Previously in "Sum": A freak accident has split Buffy into two not-so-equal pieces. One Buffy's been hanging with the Scoobies, the other with Spike. It's time for the excrement to strike the air circulation unit . . .
Chapter 5 Face Time
The house was relatively quiet when they arrived. Spike
could hear the girls watching television in Dawn’s room, heard more adult voices
coming from the kitchen. Buffy kissed him lightly. “I’m going to go up and
change. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll start rallying the troops.” He watched her lightly ascend the stairs, then
headed for the kitchen.
Xander, Willow and Anya all looked up when he came in. “Slayer’s got a problem.”
“Yeah, we know,” Xander started to say.
That’s when the screaming started.
They were all in motion almost before they’d identified that the screams were
coming from upstairs. Xander was only a step behind Spike as they raced up the
stairs to push through the mass of teenage bodies packed tight and screeching in
the hall outside Buffy’s room.
Spike threw himself at the slight, blonde military-clad figure perched atop
Buffy with her hands wrapped around her throat. He threw an arm around the
attacker’s neck and grabbed her arm, levering her away from the Slayer, who
Xander was helping to her feet. Spike slammed his target against the wall,
pinning her in place.
Everyone gasped.
The woman he held trapped was Buffy. As was the one Xander was helping up to sit
on the edge of the bed.
“Bloody hell!”
“It’s the First!” the Buffy he had brought home insisted, pointing shakily at
her doppelganger. “It’s taken my shape to get into the house.”
“It can’t be the First, Buffy,” Willow said soothingly. “Look, Spike’s touching
her. The First is noncorporeal, remember?” She went to the attacker. “Who are
you?”
“Geez, Will, who do you think I am? We’ve only known each other since high
school.” She shoved Spike away but maintained her position.
Willow turned to the bed. “And you?”
“I’m Buffy,” she said insistently.
“ ‘S what I was tryin’ to tell you downstairs,” Spike intervened. “I found her
in St. Marks cemetery couple hours ago. She’s got no Slayer abilities. Was being
chased down by a couple of fledglings. She’d been hurt pretty bad.”
Dawn sat down next to her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. Spike patched me up. I’m just really confused.”
Xander piped up. “Well, we’ve been with that one all day. And except for the
accident, nothing unusual happened. She’s been . . . well, Buffy. A little more
Sgt. Rock-ish, but still Buffy.”
“Accident?” Spike growled. “What accident?”
“Taser rifle discharge.” It was Anya’s turn to contribute. “Knocked her clear
across the room. Pretty impressive.”
He turned back to the Buffy he had restrained. “You alright?” He laid a hand on
her arm.
“I’m fine!” She tried to push him off, but he grabbed her hand, trying to hold
it in place. A tug of war ensued as the two struggled for dominance. After just
a moment, he let go. “Whoever she is, she’s got full Slayer strength.”
“Just let me prove it,” she moved toward him threateningly.
Willow stepped between them, looking her in the eye. “That won’t be necessary.”
Strong Buffy backed down.
Dawn looked back and forth between the two copies of her sister. “It’s like
one’s Slayer Buffy and one’s just Buffy Buffy.”
“But how do we know which one’s the real one?” Xander asked. “If either one of
them is?”
“We start with the basics,” Willow took command. “Blood tests and magic. Do
either of you have any complaints?”
Both Buffys shook their heads.
“Well, that’s a good sign at least. An imposter would resist being examined too
closely. C’mon downstairs, we’ll get started."
The tests weren’t helping. Blood samples were identical, and Willow’s spell
showed that they were both Buffy, albeit they had both been touched by magic
recently. So the research had begun.
Buffy Buffy joined in the search as well, searching through books for
information on magical duplication. Slayer Buffy lounged in one of the chairs,
feet up on the table and knees splayed, rocking on the back legs of the chair
with nervous energy. Dawn watched her from the head of the table where she was
helping Willow.
Dawn spoke softly to Willow. “Slayer Buffy seems an awful lot like Faith.”
Willow nodded. “It’s kind of scary.”
Xander’s head kept bobbing from one Buffy to the other. “You know, this reminds
me so much of when I got split. I really get now why you guys kept staring.”
“There were two of you?” Spike shook his head. “Glad I missed that.”
But Willow looked horrified. “But it couldn’t be, could it? I mean, you guys
were alone in the apartment, right? No one came in while you were there?”
“No, it was just us.”
“Oh!” Anya squealed as she remembered something. Then more ominously, “Oh . . .”
She looked furtively from Xander to Willow and back again. “Uh-oh.”
Dawn slumped back in her chair. “That is so not good.”
“Anya,” Xander tried to keep the condescension out of his voice, “what did you
do?”
“Well it was just lying there in the middle of the floor, wasn’t it?” she
protested. “Thoth was dead, and his big old power rod was there, and I thought
‘Maybe we can use that someday!’ and if not ‘Maybe I can find a collector who
would pay big bucks for it!’ So I put it in the closet. And when we moved in, I
put it in the bottomless footlocker. And then we got so busy what with the
unpacking and the shop and the trying not to get killed by Glory, I just, well,
I forgot about it, that’s all.”
Willow sighed. “It’s okay, Anya, really. At least we know what it is. And, bonus
for us, it’s an easy fix. C’mon guys, let’s move the table away. Dawn, do you
still have that white poster paint from your history project?”
Five minutes later, the Summers’ dining room had been transformed into magical
space, complete with pentagram painted on the hardwood floor. The potentials
watched curiously from the living room door as Willow led the two Buffys to
stand in the middle of the pentagram. The rest scattered themselves around the
edge of the circle.
“Now remember,” Willow said comfortingly, directing her words more to Buffy than
the Slayer, “this’ll be really simple. Your natural state is to be together, so
we’re just going to help it along. Ready?”
“Just do it,” the Slayer grumbled.
Willow smiled and closed her eyes, spread her arms as she drew up energy from
the earth, and when she felt filled with it, spoke the simple charm and released
it, directed at the two parts of her friend. “Let the spell be ended!”
She opened her eyes with a smile.
Two pairs of glittering green eyes looked back at her
“That’s it?” Spike’s tone was incredulous.
“It worked on Xander!” Willow defended.
“Well, that’s just brilliant, innit? Bloody perfect time for another Scooby
screw-up, with Big Bad breathing down our necks!”
“What do you know about it, Fang-boy?” Xander challenged. “We’ll be just fine.
We’ve still got the Slayer, we’re not any worse off than before.”
“Not worse off? Not worse off? I knew you people didn’t understand her, what she
was, but I didn’t realize you were so bloody stupid!” He thrust out his arm to
point at Slayer Buffy. “That isn’t the Slayer. I can kill that. I did kill that.
Twice. Hell, even Dru killed that once and she’s off her nut! The reason I
couldn’t kill that,” he pointed again “is because of that.” And his arm shifted
to Buffy Buffy.
Slayer growled, advancing on him. “I could kill you where you stand!”
He looked at her sadly. “No, pet, you really can’t.” His foot lashed out
suddenly, and before anyone could react he was on her, knee across her gut, hand
around her throat, her right arm twisted painfully and pinned to the floor.
“See,” he continued coldly, “you haven’t got the intuition to take me. Or the
imagination. Or the drive. You’re all instinct, and instinct fails against the
unexpected.” He rose to his feet, dragging her along by her elbow. “And that,
children, is why you are well and truly buggered.” He pushed through the
potentials to grab his denim coat from the stair rail and yanked open the door.
“Where are you going?” Xander protested.
“Patrolling, you git. The vamps have been hiding while that turok-han was
prowling around. They’re hungry and they’re gonna be lookin’ to change that. If
you people manage to put her back together, I don’t want her brassed off at me
for letting things go to hell. Further.”
“I’m going with you,” Slayer insisted.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m going with you or I’m going on my own.”
Willow intervened. “Spike, would you take her? I know it’s . . . awkward, but
she shouldn’t be out on her own.”
Spike’s eyes screamed his frustration, but he finally gave in. “Fine, get your
stakes.”
With a feral grin, she was off.
Willow drew him aside. “I know you will anyway, but you need to keep her safe.
If one dies, they both do.”
“This just gets better and better.”
She shrugged. “We gave up half-assed screw-ups a while ago.”
“Might want to consider taking it up again.”
“What, and miss all this fun?”
He was about to retort when the Slayer reappeared silently at his side. He
settled for glaring at the witch and opening the door for the Slayer. “Later.”
“Counting on it.” As the door closed behind them, Willow turned to those
remaining. “Okay people, research mode! Anya, I’m gonna need that rod . . .”
“All over it,” Xander jumped in. “And I’ll get cheesy comestibles while I’m out.
Anything else?
“I’ll come, too,” Anya volunteered. “I salvaged a couple boxes of books from the
shop that Willow didn’t brainsuck. You know, when she was evil. Which she’s not
now.”
“C’mon, tact girl.” Xander took her arm. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Great. The rest of you help hit the books. Another long night at Scooby
Central. . .”
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