Dirty Back Road Sequel, Part 5
Nov. 9th, 2004 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookOkay, this part is a little bit shorter than some of the others, but the one after this is a bit of a change in tone, so I wanted to preserve the tension. Again, a bit with the cliffhanger. I'll get over the whole cliffhanger thing soon, I promise! Anyway, Buffy returns to our world from the pocket dimension. Hurry, Buffy, Hurry! If you need to catch up, there's a "previously" recap, or you can find the earlier chapters here.
Previously on "Does It Have to Mean Something?": At the end of "Dirty Back Road," Buffy runs across Spike in Rome, and after a year of partying and living "like a person," she is feeling ready to try something a little more serious with him... which she plans on telling him about just as soon as the moment feels right. But after a week's worth of not-quite-dates, Spike tell her he's leaving Rome, due to some mysterious work he's doing for Angel. Wups! Serious argument ensues - Buffy is furious that yet another man in her life has decided to bail on her, while Spike snarks about The Immortal and makes pointed comments about Buffy's decision to quit her Slayer job. The rising sun terminates this conversation, and the two hare off to a convenient pocket dimension to temporarily escape (Spike's mysterious new job comes with nifty gadgets). Buffy then returns to our world to find him something to shield him from the sun, but due to the time difference between that dimension and this one, the clock is ticking....
Chapter Five
There was no feeling of transition at all. One second, she was there with Spike in that empty space and the next, back in the sunny garden, standing in the thorns.
Her muscles tensed, like a sprinter in the footblocks, and she checked her watch, mentally logging the time. Then she burst into action, took off at a dead run.
If Spike was right, then time was a major factor. There wasn't a single moment to waste.
The house loomed at the edge of her vision, a dark shape in the early morning light. Buffy gave it a minute's grace, checked the garden first. But she'd break into that house if she had to--grab a bedspread right off the sleeping residents.
She skirted the length of the stone wall, feet pounding the ground, hands pushing through the bushes impatiently. When she spotted a little shed in the far corner, nearly hidden behind a stand of bare trees, she let out a worldless cry of relief.
Sprinting over to the shed, Buffy broke the padlock on its door with a single twist of her hand and burst inside, a long way from caring about clattering noise.
Her eyes scanned the interior. Rakes and spades and lawn equipment and... a folded canvas tarp. Perfect. She snatched up the fabric, checked it for rips or tears, then balled it under her arm and glanced again at her watch.
Three minutes.
Urgency whipping through her, Buffy lifted the glowing dimensional gadget and poised her thumb over the button--
--and hesitated, despite the adrenaline panic. Something, some instinct, was staying her hand.
The gadget puts you back where you left, she remembered, near feverish with the speed of her thoughts. That's what Spike had said. The gadget puts you back where you left.
She wasn't in the same place he'd left from.
What if the device couldn't handle that equation, bringing them back?
She pictured it. They might be split up. She and the tarp could be put down back here, in the shade of the shed, while leaving Spike right smack in the middle of that sunlit garden with nothing.
If that happened, she'd never reach him in time.
Running toward him, the flames, his scream of pain. She could imagine every moment of it. Crumbling to ashes right in front of her.
No.
She couldn't take that risk.
She might not understand dimensional dynamics or magic, but rules were always rules. And without knowing these rules...?
It wasn't worth taking the chance. She yanked open the door.
...and was promptly leapt upon by a snarling dog.
__________
Buffy cried out in surprise. Curled her entire torso protectively around the bundle she carried as the dog went for her arms, snapping teeth grabbing at the sleeves of her jacket. With a wordless howl, she performed a whiplash-fast pirouette, snapping her foot into the dog's ribs. It fell back, yelping and growling, and the two held their positions for a moment, wary and panting.
Guard dog, Buffy realized, tensing on the balls of her feet. It must have been only a few minutes in real time since they'd first come over the wall. She had just enough time to wonder if they'd tripped some kind of alarm as well before the dog leapt again.
This time, though, Buffy was ready. She snap-kicked it in the belly, hard, then delivered a solid roundhouse to the head that dropped the animal like a stone. She didn't even hear the anguished scream tearing out of her own throat as she kicked the unconscious dog again, the body nearly lifting in the air with the force of her move. Stay down, damn you, stay down, this is taking too long. THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG.
Panting, checked her watch again. Five minutes. With a last frantic glance at the unconscious animal and another toward the house--oh god, lights on, there's an alarm, they're awake--Buffy sprinted back toward the stone wall. She threw herself onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantic, searching for any sign to exactly the right spot--blood, broken branches, anything.
She found it, finally--a tangle of thorns matted down by their combined weight. Bloody tips on the thorns. Shreds of torn fabric. Six minutes. Buffy fumbled with the plastic device, pushed the button.
And once again, she was somewhere else.
__________
Silence. Dark.
No sign of Spike.
Buffy could've sworn she literally felt her heart stop.
Eyes nearly starting from their sockets, she turned in a circle, fear paralyzing her. The place was just like it had been the first time--darkness everywhere. No light except for whatever mysterious light seemed to be coming from her.
Except Spike wasn't there.
He had to be there.
She dropped to her knees, collapsed. Let the tarp fall from her hands, tumbling carelessly, and felt around on the floor on her hands and knees, heart pounding hard. Dust, she half-expected to feel dust, some trace of whatever was left of him--
He can't be dead he can't be dead I was fast I said I'd be fast and I was--
Could be that... a few minutes in the real world might be a long time in here. A very long time.
Tears ran down her face in burning trails.
"No!" she screamed, a raw, primal sound tearing out of her throat. There was no feeling, even in the action of touching the ground. Not even texture or pressure. No dust. No nothing.
"You can't be dead! Spike!" she called out, hopeless, desperate. The still air refused to carry her voice. The sound fell flat. There was no echo, no feeling of distance or open space. "Where are you?"
The silence was oppressive while Buffy just breathed, nearly hyperventilating, and gathered her wits, wild panic transforming to instinct, insistent and aware.
Think, Buffy, think, her mind insisted. There's no way he wouldn't be here, waiting, right here where you left him, here.
Except...
This isn't even a real place.
Maybe he wasn't here because there was no... here.
Just empty space.
She took a deep breath.
Not a real place. That's what he'd said, not a real place. No time, nothing in it--
No form.
--and he's only one who ever comes here. So why would the device bring you right back to the same place? Not like there'd be a reason for a homing device, or--
What if he had things stored here? How would he find them?
She knew, instinctively somehow, that he didn't. There was nothing in this place but him. And he was still here. Somewhere. She could feel it.
He was just... far away.
But how far?
She took more deep breaths, calming herself, letting the thoughts fill her, letting herself think things through. Noticed in a dim sort of way that her most reasonable, rational, internal voice sounded a bit like Dawn.
If there's no here here, then he could be anywhere. Not like there's a here anywhere here. If that makes any sense.
Things could happen here someday, but they haven't yet.
Great, so this place could be as big as the whole damn universe. Limitless potential for... anything. Anywhere.
She took another deep breath. Let it out.
Potential.
Maybe that little fact made things easier. Potential. Nothing had happened here before, wasn't that what he'd said? Or everything had happened, and now it was over?
Well, she was here now. That made things different.
Maybe you could have an empty space with just one person, but not with two. Two people equaled things happening. Two people equaled history. None of that tree-falling-in-the-forest zen crap. She'd been here with him and she knew that he was still here. Knew that they still had a future together, here or anywhere else.
She could do it. She could make things happen. Because they weren't over yet.
She sat down. Calmly. Kept breathing deeply. Arranged herself into a cross-legged pose, closed her eyes. Cast in mind into that meditative state that Giles had taught her, concentrated. Thought of Spike and searched within herself for that little-used signal that told her a vampire was near.
There were rules to any universe. There had to be. And so what if she didn't understand magic and or dimensions, or any of it.
All she needed to do was find him.
And that was something Slayers were made for.
When she opened her eyes again, one hundred and forty-seven carefully counted deep breaths later, he was there.
Previously on "Does It Have to Mean Something?": At the end of "Dirty Back Road," Buffy runs across Spike in Rome, and after a year of partying and living "like a person," she is feeling ready to try something a little more serious with him... which she plans on telling him about just as soon as the moment feels right. But after a week's worth of not-quite-dates, Spike tell her he's leaving Rome, due to some mysterious work he's doing for Angel. Wups! Serious argument ensues - Buffy is furious that yet another man in her life has decided to bail on her, while Spike snarks about The Immortal and makes pointed comments about Buffy's decision to quit her Slayer job. The rising sun terminates this conversation, and the two hare off to a convenient pocket dimension to temporarily escape (Spike's mysterious new job comes with nifty gadgets). Buffy then returns to our world to find him something to shield him from the sun, but due to the time difference between that dimension and this one, the clock is ticking....
Chapter Five
There was no feeling of transition at all. One second, she was there with Spike in that empty space and the next, back in the sunny garden, standing in the thorns.
Her muscles tensed, like a sprinter in the footblocks, and she checked her watch, mentally logging the time. Then she burst into action, took off at a dead run.
If Spike was right, then time was a major factor. There wasn't a single moment to waste.
The house loomed at the edge of her vision, a dark shape in the early morning light. Buffy gave it a minute's grace, checked the garden first. But she'd break into that house if she had to--grab a bedspread right off the sleeping residents.
She skirted the length of the stone wall, feet pounding the ground, hands pushing through the bushes impatiently. When she spotted a little shed in the far corner, nearly hidden behind a stand of bare trees, she let out a worldless cry of relief.
Sprinting over to the shed, Buffy broke the padlock on its door with a single twist of her hand and burst inside, a long way from caring about clattering noise.
Her eyes scanned the interior. Rakes and spades and lawn equipment and... a folded canvas tarp. Perfect. She snatched up the fabric, checked it for rips or tears, then balled it under her arm and glanced again at her watch.
Three minutes.
Urgency whipping through her, Buffy lifted the glowing dimensional gadget and poised her thumb over the button--
--and hesitated, despite the adrenaline panic. Something, some instinct, was staying her hand.
The gadget puts you back where you left, she remembered, near feverish with the speed of her thoughts. That's what Spike had said. The gadget puts you back where you left.
She wasn't in the same place he'd left from.
What if the device couldn't handle that equation, bringing them back?
She pictured it. They might be split up. She and the tarp could be put down back here, in the shade of the shed, while leaving Spike right smack in the middle of that sunlit garden with nothing.
If that happened, she'd never reach him in time.
Running toward him, the flames, his scream of pain. She could imagine every moment of it. Crumbling to ashes right in front of her.
No.
She couldn't take that risk.
She might not understand dimensional dynamics or magic, but rules were always rules. And without knowing these rules...?
It wasn't worth taking the chance. She yanked open the door.
...and was promptly leapt upon by a snarling dog.
__________
Buffy cried out in surprise. Curled her entire torso protectively around the bundle she carried as the dog went for her arms, snapping teeth grabbing at the sleeves of her jacket. With a wordless howl, she performed a whiplash-fast pirouette, snapping her foot into the dog's ribs. It fell back, yelping and growling, and the two held their positions for a moment, wary and panting.
Guard dog, Buffy realized, tensing on the balls of her feet. It must have been only a few minutes in real time since they'd first come over the wall. She had just enough time to wonder if they'd tripped some kind of alarm as well before the dog leapt again.
This time, though, Buffy was ready. She snap-kicked it in the belly, hard, then delivered a solid roundhouse to the head that dropped the animal like a stone. She didn't even hear the anguished scream tearing out of her own throat as she kicked the unconscious dog again, the body nearly lifting in the air with the force of her move. Stay down, damn you, stay down, this is taking too long. THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG.
Panting, checked her watch again. Five minutes. With a last frantic glance at the unconscious animal and another toward the house--oh god, lights on, there's an alarm, they're awake--Buffy sprinted back toward the stone wall. She threw herself onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantic, searching for any sign to exactly the right spot--blood, broken branches, anything.
She found it, finally--a tangle of thorns matted down by their combined weight. Bloody tips on the thorns. Shreds of torn fabric. Six minutes. Buffy fumbled with the plastic device, pushed the button.
And once again, she was somewhere else.
__________
Silence. Dark.
No sign of Spike.
Buffy could've sworn she literally felt her heart stop.
Eyes nearly starting from their sockets, she turned in a circle, fear paralyzing her. The place was just like it had been the first time--darkness everywhere. No light except for whatever mysterious light seemed to be coming from her.
Except Spike wasn't there.
He had to be there.
She dropped to her knees, collapsed. Let the tarp fall from her hands, tumbling carelessly, and felt around on the floor on her hands and knees, heart pounding hard. Dust, she half-expected to feel dust, some trace of whatever was left of him--
He can't be dead he can't be dead I was fast I said I'd be fast and I was--
Could be that... a few minutes in the real world might be a long time in here. A very long time.
Tears ran down her face in burning trails.
"No!" she screamed, a raw, primal sound tearing out of her throat. There was no feeling, even in the action of touching the ground. Not even texture or pressure. No dust. No nothing.
"You can't be dead! Spike!" she called out, hopeless, desperate. The still air refused to carry her voice. The sound fell flat. There was no echo, no feeling of distance or open space. "Where are you?"
The silence was oppressive while Buffy just breathed, nearly hyperventilating, and gathered her wits, wild panic transforming to instinct, insistent and aware.
Think, Buffy, think, her mind insisted. There's no way he wouldn't be here, waiting, right here where you left him, here.
Except...
This isn't even a real place.
Maybe he wasn't here because there was no... here.
Just empty space.
She took a deep breath.
Not a real place. That's what he'd said, not a real place. No time, nothing in it--
No form.
--and he's only one who ever comes here. So why would the device bring you right back to the same place? Not like there'd be a reason for a homing device, or--
What if he had things stored here? How would he find them?
She knew, instinctively somehow, that he didn't. There was nothing in this place but him. And he was still here. Somewhere. She could feel it.
He was just... far away.
But how far?
She took more deep breaths, calming herself, letting the thoughts fill her, letting herself think things through. Noticed in a dim sort of way that her most reasonable, rational, internal voice sounded a bit like Dawn.
If there's no here here, then he could be anywhere. Not like there's a here anywhere here. If that makes any sense.
Things could happen here someday, but they haven't yet.
Great, so this place could be as big as the whole damn universe. Limitless potential for... anything. Anywhere.
She took another deep breath. Let it out.
Potential.
Maybe that little fact made things easier. Potential. Nothing had happened here before, wasn't that what he'd said? Or everything had happened, and now it was over?
Well, she was here now. That made things different.
Maybe you could have an empty space with just one person, but not with two. Two people equaled things happening. Two people equaled history. None of that tree-falling-in-the-forest zen crap. She'd been here with him and she knew that he was still here. Knew that they still had a future together, here or anywhere else.
She could do it. She could make things happen. Because they weren't over yet.
She sat down. Calmly. Kept breathing deeply. Arranged herself into a cross-legged pose, closed her eyes. Cast in mind into that meditative state that Giles had taught her, concentrated. Thought of Spike and searched within herself for that little-used signal that told her a vampire was near.
There were rules to any universe. There had to be. And so what if she didn't understand magic and or dimensions, or any of it.
All she needed to do was find him.
And that was something Slayers were made for.
When she opened her eyes again, one hundred and forty-seven carefully counted deep breaths later, he was there.