The smell of food drifted right into Buffy's nostrils. Her eyes fluttered open. She remained still, not fully awake enough to do anything else.
Rise and shine. And doesn't that just smell so delicious?
The voice bounced around somewhere in her skull. Buffy registered the surroundings and her heart sank in disappointment. She felt no real will or desire to budge even an inch from the white bed sheets. She stared intently at the cream ceiling. The room itself was normal. The walls were the same colour as the ceiling. Plain net curtains covered a tightly sealed window. A small chair faced it. A wardrobe in the corner sat next to the small dressing table with a tiny lamp perched on it; the kind where you bent the neck to change the angle of the light.
Just as she really began to achieve that comfortable level of despair, the distinctive tip tap of feet resonated from the landing hall. She identified the awkward movement as a signature Giles shuffle.
Her head slowly turned toward the bedroom door.
She pretended not to notice the knock - she probably wouldn't have without Slayer hearing, quiet as it was. It gave her a few more seconds to adjust from the transition of being deep asleep to somewhat awake. Her mind crawled up from a place of worry. Thanks to this unplanned disappearance, she had no idea of the conditions back in her world. Images of all her friends, her mother, and Riley leapt to mind.
The knock came again, bolder and firmer. "Buffy?" Giles' easy urban lilt hung in the air. Buffy wondered how long it took before saying the name caused this Giles no pain at all. Did he have enough time in this dimension to grow to love her and care for her as a daughter? Or was her death simply another in the long line of Slayers before her?
She needed to return to her world, and soon.
"Are you awake? Breakfast is almost ready."
"Yeah, I'm up. Sort of." She stretched out in the bed, feeling slight tension on the right shoulder. Buffy touched the neat patch Giles had slapped over the wound last night and ripped it off. The skin underneath shone mild pink, rawer in contrast to the surrounding tissue. Of the injury, there was nothing left to even remotely indicate being stabbed with a sword less than ten hours ago.
She blinked amazement. Damn, that's fast. Did I ever heal this fast?
No, but I like it.
Me too.
"Well, uh, I-I'll see you downstairs then." Footsteps pattered away, giving Buffy the opportunity to sink back into mild depression. The overpowering scents dancing on her nose didn't keep her in it for long. They pulled her out with the tantalising smell of bacon, simmering eggs and black pudding - the smoke of toasted bread, sausages and hash browns -
Think the British duo plan to cook an English breakfast, The Inner Slayer said.
How... British, Buffy chuckled, despite herself. This dimension is clearly evil. They're gonna feed me to death.
Yup. Better make your escape now, to be sure.
Buffy made her escape out of the bed sheets, grabbing the red dressing gown folded on the chair by the window. She placed it over her ten-sizes-too-big shirt, courtesy of Giles providing clothes the night before. She slept in brown baggy trousers and a shirt which resembled more of a tent rather than a piece of clothing on her tiny frame. She tied the belt securely around her midriff. She looked around the room for any available slippers.
Eventually she fished a pair out of the wardrobe. She would need to ask Voirrey about the fate of her clothes from last night. She only possessed one set in this dimension.
Buffy opened the door, the scent of breakfast tugging her along.
When Voirrey dropped the little bombshell of the current Slayer in residence last night, Buffy admitted her reaction may had been slightly over the top. Hearing Faith's name mentally triggered a certain kind of response, nurtured through the many negative experiences of their many conflicts.
It turned out Voirrey shared a house with Faith, and her original plan involved taking Buffy to said shared house, shared with said Slayer, whom Buffy did not like. At Buffy's reaction, Voirrey decided that perhaps staying at Giles' would be a better idea, only stopping home for a few minutes.
At the time, Buffy still hadn't been fully convinced she dwelt in Alternate Sunnydale. Sure, being told was one thing. But actually letting it register and then accept it? She faced the crazy every day. But Alternate Sunnydale looked almost the same as regular Sunnydale. Only well, it wasn't.
Giles nearly had a heart attack upon seeing Buffy. Voirrey phoned him in advance, kept Buffy stuffed out of view when he first greeted Voirrey at the door, but it still wasn't enough to prepare him for the actual physical sight. His greeting consisted of something to the effect of his face draining of all colour, with a few pointless attempts at forming syllables. He also looked as though he wanted to faint. She guessed being dead for three years did that to some people.
If he hoped Alter-Buffy lived though, she wondered how he felt when he found out she wasn't the same Buffy he knew.
Giles helped patch up the wound, and Buffy condensed the entire course of her life in her own dimension, cliff notes style, from when the Master killed her and she forgot she was supposed to remain dead. The adults had been particularly excited and fascinated by the mention of two Slayers being alive at the exact same time.
Expressions fell when she dutifully informed them her last rendezvous with a certain Slayer ended up with one being locked in jail permanently. Hearing about what happened to Faith in her world really shook them up. Aware her tone came out more bitter and condemning than intended, she tried in compensation to lessen the impact of all the bad things Faith committed.
When Voirrey gently pried her for any information, any details on Faith before she came to Sunnydale, Buffy told her that Faith's Watcher had been killed by the vampire Kakistos.
She had to think for a moment for the name. She didn't enjoy telling Voirrey this fact. She hadn't even considered it greatly before.
Buffy snapped out of the thoughts when walking into the kitchen. The slap of her slippers on the floor grabbed Voirrey's attention, who at the time stood engaged in conversation with Giles. The older woman wore a long white skirt and a yellow, long sleeved top. Her short hair was clipped up. Giles donned a white shirt and black trousers. Voirrey started fussing: "Oh good, there you are. Here's food. Please eat it." The older woman steered Buffy to the table laden with food. A chequered red and white tablecloth covered the wood. "That's yours." She pointed at a plate. The fried eggs stared back at Buffy.
"Interesting choice of clothes," Giles acknowledged.
"Yeah, about that... where did you hide my clothes?" Buffy tucked into her breakfast ravenously, making sure to cut up the eggs.
"Ah yes. I was considering…" Voirrey pursed her lips. "Perhaps we better go shopping later."
Buffy interpreted that to mean she wouldn't be seeing her bloody, torn clothes anytime soon. She sighed through a mouthful of bacon, beans and fried bread.
"Mmf arll mmmrdnnw."
Neither Watcher understood. Buffy gestured vaguely, greatly exaggerating each chew.
"I said...I'm all sad now."
Voirrey patted her in a reassuring way, rolled up her sleeves, and sat down to start her own breakfast. Giles contributed to the meal with his own addition, pouring hot water into a blue teapot. An aroma of fresh peppermint left Buffy no doubt what the concoction was. The teapot was placed on a mat in the middle of the table, along with a pitcher of milk, three mugs, spoons and sugar.
"Did you uh, sleep well last night?" Giles asked, taking one of the mugs. Voirrey reached out to claim one with a blue wreath of flowers decorating the rim, leaving Buffy the one with a picture of the Union Jack. She rolled her eyes.
"Well as I can, I guess. Lot of information digest-y and all that." She tried some toast. The food really did taste good.
"We haven't told the Council about you, as of yet," Giles admitted, filling his mug up. He ignored the sugar and the milk.
"He really wanted to, though." Voirrey shot a look. "We came to the conclusion that it would be more... prudent to wait."
"Yes, quite." Giles used a fork to poke at his bacon.
"Thanks." Buffy smiled at them. The Council liked interfering at the best of times. Buffy entering the game had a very high percentage of whipping them up into an uncontrollable frenzy.
"Also. If you really want…" the older woman leant forward, "We could keep you... separated from the people you associate with in your own dimension. If you want to return to your own world, it may not do to have an emotional attachment to anyone here. The option is there, although returning you to your world might take time."
"I understand what you're saying," Buffy said. "But I'll go postal by myself. I think I can risk meeting them. If they don't mind."
Being alone was not an option. Alternate Scooby or not, big mistake or not, Buffy wanted to see them. Even if they were just mirror images, she wanted to talk to them. Sweet Muppety Odin, she could do with some Willow babble.
"Of course." The Watcher handed Buffy a full mug of tea, mixed with milk and sugar. She sipped her own, froth lathering the top of her lip in a moustache.
Buffy crunched another bit of toast, frowning suspicion. "Do you want to keep me separated?"
"What do you mean?" the female Watcher inquired, polite.
"I mean, how you bought that whole thing up. You're anxious about introducing me to Faith, aren't you? You'd rather we didn't meet up at all. Not that I'd be complaining, but am I right?"
The older woman's expression became unreadable. Buffy meticulously drained her tea, savouring the fresh feel of the peppermint animating her taste-buds.
Giles cleared his throat. "Buffy, I don't think that's - "
"Hold it." Voirrey raised a hand. The crow-feet around her eyes deepened. The side of her mouth erupted in thin small lines.
"Alright then, Buffy. I'll be frank. Yes, I am concerned about Faith. As her Watcher, she is my charge and protection. You say you parted from your Faith on bad terms. You mention she is in jail for crimes committed against others and yourself."
"Yes."
"So I wonder how you will take Faith if you encounter a version of her here."
Probably with a few punches, kicks, and a stab to the stomach. "I don't know."
Voirrey nodded, as if this was the answer she expected. "I don't want that prejudice from your dimension spilling over to affect her. She has a hard enough job here as it is, without you bringing or waging a personal war against someone who is innocent of the conflict."
"I see." Buffy chewed on the concept of meeting Faith. A Faith who did not sleep with her current boyfriend and who didn't turn into a psycho killer. A Faith wearing the same face, and probably the same personality. Could she do it?
"I understand it will be hard to adjust. I don't presume or expect you to be amiable to my Faith. But if you can't deal with seeing her and treating her in a neutral way, then I suggest the alternative."
Buffy tapped her fork on the plate. "So, basically, put myself under house arrest until you boot me back home, or suck it up and play nice? Hmm." She pretended to think on the matter. "Hard choice. I'll get back to you on it."
Voirrey's answering expression was priceless. Giles smirked openly from his end of the table.
"Could I ascertain that to mean you might be alright with it, then?" Giles dropped the smirk when Voirrey glared at him.
Buffy gave Giles a wry smile. "Not going to lie. I don't know. But I can at least try, right? I can promise not to beat her into a pulp and leave the squishy stuff alone." If she does the same for me.
"We can work with that." Giles touched his thumb to his chin. His mouth curved upwards. "It's good to hear your voice. I have… missed hearing your peculiar way of talking. Even if you do decimate the English language with every syllable that escapes your throat." He took off his glasses and started scrubbing them.
It was so awkward and so Giles, that Buffy had to laugh. She devoured the rest of her breakfast, slipping out of the conversation as both Watchers turned to each other. She had a lot to think on.
Evening
Buffy's nervousness reached fever pitch. She sat on the chair by the window in her bedroom, clad in new clothes. By way of apology, Voirrey insisted on taking her measurements earlier on before speeding off in her tinbucket of a car, belching gas as she hit the road for the shops. Buffy dreaded what kind of outfits she'd be subjected to. She didn't think it could get worse than Giles sized wear. Voirrey didn't know her tastes, so waiting for the end result felt like an episode of Blind Date with Roger Lodge.
What if she went overboard and bought back the smuttiest clothing ever, like what Faith wore? Bagfuls of leather pants and skimpy tops which barely covered anything. Perhaps some padded bras to perk up the cleavage, and big stampy boots. Maybe she would go the other extreme and dress Buffy up like a private school English kid, all bland colours and jumpers probably knitted by someone's grandma. Oh God. What if there was knee-high socks?
Thankfully, Buffy's fears were misplaced. The items Voirrey presented to her were similar to the sort of thing Buffy normally went for, if a little more sensible and not quite overloaded on the pastel department. She supposed the Watcher already had a guideline in the form of what remained of last night's excursions. All the accessories and gear fitted neatly into one large suitcase.
When interrogated about the expenses, Voirrey scratched her short, curt hair. "Council funds. Milk for all they're bloody well worth."
And that was that.
No. What scared her now, what sent her into the little whirlwind of anxiety, was the fact she would be meeting with the Scoobies. Tonight. Soon. Maybe in just a few minutes.
I completely asked for this. In every way, Buffy whined to her Inner Slayer. And now I'm regretting it. Like. Seriously regretting.
It was gonna happen sometime, anyway. It's a small world. Anyway, you've had over half a day to prepare.
Buffy frowned. I spent most of it procastrating.
The Inner Slayer sniggered. Procastrating? Score against the destruction of the English language, again. Think you meant Procrastinate.
Yeah, that one. I totally meant that one. I completely meant to say that.
Finish it soon. They're coming. Voirrey spoke to them all. They've probably been "procastrating" all day on this as well.
So funny. I have a funny Inner Slayer. She felt the voice rustle and vanish.
Staring out the window sent little waves of unease in the bowels of her body. She wasn't really here, she decided. If she wasn't really here, then nothing would be able to affect or bother her. But the notions kept coming. Kept slipping through.
An alternate Sunnydale. An alternate Sunnydale with a dead Buffy. Giles still contacting the Council. Faith with a different Watcher, a Watcher who lived. Buffy wondered how her own life might have panned out if she had different Watchers. How exactly did they assign Watchers to girls like her, anyway? Draw names out of a hat?
Something stirred, like a small hum or buzz in the essence of her being, an alien yet familiar sensation all at once. At first Buffy thought demons lurked nearby the house. That was until Voirrey's car thrummed into the driveway. Buffy pressed her face against the window. The tug came from the vehicle, emitting Slayer energy.
She bit her lip.