The city street lights loomed ominously over head as Buffy Summers stepped out of the crowed bus into the muggy-hot southern Californian city. She shouldered her bag and started walking, letting her gut instinct tell her where to go. Buffy hurried along the street, tired and weary. This was the place. She knew it. She felt it. Dejavu. There he was.
Buffy sighed as she trudged up the path to the door step. She was a long way from home. Or, what was once home.
Pike stumbled out of bed and went to his front door, the persistent knocking propelling him into wakefulness. He grabbed the heavy wooden bat he kept by the door and threw open the dead bolts, keeping the door chain securely latched. He peered out of the door carefully at the tiny figure cloaked in darkness. A passing car shined light on the figure, luminating her apprehensive face.
“Buffy! Oh my God.” Pike threw the bat down and hurried to open the door for her. She practically fell into his arms, crying. Pike dead bolted his door, and maneuvered her away from the window. He gave her a strong hug, wrapping his arms around her. They stood like that for a long time.
Buffy yawned, batting her eyes at the harsh sunlight streaming through Pike’s bedroom window. She groaned as she pulled herself out of bed. Walking down the hall, Buffy was surprised at how nice Pike’s house was. She smiled, taking a picture in her hand and lifting it off of his coffee table. It was a picture of Pike and her, hugging at the beach. Before Lothos. Before she had gotten kicked out of Hemery. Before she had moved away from him and her world.
Lost in thought Buffy didn’t notice Pike come into the room. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and stood behind her, looking at the picture.
Pike lead Buffy to the kitchen where he had coffee waiting. Buffy sat across the table from him and accepted a warm cup of coffee. After a moment of heavy silence, Buffy felt the need to say something. < But what? >
Pike smiled awkwardly, “Yeah, well, the couch is more comfortable than it looks.” Buffy looked down at her hands.
“Wait!” Pike called, jogging to catch up with her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her around to face him. “Talk to me,” he whispered. Buffy sat down with Pike on his couch. She gazed into his eyes, “Okay.”
“So,” Buffy murmured, “My mom kicked me out of her house. She found out I was the slayer. She said that if I walked away from her then, I could never come back. I couldn’t stop. I had to leave. My . . . friends were in trouble. After that I came here. I got on that bus and I came here, to you. I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know what was going on with you. I didn’t know if you were with someone. I didn’t know if you’d want me again. I just knew I had to see you.”
Pike looked at her angrily. “You know I couldn’t Buffy. I was in jail, the cops were still questioning me over the fire. I even called and left a message with your mom, telling her to tell you that I loved you.”
Buffy gazed at him, ashamed. “She never,” Buffy faltered, “She never told me that. I thought that you didn’t care. But Pike, if you didn’t forget me, why didn’t you write to me? Come to see me?”
Giles looked around at the teenagers sitting, battered and bruised, in the library. They were his teenagers, his children. And one of them was missing, his slayer, Buffy. Through Willow, he had found out that she had been expelled from school. Giles sighed, and joined them at the table. Xander looked over at him seriously, silently, sternly.
“Have any of you heard from her?” Giles asked almost urgently. Every one knew who he was talking about. Cordellia, Oz, and Willow shook their heads. Emotionally worn out, Giles laid his head on the table slowly. Cordellia, Oz, and Willow exchanged glances over it. Xander looked away from the group and started to stand up.
“Do you really think that we’re going to hear from her?” he asked sarcastically.
Giles looked at Xander stonily. “Don’t say that about her, Xander. She’s not gone, not now. Not yet.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” A voice echoed across the library shelves. “What is this? A happy family? I don’t think so. Two days without the slayer and you people fall apart. No wonder Buffy ran away.”
“Who are you?” Giles asked, defensively, moving into a position of protection in front of the slayerettes. The small man just shrugged his shoulders and walked toward the group.
“You’re a friend of Buffy’s?” Cordellia asked confused. “Boy, her friends are getting weirder and weirder.” She moved closer to Xander and grabbed his hand.
“I mean ran away in the conventional sense. As in left. This isn’t SAT Oxford vocabulary people,” Whistler said exasperated. Willow stood up quickly.
“Na,” Whistler shook his head. “From what happened.” The slayerettes looked at each other confused.
“Well,” Whistler started, “The short condensed version as I see it? Angelus opened the vortex. The gate. Acathala was free to do his thing. The only way to stop the world from being sucked strait into hell was to send Angelus to hell before the vortex was fully awakened. The slayer did that. But there was problem.” Whistler looked down at the group. “You geniuses decided to give Angel his soul back.”
Willow looked around her friends nervously. “What do you mean? Buffy knew Angel had his soul back . . . and she still killed him?”
The slayerettes looked at each other soberly. The couldn’t believe that Buffy had killed Angel. Not Angelus, but Angel. Willow was sobbing quietly on Oz’s shoulder. She turned her red eyes on Whistler once more.
“I can’t believe you did that Joyce,” Hank Summers yelled angrily at his ex-wife. He had come to Sunnydale earlier in the evening, as soon as Joyce had called him with the news about Buffy. They had been arguing for hours.
Joyce looked at him with tears in her eyes.
Hank slammed his fist into the wall. “Well what did you think she’d do Joyce,” Hank yelled. “You didn’t give her a choice.” Hank sunk down into armchair behind him, head in his hands.
Hank Summers nodded stoically. “No Joyce, she’s never coming back here with you.” Joyce looked at her ex-husband with shock. < What was he suggesting >
Joyce shook her head, exasperated, “Do you think this is my fault? How dare you? Buffy’s my child.”
Joyce sat in her kitchen looking over old photo albums. Buffy’s first day of school. Buffy’s junior high beauty contest. A picture of Buffy as Prom Queen. A mother’s tears stained the dinning room table, and blurred Joyce’s vision. Finally around midnight, she had made her mind up.
Grabbing her coat Joyce headed out the front door. She was going hunting for the answers about Buffy. She might not know much about Buffy’s life, or her destiny, but she did know that that school librarian < Giles, that's his name > did. Never in her life had she ever met a teacher, *that* concerned.
Giles looked up quickly as the swinging doors to the library were shoved open. He was truly surprised to see Mrs. Summers, Buffy’s mom, walk through them.
Giles grabbed her wrists, stopping her from pummeling him anymore.
Buffy rolled over in bed, blinded by the harsh sunlight streaming in from the window adjacent Pike’s bed. She smiled and rubbed her eyes. It was nice to have a home. And Buffy was thoroughly enjoying the comfort of Pike’s home, and his arms.
She snuck into the living room, where Pike lay asleep like a baby and gently placed a kiss on his lips to wake him. With fluttering lashes, he woke up and pulled her into his arms.
The relationship was moving fast. It was at the same place it was when Pike and Buffy had parted. But Buffy was different this time, Pike noticed. Distant.
A persistent knocking on the front door broke the two love birds apart. Pike groaned softly as Buffy eased herself off of him and went to the door.
“No. No. No. No. No.” Pike heard Buffy say angrily. He jumped out of bed and ran to her.
Buffy was walking away from the door, throwing her hands around wildly in defeat. A short man in a lime green shirt was following her in the house after he closed the door safely behind him. Definitely a bad guy. Pike knew a bad guy when he saw one.
“Uh, Buff?” Pike asked confused. Buffy sighed and turned to face the man, arms crossed over her chest.
Whistler surveyed the two people standing in front of him, dressed only in what they had gone to bed in. And that wasn’t much.
Pike looked down at himself, realizing he was only dressed in a pair of boxers. He quickly stepped behind Buffy, using it as a shield of sorts from Whistler's eyes.
“Enough testosterone charged chit chat,” Buffy interrupted, “What are you here for?” Whistler went on talking, as if he hadn’t heard a word Buffy was saying.
“I thought Angel was your mean squeeze, Slayer. You know, the main man in your life. You lover, your love, the top cat, the boy of your dreams,” he went on and on. “Sure move fast, those slayers do.”
“Just say what you came to say,” Buffy said quickly, ignoring Pike altogether, Whistler’s stinging words still ringing in her ears.
Whistler walked around the room as if he had all the time in the world. He turned back to Buffy again, looking directly into her eyes.
“So Buffy was telling me the truth,” Joyce said. Giles nodded, rubbing his chin. Buffy’s mom had left quite a mark on his cheek. Like mother, like daughter.
“You daughter is the slayer Mrs. Summers, she lives to hunt the vampires and the demons inhabiting our world.” Giles was nervous, this was a first for him. Explaining to a terrified mother why her daughter put herself in danger every night. Explaining why she ran away from home. A definite first.
“Mrs. Summers, Maybe this will help.” He had gone into his office for a moment and had emerged with books.
“What are those?” Buffy’s mom asked as Giles set them down gently before her.
“Watcher Journals. More importantly Buffy’s watcher journals. The one that Merik and I wrote for her . . . about her.”
Joyce reached over and ran her finger over the first book, “Merik?”
“Her first watcher,” Giles clarified.
“What am I supposed to do?” Joyce asked.
“Well,” Giles began, “You said you wanted to know about your daughter. This is her life. Stuck between the covers of those books are her exploits . . . so to say. Buffy’s life for the past few years is all there.”
Joyce nodded and picked up the first book. Giles sighed relieved as she sat down and started to read.
My baby, Joyce thought, the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t known. She had closed her eyes to all that she had seen. All the strange events. She didn’t want to see, hadn't seen. Buffy was risking her life to save the world every day and Joyce had been touting on her curfew.
Joyce looked up when she heard the library doors open.
“Giles!” a boy’s voice called. Xander. It was Xander. . . Buffy’s friend. And following behind him was Willow.
Giles wandered out of his office. “Any news on Buffy?” Xander asked.
Gile’s eyes widened. “Um Xander . . .” He was motioning his head toward Mrs. Summers. Xander, ever oblivious, ignored him.
“You know, that guy really creeped me out yesterday. He was weird. Had crazy eyes. Just because Buffy’s the slayer doesn’t mean she’s all powerful or something. Do you really think that we should have trusted him?”
Willow was the first to catch sight of Joyce Summers. She elbowed Xander in the side, hard. “Xander,” she hissed, hoping that Xander would shut up before he said something else stupid.
“Ugh, Mrs. Summer. I didn’t say slayer,” he announced nervously. “I said . . .” Xander looked to the side for help. “Willow,” he laughed nervously, “Tell the nice lady what I said.
“It’s okay Xander,” Joyce said briskly, “I know.”
“Oh, Willow murmured, “You know. Since when do you know?”
“Buffy told me the night before she vanished,” Joyce clarified. “I take it you know too?”
“Uh, yeah,” Xander said slowly. “We know, But we don’t know why you know.”
“What he means,” Willow said, “Is why did Buffy tell you? What happened Mrs. Summers? Why did Buffy tell you she was the slayer?”
Joyce cleared her throat, “Well, she came home with a boy. The same boy that was attacking her the parent teacher night.”
Giles was alarmed. “Spike?”
“Yeah, that's was this name. Any way, A vampire attacked us, Buffy had to tell me. She didn’t have any choice.”
“One more question Joyce,” Giles said. “Why did Buffy leave home?”
Joyce looked up at him startled. She looked down at her hands and a tear escaped her eyes. “I told her to leave. I kicked my daughter out.”
Willow jumped out of her chair, “You did what?!?!”
“What?” Whistler looked at the slayer in disbelief.
“Okay,” Buffy began. “I’ll go home.”
Whistler eyed her suspiciously. That was easy. He expected at least some form of protest.
“Then get dressed and lets go. If we drive strait through, we can be in Sunny Dale by midnight,” He said brusquely.
“Wait a minute,” Pike spoke up. “I’m not just gonna let Buffy go again. Not after I finally get her back.” Pike grabbed Buffy’s face in his hands. “Don’t go Buff. Stay with me.”
Buffy shook her head, removing his hands. ‘I can’t Pike,” she said mournfully. “I have friends there.”
She walked toward the bedroom and emerged fully dressed and packed a few minutes later. Pike tried one more time to grab her hands and make her stay. Buffy shook her head. No she had to go.
“Okay then,” Whistler said taking Buffy’s bag, “Let’s hit the road.”
“Not that it’s any of me business, but who was that guy Buffy?” Whistler asked. Buffy signed looking back at Pike’s house as they pulled the car out of the drive way and headed to the highway.
Buffy put on her sun glasses, “You’re right. It’s not any of you’re business.” She reached toward the dials on the radio, picking a heavy metal station. “Just Drive.” Buffy leaned back up against the door.
Whistler didn’t need to be told twice. He drove, the highway kicking up dust behind them.
Pike leaned back against his head board, trying to get some more sleep. Trying to forget that Buffy had left him again, only minutes ago. Trying to forget that she ever came back. It was nice sleeping in his own bed. The bed was soft, and the covers were tucked in tight around him, but his pillow smelled like Buffy.
He kicked at the cover’s angrily. /Screw this/ Pike thought angrily. He quickly got up and got dressed. Grabbing his old suitcase from the top shelf of his closet, Pike gathered a few of his things and got ready to go. He was going to be there at Buffy’s coming home party.
Pike rushed through the house, grabbing his guitar, a few pictures, and the remainder of his heart as he rushed out the door with his car keys in hand. He jumped behind the front seat of his beat up Chevy convertible and roared off down the road.
“I can’t believe this!” Buffy shouted, kicking Whistler's car with her foot. She slammed her hand on the hood, leaving a small dent in her wake.
“Geeze,” Whistler cried, “It’s a rental! Give me a brake slayer, I didn’t know this was gonna happen.”
They were pulled along side of the highway about three hours from Sunny Dale. Whistler's car had broken down out of gas, leaving them stranded, hot, and tired.
“Fine,” Whistler growled, “How about we hitch hike?” He stood up and walked toward the road. Sticking his thumb in the air, Whistler waited. About ten cars sped past him.
Buffy laughed from the side of the road. Whistler turned to her and smiled darkly.
Buffy followed him out the side of the road he was standing on, and pushed him back. With her thumb pointed out, she waited. With in minutes a car slowed to a stop next to her.
“Now, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone out in the desert in the middle of the night? There’s vampires out there you know?”
Buffy smiled, perhaps the first genuine smile in a long time, and laughed. “Pike,” she murmured, “I knew you wouldn’t let me go this alone.” Pike grinned back at her.
“Hop in,” he said patting the passenger seat, motioning for Buffy to hop in to the car. “The demon sits in the back.”
All character and situations belong not to me, but the wonderful writers and Creators of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Mutant Enemy, and especially Joss Wheadon. I am earning no money through this endeavor, God knows, just pure literary pleasure. The only compensation I’m getting is Feedback. PLEASE? FYI: This takes place after the Two Parter, Becoming. For all of you Angel lovers, I’m not bringing him back to life in this Fic. So be forewarned. RIP Angel.
“I missed you,” he said simply.
“Yeah,” Buffy murmured, “me too.”
“Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed last night,” Buffy offered.
“Sorry about last night,” she said shyly.
“Why?” Pike asked angrily, “Just ‘cause I haven't seen you in two years and you show up at my door unannounced in the middle of the night?”
Buffy sighed. “I guess.” She got up and headed out of the room.
“Why did you come to me?” Pike asked her, “I didn’t hear from you after you left LA.
“I don’t know,” Buffy sighed. “I thought you’d never want to see me again. I mean, Pike,” she said exasperated, “You didn’t even come to say good bye to me when I left.”
“I had no idea where you were, Buff.” Pike ran a nervous hand through his hair.
“Believe me,” he said, “If I knew where you were, I would have been there with you in a heart beat.”
“What do you mean?” Willow said nervously, glancing back at Oz.
“Willow,” Xander yelled, “Wake up!” Xander slammed the book he was carrying down on the table, hard. “These books won’t help. We aren’t going to find the answer in your damn books Giles! You wanna know why? ‘Cause Buffy’s dead. She died the other morning. Face up to it people!”
“What’s with you people?” Xander screamed. “Face the truth.” He looked to Cordellia for support.
“If she died Xander,” Cordellia said icily, “Why are we still here? Why aren’t we in hell? The worlds still turning, look around!” She wasn’t ready to wish Buffy good bye. None of them were.
“I’m a friend of Buffy’s,” he murmured, “All though I doubt that's what she’d call me right now.” He came around by the table and smiled at the group. “Name’s Whistler.”
“What do you mean ‘ran away,” Xander questioned the little man.
“Yes, what?” Giles piped up.
“She’d never do that. Buffy wouldn’t leave us. She’s not like that.”
“Fine.” Whistler said curtly, “Think of this as hiatus. A vacation of sorts.”
“From us?” Willow asked hurt.
“The slayer’s got some stuff to deal with right now. She’s hurt. She needs time. To remember . . . to forget. To forgive.”
“What happened?” Giles queried.
“Yeah,” Oz finally spoke up, “We want to know.”
“Give the girl a nickel!” Whistler shouted, “By God, she’s got it right! The slayer had to send her lover, not just the vision of her lover, to hell.”
“Are you going to stay. While Buffy’s gone I mean, help us find her?” Whistler shook his head once more.
“I got a friend to see.”
“I didn’t know that she’d take me seriously. I didn’t think that she’s walk out. I’m sorry. So very sorry,” Joyce sobbed in to her palms.
“She’s always been reckless Joyce,” he said, lowering his voice. Joyce nodded silently.
“And she’s been in trouble with the cops,” Hank continued.
“So that means we can’t call them,” Joyce reasoned. Hank looked at her, disgusted.
“What do you suggest we do then, Joyce? Let our baby suffer on the streets?” Joyce shook her head at him and began again,
“If we call the cops, and they find her and drag her back here, she’ll never ever forgive us.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Joyce screamed.
“I mean,” he yelled back, “You were never there to discipline her! Ever since she’s been with you, Buffy’s just gotten worse and worse. She’s going to move in with me back to LA when we find her.”
“You don’t have a choice on this, Joyce. Monday morning, if we find Buffy or if we don’t find Buffy, I’m calling my lawyer.” With that he stormed out of the house and out of the front door.”
“Can I help you?” he ventured. Joyce swung at him with her right fist, making a solid connection.
“Where the hell is my baby?” she yelled.
“I, um, I have no idea what so ever what you mean,” he stammered.
“Cut the crap,” Joyce said, yanking her arms away from him. “I know about Buffy.”
“Good Morning,” he whispered into her ear and he started kissing her neck.
“Be careful,” he yelled after her, “This isn’t the safest neighborhood in the world.” Buffy grinned back at him,
“I’m the slayer,” she laughed, “I think I can handle a door to door sales man.”
“Pike,” she said crossly, “Meet Whistler.”
“The slayer and her man?” he asked, “Sorry if I interrupted something.”
“Hey kid,” Whistler laughed, “It ain’t like I haven’t seen it before. Hell, it ain’t like I don’t got it!”
“Whose Angel?” Pike interrupted, deciding to finally enter the conversation.
“I want you to go home.”
“You have me,” Pike murmured, trying to kiss her.
“I know. But I don’t have a choice.” Buffy said finally.
“What are we gonna do now?” Whistler asked.
“I don’t know,” Buffy shouted. “Why are you asking me? I’m not the bozo who got us into this mess in the first place. I guess even omniscient demons forget to check the gas gauge every once and a while huh?” she said sarcastically. “I don’t see you tossing out any ideas.”
“You think that you can do better?”