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The Hill Street Waitress.

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This story is No. 3 in the series "Free Fall.". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: It was like no one Buffy knew existed anymore, that she’d been dumped in this hell-hole of a town with inadequate clothing and only seventy-five cents. Heaven just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be!

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Hill Street Blues(Recent Donor)DaveTurnerFR151128,901611410,42123 Feb 1414 Mar 14Yes

Chapter One

The Hill Street Waitress.
By Dave Turner.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Hill Street Blues. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: Hill Street Blues.

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar; Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

Timeline: BtVS post Season Five, Pre Season Six. Hill Street Blues, Season One.

Words: Eleven Chapters of 2500+ words.

Warnings: None really.

Summary: It was like no one Buffy knew existed anymore, that she’d been dumped in this hell-hole of a town with inadequate clothing and only seventy-five cents. Heaven just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be!

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All you need to do is take
One step into the sky.
Give yourself to gravity,
Give death another try.*


*: Free Fall; Hawkwind.

Turning away from Dawn, Buffy paused for just a moment before she started her run towards the rising sun. Her long strides soon took her to the end of the platform; stepping off Glory’s tower, she leapt into thin air and fell towards the portal that glowed beneath her. As she fell she felt the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders, she heard the wind rushing in her ears and a loud, calm, female voice that seemed to fill the entire universe.

“…and now the marks for artistic interpretation…” The voice started to recite numbers. “…Eight point five, eight point seven, eight point…”

Slowly the voice faded away and Buffy found herself caressed by a soft, warm, blackness and for a time a feeling of utter peace surrounded and engulfed her, until…

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Blackness, Buffy had never known such totally, complete, dark. Slowly as her senses started to return the darkness began to take on a slightly red-pink hue. The thought suddenly came to her that the reason it was so dark was because she had her eyes tightly closed. Why did she have her eyes closed, she was dead wasn’t she? If she was dead, surely she should be in heaven so why would she have her eyes so firmly shut?

The next thing to start working were her ears, Buffy could hear someone sobbing. A woman was sobbing somewhere close by and she could hear heavy breathing like someone was nervous or frightened. So, maybe the reason she had her eyes so firmly shut was she wasn’t in heaven, she was somewhere decidedly less pleasant and she didn’t want to open her eyes and look at it. If she opened her eyes and looked around she’d have to deal with it, whatever ‘it’ was. This wasn’t fair, Buffy felt her face frown, she was dead she shouldn’t have to deal with things any more, wasn’t it supposed to be all harps and clouds and haloes and those long nightgown things angels always seemed to wear?

No, she didn’t want to look, she didn’t want to deal, she wanted to be in heaven and practice her harp solo and weren’t there supposed to be wings as well? Deciding to stay where she was with her eyes tightly closed, Buffy waited for whoever was in charge to sort things out and get her to where she was supposed to be…cloud nine perhaps? Buffy smiled.

“Stop ginning like a fool, bitch!” The voice was male, slightly Hispanic sounding and far too young.

Opening her eyes, Buffy saw a teenager…no a boy really, he couldn’t be more than Dawn’s age, standing in front of her. What was really worrying was the way he was nervously pointing a shotgun at her.

“MOVE!” He jerked the gun towards Buffy indicating that she should move.

Move where? Was Buffy’s first rather detached thought, her second thought was; if this is heaven someone somewhere has a really weird sense of humour.

“I SAID MOVE, BITCH!” Once again the youth jerked the shotgun towards Buffy’s midriff.

The boy’s voice had almost cracked when he’d shouted; there was sweat on his forehead and fear in his eyes. He was obviously of the opinion that as he had the gun (a particularly big one too) people should do as he told them; didn’t power grow from the barrel of a gun or something? The fact that Buffy appeared to be totally unimpressed by this extension of his manhood was confusing him.

His second big mistake of the day (after getting out of bed that morning) was to jab Buffy in the stomach with the muzzle of his weapon. Too fast to be really seen Buffy’s hand caught hold of the shotgun. Squeezing the muzzle between her fingers as she pushed it away, she sealed up the muzzle tight as a drum.

Reacting in panic as he felt his weapon being pushed away, the kid instinctively pulled the trigger. The firing pin hit the base of the cartridge which went off just as it had been designed to do. Unfortunately, with the barrel tightly sealed there was nowhere for the shot and expanding gases to go.

The boy screamed as the shotgun exploded in his hands, he dropped the gun and fell to his knees and started to cry and moan as he clutched his bloody hands to his ruined face. Buffy had been almost as shocked by the sudden explosion as the boy. As she’d pushed the weapon away from herself she’d also started to move (a moving target being generally harder to hit) so she was out of the blast zone and hadn’t been injured.

As Buffy moved her eyes and her mind started to really take in her surroundings for the first time; she saw that she was in some sort of small convenience store. As she turned away from the screaming boy she noticed four people, a man with a beard another wearing a black wide brimmed hat and two older women. They had their hands in the air; Buffy’s earlier frown returned.

Damn it all! Having jumped from Glory’s tower she’d been willing to die for her little sister and to save the world in the process and what was her reward? Her reward, or so it appeared, was to wake up in the middle of a hold-up somewhere. Buffy’s internal rant was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from the rear of the store.

Looking to her right, Buffy saw another boy, this one was armed with a handgun, standing in a doorway that probably led to another room behind the shop. The boy was no older than the guy with the shotgun, his trembling hands pointed the pistol in Buffy’s general direction.

“You really don’t want to do what I think you’re thinking of doing,” Buffy told the child. “Just put the gun down and run away or something.”

Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Buffy realised they’d been the wrong ones. The pistol went off and Buffy felt the wind of the bullet’s passing as it flew by her ear. Of course by then she was already moving. Ducking behind a shelf full of canned goods, she heard the kid fire twice more. One bullet hit a tin sending it spinning and tomato sauce flying in all directions, the other hit the window at the front of the store shattering it into a thousand sparkling pieces.

Dodging around the shelves, Buffy picked up a can of something, she hefted it in her hand gauging its weight. Hearing the boy move away from the door, she stood up straight, acquired her target and threw the can in less than a second. The high velocity tin of beans flew straight and true until it hit the boy on the forehead. His eyes rolled up into his head as he dropped his gun and fell to the floor. Smiling at a job well done, Buffy turned to look at the frightened storekeeper and his customers; they were all still standing wide eyed with their hands in the air against the shop counter. Buffy tried for a reassuring smile.

“You can put your hands down now,” she told them, “then maybe call the cops?”

Not waiting to see whether they complied with her suggestion, Buffy turned, walked quickly over to the door and then out into the street. Glancing up and down the city street, Buffy got an impression of a run down inner city area somewhere in the US; picking a direction she started to run as the sound of police sirens came to her ears.

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“Dispatch, we have a 9-11, armed robbery in progress - see convenience store - corner of People's Drive and 124th Street…”

The radio crackled slightly as Officer Bobby Hill glanced over at his partner, Andy Renko. Picking up the radio’s microphone, Hill pressed the call button as Renko switched on the lights and siren while pressing down on the car’s accelerator with his cowboy booted foot. The patrol car was only a block away from the store and as Hill told dispatch that they were responding, Renko drove the patrol car at breakneck speed between the slower moving cars and trucks.

Screeching to a halt outside the store, the two cops pushed open their doors, drew their revolvers and ran towards the store with its broken window. Bursting through the door with their pistols up and ready to fire they came to a slow and rather baffled halt as they took in the scene before them. Dispatch had said there was an armed robbery in progress, Bobby and Andy looked at each other in confusion as they advanced on the injured kid who lay moaning and bleeding on the floor.

“Call an ambulance,” Bobby told the man he recognised as the store’s owner; he knelt down next to the kid who was covered in his own blood.

“What the hell happened here?” Renko demanded, his Texas accent getting stronger as he checked on the other ‘robber’.

Picking up the can that lay near the boy, Renko noted the half crescent mark on the kid’s forehead, he held the can next to the mark; they matched. Kicking the revolver out of the reach of the unconscious kid as he stood up, Renko turned to the store owner.

“Would any of you people like to tell me what the hell happened here?”

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After running as fast as she could for about three blocks, Buffy slowed and turned into a side alley. Like all alley’s the world over this one contained piles of garbage, overflowing dumpsters and smelt of urine. This particular alley also had ‘added homeless people’ who were huddled around the ubiquitous, burning, forty-five gallon oil drum about a dozen yards away from her. They all turned to look at her suspiciously for a moment before deciding she posed no threat; then they went back to the important business of standing around the fire trying to keep themselves warm.

It was about then that Buffy realised just how cold it was. Looking up at the clear blue sky, she wondered where she was. It’d been May when she’d been in Sunnydale, here it felt like the middle of winter. Either she was in the southern hemisphere or she’d missed a few months somewhere along the way. After blowing on her hands she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to hug herself warm. She wasn’t dressed for the weather so she needed to get out of the cold, call Giles or the guys and wait for someone to pick her up. Searching her pockets, she found about seventy-five cents. Frowning, she promised that the next time she went into a life or death struggle with a hell-god she’d take more cash.

Stuffing the coins back into her pocket, Buffy walked back out into the street and stopped on the sidewalk. Looking up and down the street again she saw what she was looking for; a line of public telephones. With a smile on her face and hope in her heart she crossed the road trying to ignore the looks she was attracting from a lot of the local men. Buffy knew she was pretty and was used to guys ‘checking her out’ but she didn’t like the way these guys were looking at her; it was almost as if she was some sort of prey for them to hunt.

Arriving at the phones the smile, that had already started to falter anyway, completely left Buffy’s face. Every phone was damaged in some way; she sighed heavily all the while wondering why she couldn’t have landed some place nice, with a beach maybe and warmer weather. Okay, she told herself, she still needed a phone. Once again she looked around, the absolute desolation of the area really struck home for the first time.

Okay, so the litter and the abandoned cars had registered before, but it was only now that they really registered with her mind. Starting to get a very bad feeling about what had happened to her; Buffy began to walk quickly along the street keeping a look out for a public phone. It was another block before she found one that worked. With a sigh of relief she picked up the receiver and dialled Giles’ number. Apart from her own number and Willow’s it was the only one she’d bothered to memorise.

Feeling her heart sink, Buffy listened as the operator told her that the number she’d dialled didn’t exist. Slamming down the receiver, Buffy felt herself start to slip towards panic. Giles’ number didn’t exist? Perhaps the missing time she’d experienced was longer than she’d thought, maybe Giles had moved or gone back to England. Whatever, Buffy brightened slightly, she’d phone her sister, Dawn or one of the guys was bound to be home.

Five minutes later, Buffy walked away from the phone her head lowered as the tears trickled down her face. Once again the operator had come on the line to tell her that the number she’d called didn’t exist. It was like no one she knew existed anymore, that she’d been dumped in this hell-hole of a town with inadequate clothing and seventy-five cents. Heaven just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be!

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Buffy hadn’t any idea how long she’d wandered the streets lost in her own black thoughts, but when she started taking an interest in her surroundings again, she found that it had got darker and colder. Shivering in the freezing wind that blew straight through her thin top, Buffy stood on the kerb and wondered what to do. Maybe she should find a police officer or someone who might help. Looking around hoping to see some sign of the forces of law and order, she was surprised when a car pulled up next to her. The driver leant across the passenger’s seat and rolled down the window. Looking down at the guy Buffy saw that it was a middle-aged, balding man in a rumpled business suit.

“Hey baby,” he called, “how much?”

“How much?” Buffy looked at him and frowned; how much for what?

Slowly the penny drifted down through the frozen molasses of her mind as she realised what the guy was suggesting.

“Get outta here!” Buffy snapped; the guy shrugged, rolled up his window and drove off only to stop next to another inappropriately dressed woman a little further down the street.

This time the woman he’d stopped next to got into his car and they drove off together. Quietly Buffy cursed herself, if she’d used her brains she’d have asked the guy where she was. Smiling, she laughed quietly; if she’d been Faith, she’d have dragged the guy out of his car then stolen both his car and wallet. Sometimes being insanely evil made life so much easier.

However, someone somewhere was obviously looking out for the welfare of little, lost, Californian slayers. Having walked on a few more yards, Buffy noticed light spilling from a door onto the litter strewn sidewalk. As she got closer to the light the smell of soup came to her nose making her tummy grumble and remind her she’d not eaten since yesterday.

Standing in front of the doorway, Buffy looked up at the sign on the side of the big old church, it read; St Joseph’s Church and Mission. Hesitantly she walked towards the light, she crossed the threshold and felt the temperature start to rise. Walking further into the church she noticed how the pews had been removed and replaced by rows of tables and long benches. Here and there were little knots of homeless people sitting at the tables eating soup.

“Thank god,” Buffy sighed with relief.

“Thank god indeed,” a deep male voice came from behind her.

Turning so fast it made the priest step back half a pace, Buffy smiled with relief up at the tall, black man dressed in a clerical suit who was looking down at her warily.

“Can I help you?” he asked cautiously.

“I hope so,” Buffy didn’t need to try to look tired and desperate, she was. “I’m cold, hungry, I’ve seventy-five cents and I’ve no idea where I am…can you help me?”

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