Most Of All
:: CHAPTER FIVE ::
Buffy opened her eyes as if for the first time in a long while. White light poured into them as she sat up, her hand automatically moving to protect from the shock.
"Hello?" Her voice croaked as a shadow began to appear and focus.
"Ah, William!" Delaney grinned. "I've been meaning to speak to you."
"William?" Buffy asked, clearing her throat and looking around. All she could see was white. Bright white. There were no walls, no windows, no ceiling or floor. "Where am I? What's going on?"
The man tutted. "Oh, we're not starting that again, are we Spike?" He grinned at his own use of the nickname.
Buffy's face lost all expression. Her eyes bulged and fixed upon the short round man in front of her. "Spike?" Her breath caught in her throat. She looked down in front of her. She had a little less…and a little more… "Where in hell am I?"
"Half right," said the man, "heaven." He corrected. He peered into her eyes before he let out a gasp and doubled back, covering his mouth. "You're not William! Oh dear…" He turned and began pacing, muttering to himself. "How could this have happened? Oh, no! We are in trouble. An imbalance…" he froze and turned, "…or worse – a balance!" Buffy watched him, confused. "My dear, tell me, what is your name?"
"Um, er, Buffy." She said, confused at first. "Buffy, Elizabeth Summers. Miss." She corrected as she came more into her own. Gradually things were beginning to appear around her. The white was replaced by dancing specks, and then by faint walls. Soon, a room appeared around her, with a desk and two chairs. There was a woman sat in the desk, typing at a computer.
"Yes, Delaney?" The woman asked in a tired voice. She shot a sideways glance at Buffy's shocked form before winking and turning back to the man.
"Oh dear, oh dear!" He whined, pacing in front of her. "There's been a switch! I don't know how this could have happened! Not for centuries! Oh dear, oh dear!"
"Silence Delaney!" She commanded in a deep voice, standing up. She moved round the desk to where he had frozen, silenced, and placed the palm of her hand against his forehead. Moments later she released him and he seemed to snap-back into life. "I see." She said, angrily, darting a swift look towards Buffy. She sat back down and rested her forehead on her hand, propped up by the table.
"So you see what I mean!" Delaney continued. "This hasn't happened for centuries—"
"Yes," the woman agreed, "and to think what happened last time! Chaucer was never the same after that twelve-year stint as the Pope." She let out a long breath.
"Um, hey!" Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?"
The woman glared at her before replying. "You have switched personages with an ex-vampire, Spike. Do you know who?" The short pause wasn't enough for a response. "Evidently he knows you. Anyway, you're stuck like this until I can have a word with Jim. That's it. You may leave." The woman began typing onto the computer, clearly dismissing their presence.
"Hey!" Buffy growled, slamming her fists down onto the desk. "What the hell d--"
"Heaven." Corrected Delaney.
"Whatever!" She screeched. "What am I supposed to do? How long will this take? Am I just expected to wait as—as—"
"Yes." The woman plastered a saccharine smile across her face. "Don't worry, dear," she slimed, "Jim'll fix it." She cackled at her own joke.
Buffy stared, wide-mouthed in disbelief and disgust, as the room began to fade out of view from around them.
What's going on? She didn't know. The one thing she knew was she hated Spike.
"So," bobbed the little man in front of her, his hands behind his back as he brought Buffy back from her trance, "you're the Slayer, huh?"
She glared at him. "Yes." She spat out.
"How come you didn't kill the vampire?" He grinned, innocently.
"What?" She scrunched up her face. "I thought you people saw everything."
"We do." He answered simply, still bobbing. She continued to stare at him. "So…" He asked, probingly.
"What do you want?" She snapped, irritably, crossing her arms.
Delaney nodded and grinned, cheekily, like a little child wanting in on a secret. "You like him, don't you?" He continued to nod, though his words were more of a statement then a question.
She ground her teeth together before speaking in slow, one-syllable words. "I hate him!"