Spike was at the Bronze when Xander bumped into him, just as he had before, and from there, the timeline was pretty much the same. He pushed Xander’s buttons by stealing peanuts, and eventually he and Xander struck up a game of pool. He listened to Xander bemoan his situation with Anya and Willow, knowing full well that Olaf would be coming in any minute. Still, he tried to pretend that he was paying attention and made appropriate comments where necessary.

The biggest difference, of course, was that he wasn’t carrying the guilt of telling Buffy about Riley’s bad habit. In this timeline, Giles had broken the news to the Slayer and he had not had to bear the brunt of Buffy’s ire. This in and of itself was a relief. He hated having Buffy angry at him because an angry Slayer was a violent Slayer, much more apt to break his nose than listen to him. In this timeline, he might have more of a chance of actually talking to her. It would also be the first time since the beating that he would see her, and he knew that she was carrying at least some guilt and remorse over her behavior.

“They get in these fights and then they're both looking to me, like I'm the referee. Also, sometimes I'll say something about Anya, and Willow will get this look. This "what the hell do you see in her" look,” Xander was saying as they played pool.

Spike nodded sympathetically. “I know that look. Lot of people never really got Dru, you know?”

“Well, she was insane,” he commented offhandedly, ignoring Spike’s irritated glance. “And then it's like, I get all torn, because Willow's my best friend, and I really value her opinion. But Anya's my girlfriend, you know?”

“Nothin’ like split loyalties. I know all about that,” Spike said with a sigh.

That caught Xander’s attention. “What do you mean?”

Spike shrugged. “The whole Acathla thing with Angelus and Dru. Owed ‘em as my family, didn’t wanna turn against Dru, but they were gonna destroy the world, y’know? I had to do something. Truce with the Slayer seemed the right thing ta do. How was I to know Dru’d never forgive me?”

“Buffy told me how you helped her. Even if you were only doing it for selfish reasons, I don’t know if she could have beaten them both if you hadn’t taken care of Drusilla. You really helped.”

Spike was taken back. “Harris are you *thanking* me?”

Xander made another shot. “Don’t ever tell anyone or you are so dust.”

Spike smirked, feeling something bloom inside his chest. “My lips are sealed forever, whelp.”

Just then, he was bumped from behind and he knew immediately who it was.

‘Showtime.’

“Hey! Watch it, mate!” he groused, turning to see the troll. “Second thought, do what you like.”

“Ale!” the troll yelled happily, grabbing a keg from a handtruck. “Yes! Fragrant ale! I have been trapped for many centuries and along with my taste of freedom I would appreciate the taste of a fine grain-based beverage!”

He tucked his hammer into its holder, raised the keg with one hand and bit into it, draining it while Spike and Xander watched.

“So, um… think I should run get Buffy?” Xander whispered.

Spike shrugged as Olaf threw the empty keg to the ground.

“Barmaid! Fetch me stronger ale! And some plump succulent babies to eat!” the troll ordered.

“I'm gonna run get Buffy,” Xander said, then turned to Spike. “Or you can fight him!”

Spike sized up the troll. “Yeah, I could do that if I had a death wish.”

Xander moved to head for the exit, but before he could take a single step, the troll noticed them.

“You there! Do you know where there are babies?” he asked.

Spike decided that he liked teasing Xander and turned to him as he had before, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What do you think? The hospital, maybe?”

The comment worked and Xander bristled. “What? Shut up!”

Spike smiled to himself. ‘Gotta get my kicks in somehow.’

“Um... listen...” Xander was saying to the troll.

“I find myself very hungry and when I am hungry I get short of patience!”

“Hey, we can take care of hungry. How 'bout you just sit down, on one of the sturdier chairs, and we can talk calmly and have some food.”

“Can it be babies?” the troll asked hopefully.

“Well, not so much. But maybe... roast pigs and... stags... and much hearty grog!”

“They have this onion thing—“ Spike offered helpfully.

“You cannot appease me! Do not try!” the troll yelled, then turned to the bar and grabbed another keg. “More ale!”

Spike and Xander backed away from the distracted troll and ran into Willow and Anya, who had just entered. Willow was carrying a book.

“Your work, Red?” Spike asked innocently.

While the young witch was tongue-tied, Anya noticed Xander.

“Xander! You shouldn't be here! There's a troll!” she exclaimed.

“Big guy? Hammer? Think I noticed him.”

“I wish Buffy was here,” Willow bemoaned as the troll drank another keg.

Just then Buffy and Tara enter and come running over.

“I'm here,” Buffy said, breathless.

“I wish for a million dollars,” Willow said, surprised at Buffy’s timely appearance, then saw Xander’s look. “Just checking.”

Tara immediately hugged Willow. “I'm so glad you're okay.”

“What's going on?” Buffy demanded. “Where’d he come from?”

Knowing she hadn’t seen him yet, he stepped forward tentatively, face slightly down so as not to display the bruises too much.

“Hello Buffy,” he said carefully.

She saw him and her jaw dropped, then her face filled with shame and she looked away.

“Spike.”

“I was here when he showed up. Easily ticked off. Likes his beer. Could put somethin’ in a keg maybe. Knock ‘im out,” he suggested.

Shocked that he was trying to be helpful, she raised her eyes to stare at him.

“Umm… that’s… that’s a good idea,” she stammered.

“Yeah.” He looked at her, his vision condensing until she was the only thing that existed. “Heard Joyce is doing well. Nibblet told me,” he said suddenly, not wanting to lose her attention.

A smile cracked her face and she beamed. “Yeah, she’s doing great. We’re really happy.”

He smiled back. “I’m glad. She’s a great woman, your mum.”

Buffy looked away. “Yeah, she is.”

“You look good too… better.”

She looked back up and he saw the thin line of tears in her eyes. “Yeah. Well… I… I gotta… y’know…” She pointed a thumb at Olaf. “Troll.”

He nodded and leaned close. “Get ‘is hammer. All his power’s in the hammer.”

Buffy’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.”

He looked around at the people who seemed oblivious to the danger they were in. “You want, I could try to clear this place out. Less chance of someone gettin’ hurt.”

“That… that would be very helpful,” she stammered, still shocked.

He nodded, forming a plan in his head. “Listen, trolls are testy buggers.” He gave a nod towards Willow who was flipping through her spellbook. “If Red’s fixin’ to do some mojo, best take it outside. He gets pissed off and starts swingin’ that hammer, he could bring the whole place down.”

Buffy’s gaze followed his to all the people in the club and she got the “I’m the Slayer and this is my job” look on her face. Spike smiled because he loved to see her work; she was glorious to him.

“Right. Good idea. You work on clearing these people out of here. I’ll get big and drinky outside.”

Given his marching orders, he left Buffy to deal with Olaf and set on emptying the club. The first thing he did was pull the fire alarm, but amazingly, that only cleared out a third of the crowd. So he jumped onto the stage, unplugged the sound system, and grabbed a wireless mike that was still turned on.

“Oi! People! This is not a drill! Clear out now!” he ordered.

They stared stupidly at him.

“What, are all of you seriously stoned?! There’s bloody alarm goin’ off. Find the nearest exit and bugger off!”

They still stared, not comprehending at all. Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling, counted to ten, then gave up.

“Oh, bugger it.”

He shifted into gameface and roared. “GET OUT!”

That did it. The residents of Sunnydale might be too daft to pay any attention to a fire alarm, but give them a bloodthirsty killer and they reacted.

Screams echoed off the club walls and the crowd made a mass stampede for the exits. The scent of fear gave him a headrush and he grinned, still in demon face.

“Yeah, that’s it, ya blighters. I’m the Big Bad! Run, you sods! Get outta here!”

He gave a few more growls for good measure as the last of the patrons ran squealing out, then took stock of his work. The place was empty, Buffy and the Scoobies were gone, so was the troll, and the club was intact. He grinned, realizing he had averted the disaster that had closed down the club, raised prices and axed the blooming onion.

‘Not bad for a day’s work.’

Still in gameface, he sauntered up to the deserted bar, and walked behind it, perusing the selection of liquor. He knew that his job was done for the day. Buffy and Red would send Olaf packing off to Troll Paradise and get the Hammer in trade. Xander would get beat up, but at least it wasn’t him for once and the whelp wouldn’t be too badly damaged. All would end well, and for his part in the whole thing, he deserved a beer.

‘Ah… Pete’s Wicked Ale. Didn’t know they had this. Wankers keep it hidden.’

He snagged a bottle, opened it with his teeth, and took a deep swig. Pulling it back, he shook off his demon.

‘Nothin’ like a fang to get in the way of a good beer.’

He was just finishing his third when Giles came staggering in, holding what was left of a statue. Seeing the look on the Watcher’s face, he pulled another beer from behind the bar and slammed it on the counter. Giles came over and sat on a stool.

“Back early, Rupes?”

“You… you didn’t tell me it was quite that bad,” Giles said, stunned, even as he reached for the beer.

Spike shrugged. “Tried to warn ya, but hey! Look! I saved the bloomin’ onion!”

Giles gave a disinterested glance to the empty club. “Well, yes, bully for you.” He took a swig of the beer Spike had given him and shook his head. “God, this is hard.”

“Why do you think I spend most of my time drunk, Rupes? It’s either that or go stark, raving mad.”

“Yes, well, I would argue that it might be too late for that,” the Watcher commented.

Spike shrugged and raised his bottle.

“So, Buffy defeats the troll?”

Spike nodded. “Yep. With Red’s help. They get the Hammer, Olaf gets shipped off to Troll Paradise and all is well in SunnyHell for another week.”

Giles was still dazed. “How very… reassuring.”

Spike looked away and took another drink. “S’all we can hope for, Watcher. So, meet-n-greet with the Council of Wankers any good?”

“They are sending a team here to evaluate the situation.”

“Told you they would.”

“Yes, however, knowing that and reconciling it are two entirely different things.”

“How do you think I feel?”

The words seemed to shake Giles out of his stupor and he cocked his head.

“Yes… I do wonder sometimes.”

Giles reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of fine sand. He then threw it on Spike, shouting, “Illuminati!”

“What the? Oi, Rupert! What ya do that for?” Spike yelled, brushing off the sand angrily. “Oh, and ya even got it in my beer, ya wanker!”

He looked over at Giles, who was staring at him, dumbfounded.

“What?” he demanded.

“You have a soul,” came the monotone answer.

“Well, duh. I told you I have a soul.”

“Yes, but I didn’t believe you. I was convinced you had found a way to lie even under the Truth Spell, because if what you told me was true then…” He trailed off.

Spike sighed, understanding. “Yeah. I know. But believe me, Watcher, I wish was lying. Cosmic joke this is.”

“I’ve always suspected that the Powers That Be had a sick sense of humor. Now I have proof,” Giles said woodenly.

The words stung more than they should have, and he couldn’t help feeling hurt. Giles was his only confidante in this mess, the only one who shared the heavy burden with him, and now it had been revealed that the Watcher hadn’t believed him all along. It cut him, bringing all his feelings of betrayal and inadequacy to the fore.

“Well, yeah. Unlikely hero here. Makin’ the world safe for puppies, Christmas and bloomin’ onions. About all I’m good for. If I hadn’t colossally screwed up when I had the chance, none of it would have happened.”

Giles looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way, Spike. You’re doing… the best you can.”

“Yeah, but it’s not good enough, and it never will be,” he replied, then shrugged. “Look, I’ve a hankerin’ to drown my sorrows in solitude. I’m pretty much healed up now, and I thank you for your hospitality, but I’m gonna go back to my crypt. You look me up when you wanna do another plannin’ session over a few bottles of booze, and I’ll be game. In the meantime, I’ll go back to my cave where all us nasties belong.”

He began walking towards the exit. Giles tried to stop him.

“Spike, I…”

“Can it, Rupert. Can’t handle it right now.”

He looked back at the man who was looking broken and exhausted, and knew Giles looked like he felt inside.

“You do what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I gotta do. And we’ll leave it at that.” He turned away and stalked out. “More beer’s behind the bar, Watcher. Help yourself,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

He did not look back.


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