The whole neighborhood was in chaos.
From every street, sidewalk, and corner came shrieks of terror, car alarms, cries for help, sounds of running, howling, the shatter of breaking glass. The air was thick with panic and the smell of fear.
As hysterical children raced past him for cover, Xander turned in confusion and immediately deshouldered his plastic machine gun. For a split second he felt a peculiar dizziness throughout his whole body. Staggering a little, he tried to keep his balance, then just as quickly felt the dizziness leave him, clearing his head once more.
His posture went ramrod straight.
He raised his gun.
Not the plastic gun he’d held only a moment ago, but a fully functional M-16 machine gun.
Xander didn’t even look surprised. His demeanor now was all military, his jaw set, his eyes like steel.
In front of Mrs. Parker’s house, Willow felt herself sit up. She still felt peculiar, not quite herself, but at least the awful dizziness had gone. She stood slowly, trying to remember exactly what had happened. And then she looked down at her feet.
“Oh. Oh my God . . .”
She was still lying there on the porch.
Or, at least, her ghost was.
Willow stared at the ghost sheet, at the lifeless form that lay beneath it. And then she looked down at her own clothes.
The Willow standing here was wearing a miniskirt and halter top—the rocker-babe costume that Buffy had picked out for her. But the Willow lying there wasn’t moving at all—in fact, the standing Willow could see her own boots submerged in the sleeping Willow, as though the two of them were still precariously connected.
Willow’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’m a. I’m a real ghost.”
Machine gun fire sounded behind her. Willow turned to see Xander backing across the street, surveying the area in silent panic.
“Xander!”
As joy and relief swept through her, Willow raced over to her old friend. But to her dismay, Xander whipped around and pointed his gun straight at her.
“Xander, it’s me. Willow!”
Xander eyed her suspiciously. He cautiously low ered his gun.
“I don’t know any Willow,” he said.
“Quit messing around, Xander,” Willow pleaded. “This is no time for jokes.”
Xander’s stare was cold. “What the hell is going on here?”
“You don’t know me?” Willow peered earnestly into his face, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition.
“Lady, I suggest you find cover.”
“No, wait!” Before Xander could walk away, Willow stepped in front of him. But instead of stopping him as she intended, an incredible thing happened.
She felt Xander pass right through her.
Pass right through and step out from her other side.
Willow gazed down at herself in disbelief. She was trembling from the contact, a rush of pure physical pleasure enveloping her from head to toe.
“Ooh,” she breathed.
Xander, on the other hand, freaked out. Spinning around, he raised his gun and pointed it at her again.
“What are you?” he demanded.
“Xander.” Willow raised both of her hands where he could see them. “Listen to me. I’m on your side, I swear. Something crazy is happening. I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween, and now I am a ghost. You were supposed to be a soldier, and now, I guess, you’re a real soldier—”
“And you expect me to believe that?” Xander snapped.
Before Willow could answer, a little vampire emerged from the bushes, growling at them. Immediately Xander took aim.
“No!” Willow yelled. “No guns. That’s still a little kid in there.”
“But—”
“No guns. That’s an order. Let’s just get—” She broke off, spotting something down the street. “Buffy!”
Buffy was indeed coming toward them, stumbling along the sidewalk in her gown. At once Willow ran to meet her, leaving Xander to grudgingly follow.
“Buffy, are you okay?”
As Willow approached her, she heard another menacing growl from the bushes—only louder this time—more like a roar. Behind them, the little vampire had been joined by a very large demon, and the two of them were heading this way.
Buffy stood between Willow and Xander, several paces behind.
The three of them watched as the monsters got closer.
Xander scowled. “This could be a situation.”
“Buffy, what do we do?” Willow asked desperately.
Buffy’s eyes grew wide.
And then she fainted.
CHAPTER 9
Without a word or a single sound, Buffy just dropped to the sidewalk and lay there.
Willow stared down in disbelief.
Xander hoisted his gun and fired above the demons’ heads. As the monsters took off, he turned back to Willow, who was kneeling beside Buffy and coaxing her back to consciousness.
“Buffy! Are you all right?”
“What?” Buffy whispered.
“Are you hurt?” Xander asked.
“Buffy, are you hurt?” Willow echoed.
Buffy gazed up at them. Her face was blank. “Buffy?”
“She’s not Buffy,” Willow said to Xander.
Xander frowned. “Who’s Buffy?”
“Oh, this is fun,” Willow sighed. And then to Buffy, “What year is this?”
Buffy thought a moment. “Seventeen-seventy-five, I believe. I don’t understand. Who are you?”
Xander helped her up. Willow gave her a reassuring smile.
“We’re friends,” Willow said.
“Friends of whom?” Buffy was in obvious distress. “Your dress is . . . everything is strange.” As her panic rose, she cried, “How did I come to be here?”
Willow tried to soothe her. “Okay, breathe, okay? You’re gonna faint again.” She paused to glance at Xander. “How are we supposed to get through this without the Slayer?”
Xander stared. “What’s a Slayer?”
Without warning a demon jumped Buffy from behind. Where the old Buffy would have pulverized it with one punch, this new Buffy simply screamed and batted at it with her fingers. Instead of helping, Willow could only watch in utter amazement. The demon pulled at Buffy’s wig, but it had become her real hair now, coming loose in the struggle, cascading down around her bare shoulders. It was Xander who finally stepped in, butting the demon with his rifle until it gave up and ran off.
Xander turned solemnly to Willow. “I suggest we get inside before we run into any other—”
“Demon!” Buffy shrieked. “A demon!”
Willow and Xander whirled to defend themselves. Bewildered, they saw only a car driving toward them along the street. Buffy promptly dived into Xander’s arms, shrinking against him and hiding her face.
“It’s not a demon,” Willow tried to explain. “It’s a car.”
“What does it want?” Buffy whimpered.
Xander fixed Willow with a level stare. “Is this woman insane?”
“She’s never seen a car,” Willow said.
“She’s never seen a car.”
“She’s from the past,” Willow said.
“And you’re a ghost.”
“Yes. Now let’s get inside.”
Xander stood for a moment, considering. And then he finally looked over at Willow.
“I just want you to know I’m taking a lot on faith here,” he informed her. “Where do we go?”
“Where’s the closest . . .” Willow shook her head, trying to think. “Uh, we can go to a friend’s house.”
A short time later the three of them piled through the back door into Buffy’s kitchen. Safe for the time being, Xander locked up the house, then stood at the window to keep guard. Buffy’s eyes wandered over the countertops and appliances, totally overwhelmed by the mysterious objects around her.
“I think we’re clear,” Xander announced.
“Hello!” Willow call
ed. “Mrs. Summers?” And then, when no one answered, “Good. She’s gone.”
“Where are we?” Buffy asked.
“Your place,” Willow told her. “Now we just need to—”
There was a violent pounding on the front door. Startled, they froze for an instant, then began moving through the house, Xander in the lead, Willow close behind, Buffy trailing. In the dining room, Buffy stayed behind, while Xander and Willow bravely continued on.
“Don’t open it!” Willow warned him.
Xander hesitated. “It could be a civilian.”
“Or a mini-demon.”
The pounding stopped.
They stopped, too, and waited.
At last Xander crossed to a window to look out. In the dining room Buffy saw something sitting on the mantel and walked over to examine it.
It was a picture.
A picture of a young woman who looked amazingly like her.
Buffy picked it up, deeply puzzled, as Willow approached her.
“This,” Buffy whispered, “this could be me.”
“It is you,” Willow insisted. “Buffy, can’t you remember at all?”
“No, I . . . I don’t understand any of this, and I . . .” Buffy hesitated, studying the photograph once more. “This is some other girl, I would never wear this . . .”
She was whining now, and rambling, dangerously close to tears. Willow stared at her in disbelief.
“This low apparel,” Buffy pouted, “and I don’t like this place, and I don’t like you, and I just want to go home!”
“You are home!” Willow told her.
Buffy began to cry. The pounding started again. Terrified, Buffy shrieked.
Even Willow was beginning to feel the strain of Buffy’s helplessness. “You couldn’t have dressed up like Xena,” she grumbled, hurrying back to Xander.
She was just in time to see a demonic hand smash through the window beside Xander’s head. The thing grabbed at him, but Xander managed to jump back just in time.
“Not a civilian,” Willow observed.
Xander gave a curt nod. “Affirmative.”
He stuck his gun out the window.
“Hey!” Willow reminded him sharply. “What’d we say?”
Xander ignored her. There was a short burst of gunfire, then they both heard the demon scampering away.
Xander’s look was self-righteous. “Big noise scare monster. Remember?”
“Got it,” Willow conceded.
But what they heard now was a terrified scream. It came from somewhere outside, and as Xander peered out the window again, his muscles tensed for action.
“Hey—!”
Before Willow could stop him, he raced out the front door. Buffy came up behind Willow, her voice bordering on hysteria.
“Surely he’ll not desert us?” Buffy fretted.
Willow had had enough. She gave Buffy a look, shrugged her shoulders and walked away. “Whatever . . .”
Out in the darkness, Xander had located the source of the screaming. Cordelia was running frantically down the street, her costume torn, her hair a disheveled mess. There were scratches on her face. Several yards behind her a huge hairy creature was relentlessly catching up.
Xander headed toward her. Cars had been abandoned in the streets, and shadowy figures were still running in the distance, some of them on the prowl, others fleeing for their lives. As Xander reached her, Cordelia screamed and tried to fight him off, before suddenly realizing who he was.
“Xander?”
“Come inside,” Xander ordered her. He didn’t have the slightest idea who she was.
He rushed her toward the house. He practically threw her inside, slamming the door behind them.
“Cordelia!” Willow exclaimed.
Cordelia looked supremely irritated. “What’s going on?”
“Okay,” Willow hurried to explain, “your name is Cordelia, you’re not a cat, you’re in high school, we’re your friends—well, sort of.”
“That’s nice, Willow,” Cordelia cut her off. “And you went mental when?”
Willow’s face lit up. “You know us?”
“Yeah, lucky me. What’s with the name game?”
“A lot’s going on,” Willow admitted.
“No kidding. I was just attacked by JoJo the dogfaced boy. Look at my costume! Think Party-Town’s gonna give me my deposit back? Not on the likely.”
As she was spouting off, Cordelia suddenly noticed a large rip up the side of her leotard. Xander had obviously noticed it, too, for he took off his jacket and put it around her.
“Here,” Xander said.
Surprised, Cordelia stared at his pumped biceps, at the tatoo she’d never seen there before. She glanced over and realized Willow was staring at the exact same thing.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Willow forced herself back to the moment. “Okay. You three stay here while I get help. If something tries to get in, just fight it off.”
“It’s not our place to fight,” Buffy protested fearfully. “Surely some men will come and protect us?”
Cordelia regarded her in total disgust. “What’s that riff?”
“It’s like amnesia, okay?” Willow sighed. “They don’t know who they are. Just sit tight.”
She didn’t have time to go into it now. She hurried by Cordelia and heard the girl say, “Who died and made her the boss?” And then she passed straight through the wall behind Cordelia’s back.
She didn’t notice Spike out in the street.
Didn’t notice him standing there amid the chaos, his long black coat drawn around him, his face a cruel vampire face. And yet his eyes shone as wide and bright as a child’s on Christmas morning.
“Well,” Spike smiled, taking everything in. “This is just . . . neat.”
CHAPTER 10
The night crept by.
Willow hadn’t returned yet, and Xander was growing more and more restless.
He pushed a table against a window. He proceeded to check all the smaller windows, as well, just to make sure they were secure. Buffy followed him around like a puppy, not wanting to be alone.
“Surely there’s somewhere we can go?” she begged him. “Some safe haven?”
Xander wouldn’t be swayed. “The lady said stay put.” He glanced at Cordelia and added, “Check upstairs. Make sure everything’s locked.”
Confused by Xander’s answer, Buffy started in on him again. “You would take orders from a woman? Are you feeble in some way?”
“Ma’am,” Xander sighed, “in the army we have a saying. Sit down and shut the—whoa.”
His voice broke off. He was staring down at the floor where a photograph had fallen, one which clearly showed the three of them—he and Buffy and Willow—together. He stared at it for a long time, and then he looked up at Buffy.
“She must be right,” he said to her. “We must have some kind of amnesia.”
Buffy drew herself up indignantly. “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure I don’t have it. I bathe quite often.”
“How do you explain this?” he demanded, indicating the photo.
Buffy lifted her nose into the air. “I don’t! I was brought up as a proper lady. I’m not meant to understand things. I’m just meant to look good and then someone nice will marry me. Possibly a baron.”
“This isn’t a tea party, princess,” Xander retorted. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to fight.”
“Fight?” Buffy looked appalled. “These low creatures? I’d sooner die.”
“Then you’ll die.”
“Oh, good,” a voice spoke out from behind them. “You guys are all right.”
They turned to see Angel hurrying in from the kitchen.
He shook his head at them in amazement.
“It’s total chaos out there,” he said.
Buffy and Xander stared at him.
“Who are you?” they asked.
Alone in the library, Giles was immersed in his book catalog
. He was used to the silence in here, especially after school hours, so when the faint screams and sirens sounded in the faraway distance, he lifted his head and frowned.
Then he remembered. Of course, it was Halloween. Screams and sirens would be the norm tonight.
But had that noise just then been something else? A stranger, softer sound—one much closer by?
Again Giles looked up, pausing to listen, thinking perhaps he’d imagined it.
A growl?
Slowly he turned from his work.
He didn’t hear the sound at all now. Still, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to investigate—
He was turning around when Willow ran out at him without warning, straight through the library wall.
Giles let out a yell.
He jumped back, arms flailing, knocking into shelves and sending books flying in all directions.
Willow stood there sheepishly. She held up one hand.
“Hi,” she said.
“Okay,” Angel said, “does somebody want to fill me in?”
He stared at Buffy’s old-fashioned dress, the lowcut neckline, the delicate lace. Something stabbed at his memory, and for one split second he felt as though he were falling back through time, through centuries . . .
Xander’s voice yanked him roughly back to the present. “Do you live here?”
“No! You know that. Buffy . . .” Bewildered, Angel took a step toward her. It was Buffy, he was certain, and yet somehow, not Buffy at all. Someone I knew, someone forgotten a long time ago . . . “I’m lost here,” he mumbled. “You . . .”
Buffy drew back fearfully. Angel squinted at her long dark wig.
“What’s up with your hair?” he asked.
“They don’t know who they are,” Cordelia said impatiently, coming back downstairs. “Everyone’s become a monster. It’s a whole big thing.” She stopped and collected herself. She gave Angel a smile. “How are you?”
Pounding erupted all around them. As the lights went out, plunging the room into total blackness, Buffy shrieked and grabbed Cordelia.
“Do you mind?” Cordelia snapped, shoving her away.
Xander turned to Angel. “Take the princess here and secure the kitchen. Catwoman, you’re with me.”
THE ANGEL CHRONICLES, Vol. 2 Page 4