Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Buffy Fanfiction > Shaddyr > Not the Holiday I Ordered

 

 

Not the Holiday I Ordered...
by Shaddyr (Shaddyr@telus.net)

Rating: PG-13, mebbe more. Potty mouth. And some implied stuff later on, but nothing squigy.
Disclaimer: Joss, who owns all, is really a dimension hopping Deveel who stole all these ideas from a universe where Spike. Really. Exists. Honest! (Time to up my medication...)
Spoilers: Set almost immediately after "Normal Again" - spoilers for anything up till then.
Feedback: Yeah, I'd like that.

**********

Finally. Two and one half days of rest and relaxation. 60 glorious hours to myself.

I'd been looking forward to this all week. My ex was taking the kids for the entire weekend. The Space Channel was having an all day Buffy-a-thon featuring the 10 most popular episodes. I had my chocolate, my popcorn, my homemade Greek pizza with extra feta and spare videotapes to catch the eps that I didn't already have. The only way my mini vacation could possibly get any better would be if a certain peroxide-blonde male were to show up at my door wrapped in a bow.

I glanced out the balcony window after I set up the VCR and made a face. It was shaping up to be an incredibly crappy day. The driving rain beat a staccato rhythm against the sliding glass door and made me very happy I was inside snuggled under my blanket. I turned up the volume on the TV as the opening scene began to unfold - Joyce dropping my favorite Slayer off at Sunnydale High for the very first time.

Two eps and half a pizza later, local storm warnings started scrolling across the bottom of the screen. During the commercial break I gave the ex a call. He and the kidlets were fine, but he did mention it had taken them an extra 20 minutes to get to his place because of near zero visibility. As I got off the phone, a flash caught my eye. About 5 seconds had passed when it was followed by a boom. The lights flickered and then steadied.

Fuck.

If the power went out, I was going to be one very unhappy camper.

I'd already been drawn back into the kick-ass action on the small screen when the room was illuminated by another flash. This time the crack-boom of the thunder followed in under 2 seconds. I frowned. It was getting closer.

Shit.

I didn't want to chance one of the poles on our street getting hit and sending a power surge that fried everything electronic I owned, but, damn it! I grumbled as I unplugged the computer and the stereo. Standing in front of the television, I waited till Buffy finished dusting the vampire she was battling before I turned it and the VCR off. I moved the TV stand away from the wall and reached behind it to grasp the plug.

I had it in my hand and was just pulling it from the wall, when another flash of lightening lit up my front room. There was an eerie arc of energy from the outlet to the plug, not like a regular electrical arc. I've seen those - I once lived in a place with faulty wiring that melted the ground prong of my computer right into the plug. It was hot, intense and smelled of ozone. Whatever it was coming out of my outlet was cold and green. That's when I tasted lightening, felt white like tiny pinpricks where it touched my skin. And watched it jumping up my arm in small arcs.

I screamed, tried to drop the plug, tried to wrench my body away, but I was frozen. In seconds I was enveloped in the strange green haze. Cold blackness closed in around me, and then there was nothing.




I gradually became aware of several things. I was lying on a cold, hard surface. I was in pain. Someone was doing Riverdance in my head. In steel toed boots. With cleats. I groaned.

Through the myriad of painful sensations, I sensed a presence near me. Maybe a paramedic?

"Uhhnn," I managed.

"Shhhh," the person whispered fearfully.

Fearfully? I tried to open my eyes, focus. Ask where I was, what had happened.

"Nnygnnn?"

Okay. Obviously the talking thing was not going well at that point.

"You have to be quiet," insisted the voice, and this time I definitely heard terror. I know that sound well, my children have it in their voices every time I tell them *I'm* going to clean their rooms if they don't. I forced my eyes open and blinked several times.

I appeared to be in some dank little room. No furniture, no windows. Lying on a cement floor - that would explain the cold and hard factor. There was a man kneeling next to me. He was rather blurry, but somewhat familiar. He slipped an arm around me and helped me to sit up.

"You've got to get out of here before he comes back. He'll be so angry it didn't work, he'll kill you for sure."

That got my attention.

"Wha... huh?" I tried to clamber to my feet, falling heavily on my reluctant benefactor. I managed to bowl us both over.

I heard him curse, then sigh as he pulled me to my feet. I almost lost my footing, but managed to remain upright by holding on to him for dear life.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling me out of the room faster than I could really manage. Standing in one place was faster than I could manage at that moment though, so I think I did really well considering. I noticed that he was still talking.

"I'll help you outside, but after that, you're on your own. If Warren finds out I helped you..." I could feel him shudder as he helped my up the stairs.

I shook my head and abruptly regretted the action. What the hell was going on? Someone wanted me dead? The only person I could recall pissing off recently was the guy at the muffler place. He wasn't impressed when I looked over his work and told him to weld the muffler on properly or he wasn't getting paid. Okay, maybe my neighbor for when I hacked back all the blackberry bushes that were invading my yard last summer. Oh, and possibly the cashier at... all right. I admit that I might be on several people's shit lists, but I just can't see having aggravating anyone enough that they would want to take me out.

And where the hell *was* I, anyway? I had a throbbing head and a zillion questions, and it didn't look like this guy was going to help me out with either aspirin or answers.

The cool night air hit me as my companion guided me out the back door of the house. I started to feel a little more aware, even managing a few steps without stumbling. He hurried me through the back yard and out a wooden gate, then abruptly released me beside some garbage cans. I would have tripped over them and caused an unholy racket if he hadn't caught me in time.

"I can't help you anymore!" he hissed, his face inches from mine as he held my upper arms. "I've gotta go back. You've probably got less than 15 minutes before Warren realizes you've escaped. You better get going." With a shove, he sent me sprawling down the alley, then re-entered the yard, letting the wooden gate close quietly behind him.

I finally realized who he reminded me of. One of the idiot triplets from my favorite show. Jonathan.

To borrow a buffyism... like huh??

"This is *not* the holiday I ordered," I muttered sarcastically as I staggered down the alley.




Step. Step. One foot in front of the other. Step. Step. Don't fall down. I was managing, every minute feeling a little clearer, a little less like a limp noodle. I'd gone at least 6 or 7 blocks by now - but where I was going, I had no idea. I kept looking around for something that looked like a landmark, anything that I could recognize, but it was completely unfamiliar territory. I just kept slogging away, hoping that maybe I could at least find a payphone and call the police, say I'd been threatened. Maybe they'd come get me and take me to a nice safe police station.

My inner musings were interrupted by the awareness that I was no longer alone. My insides clenched, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I just knew that there was someone watching me. Damn! Had that guy come after me? I glanced around, trying to locate my stalker. A figure crouched in the shadows about 10 feet to the left.

I'm not a fighter. I love watching a good ass-whupping on TV or in the movies. I'm a guy-movie kinda gal. Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Blade - those are my kinda flicks. But in real life? I took some WenLiDo self defense training. I can get away from a mugger and probably show a would-be rapist a not-so-good time. But if someone is coming to lay a serious hurtin' on my ass, I'm probably not going to be able to offer a lot in the way of resistance. So when this guy rushed me, I was thinking I'd pretty much had a good life, goodbye and thanks for all the fish. I reacted the way I was taught, braced, used the force of his attack against him and threw him over my shoulder.

I expected that maybe I'd given myself a couple of seconds to try to find a big rock or something. I did not expect to see the guy grabbing some serious hang time in the air and land in a heap a few yards away. My jaw dropped. As my mind ran around in scared little circles trying to process this interesting datum, my assailant picked himself up off the ground and turned to face me.

Now, shadows are sometimes scary when you're a kid. You can imagine all sorts of monsters and whatnot hiding in them. Let me just say the face that was revealed in the light of the street lamp made me grateful for shadows. Ugly, scary, misshapen, bad teeth, nasty sharp *pointy* teeth... Okay, this ain't FUNNY, God!

Fuck.

He looked like a...

Like a...

No. No fucking way. They're not *real*!

"Bad dream," I stated out loud, like that was going to help. "Yeah, this is a bad dream. I'm going to wake up and it'll all be gone."

Tall, dark and fangy decided that would be a good moment to rush me. And I might add here that I have never been so happy that my bitch of a WenLiDo instructor forced us to drill over and over and over till we were ready to revolt and duct tape her naked to a telephone pole, because my automatic reaction saved my life. Snap kick, jab, sweep.

Damn. That felt real. And he was getting up again. This was getting old really fast.

Think, think... okay. I'm trapped in a nightmare. With a... a... *gulp*. I needed something wooden and sharp, and obviously the sooner the better. Backing away, I looked around wildly, wishing for a Mr. Pointy to drop from the heavens. Oh, look. I've backed into a picket fence. That'll be handy.

Adrenaline. It's a wonderful thing. With a jerk I wrenched a slat free and waved the sharpened end menacingly at the dental nightmare. He just laughed - a gruesome sound it was, too - and came at me again.

In the scuffle that ensued, I lost my makeshift stake. He kept grabbing me and I kept breaking free, but I was losing ground. Then, in a moment of brilliance, I realized the fence would be just as effective if he fell on it really hard. So, I jumped on him and he did.

Have you ever cut up a chicken with a knife that isn't quite sharp enough? It's kind of hard to force it through the flesh and it feels squishy. And if you hit a bone, you can feel it crunch and snap as you saw through it. Try impaling a body on a picket fence some time. Or don't. It's not for the squeamish.

Three things happened in rapid succession; ugly spewed blood all over me, I woofed my cookies and suddenly there was a huge dust cloud. I lost my balance as the body vanished and fell onto the pickets myself.

"Ouch! Fuck!" I pushed myself off the fence, and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Then I spit. Ashes. I was covered with ashes. Oh, this was too gross for words.

"Getting sloppy, Slayer."

The unmistakable voice, complete with oh-so-sexy English accent came from behind me. I whimpered. It was too much. I could feel my knees buckling. He caught me before I hit the ground, eased me down and then knelt on the grass beside me. I slumped against the fence, grateful for the support

"Are you hurt?"

I heard the anxiety in his voice, but I didn't want to look at him. This couldn't be real. It had to be a delusion. Yeah. I'm delusional, that's it. So why the hell aren't the throb in my head and gash on my stomach from that fence delusions too? I glanced down at my stomach. Touched my fingers to the gash. Realized that it was already closing. I whimpered again.

A cold, pale hand with gentle fingers and nails covered in chipped black polish examined the wound.

"This doesn't look serious, Slayer. Do you have another I didn't see?" The hand was already questing, in search of hidden injuries, looking to assess damages unseen.

"Slayer?"

It slowed, stilled, came to rest on my upper arm, imitating the grasp of the terrified boy who had shoved me into the alley not too long ago.

"Buffy?"

He turned my upper body to face him. My eyes were still fixated on the hand that encircled my arm. Cold fingers slipped under my chin, gently tugging my face towards him. I couldn't avoid it any longer. I looked up into a very familiar face, sensuous lips, aristocratic cheekbones, piercing blue eyes topped by that signature shock of unnaturally blond hair. His expressive face made his concern evident

I didn't even realize I'd touched his face until he started slightly. I jerked my hand back guiltily. "I'm sorry," I squeaked out as I looked away. His fingers drew my face back to his.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, luv," he quipped with one of his trademark evil-yet-dead-sexy grins. "I know it's hard for you to keep your hands of my body."

Those cool, pale hands went from being dispassionate and clinical to tender, intimate. The one that had been grasping my arm found its way around my waist and the other slipped behind my neck, fingers entwined in my hair.

A higher pitched whimper this time. Oooooh, this delusion is not playing fair, dammit!

"Maybe we could go back to my crypt and find a place amidst the rubble where I can give you a through looking over," he suggested in a low, silkily. "Just to be on the safe side and all."

And then the shakes set in. A little hyperventilation too.

Spike. Blood sucking, demon spawn, in love with Buffy, Big Bad vampire Spike. Shagging the Slayer Spike. Spike who obviously thinks *I'm* the Slayer. Spike, who's expression had gone from heat and desire to concern and fear.

Nothing like a little panic attack to spoil the mood.

"Slayer, what in the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Not the slayer," I choked out through chattering teeth.

"What?"

"I'm. Not. The Slayer."

He cocked an eyebrow and studied me for a moment. "Right. I'm takin' you home, pet. You obviously got a bump on the 'ead or something."

Before I could respond, he got to his feet and scooped me up in his arms. I struggled for a moment, but he just pulled me in tightly. "Stop wrigglin' aroun'," he ordered, and winced at the harsh tone. "I don't want to drop you."

With a sigh, I settled against him. Ear against his chest. His well-muscled, silent chest. Another whimper. Yes, I'm a wuss I admit it freely. The tears started then, rivulets coursing hotly down my face, my breath becoming ragged as sobs began to rack my frame. I turned my face into his chest, clutched at his leather duster and cried like there was no tomorrow - because I was beginning to suspect I might not have one. I didn't know how I'd gotten here, but since it didn't seem to be a dream, I was either caught in a psychotic episode or trapped in another reality. In either case, it probably meant I was not going to be waking up in my own bed in the morning.




I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because the next thing I knew we were going up the back steps of the Summer's home. Spike tapped his boot on the door, and a few seconds later a young woman with auburn hair opened it. Willow - yeah, red hair, funny stutter-y way of talking, nervous yet helpful Willow. Spell casting girl. Can I have the Atavan and Prozac *now* please?

"Oh, Goddess! Buffy!" she exclaimed, eyes wide in fright as she stepped out of the way so Spike could carry me inside. He carried me across the kitchen and into the living room, laying me down on the couch. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"I don't know, Red" the blonde vampire turned away to answer her. "I happened upon her just as she making very inventive use of a picket fence. All I could see was a little scrape, but... she's not herself."

At that, I started to laugh. It was that frantic laughter, the kind that's about one step removed from a hysterical crying fit. And since the nervous breakdown I'd just finished having all over Spike had left my already throbbing head feeling on par with what I imagined Glory's brain sucking was like, more tears were *not* on my agenda. I forced myself to calm down.

"Mirror," I demanded weakly.

"What?" Wonderful, obtuse Willow.

"A mirror. Please?"

She jaunted quickly up the stairs and returned moments later with a handheld mirror. With a shaking hand, I took it. The moment of truth. I sat up and looked.

A young face with a thin, delicate nose and fine features stared back at me. The eyes didn't seem to know if they were hazel or green. Fine blond hair, a bit messy, in a shoulder length bob. She was a very pretty young woman. But she wasn't me.

"Attention K-Mart Shoppers!" I intoned in a department store, loudspeaker announcer voice. "The Blue light special today is on sub-let bodies from alternate dimensions. Available for a limited time only - get yours now before they're all gone." The mirror in my grasp popped and cracked as the pressure of my grip snapped the ridged plastic casing. I dropped it on my lap, and stared at the long gash across my palm as blood dripped down my arm and onto the couch.

Willow grabbed the broken mirror. "I, uhm, I'm gonna throw this out and then I, I'll go get the first aid kit." She whirled and left the room.

"Fuck," Spike let the word fall from his lips as he stared at me. I could see his nostrils flare, and the analytical part of my mind recognized that it was the scent of the blood. My analytical side comes out when life flashes a 'WARNING: REALITY.SYS CORRUPTED. (A)BORT, (R)ETRY, (P)ANIC?' at me. Which probably explained why I went where I did.

"Have you fed tonight?"

He scrunched up his forehead. "Have I... no, not yet," he answered, looking askance at me.

I motioned for him to come closer. He did, warily. I rolled my eyes at him and indicated the floor beside me. He knelt beside the couch facing me. I offered him my hand, palm up. "Waste not, want not. Slayer blood's the good stuff, right?"

He jerked away as if I'd stuck a cross in his face, and then growled. It was a very scary sound. He grabbed my wrist and pushed it away from him, but didn't let go. "What kind of sick joke is this?" he snarled angrily.

I shook my head, giddy. Everything was feeling kind of dreamlike, as if I wasn't really there. Shock can be your friend. "No joke, Spikey," I said with a giggle. "Why wash it down the drain when you can make perfectly good use of it?"

I could see the desire in his eyes as he glanced back at the oozing wound. His tongue darted out and he unconsciously licked his upper lip. Oh, boy, I was beginning to understand what people saw in fanfiction that involved blood play. There was certainly an erotic factor to the whole lick-the-blood-off idea. Spike was apparently still undecided, so being the pro-active kinda gal I am, I dipped a finger from my other hand into the blood then darted forward and smeared it across his lips before he could pull away. And of course he licked it off. And then he was on my hand, carefully lapping the blood away, tracing the red trail down my wrist all the way to the inside of my elbow.

His lips and tongue were cool, but his touch was hot enough to turn on a glacier. Well. That was stupid of me. As I turned into a puddle of goo, I reflected on the fact that impulsivity is probably *not* the best option in decisions I made concerning Spike. It was hard to care about the face that he doesn't understand I'm not her.

He cradled my wounded hand between his as he pulled back and looked up at me with haunted eyes. "You... you're not Buffy, are you?"

Okay, maybe he did.

"No."

Willows chose that moment to reenter the room, first aid kit and washcloth in her grasp. She moved in beside Spike and took my hand from him, then frowned. "Where'd all the blood go?"

"To a good cause," I quipped.

Willow's eyes widened as she looked from me to Spike and back again. "You mean... you... uh..."

God, if that woman ever manages to say something uncomfortable without getting all flustered about it, I think I'll die of shock. Or maybe I would anyway, since I seemed to be having a rather sever case of it. "Yes, Willow," I stated matter of factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Why shouldn't Spike make use of it? I mean it's just going to end up down the drain. At least this way, *someone* benefits." Oh, yeah, I wasn't firing on anywhere *near* full thrusters.

"Buffy," she began again, but Spike cut her off.

"It's not the Slayer, Red. It's her body, but it's not her inside."

She glared at him. Ooh! Resolve face. "How do you *know* that? Maybe she just had a relapse. Maybe the antidote I made wasn't strong enough. Maybe-"

"Willow." Spike gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "There's a difference. The essence in her blood. It's not *Buffy's* essence. You have to believe me. I'd know it anywhere, and - it's not her."

She fixed me with a deadly glare. "Faith?" she demanded angrily.

The buzzy, shocky feeling was starting to wear off. I answered with a sigh. "If I was Faith, why would I tell you that I'm not Buffy? That would kind of defeat the whole purpose of the body swapping thing, dontcha think?"

Willow nodded. "That makes sense." Her face was still tight with worry. "Who are you then? And where is Buffy? What have you done with her?"

"I'm Dee," I answered tiredly. "I haven't got a clue where Buffy is. And I never did anything. I was minding my own business trying to watch my buffyfest when the weather turned and the lightening started getting bad. I was in the process of unplugging the TV when some very Hellmouth-y looking energy crawled up my arm. Next thing I know, I'm in the Dungeon of the Dim and Jonathan's tossing me into the back alley while he babbles about how it didn't work and Warren's going to kill me. And him if he gets caught. And then there's was this vampire and this fence and then Spike showed up and well... here we are."

The two of them stared at me for a second, then glanced at each other.

Willow was the first to speak. "Um, I need to do this thing in the kitchen, and maybe, Spike, you could help me?"

"Oh, right, that thing. Yeh. I can help."

I had to smile, and that led to a snicker, which led to a laugh, and then I was back to that crazy, frantic laughter. Oh, I was gonna be certifiable by the time this night was through.

"Yeah," I gasped between chortles, "You go do that thing. I'll just wait here till you're done that thing you have to do." I earned another worried glance from both of them before they left to go talk about me behind my back.

I took a deep breath, held it a few seconds, exhaled. Did it again. Pulled it together. Okay. Narrowly averted slipping off the edge there. I stared at the ceiling and tried to see patterns in the stucco until they came back. It was maybe 10 or 15 minutes later when I looked up to find two very somber faces.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Willow began. I had to feel sorry for her. She looked so sad, so scared.

"Yeah, I expected you would," I replied, unsurprised. Now that it was sinking in for them that I wasn't the Slayer, they were going to want some answers.

"So." Spike sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, draping an arm along the length of it. "You said something about a 'buffyfest'?"




About an hour and a half later, my throat was dry from talking. It seemed that with the exception a few minor variances, the Jossiverse, and what ever this place was, were congruent. I have this theory that Joss is a dimension-hoping Deveel with access to the watcher diaries, and he was cashing in big time in my universe. How very Robert Asprin. Go read Another Fine Myth. You'll understand.

Willow sat across from me in a state of shock, and poor Buffy didn't have a secret left to her name. I tried to feel bad for the Slayer, but I just couldn't. I was having too damned much fun with Spike.

"So, explain to me again exactly *how* Angel had a baby?" the red head asked, shaking her head in wonder.

"Who cares?" I asked sullenly. "It was a stupid plot line. It never should have happened. Who ever heard of a freakin' vampire having a baby?"

"The poof, a father. Wonder if the kid was born with his hair gelled back?" Spike mused, an evil gleam in his eye.

I grinned. "Yeah, hair-boy as daddy-o. Is that a scary concept or..." I trailed off as I saw the glare Willow was giving me. "What?" I demanded.

"Buffy would never talk about Angel like that."

"So?"

"So, you shouldn't. You... you just... shouldn't! It's - it's just wrong to hear those words coming out of her mouth. If Angel heard her saying that - "

I scowled back. "He's a major wanker! He walked out on her. What a wuss boy! He's all 'I love you, are you still my girl, blah blah blah', and then he gets all broody and leaves her! And I'm supposed to worry about how he would feel *if* he heard me say this? Tough shit, Angel cakes. Life sucks, and then you die." A thought occurred to me. "And then, if you happen to be a vampire, unlife sucks too." Spike snickered as the red head fumed.

"He loved her, he really did!" she insisted. "And Buffy loved him! They just couldn't be together. But one day, if he achieves Shanshu, who knows...."

"Yeah, yeah, saw every last pathetically sad and angst-filled episode of it. Warmed the cockles of my grief lovin', irredeemably evil heart. I loved it, I hated it, I beat my pillow against the couch and screamed at the TV when he broke it off. So in my books, he had his chance." I shook my head. "Geeze, people! Get fucking OVER it already! Move *on*! Let it go! Just cuz the Buffster and the Poofster sucked face in the graveyard after Joyce's funeral doesn't mean that they're getting back together. Yeesh." Spike's eyes widened with interest and Willow looked ready to have a conniption. Oops. Looks like another of Buffy's secrets just bit the dust.

I was feeling parched. And a little too in touch with what was going on. A little bit of a buffer zone between me and the reality I had just dropped in to would be very nice about now. "I need a drink."

"Oh, I'll get you something," Willow offered, jumping up. "Juice? Water? Some tea?"

Nice girl. A little slow to clue in though. "Errr, thanks, but I was thinking something a little more potent. Say," I glanced hopefully at the vampire. "Like what's in the flask Spike usually carries around with him."

Spike's mouth curved up in that sexy smile he's so damn good at and pulled the stainless steel micky out of his duster. "This what you're talking about, luv?"

I gave a grateful sigh. "Give!" He wisely handed it over.

"A TV show," Willow spoke softly, incredulous. "I can't believe that there
is a reality where we're just imaginary characters."

I'd have to say it was a safe bet that Willow was having trouble processing. Spike, on the other hand, appeared to be coping admirably. Then again, the fact that we were having such a great time dissing Angel might have been distracting both of us just a little. I smiled and took a swig from Spike's mickey. Scotch, single malt. Nice to see the boy had some taste.

"So, you're sayin' there's a whole group of fans of this show who think it's really all about me?" he asked from his place on the floor, leaning against the couch. He snagged the flask from my hand and took a pull off it.

Ego was not something that was ever going to pose a problem for Spike. He might let the love of his life beat the shit out of him, but he had poise and self-confidence.

"Yup. You've got a bloody harem - that is, if you can ever figure out a way to get to my reality. Cuz the actor guy, well, you know. He has a girl, a life, shit like that. I mean come on, he's an ACTOR. Kinda the point and all, the whole make-believe thing. But *you*, on the other hand...." Spike snickered as I waggled my eyebrows suggestively. "You've got a hot, undead body that ain't never gonna wear out, providing of course you avoid such
irritations as holy water, pointy wooden things and sunlight. That's very attractive to an obsessed fan. If you showed up at a media con... honey, the femfen would eat you for breakfast. Not to mention some of the fanboys." I did my worst Austin powers impression. "It would be Shagadelic, ba-by!" It sent the vampire in paroxysms of laughter. I gazed down my nose imperiously. "Oh, *do* be-have!"

He totally lost it, falling to his side, gasping for unneeded air, overwhelmed with mirth. I'd never seen the Spike on the show really *laugh* before. It was a sight to behold. Damn, I'm good. I just found a whole new way to take out vamps. Make 'em laugh themselves to death. Might help if there was a conveniently placed picket fence around for them to fall onto. Yeah. That would work nicely.

Willow abruptly stood. She looked a little glazed.

"I've got to get some sleep. It's late and I have a class in the morning."

"Night, Red," Spike piped up through his chuckles, showing no inclination to leave. I could see by the set of Willow's mouth she'd been hoping she wouldn't have to ask. I intervened before she could.

"Um, I really don't want to be alone, Willow. Spike's just going to keep me company for a while longer."

"Well, all right," she acquiesced. "But don't stay up too late, okay?"

I promised that I would be a good girl and get some sleep and with only one backwards glance, she finally made her way up the stairs and off to bed.

"I didn't think it was possible to fit that much anal retentive control freak into such a small package," I remarked rather cattily when she was out of hearing range.

And he was rolling on the floor again. I say once more - *damn*, I'm good.




I knew there was a reason that I liked Spike. Beyond the fact that he was dead sexy I mean. When he produced an almost full 26'er of vodka and a 40 pounder of scotch from a long neglected cupboard in the kitchen, I realized why. Resourcefulness. I love that in a man, vampire or human. We proceeded to get snookered.

"Alright, pet, let's go over it one more time."

"Okay," I agreed happily. Of course, I was about three sheets to the wind and would have happily agreed to a great many things that I would have regretted later. Good thing Spike was keeping my virtue safe. And that has got to be the most bizarre part of all. My virtue was well and truly safe because that damned vampire loved the moron who usually occupied this body, the woman who couldn't see that the best guy in her life was sitting right in front of her. Gah. It's just not fucking *fair* I tell you!

"Angel."

"Bloody fucking poof."

"Parker."

"Eww! Ick! Kill it before it multiplies! What the hell was she *thinking*?"

"Riley."

"Loo-hoo-hoo-HOO-ser!"

"Spike."

"Bootylicious hunk of vampire who should be chained down and shagged
senseless. And then some. Repeat as necessary."

Make that 4 sheets to the wind.

"I've got to get that on tape, I've just *got* to," he mumbled, a dazed grin on his lips.

"Okay," I nodded happily.

The scotch was long gone and we were sharing the last of the vodka. Or we were supposed to be. Fang boy decided that he was going to have the last of it. I decided that he was going down. Just as he was lifting the bottle to his lips, I gave him a hard shove and yanked it away. He lay on the floor, staring up at me in shock. For all of 2 seconds. Then he pounced. I screeched and leaped off the couch, but he tackled me, and I hit the floor. Hard. A few drops of vodka splashed out.

"Spike! Alcohol abuse! Don't spill the fucking booze!"

"Oh, sorry, pet," he replied cheerfully, with a complete lack of remorse. He had me pinned to the floor, and was trying to wrest the bottle out of my grasp. I had it under my chin, my arms curled up over my head, and he wasn't getting anywhere. He resorted to dirty pool.

"Ticklish, luv?"

"Oh, fuck..."

I hate being tickled. I always have. And that sonofabitch was merciless. I swear to God, I'd probably be able to handle hot pokers better. Then again, I'm not going out of my way to find out.

"I give up!" I gibbered between shrieks. "Uncle! Stop!"

Finally, the unbearable sensations stilled. I drew a ragged breath, and another.

"Spike, you were supposed to share the last of it," I whined, allowing my inner bitch free reign. When in Buffy.... Oooh! That was catty of me. Heh.

"And how do you propose I do that, luv? There's really not enough left to share." He was giving me that exasperating and annoying yet oh-so-endearing smirky look that I loved. I suddenly had a very wicked idea.

"Get the hell off my back and I'll show you," I promised.

He slid off me and lay on his side, propping himself up on his elbow with his chin in his palm. "I'm waiting."

I sat up, cross-legged and faced him, holding the bottle out in front of me. There was probably about two ounces left in it. "Trust me?" I asked.

"Well...." he studied me for a moment. "Not really, but go on."

I smiled evilly. I hadn't done this since a room party at a science fiction convention many years earlier. It had been a lot of fun then, and I was betting it would be even more fun now. I took a swig, pulling in about half what was left in the bottle - then I leaned forward, slid my free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him. I don't know what he thought I might do, but I could tell right away, this wasn't something he'd considered.

Sharing a drink in a kiss can be fun. You're swapping spit anyways, so what's a little bit of alcohol? I forced some of the potent liquid into his mouth, and we both swallowed. He started to pull away but, relentless bitch that I am at times, I didn't let him. Tightening my grip on his hair, I held him securely against me. He didn't really fight me. Much. After a very thorough exploration of his mouth, I finally eased up. The look on his face was almost as good as when Buffy jumped him in 'Smashed'. Not quite, but almost.

"One more shot left," I remarked casually as I handed him the nearly empty bottle. "Your turn."

Damn. He was getting that mopey, mournful puppy dog look.

"I think we've both had enough for tonight," he began. I cut him off.

"Geeze, Spike! You could give broody-boy a run for his money right now," I groused, and I caught a flicker of indignation on his face. Good. "I mean really," I continued, pressing all the buttons I could think of, "I'm startin' to wonder exactly who got the soul when Willow re-cursed him." He scowled and grabbed the bottle, slamming back what was left of the hootch. Looks like he wasn't going to share after all. Whatever. I went for the jugular. "Maybe you got caught in the nimbus of it, 'cuz you're turnin' into a soddin' Nancy-Mpppbff!"

I suddenly found myself pinned to the floor, my mouth full of vodka and Spike's tongue. Not a bad combination at all. Cold, strong hands on my body, one slipping under me, arm wrapping around me, pulling me close to him, the other touching my face, fingers sliding into my hair as his tongue danced with mine. Yeah, this was definitely more fun than that room party had been. I returned the kiss and embrace with equal fervor. My roving hands slid under his shirt, tracing patterns down the skin of his back, until they reached the waistband of his jeans. As I let several fingers stray under the stiff material, the vampire above me pulled his mouth off mine, his body stiffening as if in pain. I forced my passion-fogged eyes to focus. Oh, hell. The guilt and self-loathing on his face was brutally obvious.

Fuck.

Or not, apparently. God, when did I get so vulgar? Clearly the result of too much fanfiction.

With a deep sigh, I drew him back to me and pulled his head onto my shoulder. Stroking his hair, I murmured comforting gibberish about how it was going to be okay. I was a liar. I didn't know if it was ever going to be okay again. I felt a cool dampness slowly spreading on my t-shirt and let my fingers brush gently over his cheek. Tears.

Love's bitch indeed.

It was starting to really hate Buffy.




"Ewww! Couldn't you get a *room*? I'm going to be scarred for life now!"

I woke to the strident rebuke of a highly offended teenager. Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten about Her Glowiness. I sighed. Where I come from, I'm the parent of a 13 year-old daughter. I shudder to realize this is what I have to look forward to.

The body that had been curled around me stirred. Squinted around the room.
Apparently remembered everything in a sudden rush, judging by the way his eyes snapped open and the guilty look dropped over his features as he struggled to sit up. "Dawn, I can explain, it's not what it looks like..."

"Lay down and shut up, Spike," I cheerfully interrupted, shoving him flat on his back. He glared at me until I pointed out the obvious. "Sunlight. Open drapes. You wanna be crispy fried Spike? Be my guest, but don't come crying to me when you turn into a pile of ashes. And try not to singe the furniture while you're combusting, okay?" It was actually amazing that he hadn't gone poof already. We'd fallen asleep on the floor right in front of the sofa, just about the only place in the room that wasn't bathed in sunlight.

He had the good grace to look mightily embarrassed. "Nibblet, would you mind?"

Dawn gave us a look that spoke volumes about her opinion of our sanity, but she did as he asked and closed the curtains. Spike tried to get up, but I wasn't having any of it. I just leaned back against him and pinned him to the couch.

"Hey!" he objected.

"Stay put," I retorted. "You make a good leaning post."

He was all flustered. I stuck my tongue out at him and then grinned. He shook his head and looked up at Dawn.

"See, bit, it's like this. Your sis, she, well, last night - "

I cleared my throat and stared at him.

"What?"

After I was certain he would keep his mouth shut, I turned my attention to Buffy's sister.

"Actually, it's exactly what it looked like, Dawn. I had a very bad night. Some nasty stuff went down. Spike brought me home. He stayed because I didn't want to be alone, and Willow really needed to get some sleep. And, apparently, we fell asleep too. No big."

Dawn wasn't buying it.

"There's no *way* you can be Buffy," she stated flatly.

The sound of our jaws dropping was deafening. Spike and I just stared. How the hell could she know?

She rolled her eyes at our reaction and snorted.

"When," she pointedly asked Spike, "did the aliens kidnap her and replace her with this clone? If *my* sister woke up to find your arm around her, all you'd have left is a bloodied stump. Ergo, she must be a pod person." She studied me for a second, and then flashed her brilliant, megawatt smile. "Unless you've finally clued into what a great guy Spike is, in which case, yea!"

Reaching back, I grabbed a throw pillow from the couch. I turned it into a projectile weapon and nailed her in the head. She laughed and threw it back. Then her eyes got all shiny and her face screwed up into a funny expression and I felt my stomach do that flip-flop it does when I see that one of my kids are hurting. I got up and went to her.

"It's so nice to see you joking around, Buffy," she said quietly, her lips quivering with repressed emotions. "You're so tense all the time, and tired and angry. And you're usually being so mean to Spike and to see you not be mean to him is just so *nice*."

Well, that did it. We were both in tears and then we had to hug and you know how it is. I felt like I was comforting one of my girls. Which brought home, in a really painful way, that I might never see them again. And suddenly I was hugging Dawn much too tight and trying to keep back my tears. The gasping finally clued me in.

"Sorry," I apologized sheepishly as I let her go. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength." We were laughing as Willow came downstairs.

"Dawn, do you want me to make you some oatmeal? I was going to..." The redhead trailed off as she took in the scene.

The teen sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll get some OJ out of the freezer." She headed into the kitchen.

Willow looked me over, then glanced down at Spike. Her brow furrowed as she lifted her gaze back to me.

"Does Dawn know?"

"Nope," I answered. "I really don't see any reason to tell her just yet. Hopefully we're going to figure out how to reverse this and it'll never be necessary."

Willow nodded in agreement, then tried to ask the harder question without actually asking. "So, Spike and you, you guys had a nice, um, quiet, restful night, right?" Her eyes begged me to tell her that we hadn't betrayed Buffy. I swear, just being in whatever dimension this is *makes* a person evil, because I just couldn't help myself.

"Oh, yeah," I nodded, wicked glee bubbling up in me. "It's amazing how restful a good shag can be. Works all the kinks out."

Willow's gasp of shock and Spike's spluttered denials gave me a fit of the giggles. I decided to let the red head off the hook before she had an aneurysm or something.

"I was just kidding!" I assured her. "Nothing happened, Willow." She got that look on her face then, the one that screams 'I'm really hurt'. I sighed. Time to apologize.

"I'm sorry, I really am. But - well, let me couch it in terms that will make sense to you. I'm on the edge of completely wigging out here, and I need to laugh about something so I don't. Add in that I happen to think witty repartee is high art, and you end up with joke-y and sometimes inappropriate me. Think you can deal till Buffy comes home?"

I got a nod from her. I smiled. Then I realized there was more. She stood there, lower lip captured between her teeth, looking like she had something she really wanted to say.

"What is it Will?" I asked gently.

"Can I just... I know you're not her, but..." And more waterworks.

I pulled her into a hug. Poor kid. They were all kids. Real kids in a real Sunnydale on a real Hellmouth. Dealing with the Big Bads out there all by themselves. Now I wanted to hunt down Giles and smack for leaving them to fend for themselves. What the hell was he *thinking*?

After a moment, she straightened up, wiped her eyes and smiled. "Thanks."

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We'll figure it out. Just you wait and see. She'll be back in no time."

A calmer young woman turned and entered the kitchen leaving me alone with my vampire. He'd moved onto the sofa, sitting at one end with his legs sprawled across the length of it. I lifted his feet and settled into the other end, then let them rest in my lap. He was about to pull them away when I caught one and dug the fleshy pad of my thumb into the soft instep. His eyes widened in surprise.

"You're gonna rub my feet?"

I ignored him and pulled one of his socks off. His foot was pale, smooth, and devoid of black nail polish. I grinned.

"Maybe I'll paint your toenails. How do you feel about pink hearts?"

This time I got the pillow in the head.

"How do you feel about hanging from the rafters by your entrails?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"Good answer."

I continued to rub his foot, moving in slow circles down the arch to the heel. Judging by the pleased expression on his face, Spike was enjoying it. His head was resting on the arm of the sofa, eyes closed.

"So," I started conversationally, "Your feet. You clomp around in those roach killer boots all day and yet they don't stink."

"I don't sweat. No moisture, nothing for the bacteria to grow in. And having a rather low body temperature helps, too."

"Huh," I replied, processing. I stripped the sock off the other foot and started working on it. This time Spike started the conversation.

"That was pretty nasty what you did to the witch. You're certainly a mercurial bird."

"I try. It's a dirty job but somebody's gotta do it."

He laced his hands behind his head and opened his eyes, fixing me with his stare. "I doubt the Slayer would have even known what mercurial meant."

"Testing me, fang boy?" I grinned at him and changed the pressure on his foot from a hard rub to a feather light caress. He jerked it off my lap.

"Hey!"

I grabbed it back and resumed the message. "Just proving a point. Well, several actually. Item the one." I gave him a mock glare and shook my finger at him." "If you ever tickle me again, I'll chain you up and tickle you within an inch your life. Do *not* test me on this - you will lose. Item the second. Can I help it if you people are just *begging* for it? Does the word gullible mean anything to you? And I mean really, where's the fun in life if you can't torture people now and again? You, of all people, should understand that."

"You were good with Dawn."

I stopped rubbing his feet and got really quiet. I missed my girls. He pulled his feet from my lap and moved over to sit beside me. You know, for being an evil, demon-spawn, soulless vampire, Spike is an amazingly compassionate, and intuitive guy. He slipped his arms around me and scooped me into his lap just as the sobs hit.

"We're gonna get you home Dee, just you wait and see."



Spike was pretty much stuck with me for the day. Not because he couldn't steal a blanket and make a mad dash for the nearest manhole cover, but because I complained that he couldn't go out in the sunlight and he decided that I shouldn't be left alone.

I don't watch soaps. I find them brain-numbingly puerile. And there are no big flashy explosions. Not very often anyway. Yet I found myself curled up on the sofa, eating chocolate fudge chunk ice cream and watching 'Passions' with the undead.

"What a bunch of utter crap."

Spike gave me an offended look. "This here's a piece of bloody brilliant programming," he insisted.

"Zombies and spell books?" I asked skeptically "Witches bringing dolls to life who fall in love with the people they're suppose to be trying to kill? Geeze, Spike, sounds like a day on the Hellmouth. And it's not nearly as well written. I thought escapism was about escaping - this is just total lameness. The lamest of the lame. I can't even begin to describe how incredibly lame-"

He interrupted my lameness tirade just as I was getting on a good head of steam. I hate it when people do that to me.

"Oh, like Battlestar Galactica is such a shinning example of cinematic excellence!"

I hate it even more when they're right. Okay, it's a guilty pleasure. And it's every bit as lame as Passions.

"Yeah, well..." I cast about, trying to find a way to defend the honor of Starbuck, Apollo and all the noble Galacticans. "At least there are cool sounds effects and laser fights and Cylons getting blown up and stuff!"

Yeah. Blow shit up and you've got my attention. I'm an action whore. I admit it. Sue me.

He just rolled his eyes and looked back at the screen. And growled in frustration. "Stupid wanker! She's on the balcony next door to you, can't you smell her?"

"Human, Spike. Clueless," I reminded him as he ranted at the onscreen character. "And besides, it's a soap. Staggeringly huge amounts of angst are kind of like a necessity, right?" He just ignored me.

I padded into the kitchen, tossed the empty ice cream container into the trash and washed the spoon. Almost three. Dawn would be home soon. I suppose making dinner was next on the agenda for the day.

I rifled through the contents of the fridge. Oranges. Carrots. Some spinach. Leftover pizza. Juice, milk. Strawberry Jam. The pantry didn't offer a whole lot more. Some tins of soup, a can of tuna. Tomato sauce. Rice. Mac and cheese. The freezer was worse. Half a box of Eggo's and a package of chicken legs. This did not bode well. How did that girl manage?

Sometimes when I get stressed, I have a cigarette. I was feeling stressed. I went back into the front room and grabbed Spike's duster from the chair he'd thrown it on the night before. I was rifling though the pockets when he noticed.

"That's *my* coat."

"Yeah, I know." I kept searching. How the hell many pockets did this friggin' thing have? There were at least 5 or 6 that had been sewn into the lining.

His tone took on a hint of exasperation. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Ah, bingo. I pulled the Marlboroughs out. Now where was the Zippo?

"Oiy! Those are my fags!"

"No, I thought they were Popeye gum sticks," I snarked. "Where the hell is your lighter?"

He came over and snatched the package from my hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

My mental nic fit was demanding satisfaction. "Okay, I'm sorry, I should have asked first. Spike, bum me a smoke." I snatched them back, taping the bottom of the package so that one slid out. I tucked it behind my ear and handed them back. "Now, can I have your lighter please? I'd ask you to join me, but I think the back porch is a little sunny for you at the moment."

You could have knocked me over with a feather when he leaned forwarded and
plucked the cigarette from its spot.

"You," he informed me in a tone that brooked no argument, "are *not* putting any carcinogenic material into that body. In case you've forgotten, it's a loner. Alcohol is one thing. A fag is quite another." He slid the cigarette back into the package and tossed it onto the end table next to him.

My mouth dropped open. The unmitigated gall! The nerve! And not only that, but now twice he'd been right about something and within a 20 minute time span.

"Spike." I tried reasonable. "One smoke is not going to kill her. I don't have a pack a day habit or something. I'm feeling on edge. I just want one."

"No. I'm not letting you."

Oh, bad word choice. I gave him the once over and figured out where the lighter probably was. This was going to be nasty of me, but it was easier than trying to fight with him. And I figured it was his own fault for being stupid enough to tell *any* female that he wasn't going to let her do something. He'd brought it on himself.

Sultry pout, on. Provocative body language, activated. "Spike." I pressed up against him. "Never say that to a woman." I slipped my hands in the back pockets of his jeans, making him jerk forward involuntarily. His hands flew up to my shoulders, and he was obviously torn between pulling me closer and shoving me away. The fingers of my left hand curled around the item I was seeking. I grabbed it then pulled away, snatched the cigarettes from the end table and made a beeline for the back porch.

He was after me in a second, but I had enough of a head start to crash through the door just as I felt his fingers grazing my shoulders. He barely stopped in time, catching one side of the doorjamb to keep himself from flying out into the sunlight while I vaulted down the steps. I turned to face him, impudently making a big production of lighting the cigarette in front of him. I took a long, drawn out drag, but kind of ruined the effect by coughing. Virgin lungs. I cleared my throat and took a shallower drag. Oh, head rush.

His face was tight and angry. Uh-oh. "You are," he grated out through clenched teeth, "without a doubt, the biggest bitch I've ever met."

My own face screwed up in anger. "I think that's Buffy your thinking of, babe. I'd be the second biggest."

The slam of the door was his response.

Note to self - remember original observation that impulsivity was *not* the best option in decisions I make concerning Spike. I sat on the bottom step and tried to enjoy my hard won smoke. The ashes of victory. Suddenly not nearly so enjoyable.

Having such a well-developed sense of guilt sucks. It's why I can never get away with being a fully nasty bitch. My feelings of regret kick in before I can really take any pleasure in it. As opposed to what I'd said to Willow the night before, I could never actually say that stuff about Angel to his face, cuz I know that soul-boy would be hurt. Have I mentioned that I'm pathetic?

I took one more drag, and then crushed out the half smoked cigarette, then went back in to face the music. Spike was back on the sofa in front of the TV. I cleared my throat. He ignored me. Sigh. I walked over to the tube and flicked it off. He glared at me.

"I was watching that!" He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and went to turn it back on.

"Please don't, Spike."

He tossed the remote down, then leaned back and crossed his arms. "Something else you wanted then? Some pot maybe? A little crack?" The bitterness beneath the sarcasm made me wince. I didn't respond right away, instead I sat beside him, unable to meet his eyes and silently handed him the smokes and the lighter.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry." I finally looked up at him. "I shouldn't have done that to you."

Confusion and wariness warred for dominance on his face. "You shouldn't be polluting the Slayer's body."

I shook my head. "That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, I know that, but I still don't think one smoke is going to give the girl lung cancer. Especially when you factor in Slayer healing powers. I meant I shouldn't have hurt you like that."

He scoffed. "I don't know what you're talkin'..."

I reached out and touched his hand and he trailed off. "I'm really sorry, Spike. It was cruel of me to use..." I gestured towards myself. "...this body to get a stupid lighter. I'd like to think I'm a better person than that. I'm officially blaming my utter lack of regard for your feelings on the unsettling events of the last 24 hours, and I promise I'll try hard not to be such a bitch again."

His gaze never wavered as he studied me, weighing my words. I bit my lower lip as I waited for him to give me some indication of what he thought. Finally his mouth quirked into a smile. "Well, you were right about one thing."

"Yeah? What was that?"

"You are the second biggest bitch I've ever met."

"Bite me, asshole."

I got the dead-sexy look. "Anytime."

I punched him in the arm. "In your dreams, Blondie."

He chuckled and rubbed his arm. He was readying a comeback when the phone rang. I glanced at it and then back at him. "Do they have an answering machine?" I asked him.

"Yeh, but I don't think it's on. You should answer, it might be important."

I nodded and picked it up. "Hello?

I was hoping it was just Willow calling in to see how I was. Bzzz! You lose, thanks for playing.

"Hi, Buffy. It's Todd."

Todd? Who the hell was - oh! The pretentious git she worked with at the DMP. "Oh, hi. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could trade shifts with you..."

I listened with half an ear as he explained. I'd kinda forgotten about Buffy's pathetic job. I was going to have to figure out what to do about that if I was going to be here for any length of time. I realized Todd was waiting for an answer.

"Uhm, can I get back to you on that?" Oh, good save.

"Can you let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, wanting to get rid of him. "Bye!" I hung up.

"Hey, Spike, when is the next time Buffy is supposed to work?"

"Bloody hell!"

"Exactly."

We both slumped back into the sofa. I wondered if I could fake it. I've done waitressing before, but I always managed to avoid the fast food outlets. An idea tickled the back of my brain and I looked over at the depressed looking vampire beside me.

"Hey."

He glanced my way. "What?"

I turned to sit facing him, and leaned forward slightly. "Did you mean it? Did you mean what you told Buffy when she started working in that hell hole?"

He looked at me quizzically. "What you talkin' about?"

"You told her to leave that place. You said you could give her money. Can you really? Aren't you the same guy who had thugs after you for 40 kittens?"

"Buffy wouldn't take my money," he reminded me sourly.

"Ah, but you forget, *I'm* not Buffy. And unlike Her Slayerness, I have no qualms at all about accepting your help. Well, as long as it's not stolen from little old ladies in the park or something like that."

"Some of it might have been liberated from a demon or five."

"Like they have mortgage payments to worry about."

"Well, actually, there are a few who do, but-"

"Were they bad guys?"

"Yeah."

I shrugged. "Okay, 'nuff said."

He gave me that funny, lop-sided, little bit painful smile again. It made my heart hurt a little. "You're certainly agreeable."

I knew he was wishing the not-so-agreeable version were here, even if she wouldn't accept his help. So did I. But until then, I'd do whatever it took to make it through.

"Occasionally. Look, I'm a realist. There aren't enough groceries in this house to feed three people for more than a couple of days. Working at a minimum wage job and trying to pay plumber bills, mortgage payments, insurance premiums and still have grocery money? Ain't happening, my friend. She needs a real job, one that pays a livable wage." I wrinkled my nose. "And preferably, one that she doesn't reek of afterwards."

"She's going to be mighty brassed off when she gets back."

I gave him a cheeky smile. "Well, then, I'm glad *I* won't be here to deal
with her." I just happened to glance up at the clock. Almost 3:30. Time to
get dinner in the over.




I was putting defrosted chicken legs in a casserole dish on top of a rice and mushroom soup mixture when Dawn walked in the back door. I covered the dish and slipped it into the oven, then set the timer. When I stood back up, I found her watching me curiously.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied with a surprised chuckle. "First you and Spike this morning. Now you're actually cooking real food for dinner. Are you *sure* you're not a pod person?"

" 'Lo, Nibblet."

Dawn flashed another one of those megawatt grins when she saw Spike standing
in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Spike! You're still here! And not as a pile of dust!" She turned back to me. "Can I go to the Bronze tonight?"

Ahhh, I recognized that tactic. Mom seems to be in a good mood, hit her up for what you want now. I'm not that easy to fool, little girl.

"Is it a school night?" I had to ask, I really wasn't sure *what* day it was in this universe. The scowl I got told me it was.

"But Kira and John get to go."

"How nice for them," I remarked as a grabbed the spinach from the fridge.

"The Java Babes are playing, and it's one night only!"

I rinsed the greens in cold water. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Okay, you're not a pod person. You're my fuddy-duddy, killjoy sister with no sense of fun."

I smiled sweetly. "Love you too."

She glowered at me for a moment then gave up. "I've got homework," she groused as she headed up the stairs.

Spike gave me an appraising look. "Buffy would have gotten into a screaming match with Dawn over that."

I nodded. "Its just experience. Buffy's been doing the mom thing for what, 6 or 8 months now? And wasn't she dead for a couple of them?" He nodded. "Parenting's hard enough when you get to grow into it naturally. I can't imagine having been handed a teenage daughter when I was in my early 20's and being expected to just figure it out on my own."

I patted the spinach dry and threw it in a salad bowl, then julienned some carrots I'd peeled earlier. I threw them in as well, then covered the bowl with plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge.

"Dinner will be up in an hour. What say you and I figure out exactly how I'm going to spend your money?"




Spike and I had the dinner table covered with bills, notices and overdue statements. I'd found a notebook and we were using it as a makeshift ledger. Buffy had been robbing Peter to pay Paul, and it was a wonder her fragile house of financial cards hadn't come crashing down on her. One thing was certain - there was no way in hell her and Dawn could survive on what she made at the DMP.

The buzzer on the stove interrupted our budgeting session. I ignored it for the moment. I was too busy arguing with Spike that Buffy should re-negotiate the mortgage. I guess the bickering was fairly loud because the next thing I knew, Dawn was standing in the room staring at the paper-strewn table.

"Oh! Hi Dawnie," I managed, wondering if she'd overheard anything incriminating.

She looked up at me. "You want me to take the casserole out?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, please." Food, please God, let it have been the smell of the food that drew her downstairs. Spike chose that moment to assert his opinion again.

"I still say leave it," he insisted quietly. "Higher interest rate be damned. If she rolls all the bills together, then she's paying more in the long run. It's not worth it."

Sigh. He was right. "Fine. If your have enough money laying around to pay off the Joyce's car loan and Bu-" Dawn walked back in the room. "My student loan, I'll leave the mortgage alone."

"Deal."

"Good." I grabbed the cardboard box that had held all the papers and started tossing them back in. "I'm starved. Let's eat."

This time, two weird looks, one from each of them. "What?" I demanded.

Dawn's face was glowing with burgeoning hope. "Are you inviting Spike to stay for dinner?"

I looked over at the vampire. Undecided and torn between desires was becoming his new look. Okay, on one hand, I should try to act in character. Buffy wouldn't do it. On the other hand, why the hell should I? The girl was a flippin' idiot. Fuck it.

"Yeah, why not?" I said, as if I was just deciding to be magnanimous for her benefit. Spike gave me a surprised look, but he saw the twinkle in my eye and nodded as if to say 'good show'. We were setting the table when I heard the front door open.

"Hey, Willow, good timing," I called out. "We're just sitting down to..."

Oh. Not just Willow. Xander. Great.

The ambient emotional temperature in the room dropped about 20 degrees as the two males unconsciously squared off against each other. Fuck, fuck, fuck! One crisis averted, another one pops up. Buffy's life sucks.

"Xander," I caroled out brightly, quickly moving towards him. I slipped an arm around his. "Just the guy I needed to talk to. Now. Over there, in the other room." I tugged him out of the room, easily overcoming his resistance, and Willow trailed along behind us. He continued to glare over his shoulder at Spike until he was out of sight, then he fixed his gaze on me.

"Buffy, what's he *doing* here?" he demanded. Like he had some God given right to demand anything. I really wanted to slap him silly.

"Xander, what are *you* doing here?"

Willow chimed in. "I, uh, I told Xander that he should come by, cuz, you know, that stuff that happened last night. That we should talk about it. That you should, um, explain what happened to you. Explain it to him."

"Will said you were acting weird and that you weren't yourself. She didn't tell me that Evil Dead the Return was sniffing around." The burly construction worker tensed up. "Is he harassing you again?"

He's a good kid, really. He means well. I know he loves Buffy and worries about her and Dawn. The thing is, he's a very black and white kinda guy. Not a lot of room for shades of gray in his world. I suppose it comes from the crappy childhood he had - the boy seriously needs some therapy if you ask me. But I have a few issues with Xander, some of them dating all the way back to his treatment of the Buffster when she was dating Dead Boy. Heh. One mindfuck coming right up.

"Xander, I know how you feel about Spike, but I know you love me more then
you hate him. You'll have to find a way to accept that he's a part of our
family now."

Harris has a very expressive face. It was highly entertaining to watch the struggle as disbelief, horror, revulsion and disappointment vied for dominance. Moments like this were worth the guilt.

Willow shot me an evil look and tried to explain that I was joking, but I don't think he was processing any further input at that point. I chuckled.

"Dinner's ready. Come on in, there's plenty for everyone."

I walked back into the dinning room ahead of the other two. Dawn was just setting an extra place for Xander. As I sat down, I could feel Spike's eyes burning into me. I looked up at him and was almost stunned by the fierce joy I saw there. Then I got it. He'd heard every word. I flashed him a wicked grin.



It was an interesting dinner to say the least. How Xander managed not choking to death, I'll never know. Every time he glanced at Spike, he looked like he was chewing broken glass or something. I suppose Dawn just chalked it up to the normal animosity he had toward the blonde vampire because it didn't seem to faze her at all.

I kept the conversation flowing smoothly for most of the meal, asking Dawn
about her day at school, her chemistry test, the new cute boy in English class, and even the band that was playing that I wasn't letting her go see. Everything was going fine until she asked about what Spike and I had been doing earlier.

"Just some budgeting," I replied easily. Should have known that was the wrong thing to say. Xander just about had an apoplectic fit right there are then. Willow looked more than a little concerned as well. And their reactions were making Dawn uncomfortable.

"Hey, Dawn," I spoke up, with a sideways glance at Xander that told him to shut up. "How about going down to the corner market and getting a tub of that Chocolate fudge chunk ice cream for desert?"

"But we have some in the freezer," Willow interjected.

"Not anymore," I remarked dryly.

Dawn was a little indignant. "Spike ate all the ice cream?"

"No," I explained, "That was me."

All three of them gaped. Xander was the one to respond. "Miss Fat-free, calorie reduced, Sweet N' Low only finished off the fudge chunk ice cream?"

Dawn shook her head. "I'm going with my original theory. She's gotta be a pod person. Buffy would not eat that. She's been doing this insane diet thing for weeks now."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Is that a no?"

Dawn shook her head. "Can we get Tin Roof Sundae instead?"

"Whatever you want."

She ran to get her shoes on and I turned to Spike. "So. You got any cash?"

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Yeah. Why?"

I smirked at him. "Cuz you're buying desert."

He gave a startled laugh that melted into a good-natured chuckle and dug his wallet out. He held out a twenty. I reached to take it and he caught my fingers for a moment. "Tell the bit to keep the change," he said quietly, then released my hand. "She can buy herself a little something."

I got all misty and had to blink a few times to keep the trickle back. Dawn poked her head in the room. "Money please."

I hopped up and pressed the $20 into her hand. "Spike says keep the change." Damn. Her smile ought to come with a warning and flash goggles cuz it's so damn bright.

"Thanks, Spike!" She stood rooted to the spot for a split second, then darted over to him and gave him a quick hug before shooting out the door. It didn't surprise me at all, but it was a hard bet to figure out which of the three of them was most shocked.

I smiled serenely as I watched them all grappling with the events of the evening. Again, Xander was the first to speak.

"So, Buffy," he managed to squeak out in a somewhat higher than normal voice. "Would you mind explaining to me what the hell is going on before my head explodes? Please?"

I giggled and then dropped the bomb.




He held up fairly well, actually. Probably because reality was better than what I had led him to believe was going on with my facetious comments. I was feeling surprisingly little guilt over that bit of nastiness. Could be because my inner vengeance demon truly believed that he deserved every painful second of it. And then some. If I kept this up, D'Hoffryn was going to come pay *me* a visit.

"And, may I just say, living on the Hellmouth has just moved up a notch on weirdness scale, and that's not something that I thought would possible at this late date."

"Yeah, well, *I* don't live on a Hellmouth. I live in a nice safe universe with no vampires, no werewolves, no demons and no mystical portals underneath high schools. I want to go home. So I say we hunt down Warren and beat the shit out of him until he 'fesses up. Then we beat him up some more. Then we make him undo whatever the hell he did. And after I'm gone and Buffy's back, I say you shit kick him a little longer to make sure it never happens again. And if something happens to get broken in the process - oh, say, like maybe his *spine*, then you know that at least there's one less evil dude out there wreaking havoc in Sunnyhell."

Willow and Xander gawked at me. It was one thing to understand, intellectually, that I was not who I appeared to be. It was quite another to hear such vitriol coming out of the mouth of the person their eyes told them was their longtime friend.

"You're quite the bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you?" Spike commented with a grin. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

I waggled my eyebrows. "Wanna go kill stuff later?"

"Whoa, hold on! You're not going slaying!" Xander was shaking his head, looking at me like I was crazy. "Buffy's trained to do that. You're just some housewife who watches some actors pretend to slay vampires on TV. You go out there and you're going to get our friend killed!" He was yelling by the end of his tirade.

Well, I *had* been joking. I don't have a death wish. And he was right about the training. Buffy had been training and slaying for 6 years. I killed a vampire the night before mostly by luck. But that housewife comment... oh, Xander, you shouldn't have gone there. I smiled sweetly at him.

"Look, whelp," I began, stealing Spike's descriptor - and I could tell it stung. "I'm not an idiot and I happen to like life, so I don't plan on letting mine end anytime soon. I also know that Dawn needs Buffy, and I'm not about to deprive the poor girl of the only family she has that gives a shit about her. But you better get one thing through your head *right* fucking now. I think you're a jerk. You sit on your high horse and dictate to everyone from some imaginary moral high ground upon which you alone seem to stand. Get over yourself. I'm old enough to be you mother, and you are *not* going to lecture me about what I may and may not do."

Xander looked about ready to spit bullets. He abruptly pushed away from the table and stormed out of the room without a backward glance.

"Xander, wait!" Willow pleaded, but he didn't stop. She turned to glare at me. "You're such a bitch!"

"Ain't the first time I've heard that today," I retorted.

She went running after him just as Dawn came back with the ice cream. The teen gave me a questioning look.

"Where'd they go?"

"Xander got some truth on him. He didn't like it, so he left. I think Willow is going to help him forget."

Spike snickered and Dawn screwed up her face at me. "Buffy, you're weird."

"You know it, kid," I remarked as she went to get bowls.

Spike waited till she was in the kitchen, then gave me a questioning look. "Mind telling me what that was all about?" he asked mildly.

"What?"

"I understand why you popped off at the whelp for telling you what to do - bloody wanker's getting to big for his britches. It was lovely to watch someone put him in his place like that. Long overdue. But what was all that rot about him on his high horse, higher moral ground and what not?" He waited expectantly.

"Let's just say I have issues with his character."

He snorted. "That's a bloody understatement if I've ever heard one."




It was dark out by the time Willow came back. She didn't say a word to me, just went up to her room. Spike was chomping at the bit to leave.

"Just hold on a minute," I demanded, then went upstairs to knock on Willow's door.

"What?" came the muffled reply.

I took a chance and went in. "Are you going out tonight?"

"No." She wasn't even willing to look at me. Hmm. She was really pissed.

"Look, I'm sorry," I lied. "I just don't like people telling me what to do."

She finally turned to face me. "He's just worried. I am too. We want Buffy back safe. Not that we don't want you to get home safe too, of course we do, but we don't want Buffy to get hurt."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed placatingly. "I just need to get out of here for a little while."

"Sunnydale is not a really safe place to just go wandering around in after dark, you *know* that."

"I'll be with Spike. He'll keep me safe."

The expression on her face let me know the thought of me alone with Spike equaled anything but safe in her books. Sigh.

"We're just going to poke around a little, see if we can figure out where Warren and the loser brigade are holed up. Strictly recon. And I need a mochachino so bad I'm going to have DT's if I don't get one."

She snickered at that. "Well, that's one addiction that you and Buffy share." Her face got all sad again. "Please be safe. Don't do anything that would hurt Buffy."

I knew she meant more than getting beaten up by a bad guy.

"Willow, I realize you probably don't believe this, but *Spike* wouldn't let anything happen that might hurt Buffy." She gave me a look of disbelief, and I shook my head, disgusted by their lack of trust in him after all he'd done. "Willow? If he wanted to be doing the wild thing, we'd have been doing the wild thing. We polished off one hell of a lot of alcohol last night. *I* was the one who kissed him. *He* was the one who pushed me away." Her eyes widened in shocked surprise. "Yeah. Him. And then he fell asleep crying in my shoulder because he missed her. Does that sound like the evil beast who is out to take shameless advantage of your Buffster?" Pulling the door closed behind me, I left Willow alone with her thoughts.

I popped into Buffy's room and grabbed a few stakes out of the beautiful weapons chest Xander had made for her. I slipped some holy water in my pocket as an afterthought, then headed down stairs. Spike was waiting for me at the front door, looking like he was about ready to jump out of his skin. "Finally finished your little heart to heart with Red? Can we go now?"

"You're a real prick sometimes, you know that don't you?" I asked him as I slipped my shoes on. He just made a face at me. I popped my head into the front room where Dawn was glued to some inane program. Oh. It was Friends. Ick.

"Hey." She glanced over as I continued. "I'm going on patrol."

She nodded and went back to her show. "Okay, see you later."

" *Now* can we go?" Spike was starting to sound desperate.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot," I threw back at him as I pulled the door open. He shot past me like a bat out of hell. "God, you can be such a whiner."

"Bitch," he grumbled as he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up.

I laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing," I shot back. He slipped the package and his lighter into the outer pocket of his duster and I nicked them out in a flash.

"Oi! I think we already had this conversation," he snapped at me, grabbing at the purloined smokes. I batted his hand away.

"Piss off, Blondie. Either let me have one right now, or I'll go buy a pack of my own and smoke the whole fucking thing when you're not around to stop me."

He called me a few other names as I lit one up.

"Ooooh, that's original," I replied sarcastically as I blew smoke at him. "I think you hurt a feeling." I burped. "Oh, sorry, it was just gas."

He regarded me strangely. "You're one seriously bent chit."

"Yup."




The first place we went was Willie's. Spike needed to eat. He ordered a pint and we sat down at a table near the back. He studied me a moment.

"Are you squeamish?"

"What, about blood?" I asked.

"About me drinkin' it in front of you."

Somebody tell me why and evil, nasty, soulless blah, blah, blah, vampire would give a rat's ass about whether I was squeamish or not. I started to get warm fuzzies. Then he wrecked it.

"I don't want you puking all over the place. I'd like to enjoy my dinner."

"Your concern for my comfort is underwhelming, Blondie. Drink up. I've had children. Nothing fazes me."

He drank. It was fascinating in a gruesome sort of way. Knowing that he was drinking formerly live, warm, pumping-through-a-body blood.

"What kind is it?"

"What?"

"What kind? Pig? Cow? Human?"

He stared at me. "Do you *honestly* want to know?"

*Gulp* Nothatsokayreally. "Forget I asked."

He smirked. "It's not human, relax."

We stayed maybe 15 minutes. Spike got a few pints to go. I saw the packages as Willie slipped them into a paper bag. The sure looked like the kind from the hospital. Spike stuffed the bag into his duster and we headed out the door, but he caught my surreptitious glances.

"Yeah, these ones are."

"TMI, Spike, TMI."



The majority of the evening was spent pretty much doing what I'd told Willow we were going to do. He took me back to where he'd found me. I was shocked when I realized how far he'd carried me the previous night. We worked back from there, trying to retrace my steps. It was maddening though. I'd been so out of it, I was having trouble remembering any landmarks. But I did remember one thing.

"Spike, they have surveillance. They've got camera feeds set up all the way around, on every access point into their lame-assed hideout. That's how they were able to sic that nasty demon on Buffy. The one you and Xander were hunting."

"Those wankers did that? Bloody pillocks! I'm going to rip out their spleens and have 'em for breakfast, chip be damned!"

"Hey, I'm all for that, but can it wait till *after* we get them to put me back?"

"Right. So we look for cameras then."

"I don't know how easy they'll be to spot. I don't imagine they have them out in plain sight. I bet this is something Willow could help with. They're total tech heads, she could probably figure out a way to tap into their video feed or something. Then maybe we could trace it to the source. We'd have to have something mobile, though, so we could move and track - hey! I'm sure they wouldn't know your car!"

I shut up as I saw Spike looking up into the darkness. I tried to follow his gaze, but I couldn't see anything.

"Give."

He looked down at me with a very self-satisfied grin. "Vampire vision."

"Yeah, I know, what did you *see*?"

"A glint of light. Reflected off the lens of an otherwise very well hidden camera. You never would have spotted it, Sla-"

And like that, the pain lashed across his face. He had it back under control in a second. "Sorry. Dee. You never would have spotted it."

I had to turn away from him. I was pissed off. I was jealous. I was hurt.

He reached out, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged it off. "Whatever. Let's go."

"Fine." I could hear the coldness in his voice, and I whipped around to glare at him.

"You're pissed off at *me*?"

"I..." his face was a parody of contortions. He finally snarled in disgust. "Fuck. What the hell do you *want* from me?"

"I want you to see *me*, not her." Big sigh. "But that's kind of unrealistic when I'm sittin' in her body, isn't it?" I laughed cynically. "Talk about your warped love triangle."

He froze. I was totally oblivious, completely self absorbed in my whining. Suddenly there was a cold hand wrapped around my throat, pinning me against the wall of someone's garage. I found myself staring into yellow-rimmed blue eyes, and a beautiful face that was morphing even as I watched. I had front row seats to a game face, and I wasn't enjoying it.

"Love triangle? You dare equate a silly, infantile crush you have on some poncy actor to what I feel for Buffy? You have no idea what you're talking about. You have no right *to* talk about it."

In case you weren't already aware of this, just FYI; pissing off a vampire? Not good for your health. I'm sure the only reason he didn't smack me around at that point was because it was Buffy's body he'd be hurting, not mine. He finally let me go, then stalked away, duster billowing majestically out behind him.

I slid bonelessly to the ground and waited till the shakes subsided. Oh yeah, Willow, I'll be safe with Spike. Uh-huh. Really. Until I say something stupid and make him want to rip my throat out that is. I heard a funny noise, then realized it was me. Whimpering. Gah, I'm such a wuss!

Okay, sitting in a back alley, in the dark, all alone, in Sunnydale. Not a wise choice. Time to get home. At least this time I knew my way. I was almost halfway there before I got that funny clenching feeling in my gut again. Damn. Now I realized what it was. Vamp sign. Kinda like worm sign? Never mind. Go read Dune. It'll make sense.

I started running. Maybe I could get away. I got another block when another big ugly came out of nowhere. Oh, this was not looking good. A glance to the rear confirmed that my original tail was still on me. Goody for me.

Now, Buffy - she always beats the crap out of them, then stakes them. I've never understood why she doesn't just shove a piece of wood though their undead hearts as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Is it a professional courtesy, letting them think they might have a chance? Maybe a little pride - I can *so* kick their asses. I don't know. All I *do* know is, when something that wants to eat me gets close enough to do so, it's going to get a bad case of heart splinters ASAP.

The one in front lunged while tail-boy was still a half block away. I just held the stake in front of me at what I hoped was heart level, and let him impale himself. Squishy. And not quite on target. I think that pissed him off. By the time I actually dusted the first one, number two had caught up, and I was almost hyperventilating from fear. I back peddled away, grabbed the holy water and popped the lid. He came at me and I let him have it full in the face. He was pretty much gargling with it by the time I was done. Poor bastard, I almost felt sorry for him. And you don't get this part on TV - it smells just like burning hair when holy water hits them. I watched his flesh bubbling away, frozen in horror.

"Well, finish him *off* already!"

I whirled to see Spike lounging against a fencepost a few feet away. When I didn't rush in to make the kill, he strode forward, grabbed the stake out of my hand and plunged it into the poor sot. He was back, handing me the stake, when the guy dusted. I stared at it for a moment before looking up into his face. He returned my gaze impassively. That's when I lost it.

"You fucking sonofabitch!!" I screamed as I smashed both fists into his chest as hard as I could. I sent him flying across the alley to smash into the back of a building. He recovered quickly and dropped into a fighting stance. I was seeing red. Hazy red. Going-to-rip-you-to-pieces red. "You left me alone!" Snap kick to the knee. Grazed him, but it hurt. "I could have been killed!" Roundhouse. He ducked, nailed me with an uppercut that sent me sprawling.

"I was watching you," he spit out. "I wouldn't have abandoned you out here, even though you were acting like a spoilt child."

I got to my feet. "I really want to kick the shit of you."

"Well, come on then, let's have a go," He taunted.

I turned away and started trudging towards what was home in this reality.

"Where you going? You're not giving up are you? Come on, kick my ass!"

I shook my head. "Spike, I'm not her."

The only sound was my footsteps as I walked away.




Angst is a great thing when you are reading it. I luuurve angst. I thrive on it. Throw in some hurt/comfort syndrome, a spot of unrequited love, and you've got the kind of wonderful, twisty, soul wrenching fanfiction I love. Living it, however, has a suckage factor that is unparalleled by anything on this planet.

I was skirting around my feelings, not wanting to examine them too closely, but Spike's words kept whirling around in my head. 'Silly, infantile crush'. He thought I was infatuated with an actor. I shook my head glumly. He didn't have a clue.

See, life is weird. I, like many women before me, graduated from the school of Hard Knocks, and got my Masters Degree in Failed Relationships. Every man I've ever been with has either left - can we say abandonment issues? - or, has been abusive. The later don't last; I won't put up with that shit. Grew up as a supporting actor in that movie, and I don't care to play the lead in a remake. So, I get my emotional needs met in other ways. I hang out with the other Girl Guide moms, have my fellow karaoke addicts over for BBQ night. And I discuss the shit out of Spike and Buffy's relationship online with my fellow Spike addicts.

Everyone has fantasies. And, no, I'm not talking about the x-rated ones at the moment, though you can find some very steamy fics on the net that are obviously someone's wet dreams in print. I refer more to a hearts desire kinda thang. One time, when I was really hooked on an awesome show, I discovered that I had some seriously amorous feelings for the male lead. At first, I was kind of disturbed, thinking there was something wrong with me. I came to realize, in talking with other fans, that it's really not that big a deal. It's a *fantasy*. All in fun, no harm done. As long as you're not stalking the actor, as long as you can keep your perspective - this is a TV show, not reality - then, hey. Go hard. Have a fun, harmless obsession about an imaginary guy. Have a great time cussing out the resistant, female love interest who won't give him the time of day, and think happy thoughts about how you'd make it all better. Okay, *now* we might be moving into that x-rated area.

There was only one problem with this perfectly safe little scenario. It was the imaginary part. At no point was the object of your obsession supposed to manifest itself into flesh and become *real*. It's against the fucking rules! Kinda defeats the purpose of the whole fantasy angle. The long and the short of it was, I'd never had feelings for the *actor*. He's just a really talented guy. It was the *character* that I fell for. And one thing about me - I'm one of those 'write the network, save our Show!' people - I'm pretty loyal once I get fixated. And, *boy*, I'd been fixated on Spike since him and Dru had shown up in Sunnyhell the very first time. My poor, Buffy-besotted Blondie didn't realize that I'd had a thing for him a lot longer than he'd had a thing for the Buffster. I wasn't in love, not exactly - but when I was brought face to face with him, close enough to touch, smell, *breathe*... well, I became painfully aware there was a lot more going on for me than some schoolgirl crush. Sigh.

I realized I was dragging my feet. The closer I got to the house, the slower I went. I was about 5 blocks away when I stopped entirely, crossed my arms and gazed pensively down the street. I didn't want to go back yet.

I could sense him skulking along behind, watching over me. I was feeling rather ashamed that I had assumed he'd deserted me. Especially after prancing around on *my* moral high horse with Willow about his trustworthiness earlier this evening. Gah.

"Spike?"

He stepped out of the shadows. "Yeah?"

"Take me out for a beer?"

"Sure, pet."

The Bronze was really rocking. The Java Babes were very good, and I decided that I was going to have to do something really nice for Dawn to make it up to her. A few people casually nodded and said hello; I just nodded back and made it obvious that I was occupied. The last thing I needed was to be drawn into a conversation with someone about whom I knew nothing. This reality's Buffy obviously had a wider circle of friends and acquaintances then the one I knew from TV.

Spike sat a pint in front of me and settled down with his own. We drank in companionable silence for a while, listening to the band, watching the ebb and flow of humanity around us.

I don't know exactly how long we sat. Long enough for me to plow through a couple more pints anyway. Okay, I admit, adding alcohol to the powder keg that was us might not have been the best idea. Once again I was ignoring the previous note to self. Impulsive, that's me. After a while, I heard a song I liked playing. It had been so long since I last went dancing - all the guys in my little slice of the universe Don't. Dance. Ever. I gave Spike a nudge. I got back a guarded look. "Dance with me."

"Uh, I don't-"

"That's a crock of shit. Get your ass on the dance floor," I ordered, and pushed him off his bar stool. He put on a very indignant face, but I caught his hand and dragged him after me. We just joined in with the gyrating masses and partied down. A little move and shake, a little bump and grind, and all's well with the world. There's nothing quite like dancing to make you feel good.

One dance segued into another and another, until we found ourselves dancing to a much slower, more intimate song. It wasn't intentional, but as is wont to do when such music plays, we ended up dancing rather closely. His arms very naturally found there way around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. Mine draped themselves around his shoulders. Piercing blue eyes stared down at me, dark with passion and longing, sentiments that I was sure he found mirrored in my own. He lowered his head to kiss me - and someone chose that moment to tap on my shoulder. I jerked my head around, planning to reduce the hapless idiot to cinders with my glare. Instead I froze in my tracks.

"Mind if I cut in?"

I just stood there for a heartbeat, gaping. This couldn't be happening. The PTB's couldn't be this cruel. They just fucking *couldn't*! I whimpered, and turned back to Spike, whose expression was as shell-shocked as I felt, and leaned my forehead on his chest.

"Please tell me that's not Angel! Please!" I moaned. "Tell me I'm seeing things!"

"Oh, don't I wish," Spike ground out.

"It's not fucking FAIR!" I wailed, bashing my head repeatedly into his
collarbone.

"Buffy?" Angel's voice was a peculiar mixture of sadness, concern and anger.

I sighed, then turned within Spike's embrace. It occurred to me that Spike was not letting go. Which was fine with me, and whatever Buffy might ultimately feel about it was really not my problem. "Obviously Willow called you."

He gave me a puzzled look. "Actually, Cordelia had a vision."

"Oh, that's just fabulous," I muttered.

The three of us were creating a block to the free flow of the dance floor. Fine. I needed another beer now anyway. Or three. I led the way to our table, my blonde vampire shadow attached all the way. Hmm. Possessiveness looked good on him.

I went to take my seat, but Spike wouldn't let go. He slipped onto his stool and lifted me up, settling me on his lap. I gave him a look, but he just cocked his eyebrow at me. I glanced over at Angel. The expression on his face made me wince. Sigh.

"Okay, the short version. What do They Who Mess With Our Lives want?"

I watched him struggle. It was *painful*. I mean, it really hurt, physically, in my heart. I've always been kinda pissed at Angel for summarily making judgments where Buffy was concerned - he left her for her own good, he gave up his mortality and life with her for her own good - she never got a choice. I know he grew up in an age where men did the decision-making and women just accepted it, but hey! Change with the times, bucko. Still, as much as I agreed that he was a grand poof, I wasn't enjoying watching him suffer. Xander suffering was fun. This was different.

Sigh.

"Look, Angel? Objects in the mirror are not necessarily what they appear to be, okay?"

That earned me a confused look. "Pardon me?"

I could tell Spike was enjoying the fact that he knew what was going on when Angel didn't. I dug my fingers firmly into his thigh as a warning to keep his mouth shut.

"I'll explain it later. Can you just give me the low down? What's the deal?"

He pulled it together. "Cordelia's vision was about you. She said something happened, you'd - changed somehow, weren't yourself. She said you were in danger." He ran a hand through his hair, looked around uncomfortably. "She's been away with a friend for awhile. She actually had the visions last night, but wasn't able to reach me until earlier today. I came right away."

I narrowed my eyes. "And your fingers are broken?"

Blank look. "Huh?"

"Telephone, Angel. I know you have one."

Sheepish look. "Yeah, I know, I just..."

"Had to come check it out yourself? Why am I not surprised?" Heavy sigh. Oh waitress, where the hell are you? Just bring me a pitcher. Or a keg. I finally flagged a girl down and ordered another pint.

"Buffy, has something happened? Are you okay?" Angel asked after the girl left.

I nodded. "Yeah, something happened - but I'm as fine as it's possible for me to be right now, Angel. Which isn't as fine as it could be, but is not nearly so bad as it might have been. It's... complicated."

He pressed on, unconvinced. "Cordelia saw... things. That just didn't make sense. Involving certain...people." He glared over my shoulder at Spike whose face took on an intrigued look.

"Do go on, Peaches," Spike drawled mockingly. "Exactly what *kind* of things did your little Vision Girl see?" He let a hand oh-so-casually settle on my knee.

I turned to glare at him, and he tried to pull an innocent act. I slugged him in the arm. "Stop being such a brat!"

"But you *like* it when I'm a brat," he flirted shamelessly. Angel's jaw twitched.

God, save me from posturing vampires! I turned back to the souled one. "You and I are going to have to sit down and have a long, uninterrupted conversation one day very soon. Alone." I emphasized the last word, with a jab of my elbow into Spike's ribs for the obscene things he was doing with his tongue to taunt Angel when he thought I didn't see it. He scowled and rubbed his chest. Angel's lips quirked into a shadow of a smile.

"What happened to 'he's a bloody fucking poof'?" Spike grumbled quietly. I dug in my fingers again and he shut up quickly.

Angel growled at Spike, then gave me a nod. "I'm going to stay in town for a few days. I'll be at the mansion. We can..." he gave the blonde vampire a meaningful glare. "...talk more later."

"That's great, Peaches," Spike interjected. "Now toddle off, hair boy. Some of us are trying to enjoy the evening."

The waitress finally showed up with my beer, which I consumed half of in about 4 long swallows. I set it down to find the 2 vampires staring at me.

"You're sure your okay?" Angel pressed one last time. I just nodded. He rose to leave, and then stopped, looking at me uncertainly. Oh. He was hoping for a hug. Okay, I could do that. I had to peel Spike's arm off me first, though. Angel squeezed gently then released me. Spike's arm was around my waist pulling me back on his lap almost before Angle let go. After a final look to assure himself that I was, indeed, there of my own free will, the other vampire finally turned and left.

I slumped back against Spike. "Well, *that* was fun. Not."

"You were awfully nice to him." Oooh, pouty Spike.

Sigh. "Just because I think he was a major wanker for leaving doesn't mean I need to shred what's left of his undead heart and jump up and down on the little pieces."

"Sounds like a good time to me," he gripped. I ignored him and drank some more beer. He watched me as I finished off my pint. "You drink much more and I'm going to be carrying you home again tonight."

I waggled my eyebrows. "Is that a promise?"




We never did get back to the dance floor that night. Or back to where we'd left off when Angel interrupted. It was probably for the best - my head was spinning and I felt giggly. Spike walked me home after the Bronze closed, and somehow, along the way, we ended up with our hands entwined. It was a comfortable, safe feeling, and I liked it a whole lot. We stopped at the front door.

"You really know how to show a girl a good time," I quipped, giving him a quirky smile.

"Yeah, I'm a real hot date, I am," he answered with a grin.

"Good night, Spike."

"Night... Slayer."

My eyes widened and I gaped at him. I'm sure I did a great approximation of a fish. He just chuckled at my bemusement and leaned in to drop a kiss on my forehead before striding off into the night. I stood and watched him till he disappeared. Well. Knock me over with a feather. My mind took that comment and ran all sorts of interesting places with it.

My reverie was cut short at the sound of a twig snapping out in the shadows, and I became aware of that funny, churning feeling I'm beginning to associate with vampires. One I'd felt earlier tonight, but attributed to another source entirely since I was dancing with a hot blonde at that moment.

"Couldn't wait?" I asked the darkness. Angel moved out of the shadows. What is it with vampires stalking this girl?

"I just needed to make sure that you were really okay, Buffy. You can understand that, can't you?" His eyes begged me to understand. Gah.

"Yes, Angel," I replied with a heavy sigh. "I do." He was here anyway, might as well drop da bomb sooner than later. "Come on in. There are a few things you need to know."

I unlocked the door and he trailed in after me. I found the front room occupied by Willow and Tara, who had been talking. While snuggled up pretty close. It was sweet to see. They both piped up with a hello, only to stop and gawk when Angel walked in the room.

Willow and Angel exchanged inanities while I slipped upstairs to use the bathroom and change. I peaked in on Dawn and then headed back downstairs to find all three of them waiting expectantly in the front room. I was starting to think I should have just made a recording and handed it out - I was getting sick of telling the story. At least it was 2 birds with one stone.

It was quicker this time. I left out the parts about Buffy and Spike's extracurricular activities. I figured that, like Xander, it was something Angel really didn't need to know. Telling Willow had been petty on my part, but I figured that Buffy would have told her eventually anyway. And I got the sense that this Tara also knew.

The explaining of the weirdness brought me back to Spike's discovery.

"He spotted a surveillance camera hidden up on a power pole," I informed them. "That means their hidey-hole is in that area. I was thinking maybe you could do some hacker style magic and break into their system."

Her face lit. "Backtrack them! Oh, I can do that! I just need my laptop, a scanner, my decryption software..." She nodded. "We can do it tomorrow."

"Alrighty then. I'm going to crash. I am *so* bagged." I yawned hugely. "This vampire slaying shit? Not for me, man. It is *way* too hard on a person. I don't know how that girl copes." It was sad really, because even as I said it, I knew the answer. She didn't cope. She denied, ignored, repressed and pretended. The life of a Slayer was one guaranteed to drive you into therapy for posttraumatic stress disorder. Somehow, I didn't think the Council of Wankers provided any kind of counseling services. Slayers were rarely around long enough to require such things.

I headed up the stairs without another word, and left Willow and Angel to hash out tomorrow's plan of attack. I climbed between the crisp sheets of Buffy's bed was asleep before my head hit the pillow.




Dawn walked into the kitchen just as I was buttering hot waffles. I'd set out a glass of juice and a bowl with orange quarters. She sat down at the island as I plated the waffles and plopped them in front of her.

"Wow. *You* made a meal. For breakfast." She peered up at me suspiciously. "What do you want?"

I grinned. "For you to eat and get out of my hair. I have things to do."

She wolfed it down, for once displaying the standard bottomless pit stomach most teenagers had. It made me smile. I tried not to think about my kids having breakfast where they were. Teared up anyway. I busied myself with cleaning up orange peels and wiping the counter while I blinked back the moisture.

"Thanks, Buffy."

"No problem."

She was just about out the door, but stopped for a second. "Kira wants me to go to the mall with her after school. I thought I'd just go back to her place after that. And since it's a Friday night..." she let the unspoken question hang in the air.

"Yes, you can go to the Bronze, as long as her mother is picking you two up after."

She pushed a little more. "And overnight?"

"That's actually a good idea," I agreed. "It's probably going to be a busy Slayage night. If it's okay with her mom, call, and leave a message if I'm not here."

"Cool!" She took off before I could change my mind.

After everything was tidied, I sat down and tried to figure out my plan for the day. If I was going home tonight - thinking positive thoughts here - I needed to put the fiscal plan Spike and I had come up with in place today, before Buffy came back. That meant heading out to the Crypt. Which I had no idea the location of.

First things first. I called the DMP and booked the day off sick. Then I headed upstairs and peaked into Willow's room. Her laptop sat on the dresser. I took it downstairs and set it up on the dinning room table. Took me a few minutes to figure some of the commands, being a Mac and all - I'm *so* jealous. Then I accessed her ISP and set to getting a map of Sunnyhell. 15 minutes later, I had directions to all the cemeteries in town.

I found the crypt in the fourth cemetery I tried. I walked up to the door, and then hesitated. Should I knock or just walk in? Spike decided for me.

"You gonna stand out there all day?" came the brusque voice from the interior. With a grin, I pushed it open. I took a few steps in, then stopped in shock. The place was still a wreck. Buffy and Riley had well and truly trashed his home.

"You seriously need to redecorate," I commented drolly as I continued toward him. The stone sarcophagus was still in one piece, but rubble littered the floor, and there was a gapping hole in place of what had once been the trap door. He slouched in his worse for wear chair watching the television that had miraculously escaped unscathed. Reception sucked though.

"I dunno," he responded. "The utter destruction theme seems appropriate somehow."

"It's certainly... unique," I allowed.

He waited a moment for me to continue. When I didn't, he did.

"What you doin' here, Dee?"

I put on my best chipper smile. "I've come to suck you dry."

The shocked look on his face puzzled me. Until my gutter self figured out the inadvertent double entendre. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Money!" I shouted. "I've come for your money!"

He nodded slowly, a slow smile appearing as he enjoyed my discomfiture. "You're one of them birds who goes straight for a bloke's pocketbook, are you? The ink's hardly dry on our little budget, pet. You don't have to rush off and do everything today."

"Actually, Spike, I do." I looked down for a moment, then back at him. "We're going after them tonight. Willow thinks she can hack through their encryption. Last night she and Angel-"

His chin jerked up. "Angel?" He growled. "Angel came over there last night?"

I rolled my eyes. "He followed us. To make sure I wasn't under your evil thrall, I suppose. He came in and I explained. Then they sat around and hashed it out after I went to bed. The *point* is, whatever we're doing - we're doing it tonight. And since I'm going home, it has to be today. I at least need to pay off the loans. She can't un-pay them. But if I get on the ball, I can go pay the phone and the electric and still have time to do a major grocery shop." I gave him devilish grin. "And honey, I just have to tell you, I *love* spending money - but I love spending other people's money even more!" I struck a saucy pose, a hand on one hip, the other outstretched. "Fork it over, babe."

A genuinely warm laugh came bubbling from Spike's lips. It's wonderful, his laugh - it feels like summer at the fair, water fights in the pool - childhood memories that bring you peaceful joy. I could get lost in that laugh. He rose from his chair and sauntered across the room to pry a loose stone out of the wall. After a little wiggling, it popped free, and he
pulled a small metal box out. He opened it and retrieved a thick wad of bills, then handed them to me.

"Thank you," he said quietly as I put the cash in my purse.

"Thank me? I think it's the other way around, Spike."

"No," he disagreed. "This way I get to help her - and Niblet too. S'all I ever wanted to do, help her I mean. She'll never let me. She's going to be furious when she comes back, but at least she won't lose her home. At least she can start from zero instead of from negative twenty grand. You didn't have to do any of this, but you did. Thanks for taking care of her, even when she won't take care of herself, and for watching after the sweet bit. Means a lot to me."

If I didn't before, I now officially hated Buffy. And Xander. And anyone else who couldn't, *wouldn't* see the man in Spike. And I wanted to give him a huge hug and tell him how wonderful he was. Instead, I got all weepy and sniffled. Oooh, that's attractive.

"So. I guess this is it," I managed, dropping my eyes from his. "I mean, going home soon, going to kick Warren's ass tonight, so we probably won't have another moment alone from this point on." I was very aware of him standing so close, the skintight black tee highlighting every well-sculpted inch of his torso. "So, uh, I guess I should, you know, say, uh, good-bye. Now. So I don't forget." Gee, think I could stammer any more during that sentence? Yeesh. Time to bail before I made a fool of myself and had him firmly yet gently evict me while reminding me that it was Buffy he was in love with. I took a step back from him, and then turned to leave. His hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"You think you're just walkin' out of here like that? Gimmie your money, have a nice life, g'bye?"

I turned back in surprise. "Uhhhh," I replied intelligently. He chuckled. Pressed in a little closer. Err, no, make that a lot closer. No, make that closed in on me till I backed into the wall and had nowhere else to go. "Yeahthatwasprettymuchtheidea..." I squeaked out. I talk fast when I'm nervous - that sentence must have come out at warp 6.

He put one hand on the wall beside my head, used the other to lightly drag a finger down the side of my cheek. "I thought," he whispered huskily, "that I was worth a fonder farewell than that."

Whimper. "Spike." My voice shook.

The cool digit continued on, leaving a slow burn in its wake as it traced the line of my jaw, then skittered down my throat. My heart hammered in my chest, and I suddenly couldn't get enough air.

"Last night, you told me you wanted me to see *you*," he went on, leaning in close as his finger trailed down my chest, between my breasts, lips almost touching my ear. "When I concentrate, I do. You don't talk like her, or walk like her, or laugh like her. You don't scrunch up your face when you're frustrated like she does." His finger finally arrived at my abdomen, tracing delicate patterns as I shivered. "Your essence makes it very plain that you are *you*, Dee, not her. And I think I've managed to grow rather fond of who *Dee* is in the last 2 days. I'd hate to have her leave without a proper send off."

"Wha-what did you h-have in m-mind?" Coherent thought was a distant memory.
The feather light caress was all I could focus on.

"Something a little more memorable," he replied with a smile. Then arms were sliding around me and his mouth was on mine, teasing, nipping, and playing. His tongue lightly swept over my teeth, coaxing mine to join it in a sensual dance. His hands explored, igniting suppressed passions, and suddenly I didn't give a rat's ass if it was me, Buffy or some strange amalgam of both of us that he saw. This was the embodiment of a fantasy, in full living color, with surround sound and complete tactile sensation - and I was pretty much head over heels. I slid one hand up his back underneath his tee shirt,
the other curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and returned the kiss with fervor. I wanted to make a memory that would last me forever.

Funny thing about that sarcophagus, it's a lot more comfortable that it looks. I never would have thought that of cold stone. Then again, having an attentive and thorough Spike beside you on said sarcophagus does tend to distract one from any but the most mind-blowing sensations. We passed several creative hours there, each more imaginative than the one before, before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

He looked so peaceful when he slept. None of the walls were up, the sarcastic 'I-don't-need-anyone' barriers that he used to protect himself most of his waking hours, and he almost looked innocent. He resisted as I slipped free of his embrace, murmuring complaints in his sleep. I was pulling on my top when I heard it - the word that made my crazy little world turn on its ear, made my stomach drop to my knees.

"Dee..."

So quietly, just a sigh really, but he said it. My name. Not hers. Mine. Oh, God.

I shimmied into my pants, tracked down my shoes, and then turned to look at him once more. Still sleeping. I wasn't sure if I preferred leaving like this, or waking him to say good-bye, so I took the coward's way out and let him sleep.

"Good bye, Spike," I whispered. "I'm going to miss you."




I had flutters in my stomach as I made a light dinner for Willow, Tara, and myself. I tried to keep myself occupied, not dwell on the upcoming events. I spent a good hour organizing the pantry, the freezer and the fridge, now full to bursting with many groceries. I'd gone through Buffy's box-o'-bills and scrawled PAID in big red letters across just about all of them. Then I dusted, vacuumed, did laundry - the stuff I do every day. The stuff I always complained about. The mundane. I never appreciated mundane so much in my life.

The two women came down the stairs as I was stirring the risotto.

"Mmmm, that smells so good!" Tara said appreciatively. Willow nodded her agreement.

"That's because I am the kitchen goddess, and I rock!" and quipped. I grabbed them some bowls and dished them up. We sat down in companionable silence, enjoying the food. Willow finally broke the quiet.

"Not much longer now,"

"Yup," I agreed.

There wasn't much to say. We were all pretty preoccupied with our own thoughts. As the evening grew later, we prepared for the conflict to come. I changed into some of Buffy's best 'Break and Enter' clothes. Willow got her computer, scanner and decryption software and started doing her technical magic. Tara was working up some protective spells so we didn't get whammied by any magical defenses while we were trying to smoke Warren out of his lair.

There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Xander standing there, angry, defiant, hurt - but there. I gave him a smile, which surprised him, and a hug, which shocked the hell out of him.

"C'mon," I gestured for him to follow me to the dinning room, where Tara and Will were preparing. "Join me in being completely useless."

Xander laughed, and just like that, all the tension was broken and everything was as it should be between Xander, Willow and Buffy - even though it was just me along for the ride.

A few minutes after sunset, Angel and Spike arrived. I'd been watching for them, and greeted them as soon as they walked up. And promptly discovered that the much
vaunted vampiric sense of smell was everything it was made out to be. Angel took one
look at me and sniffed sharply, then whipped his head around to give Spike an icy stare. And took an unconscious step towards his childe. Oh, hell.

"Don't start something, Peaches," Spike advised Angel frostily.

"Don't need to," the angry brunette vampire shot back. "You already did. I'm just going to finish it."

"Hello, important stuff to do here, Kimosabes," I interrupted with a glare of my own for each of them. "Get your asses in here and leave you baggage at the door."

Angel's face was a mask, but his eyes couldn't hide his anger as he pushed past me and into the other room. I sighed. Spike took my hand, gave me a concerned look. "How you holdin' up, luv?"

"Oh, fine," I replied breezily.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeh, and I'm little red ridin' hood. Don't let the grand poof get to you."

I nodded, then turned to go back in. Spike had other ideas. He pulled me close to him and shut the door. "You left without saying good-bye," he admonished.

"You were tired, I didn't want to wake you."

I got the dead-sexy smirk. "I'll forgive you this time."

"Thank you ever so much, oh grand poo-bah."

He leaned in and gave me a gentle, but searing kiss before releasing me. "Well, I guess we should get to it."

I nodded. "Yup. It's showtime."




The plan was to circle the area a few times and let Willow do her thing. We all piled into Angel's car, it being the logical choice as the Legion of Dim wouldn't have seen it around town. It didn't take long for out resident hacker to reduce Warren's sophisticated early warning system to a useless collection of looped video clips.

They didn't see us until we were almost on top of them. A back up camera, independent of the main network, gave them the heads up only moments before we rushed them. Unfortunately, it was all the warning they needed, and we had a fight on our hands.

There were a few magical surprises, but Tara's spells had us covered. Spike and Angel dispatched more than a few hastily conjured demon types, while Xander and I went after the human ones baddies. In all the craziness that ensued, Warren managed to make his exist - leaving Andrew and Jonathan holding the bag.

Xander glowered menacingly at Andrew while Willow questioned Jonathan. It was very deja-vu to watch, which was kind of amusing. After a few minutes, she'd pumped the whole story from him. She didn't look very pleased.

"So what you're saying," she reiterated slowly, "is that Warren created a quantum flux that opened a dimensional nexus, and then you cast a spell on Buffy to send her through it and make sure she couldn't get back?" The red-head's voice shook with suppressed rage. Jonathan didn't know how very lucky he was that she wasn't doing magic anymore. Or perhaps, judging by the blanched look on his face, he did.

"Y-y-yes," he managed to stammer.

"Where's the spell?" she demanded.

The terrified young man pointed to a book on a shelf across the room. Willow motioned to Tara, who went and retrieved it. She brought it over and he pointed out which spell he'd used. The young wiccan took the book to a desk, sat down with it, and set to the task of coming up with a way to reverse it.

Willow started going through Warren's computer files looking for information on the dimensional nexus and how to open it. I just sank into a chair and crossed my arms, hope filling me. We were so close. Then I noticed Jonathan watching me.

"Hey, by the way - " I told him. "Thanks for letting me out of here the other night."

Andrew glared at him. "You wimp! Warren was right! You're a soft wuss boy! It's your fault this is happening!" he raged at his fellow crime lord.

"Shut yer gob," intoned Spike in a voice that brooked no argument. The angry geek quieted down.

Jonathan looked at the floor, then slowly brought his eyes up to mine. There was a lot going on in that boy's head. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, Buffy. Maybe drive you to distraction so you would leave us alone, but not hurt you. Not kill you. You helped me." His voice was quiet, pensive. "I'm glad the spell didn't work."

I let out a short bark of ironic laughter. "Uh, Jonathan? Just FYI. It did."

He looked at me, confused. "Huh?"

Tara spoke up. Her voice sounded strained. "Jonathan, is this exactly how you did it? With these changes?" She brought the book back over to him, and indicated some words that were scrawled in the margin.

"Yeah... amitto foemina contego sua animus custos sua corpus donec sua revenio locus... that's it."

Willow gasped as he read the words. She jumped up from the computer and joined Tara in going over the spell. From his place on the other side of the room, Angel's face took on a very grim look.

Jonathan looked around the room, taking in the strong reactions. His gaze shifted back to me. "I don't understand. You're still *here*. What do you mean it worked?"

Willow read the translation, her face very pale. "Send away the woman, protect her spirit guard her body until she returns to her place... oh, goddess, Jonathan, what were you thinking? Don't you realize what you've done by adding those words?"

"I .. I was only trying to keep her safe!" he argued. "Don't you get it? Warren didn't really care where we sent her! He would have just as soon killed her - I had to convince him that it would be better to send her away. And since he never really pays attention to my spells, I just slipped in the protection phrase. I had no idea where she was going to end up, and like I said - I didn't want to hurt her." His expression became one of intense frustration. "But I still don't understand what you're so upset about. She's *right here*! Why all the fuss about a spell that didn't even work? And let me tell you, Warren was some pissed about that."

Angel stood in front of Jonathan, shaking his head sadly. "You shouldn't ever mess with a spell unless you really know what you're doing. Latin is a very specific language; that's why it's used for magic so often. The spell did exactly what you asked. But you didn't define the parameters, so the magic decided on the method."

"You... you've lost me." The young man was very puzzled. So was I. But ultimately, I didn't really care why it happened, or how he screwed up. I just wanted it undone.

"The noun custos you used means guardian, or keeper," the vampire explained
patiently. "You sent her spirit away, and you called a keeper for her body."

"Oh, god...." Jonathan shot me a quick look. "That wasn't what I meant to do!"

"Obviously."

"But it means that the normal magical methods of finding her won't work," Willow added sadly. "I can't do a locating spell. There's nothing to fix on."

My head shot up. "What do you mean? She's in my body, isn't she? We just switched places, right?"

Willow's eyes filled up with tears and it suddenly hit me like a freight train. No one had any idea where Buffy had gone. "No," I gasped hoarsely, "There's gotta be a way to find her. There's just gotta!" I jumped up from the chair and grabbed Jonathan by the front of his shirt. "Fix it, god damn you!" I snarled in rage, lifting him into the air and shaking him. "Un-do it! I want my fucking life back!"

Suddenly there were strong, cool hands gliding up mine, forcing me to lower the now sobbing man to the floor. "Let him go, luv, let him go, it's gonna be okay, we'll figure it out." Spike pressed up behind me, whispering a steady stream of calming words into my ear as he gently pried my fingers from the front of Jonathan's shirt. He pulled me into an embrace, and just held me as my body trembled.



It's almost been a year since I woke up in that basement. We're still trying to figure a way to get Buffy home and send me back, but I think privately we've all pretty much admitted it's hopeless. If we could find the right dimension, the chances would be a lot better. Unfortunately that little piece of information vanished with Warren, wherever the hell *he* is. Tara and Willow still cast about randomly through small portals, looking for Buffy on a regular basis. It's one of the few magical things that Willow does - but only if Tara's with her. They got back together in this universe. I hope Joss is taking notes. I still firmly believe that he's a dimension hopper.

Willow, Spike and I sat down and explained things to Dawn about a week after the raid on the Dungeon of the Dim. She was pretty upset, got all hysterical and did that screamer thing that she does. I don't play that game. I went and told her off and then employed some well cultivated mommy guilt. It shut her up long enough so that we could actually talk. The upshot was that she allowed me to mother her anyway. And I really needed to be able to mother someone, 'cuz sometimes I missed my babies so bad I thought I was going to die. Still do. And when that happens, I think about Warren and what I'm going to do to him when I catch him. It won't be a pretty sight. I have a feeling it's going to involve a picket fence.

Amazingly enough, me, Xander and Willow, ended up becoming really good friends. Sometimes it's weird because I know so many things that only the three of them knew. It still throws them once in a while. But they get reminded on a regular basis how much I'm *not* Buffy. I colour my hair the dark chestnut it was in my own world. I wear blue contacts, cuz looking into those hazel/green eyes is still unnerving. But the strongest reminder comes in the form of a very sexy, blonde vampire who seems to think that we're joined at the hip. Not that I mind.

We do Scooby stuff. We fight baddies. Spike helps me train. Have I mentioned that he's very evil and makes me love my WenLiDo instructor? He's a relentless, cruel bastard who never gives me a moment's peace. He's damn lucky I like him, or I'd have to stake his ass to a wall. But the best part is, he never gets confused about who I am. Whether he calls me Dee or Slayer, I know he's talking to me.

Maybe this ain't such a bad holiday after all.