The Desoto careened into the silly Welcome to Sunnydale sign that Spike always hated. He fell out of the car, gaining his feet unsteadily among the detritus of his alcoholic binge that spilled from the car. “Hmmph. Meant to do that!” he growled to whomever might have been around. Couldn’t have the Big Bad looking like a drunken idiot, now could we? No. That sort of thing wouldn’t do at all! He kicked at the myriad of bottles, catching the sloshing of one that was still half full. He snatched that bottle up and stomped off into the night. “Gonna find a way to get her back, I bloody swear it.”

The streets of Sunnydale were curiously empty. In his drunken state, this information didn’t register correctly with Spike. “Wonder what’s on the telly that’s keepin’ people in?” He growled in frustration that he couldn’t find the people he wanted. “Damn!” Itching for a fight, to either end the pain or to kill something, and nothing was coming out to greet him. “Fuck me! Where’s that silly Slayer bint?” He caught sight of the 24 hour convenient store that he used to nick cigs from and made a beeline. “What the fuck? Closed? Since when?” Growling low in his chest, frustrated beyond measure, Spike stomped away from the store.

He was alone, staggering down the center of town when it dawned on him just exactly how empty the town seemed. About the time he truly began to sense something different about good ole Sunnyhell, he noticed he wasn’t quite alone on the street anymore. He spotted two figures strolling the street. “Ahh. The slayer’s little whelp and witchling!” The lights went on in his head, and he knew how he was going to get his Dru back. Love spell!! He’d get Red there to perform a simple little love spell and all would be right with the world. He stalked forward, grinning to himself. Until the figures came fully into sight.

The whelp had a ghostly palor about him, and dark sunken eyes. His gait a smooth leisurely, loose hipped stride. His glittering black eyes seeming to hunt the shadows for something. Spike recognized the look, had worn it himself so many time in the early days. But the oddest thing about the boy was his clothes. Not in his usual glaring day-glo Hawaiian print shirts and baggy shorts, the boy was clad in head to toe black leather. Low waisted leather pants clung to a lean hipped and well cut body. White wife beater fitted snugly to his torso and the black leather jacket hung on broad shoulders, grazing the hips as he walked. “Damn. Boy got improved fashion sense then, I reckon.” Spike grinned. “And whoa ho hooo looky here at Red?” The witch herself was a sight too. Decked out in dominatrix black and red leather, her hair one length, parted in the middle. She too strode with that purposeless, stalky walk. “What the hell? Not Halloween, just about the only safe night for humans, so what are these two silly bints doin out and about? Alone.”

Spike walked forward, tossing the forgotten bottle aside. “Oi, whelp! Witchling!” He called to the two figures, still moving forward to them. They turned their heads to him in tandem, and it served to stop him for a minute, and he recognized what they were. “Oh. Slayer must be pissed bout this then!”

Xander turned his head at the voice that called to them from the figure down the street. His black eyes flashed amber for a moment until he recognized William the Bloody. The favored child of Angelus and one fourth of the Scourge of Europe. One beautiful vampire and Xander wanted him. He spoke listlessly to Willow. “He doesn’t look like much, Wils. You want another puppy to play with?” His fingers traced down her spine seductively and she purred, shifting into the caress. “I always want.” They turned to watch Spike’s progress toward them, but stopped their own movement. “Yeah, baby, let’s let him come to us, right?” Xander’s steely caressing voice reached Spike’s ears and he squinted his eyes at the pair of them. He watched as the two younger vampires touched their heads together, almost lovingly as they observed his approach. He scented the air around them. They had the stink of the Master on them, and he was thrown. “No way. That can’t be possible. Master’s dead, along with his Annoying one. How the hell are these two the Master’s Childer?” He stopped his approach and finally took in the atmosphere around him.

Empty. Dark. Silent. Foreboding. He tilted his head to the side. Sunnydale was many things, but never empty or dark. Definitely not foreboding or silent. It sunk in to Spike’s drunken brain that something was definitely wrong. “Sorry to disappoint, children, but Spike’s got another appointment if you don’t mind!” He abruptly turned from them and disappeared into the night.

Willow frowned up to Xander. “Puppy ran.” Xander comforted her with long slow strokes up and down her spine. “I know baby. We’ll find him though. Don’t worry.” He kissed her temple. “For now, let’s hunt. I’m hungry.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike could not believe he just ran from the two younger vamps. Even if they were the Master’s childer. He was a Master Vamp in his own right, and two newbies shouldn’t have him running like a frightened baby. He was truly disgusted with himself. His drunk long over now, he stalked the streets of Sunnydale looking for an explanation as to why things were the way they were. Last he had been here, Buffy and Angelus were fighting to the death, Master was long dead, and the whelp and witchling were just your average everyday happy meals with legs. This new situation confused Spike. He wanted some damn answers. He knew the only place he was going to get anything resembling answers was at the Watcher’s place. He headed off to the school.

Giles stared in disbelief as he listened to Cordelia tell him about another Sunnydale. He couldn’t believe it. But then again, his training as a watcher allowed for the possibility, so maybe he could. That a Vengeance Demon could wield enough power to alter reality was staggering, but could be dealt with.

He had been ordered to Sunnydale by the Council, assured that his slayer would arrive to guard the Hellmouth. Little did he know that the Hellmouth in Cleveland had finally opened up and his slayer had gone there instead. This Buffy, according to Cordelia, was supposed to be here, with him, controlling the vamp and demon population here. He knew he had to get her here.

The Master’s Harvest had gone over with a big bang and the vampire population of Sunnydale increased tenfold. Giles had garnered a few trusted souls to help with the problem, but about a year ago had lost his two best and brightest. Xander and Willow had been taken and turned, by the Master himself, and were now the most vicious of the vampires hunting Sunnydale. Every time he got a glimpse of the two of them, he was struck by both their beauty and their malevolence. Xander had, ironically, made a perfect vampire. Beautiful, exotic, seductive, methodical, and lethal. Willow, as well, was a frightening vampire. The powers she had been delving into before her turning had followed her. She was quieter, more childlike, but oh so powerful mystically. She reminded him of tales he had read of Drusilla with her abilities and behavior, but Willow had none of Dru’s insanity. Giles mourned for their lost souls everyday.

Both Giles and Cordelia were startled by the slamming of the library door. He stood in the light from the corridor, his shock of white hair gleaming in the fluorescent lights. His skin a chilly ivory color. If he wasn’t a vampire, then Giles would eat his shoes. Cordelia’s shrill scream jerked him out of his perusal of the vampire. “What? Cordelia?”

“Spike!” She turned frightened brown eyes to the Watcher. “That is Spike! Giles!” She began to get frustrated at Giles’ lack of worry. “Spike? As in Spike and Drusilla?” Giles still remained blank.

“Eh, Watcher. ‘S me. William the Bloody? The one in the wheelchair when Angelus was torturing you?” Spike sought to help Cordelia out with the introductions.

Giles finally snapped to. “Angelus? Angelus was here? When?”

“Oh bloody hell, bloody buggering fuck!” Spike stalked further into the room. “Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, you silly bint. I’m not here to hurt you.” He turned to Giles. “Ok. Now I know something is wrong. Where is the Slayer?”

“Slayer?”

“Buffy, you daft git! She is supposed to be here!” Spike sprawled into on of the library chairs. “This place is all wrong. I was just here last year. Cheerleader here was dating the whelp, Red - the witchling - was last in the hospital. And Buffy, the sodding slayer, was here. Makin my life an unlivin hell, I have you know.” He frowned up at the watcher. “Now, I get back into good ole Sunnyhell, and lo and behold? The slayer’s favorite puppy is a vampire, tricked out in all leather, stalkin the streets of Sunnydale. And the witch? Oh, don’t get me started on her get up. And what was with them lookin for another puppy?”

“You’ve seen Xander and Willow? And lived to tell about it?” Giles was astounded.

“Uh yeah! Bloody master vamp here, pal. I think I can get away from two newbies.”

“Oh. Yes. Quite right. Didn’t mean to disparage your, er, status, Spike.” Giles looked up at him again. “It’s just that Xander and Willow aren’t known for letting what they want slip away from them. If she wanted you, she will have you. The are the Master’s fledges.”

“Childer.” Spike corrected him.

“What? What is the difference?”

“Fledge is a minion, newly made. Childe is preferred companion. Plural of childe is childer. Those two are not fledges, not minions. They are more like that crazy bitch Darla. Eventually, the Master will let them out on their own, and they then have the capacity to become Master Vamps themselves.” He grinned at the scholarly expression on Giles’ face. “Ahh. Not gonna teach ya all the convoluted rites and rituals of vamps, Watcher. So get that look off yer face.”

Cordy, silent for the duration since Spike’s arrival, finally spoke up. “Oh. As fascinating as all this childe versus fledge stuff is, can we get back to the matter at hand? Namely: How the Hell am I supposed to get back to my reality?!?”

“Alternate reality?” Spike nodded. “Yup. That’ll do it, I guess.” He asked Cordelia, “How do you know it’s an alternate reality? I mean, obviously you don’t belong here, too full of life for this dark place. But how are you certain.”

“Because I wished it.”

Please feed the chicky!