Survivors

By: Whistler84

Summery: AU. Seeking sanctuary from a devastated reality, the PTB send a very unique pair to Wolfram and Hart. Who, you ask? . . . Buffy and Cordelia, that's who. Poor Wolfram and Hart.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all of the BtVS and AtS related characters. I own nothing but the plot, and even that is a major ripoff of Joss's stuff.

Spoilers: All seasons of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. And up to the Smile Time episode in Angel, Season five.

Rated: PG-13 for language.

Quick A/N: Please review if you want me to proceed with this story, cause at this point its still all up in the air. I'd like to continue, but only if anybody wants me to. Also, English is my second language and I haven't been able to get a beta yet. I think I got all the errors, but I'm only human. Anyway, onto the show.

Review, please

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Even with the violent dizziness of post-portal traveling, Buffy Summers noticed that there was something very, very wrong with their destination. It was nothing more than a crater in the ground. And not a small crater mind you, but a big one, that conveniently covered what she could only assume was Sunnydale, California. The Hellmouth.

Coincidence, she thought not.

The only conclusion she'd been able to reach, in the thirty seconds she'd been standing there in what could only be described as stupefied shock, was that the Hellmouth here was actually gone. Evil had closed up shop and left - and put up a "no vacancy" sign in its wake. The thought had the effect of pushing the former slayer (a girl who like to think of herself as not easily shockable) slowly sinking into a daze.

This realities' Hellmouth was actually closed.

Wow.

She found herself almost instinctively reaching out with her supernatural senses and feeling nothing of what she'd come to expect over the past few years. She could fell no malevolence resounding throughout the land, no baleful gust of wind, no beacon of wicked to be felt by anyone or anything. There was nothing left here except a faint shadow of evil that she could feel tracing over her skin. It wasn't the quiver she'd gotten use to these past years, but she felt it nonetheless. An echo of an echo, really. Too soft for anyone normal to feel, but Buffy Summers had never been normal.

Not even years ago when she'd been alive.

But something told her that as faint as that residue was, a thousand years of coarse wind and harsh rain wouldn't wipe that filth away. It was here to stay for all eternity. The Hellmouth's ghost would live on.

The Hellmouth itself, however, would not.

So as she stood upon the shaky rubble of what she could only assume had been a festering sore upon this Earth just as it had been upon her own, she couldn't quiet comprehend how that could have happened, and who could have pulled it off. Her mind easily supplied a few familiar possibilities of who - people she was sure had been fighting the good fight here just as they had been in her own world - but she didn't allow herself to dwell on them too long. It hurt too much to think of them. Her lost friends. Her lost life.

Her lost love.

As if sensing her mood and subtly reminding that she hadn't lost all, her only friend and companion in all the realities selected that moment to speak.

"Wow. What big ass asteroid hit here?"

Let it never be said that Cordelia Chase was a poet. She had wit so blunt, it's stop a bull in its tracks. Buffy found it annoyingly comforting; as was all things Cordelia. Her persona kinda grew on people after a while.

But then again, so did cancer.

"I have to say," She continued, shuddering. "On a level of one to creepy, we're really dipping into the red danger zone here."

Buffy didn't bother to look over at person she'd come to call, as depressingly as it sounds, her best friend. She did however acknowledge her with an equally articulate response of -

"Yeah. You could say that. Stupid red. Never liked that color anyway. Always made me look fat."

Let it never be said that Buffy Summers was poet, either. Even if her life could kick the shit out of the most dramatic of Shakespearian plays at times.

Cordelia smirked in response, what was sure to be bitting words poised on lips, but Buffy beat her to it. She knew exactly what was coming and decided to cut it off at the head. Sure, Buffy knew she had a little penance coming to her - Ok, scratch that - a lot of penance coming to her, but she was also pretty sure the PTB didn't have Cordelia's sparkling wit in mind as the weapon of choice . . . Unless they were exceptionally crueler then she'd ever imagined, that is.

"One word about my weight," Buffy warned, "and I swear to god Cordelia, this soul won't stop me from hurting you badly. And slowly."

Cordelia's smirk only grew, and she playfully patted Buffy's swelling tummy. "Not a word, mummy dearest."

God, she hated being called that. At least when it was said in the sarcastic manner that Cordelia seemed to specialize in.

"So, what's the plan?" Cordy asked, turning serious as she looked back out at the scene before them. "I doubt hitchhiking is much of a hope, seeing as there's nothing living out here that could actually, you know survive, much less come equipped with a drivers license and a car. Preferably a sports car, but I'm not picky."

"You're asking me? You're the one that opened up the portal thingie and brought us here. Your demon powers couldn't have sensed a better place than a giant whole in the ground as a destination? Blind mice have a better sense of directions than you."

Cordelia glared back. "Oh, gee. Sorry. I was kinda busy concentrating on opening an inter-dimensional vortex and carrying your fat ass into said vortex. All the while, by the way, worrying about your demon ex-lover of a psycho sweetie and his merry band of vampires. I guess I should have been thinking harder about landing somewhere in the Bahamas. Hell, if I played my cards right, I could have landed during the daytime and really ruined your tan-allergic fun." She huffed, literally. "We landed in a friggen' alternate reality like we planned. What more do you want from me?"

Buffy briefly entertained several different 'colorful' responses to that question, but kept her mouth shut at the first rate death glare she was receiving from Cordelia. God, who was the intimidating vampire/former slayer of the two? Looking over at her, she wondered why most people didn't mistake an irate Cordy as the fabled (and former) evil icon.

"And that fat comment was out of line." Buffy mumbled annoyed, after a moment.

Cordelia snorted. "You may be miraculously seven months pregnant with Angelus's child, a fact that I'm willing to sympathize with you on, but the fat comments I won't let up on. I swear to god your kid has a bigger head then both his parents combined. I personally consider that to be a bigger miraculous feat then being the son of two vampires. He's no lightweight sweetie, and neither are you."

Queen C in all her glory, ladies and gentlemen - Buffy thought glaring, but decided to diplomatically ignore it. They could exchange banter later, when they had shelter and food.

Food.

Blood.

Damn, why the hell did she think that? Now she was thirsty. Damn insane pregnancy cravings.

"I guess we walk." Buffy said, mentally forcing herself back on track. Thinking of blood would lead to badness, and that situation was entirely humorless.

"Walk where? As far as the eye can see, it's just dirt and rubble. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm kinda missing our Sunnydale. At least there, we had some living to go along with the dead."

"Don't say that." Buffy snapped, "That place is dead and gone to us and there's no going back. I mean it, Cordelia. This is our new home, like it or not. This is our reality."

"I know, I know." Cordelia replied, just as heatedly. "You don't need to tell me that. I got the message from the Oracles loud and clear. I was there too, remember? Have the commemorative scars, both emotional and physical, to prove it."

Buffy's face softened immediately at the reminder, then welled up with an odd mixture of guilt, sadness, and hope. Guilt and sadness because it was she herself, Buffy Summers, that had wrecked most of that havoc upon Cordy's life, turning it into a mockery of all it had ever really stood for.

Buffy had been a particularly vindictive bitch as a vampire, after all. Sure, she'd been a powerful vampire that had risen to Master status virtually over night, and it came with the territory. But thinking back on it now, knowing and feeling the full extent of what she'd done, it often crippled her with such a pain, she could barely stand. Cordelia had suffered a major brunt of that wrath, having been Angel's other love . . . or potential love, whatever. Point was, Cordelia had seen the worst of her.

And despite that all, Buffy also felt a sense of hope, because Cordy still stood by her after everything.

What twisted fate had thrown Buffy Summers and Cordelia Chase together, she'll never know.

They may always fight. They may always bitch about each other and constantly annoy each other to no end, but they were friends. It was quite possibly the most dysfunctional friendship she ever had, with the exception of Spike, but like Spike, it was a friendship that Buffy had grown to depend on. Despite all the flaws that Cordelia Chase had, Buffy was still thankful for her company.

Suddenly and without warning, she found her eyes welling up with unshed tears, and cursing her damn pregnancy hormones once again, she turned away and blinked them back. No time for crying now. She'd cried enough for a lifetime already.

"We walk to the nearest place we can find with people in it, and then we plead a ride to LA."

Cordelia turned quickly away, but Buffy caught a glimpse of the undiluted apprehension that was etched on her face. LA had almost as much meaning to her as this pile of rubble and ash did to Buffy. She wasn't sure if Cordy was ready enough to face the reality of that city, her true city, after seeing Sunnydale like this. A part of Cordy probably wondered if LA were in ruins, too.

But they had no other choice but to leave. Here, Sunnydale could do nothing for them.

"LA it is," Cordy agreed, softly. "I wonder if the Hyperian is still standing."

"And the mall," Buffy added, jokingly. "I always loved the LA malls. So much bigger and better then Sunnydale's."

"Here here, Sister." Cordy agreed, wholeheartedly.

Ah, shopping. The one thing they could always agree upon.

And, since they had run out of things to say to keep their minds occupied, and they had nothing else to do, they both began the long trudge towards whatever civilization lay ahead of them on this foreign world.

A slayer-turned-vampire burdened into consciousness by the soul of her unborn miracle child, and half demon-half human seer that was burdened by the fact that she'd failed to stop the atrocities the PTB had charged her to prevent. They both walked side by side, in a reality that wasn't their own. But they would make it their own, if it was the last thing they ever did.

Come hell or high water . . . . . .

"So . . . You think this world has shrimp?"

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