Portal

Realizing that no amount of audience-less quips would help her, she took stock of her options, and since she had no real choice, Miss Summers continued to walk the long and winding road twisting her foot with each step hoping to wipe the stain and the stench from her boots.

The dust that rose with each heavy tramped footprint flurried in the air like miniature mushroom clouds. They caked her feet and worked its way into her socks and irritated her meticulously pedicured toes. She had no time to savor the serenity of the quiet scene as she wanted to reach the end of the Yellow Dirt Road to the ramshackle Oz she pictured in her mind that she prayed wasn't the basis for Deliverance.

No birds sang from the treetops, no snakes rattled defensively, only the faint hum of crickets was her aural companion on her journey, their incessant chirping like a fanfare announcing her arrival.

An hour later, she looked up to see the arid trail still snaking off up the slowly gradiating hill, and though she be of Californian stock, Buffy still withered under the broiling sun that bore down with an unusually cruel majesty as her tongue leathered and razored at her inner cheeks. Its harsh rays lashing at her soft skin making her more parched by the second and felt herself shriveling as tinder dry sticks cracked underneath her assured footsteps unleashing her bored mind upon itself.

'Is this how Faith always felt? Alone, not knowing who or where to turn to? Damn, I've been so blind.... but that's going to change as soon as I get home...if I get home that is,' she thought on with her mind rambling as much as her body.

As she walked she picked up a dry stick and lazily swung it around like a bored child on a school field trip, running it across the neglected wire fence that ran along the side of the road tapping out the "Imperial March" from Star Wars that was stuck like a sonic limpet to her psyche.

'Damn that Andrew,' she thought as her monotony grew in the sparse and silent plain that surrounded her and so resolved herself to add a spritely step to her wandering so she pushed on and as she did she wished more than ever for the comforts of home.

What she wouldn't give to see Willow again, ethical coffee in one hand and Cezanne in the other, even the irritating squeak of Giles cleaning his glasses seemed like a welcome sound. She would even take the mewling of Kennedy as Buffy once more kicked her affluent ass. She felt a little sorry at bruising Willow's girlfriend but she was sure that the redhead didn't mind rubbing lotion all over her and kissing the boo-boo's away.

* * *

* * *

*

As the blurred edges of the domicile in the distance became hardened and focused Buffy could see that it was a bar, replete with pick-up trucks and overflowing trashcans.

"A bar? Out here? Who the hell..." she started but once she crossed round to the front of the long wooden building to hopefully find an entrance, she was surprised to see field after field of lush vineyards that crept out in all directions.

Buffy turned to see the dry and barren route she had been forced to take and sighed at her luck, but her aching throat and sandpaper tongue's need for refreshment overtook her.

She felt a little nervous as she pushed open the creaking door and bathed herself in the light that radiated from the neon beer signs and the low hanging shade over the pool table surrounded by shifty looking bikers who were swapping stories about scars and ill-mannered prostitutes. They all stopped mid-tale to view the new entry to their hallowed yet heathen home from home.

About to ask for help, Buffy was stopped in her verbal tracks by an unexpected assailant of the canine variety.

The blonde girl shrieked and fell on her ass as she was tackled to the floor by a mass of teeth and fur that for some reason carried the faint odor of diesel oil.

"Aarghh, get off!" she screamed as she tried to push the drooling offender away, but its twisting head evaded her girlish flaps of alarm. Buffy's soft eyes widened as panic gripped her even more firmly as she felt the hound's lipstick rubbing against her leg.

"Nononono, that's sooooo gross!" she wailed as the dog continued its lascivious assault.

"Archie, off!" came the stern order from a welcomingly familiar voice.

Buffy looked up as she tried to regain what shred of dignity she still had intact and saw the wide grin of Faith. Or a woman who looked like her at least, confusion was now a common emotion to the chosen girl whose recent encounters with so many identical women had shrouded her in self-doubt. But no matter how many times she saw this face she always felt a sense of joy when she saw those doe eyes, that cocky smile, and those full succulent lips.

"Sorry about that, he's just friendly," the dark-haired woman grinned as she knelt and hugged her vivacious dog.

"I was going to go with slobbery, but friendly will do," replied Buffy as she wiped her rapidly dirtying sleeves with yet another substance that no amount of dry cleaning would remove.

Buffy, still dazed at her moistened greeting, simply stared in awe at the dimple-featured lady who was busy scratching her hound behind the ear who continued to wag its tail wildly.

"You ok, can I get you something?" she asked warmly as she offered her calloused hand out to the slayer who accepted it happily and was hauled back to her feet.

"Tetanus booster maybe," Buffy shot back, her wit drier than the landscape.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a towel."

Buffy stared into the deep brown eyes that could covet a thousand sins yet to be thought of and could feel herself drowning in them with glee. There was something so comforting about being able to stare into Faith's eyes without having the rigmarole rendition of their heinous past being thrust upon them.

"You ok?" asked the brunette cautiously.

"Er...fine."

Before the awkward silence portion of the conversation could unravel itself, Buffy attempted to steer all the attention back to the panting dog.

"Is he...like 'Cujo'?"

"No, Alsatian," the woman answered with a brow tarnished by many a ruffle.

"I meant is he all crazy with the rabies or something?" Buffy explained.

"Oh, don't be like that, you can see he's sorry, aren't you boy?" she said as the dog looked up with a heart melting glare.

"Aww, he is kinda cute," Buffy admitted. "Is he pouting? Can dogs pout?"

"Dunno, this is Archie," the well-endowed brunette introduced with a small chuckle.

"Like in the comics?"

"Yep... Archie, out," she said as she pushed the door open so the horny hound could flee into the fields and pester the local coyote population.

"Is he always like that?"

"No, but he's in heat at the moment and you must smell like..." the be-jugged woman leaned forward and gave the slayer a small sniff, "...shit, actually."

"Thanks, but yeah, I...er, fell over in.....something."

"Heh, it must be girl-dog scent or something. That, or you're a werewolf."

Buffy stared up at this girl with shock that she could be so brazen about the existence of the supernatural, flying in the face of eons of secrecy and slight-of-hand dealings with abhorrent creatures of the night. But once she saw the huge smirk plastered on the brunettes face, she realized that it was merely a joke and she kicked herself at being so immersed in an existence tied with those of mystic origin that she had forgotten that there was a real world out there. With real people. Far removed from her life of bloodshed and battle.

"I'm Joe."

"Buffy."

"Nice."

"Thanks."

"Drink?"

"Please," Buffy said ending the monosyllabic exchange.

Ignoring the stares of the well lubricated patrons of the place, Buffy crossed to the bar with a confident strut desperately overcompensating for her embarrassing entrance, but didn't realize that she was intently staring at the tight jeans that held Joe's gloriously toned buttocks that swayed with effortless sexuality.

"What do you want?"

"Just water please," the blonde said as she sat her own perfectly-formed derriere on a soft leather topped barstool that seemed to sigh at her weight.

Buffy looked around and with the presence of the Faith-look-a-like as well as the smell of leather and cigarettes wafting through the air she, for the moment, felt slightly less alone. That's when she realized just how much she missed her redemption-chasing counterpart.

"So, you work here?"

"Nah, this is my bar. My father was the original Joe and he left the place to me."

"So is this like a retro bar or something?" Buffy quizzed as she accepted the glass of water that Joe slid over the well-polished veneer to her and sipped gratefully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's all like....vintagey."

"Vintagey? First, that's not even a word and second, we got all the latest tunes on the jukebox, Deep Purple, Foghat, Aerosmith, even some Blue Oyster Cult. The very best 1976 has to offer," she boasted.

"1976!" Buffy squealed as the numbers rattled around in her head, but blushed as all the heads of the patrons once again turned to her. "You mean like all love beads, mood rings and polyester? Oh ziggy take me home," she sighed and prayed that her body clock was able to switch from digital to analogue.

Looking up the out of place clock on the far wall Joe noted the time.

"Jeez, you started early," came the distinctive rasp of the buxom hostess.

"What?"

"It's not 4:20 yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you toasted already?" The esoteric questions of a bizarre nature kept coming as Joe peered inquisitively into Buffy's eyes.

"Toasted? Huh? Oh, no I get you...no, I don't do drugs...no, no not me.....not at all...ever.

"Fair enough," Joe said as she clasped her hands over her head and leaned back working out the kinks in her spine. Her flower-printed wide collared top tightened on her flexing bosom and pulled at the knot tied off just above her smooth midriff.

Buffy couldn't help but stare down the glorious cleavage of the delectable bar owner.

"So can I get you a real drink, honey?" she asked with a warm tone to overlay her smile of undiluted effervescence.

The slayers mind was still fuzzy at the breastacular display that she was privy to witness and so the question simply rebounded off her but a firm click of Joe's fingers in front of her face pulled her back to the present.

"Huh?"

"I said what can I get you?"

Looking at the dozens of bottles behind the bar Buffy decided that simplicity was the best option.

"Er, wine?"

"Well you've come to the right place. What kind?"

"Er....white?"

Joe smiled back, obviously amused at the blond girls feeble attempts to elevate herself above the riff-raff and seem like a connoisseur.

"Tell you what, let me choose for ya."

"You're not going to ID me?" Buffy asked almost out habit as she did like to seem younger than she was.

"Is there a reason I should?"

"N-no, I'm twenty-two."

"Then I'm not going to card you. We're pretty relaxed around here, besides everyone here works at the vineyards so they drink all the time."

Joe uncorked a bottle and poured the local wine into a crystal clear long-stemmed glass. "So you one of the interns?"

"Huh? The interns? Oh no, I'm not in a band."

"What?" Joe chuckled with her deliciously full throated rasp, "No, I meant the interns...for the vineyard."

Buffy looked around and saw that a majority of the imbibers of the fermented grape were young, perhaps even younger than her.

"The only people who come up here in the summer are interns...or mules to supply the interns, you dig?'"

"Er no...yes, I'm an intern, I'm here to do....all interny things.... with my fellow interns," Buffy said raising her voice at the end almost questioningly.

"Man, now I know you're on the old herbal confusion, maybe just half a glass for you," Joe mocked with a shake of her head that swung her pendulous hooped earrings with a captivating motion.

"No, no, I'm good. All is of the good," Buffy replied with a flash of her pearly off-whites as she sipped her drink. "Oooh, this is nice wine."

"You were expecting what....Thunderbird?" Joe smirked back before turning to attend to other customers.

Buffy sipped once more and savored the refreshing taste and breathed in the scene as she spun on her bar stool and looked out the front windows and across the valley that teamed with grapes and lush looking vines.

'Yep, this view is much better than the one I saw on the way up here. Long sunny days, not much cover for vamps, this could be a pretty sweet deal. Ehh, I've been in worse situations', her thoughts told her and punctuated them with a shrug.

Though separated from her friends, family, and foot-spa she felt strangely peaceful, as if she were able to relax for once in these beautiful surroundings with a glass of fine wine and the company of a familiar face. And so she accepted her fate, however temporary, with aplomb.

* * *

* * *

"Hey there, little lady. Don't often get girls as pretty as you `round here," came the creepy sneer of a man who looked to be in his late twenties who flashed his nicotine yellow smile at the blonde. After all the demonic fiends Buffy had encountered, it was the human monster that still freaked out the slayer the most. His tie-dye shirt just confirmed the fact that he was as colorful a miscreant as she was ever likely to meet and inflict himself upon her.

"I'm Danny, I work over at Rohaldo's vineyard," he said as he outstretched his hand, but once seeing the amount of dirt under his fingernails Buffy just stared at him.

"Ahem, if you're looking for a place to stay you can always bunk down with u," he continued with a wiggle of his right eyebrow that was neatly dissected by a scar.

"That's ok dumbass, I mean Danny. This is my...cousin. She's here for a few days and she's staying with me, right Buffy?" Joe interrupted, shooting the unshaven man the kind of vicious glare that could strip wallpaper.

"Er...right, yeah...cousin...that's me," the slayer spluttered out though she had no inkling to stay with this captivating woman, no matter how relaxed she felt in her presence, but at this point it seemed like the lesser of two evils.

"That's a shame, well you know where I am if you change your mind," he smirked with a pinkeye tinged wink as he swaggered out the bar and into the sunlight that bathed the foliage like a subtle flame.

Joe brought Buffy over to one side of the bar and as soon as she saw Danny had gone from her line of sight she leaned into the blonde conspiratorially.

"What's his damage?", Buffy asked.

"Brain mostly," Joe said back with a light voice. "Y'see most of the interns who come here every year aren't here to `till the soil and nurture the vine' as they say. They're just students looking to enjoy themselves. They say it's for work experience and to look good on their resumes, but really it's an excuse for them to sit in a field and get stoned off their asses, and he hooks them up."