! People get to use drunkenness all the time as an excuse for poor sex choices. Why can't I use impending apocalypse? I make one bad decision – "Impregnated with demon spawn" the little voice in the back of her mind interjected – okay, two bad choices and what? And, oh God, what if I'm pregnant? Who cares if I'm pregnant? I'm DARLA! Just because I slept with a boy who, had he not grown up in a hell dimension, very likely would have been like my own son, I get transported though time to be his mother?
Desperate laughter bubbled up inside Cordy and she franticly fought to keep it down. Maybe I died, and this is my punishment. To spend eternity with the bastard half of the man I love, while playing the part of the wicked bitch of the west!
She shivered again, this time not from cold, but from horror. Angelus caught the movement as Drusilla climbed back into the large bed and patted his thigh.
"Come o're here by the fire, Darla. I'm sure we can get you warmed up."
The leer that accompanied his remark made Cordelia want to shudder. Oh, God, what do I do? she thought anxiously. Darla, I'm Darla. I can do this. She nearly sighed with relief as the answer came to her. Bitchy. I can do bitchy.
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As morning dawned on the other side of the dark drapes protecting the three vampires, after Angelus had crawled in between the two women on the bed and each had uneasily curled up next to one side of him, the same thought crossed both women's minds.
If I'm here, is she in my body?
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Connor became instantly alert as he awoke from sleep. His senses screamed Vampire! and he sprang from the bed, instinctively facing the vampire in the room.
When Angel made no threatening move, only glared, Connor reached behind him and pulled the top blanket off the bed, wrapping it around his waist, being careful to keep himself between his father and the still sleeping Cordelia.
"Cordy," he whispered loudly, shaking the mattress to wake the seer, his eyes never leaving the glowering vampire. When the woman failed to respond, he shook the mattress harder, calling her name again.
"I'm not going to attack you." Angel spoke for the first time, his voice tight and hard, barely reassuring.
Connor regarded him warily, his look clearly saying he didn't fully believe his father's claim. However, the youth did back around the bed, so he could reach Cordy, while still facing his father – a compromise between keeping Angel in his visual range and remaining between the angry vampire and Cordelia. When he reached the other side, Connor once again shook the woman.
"Cordy, come on, wake up."
When Connor still received no response, Angel started to move forward, towards the bed. A harsh glare from Connor stopped him in his tracks.
Connor shook the seer again, roughly, and when she still failed to respond, he looked up at his father, appearing the inexperienced youth that he was. "What's wrong? Why isn't she waking up? We didn't . . . I didn't . . ."
"I know what you did," Angel cut him off, his voice nearly emotionless from the control he was exerting over it. When Connor looked up at him defiantly, the vampire admitted, "I don't know why she isn't waking up."
Connor let his gaze fall completely away from his father, an unspoken offering for a truce while Cordelia was in trouble. Angel approached the bed and placed a hand on Cordelia's forehead.
Feeling no fever, and noting that her pulse sounded strong, Angel hesitated before saying gruffly, "Get her dressed. We'll take her to the hotel."
For once, his son didn't argue.
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A/N: Thanks for the encouraging feedback, folks! Anne Rose, Michelle, Leahalexis, Rachel, Racharoni, Kaylyn, and Mr./Ms. No Name – you guys made my day! If there are any ideas that just jump out at you that you'd like to see here, let me know. No promises, b/c I have quite a few ideas of my own as to what's going to happen, but I'd love to hear from you!