There were times when being the Slayer really sucked. The blood on her clothes, the neverending parade of smelly demons, the apocolypses that always seemed to appear right when she was wanting to sit down with a cup of tea and enjoy a night of nothing. Yeah, there really were nights when it sucked being chosen.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

"Ungh!" Buffy grunted, rolling backwards and kicking the demon over her head. He flew into the mausoleum behind her, landing with a sickening-sounding thud that did little to quench her thirst for violence. She jumped to her feet, whirling around to continue the most enjoyable pummelling she was inflicting on the large green scaly creature she'd found so late in her uneventfiul patrol. She was so into the zone as she stalked forward to reach his slumped form with a smirk on her face that she didn't even recognise the vamp tingles that were making their way across her neck. No, the first she became aware of the presence of a vamp was when Spike leaped into her field of vision, grasping at the neck of the demon that was now regaining its footing and before she had a chance to tell him to get his hands off her well-hunted-for find, he resoundingly twisted its neck, nearly decapitating it. The demon fell to the ground, quite dead, and she stood, her jaw opening with no sound escaping, as she gaped at Spike proudly standing over the kill he'd just stolen from her.

"Well, wasn't he a right little goer," he mused happily, glancing up at her. His brow furrowed as her jaw continued to hang open in complete awe at how sufficiently he'd pissed her off in just five seconds. That was a record, even for him.

"You alright, Slayer? You're looking a little bit .." Spike gestured with his hand in a see-saw motion, his brow still scrunched up in confusion.

"You -- what the hell was that!?" she cried, finding her voice at last.

Spike continued to regard her in confusion. He gestured down at the dead demon with an unsure hand. "Kalator demon."

Good god, was he trying to piss her off?

"No, you moron! I mean, what the hell was with you stealing my kill?" she fumed.

"Your kill, eh?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Gosh, pet, I had no idea you were finally embracing your dark side. If I'd'a known, I'd never have stolen your chosen victim for the night."

Her hands clenched and unclenched at her side, her eyes now positively burning a hole in Spike's head. He seemed particularly non-plussed by it though, as he continued to smirk at her. He happily shifted from foot to foot, his hands coming up to fix themselves in his belt-loops.

"If you're still feeling frisky you can just kick at his corpse til you're over it, pet. I won't tell," he whispered conspiratorially as he finished.

"Shut up, Spike!" she barked at him. "What the hell were you doing? Could you not see that I was dealing with it?"

"Well yeah, but I also felt the need for a little violence fix, pet. Share and share alike an' all that," he faux-chided.

"You're a vampire, Spike. I don't share anything with you," she forced out through clenched teeth.

"Not how Angel tells it," he smirked. "Or Dracula, come to think of it."

Her face shut up shop, her eyes growing even harder, her earlier frustration making way for a cold fury that she could feel spreading through her entire being.

"Get away from me," she ground out. "Right now, Spike."

"Now, now. No need to get your lil Slayer back up. I was just playing."

"I don't care what you were doing. Do it elsewhere," she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to get as far away from him as possible.

God, she might have guessed it! It took her all night to find something to take her frustration out on and what happens just as she's starting to enjoy it? Spike. Of course. The universe just couldn't let her have one little thing, could it? It wasn't enough for her to lose her boyfriend this week. No! The powers had to conspire to give her absolutely nothing in the way of demons or vamps to pound on to make it all better and then just when she finally finds one, Spike comes along to steal her happy ending. Ugh!

She stomped away, her arms swinging restlessly at her sides, little bursts of annoyed sighs escaping her lips. Just when she was feeling a little free, he came along to piss her off. Typical. Not enough that he was the one to take her to the house last week; the one to show her just how far her supposedly perfect relationship had fallen when she hadn't been looking. No, he had to stick around for the aftermath and make sure she'd never get any kind of escape from the frustration that had taken up permanent residence in her brain. God, she really needed a good kill. Something to pummel, something she could punish instead of herself. Because in the five nights that Riley had been gone, every night had gone the same way; no demons, no vamps, no nothing but her and her thoughts. She had nothing but time to think about how screwed up she was; to think about the multitude of things wrong with her that had forced Riley to dance with death just to feel something approaching love or need. She could blame circumstances for her and Angel splitting. But Riley? That was all on her.

"Oi, wait! Come back, Slayer!" Spike called from behind her but she resolutely refused to retrace her steps back to him, unless it was to give him the dusty end he so richly deserved. She kept walking, stomping her way through the gravestones.

"Slayer! Give up your bloody strop and get back here!"

Yeah, that'll happen Spikey.

"You have to see this!"

Oh yeah? You got another heartbreaking secret about my loved ones to callously reveal to me while you smirk at the sidelines?

"Well fine, have your little tantrum and I guess I'll just do your job for you, will I?"

She stopped walking and glanced back at him. He was still stood over the dead demon against the mausoleum, his hand grasping something attached to the demon's arm. She turned her back to him and sighed heavily, fisting her hands and screwing her mouth into a hard line, debating whether to just ignore him and hope he was pulling his usual bullshit routine or head back and see what had his pants in such a twist. He was probably lying. It was Spike, for god's sake. He probably wanted her to turn back and stomp all the way back to him just to say "look, Slayer, what a cool bracelet!" before smirking and taking his leave, happy he'd been able to pull his puppet-slayer gag at least once that night. But then again, it could be something serious ...

Oh goddamit, fucking, bastard, asshole, shitter, nutbags!

"Ugh!" she screamed, having lost the war. She turned and made her way back over to the bleached pain, her feet hitting the ground so hard it was a wonder she wasn't leaving holes. "I swear to God, Spike, if you're messing with me I will rip your pretty little head off!"

His eyebrow made its familiar path upward, as a leer broke out on his face. "Think I'm pretty, do you?"

"Yeah, pretty dumb," she snarked as she once again reached his side. "So what is it? And this had better involve something world-threatening."

"Keep your knickers on, Slayer. Look," he said, indicating his hand which was indeed holding up the dead demon's arm. Spike's hand was grasped around what looked to be a piece of cloth wrapped around the demon's forearm. She couldn't make out what it said, but there was what looked like writing on it.

"What am I looking at?" she sighed tiredly, more and more convinced this really was a ploy to piss her off.

"Christ, now I know why slayers need watchers," Spike murmured. She raised her head to clash her gaze with his and give him the patented Buffy Glare, but his gaze was firmly fixed on the cloth. "It's a Kalator demon, Slayer. You ever heard of 'em?"

She stared at him blankly.

"Yeah, s'what I thought. Well, they're servant types. Powerful. I figured maybe this one was just a freelance out on the prowl - you do get that, they don't always have to be under someone else's commands. But then I saw this," he said, indicating the piece of cloth again, still holding on to it.

"A piece of mangy cloth?" she asked, dubiously.

He rolled his eyes. "It may look like a bit of old cloth to you, Slayer, but to a Kalator demon it's instruction. They get it sown into their skin," he said, pulling at one end of the cloth and it stretched taught, the demon's dead arm jerking when Spike jerked the cloth. "I had a few working for me once. They take their orders very seriously. Get it? Someone sent this after you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "God, how does your brain work?" she snarked. "What makes you think his instruction has anything to do with me at all, dumbass? I went straight for him when I saw him. He could have been on his little mission and I just happened to go for him and he defended himself."

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared at her. "Kalators that are under instruction can't do anything but carry out their orders. They can't even stop to defend their own life. So, if a Kalator is fighting you and he's wearing his little sack-cloth thing, your death is his mission. Got it?" he finished on a wave of irritation.

She blinked at him, taking in his words. So some big demon-y-thing was after her, eh? Huh. Maybe she'd get some action after all. Well, let's see what's the what then. She bent down to the demon's face, while Spike clutched at the cloth - twisting it to and fro to better make out the symbols drawn on it.

"Since when did demon's wear clothes?" she mused to herself taking in the demon's long dark robe and pants that looked made out of some kind of animal skin. She didn't expect an answer but as usual with Spike, he surprised her.

"You really don't have a bloody clue, do you?" he piped up, not dragging his gaze away from the cloth. "You think we're all just mindless beasts, don't you?"

"Cause you are," she replied distractedly, now moving her hands to inspect the demon carcass. The demon itself hadn't caused her any special consideration when she'd been fighting it. Okay, yeah it was wearing clothes which was unusual but not unheard of. Toth had worn something close to this, after all. But as she crouched over it to take it in, now knowing that it apparently had been hunting for her specifically at the behest of some unknown baddie, she found herself puzzled by the differences between this demon and the ones she slayed on a daily basis. This demon was wearing a necklace, for starters. It looked old; homemade. The jewel that was now resting in the curve of its throat was glinting in the moonlight. She ran her hand over it, wondering for a moment if someone had given it to him; if someone had made it for him. The minute she caught herself thinking that she mentally slapped herself. What the hell was she doing? It was a demon. One that had been sent to kill her. And she was sitting here wondering if his crappy necklace was made for him by a sweetheart at home? Good God, she really needed to stop thinking of the Riley situation. It was started to turn her cuckoo.

"I'm not sure what language this is," Spike mused, breaking into her thoughts. "Could be D'arvank but I'm not sure .." he trailed off, crouching down and grasping the demon's arm with his other hand, twisting it round to get better access to the cloth.

"Huh," Buffy huffed, shaking her head and forcing herself to get back on her game; back to business. She pulled at the demon's robes, flipping the sides open. A sparkle in her peripheral vision caught her attention - it was coming from the inside of demon's robes. Demon's have inside pockets in their robes? Who knew? She reached in with one hand, her other hand on its chest balancing herself in her crouch on the ground. Her fingers closed around something cold and hard. It felt like a smooth stone; it fit right into the palm of her hand. Bingo!

She pulled it out of its pocket and had about half a second to note that it was black and shiny before everything went dark.


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"Buffy! Buffy, wake up!"

Someone was shaking her. There was a bustling noise all around her and her head felt so heavy. Ugh, this felt worse than the time Spike brained her with the two-by-four.

"Ugh .."

"Oh, she's waking up! Buffy!"

"Buffster? You okay?"

Oh god, she felt like she'd been in a war with two-hundred Mike Tysons. She tried to open her eyes but everything felt so damn heavy. What the hell had happened?

"Buffy, open your eyes, please!"

Willow. When did Willow get here?

"Come on, Buff."

And Xander. They must have found her on patrol. She had been on patrol, right? She remembered patrol, a demon, Spike, a little black stone and then ..

"Ugh," she croaked again, finally managing to pry her eyes open. Blinding light met her fragile eyes and she blinked about twenty times before it shifted into the colours she was used to. Willow was hovering over her face with Xander in the background. They were both sporting worried looks on their faces. She could hear murmuring noises in the background and she felt utterly disorientated as she attempted to sit up.

"No, Buffy, just lay down," Willow said, her hand on her shoulder holding her in place. "Just get your breath back."

"What happened?" Buffy croaked, still adjusting to the light.

"You just collapsed in the hallway. It was so scary," Willow said.

Wait, what?

"What?" she said, confusion colouring her features and voice.

"Yeah, Buffster. We were walking along and then you just dropped to the floor. Are you okay?" Xander worried.

"Am I .." she replied dazed. "What happened to the demon?"

Willow and Xander exchanged a worried glance. "Maybe we should take her to the nurse," Xander offered.

"No, I'll be okay," Buffy tried to reassure. "Slayer healing's just taking a minute to kick in, that's all."

Another confused, worried glance.

"Where's Spike?" she asked, trying desperately to get her bearings back.

"Spike?" Willow asked, her face scrunched up with confusion.

"Yeah, Will, the bleached wonder."

"Buffy, why would you want to see Spike?" Xander asked, a sort confused disgust on his face.

"Because he was there with me when we found the demon."

"Uh, Buffy .." Xander started but she cut him off.

"Said it was under instruction to kill me and then I found this weird little stone thing in its pocket and .." she trailed off, her vision finally kicking back into gear. There were lights above her head and people walking around her. She was laying on something cold and hard, like the floor. Okay, what the hell?

She sat up abruptly, regretting it as soon as she did when she was struck with another wave of dizziness. Her hand came out to clutch at her head and she moaned.

"Buffy, you don't look too good --" Willow started, only to be cut off by a snide voice.

"Yeah but then, she never does," followed by snickering and Buffy's head whipped up.

"Harmony?" she asked, bewildered. Harmony was standing above her surrounded by four other girls that looked vaguely familiar. For the first time since waking up, Buffy felt a shiver of fear trickle down her back. She recognised those girls. She recognised them from high school.

"Shut up, Harmony. Why don't you go spread your joy in the boy's locker room, huh?" Xander goaded but Buffy barely heard him. She pushed herself off the floor and stood to take in her surroundings with a gaping expression on her face. When she finally realised where she was, she felt the trickle of fear turn into a flood and douse her whole body.

She was in the corridor outside the Sunnydale High School library. And it was filled with people she'd gone to school with. Willow and Xander were standing in front of her with worried expressions on their faces, which in itself shouldn't have been worrying, but it was how they looked more than anything that made her stomach drop. Willow was wearing a fuzzy purple sweater that Buffy hadn't seen for about 3 years; her hair was long, past her shoulders. Xander was standing there without all that extra bulk on his shoulders that had appeared since they graduated; his face looked so much thinner. And God, they both looked so much younger. Her heartbeat was galloping as the wheels in her head started to turn ...

Oh god .. wait, it couldn't be possible, could it? She couldn't .. oh god, she could ..

Oh holy crappers! I've gone back in time!

"Buffy, maybe you should .."

"Will! Oh god, I --" she tried, reaching out to clutch at Willow's arm with one hand and Xander's with her other hand. "You guys, something is wrong!"

"We can see that, Buffy," Xander winced.

"No, you don't understand," she started hurriedly. "The stone thing that the demon had - it must have done something, I don't know what! All I know is I was touching the demon and so was Spike and then I held the stone and bam, I was here and .." she paused, breathing heavily, her eyes darting from Willow's to Xander's face, "... and I think I've gone back in time."

She was met with total silence. They were looking at her like she had just said, "Willow, you go get the marmalade; Xander, you get the penguins and I'll meet you both in the summer house at quarter to midget." Okay, so yeah, it sounded crazy but these were her Slayerettes! They could at least give her the benefit of the doubt! As far as she could tell, they looked like Junior year Will and Xand, which meant that they had already experienced some pretty crazy crap. It shouldn't be too hard to convince them she was from the future .. oh god, she really just thought that, didn't she?

"You guys, did you hear me!?"

"We heard you, Buffy," Xander replied faintly. He exchanged another worried look with Willow, who had yet to say anything, and turned back saying, "Look, Buff. I think you hit your head a little too hard there. You're not making any sense --"

"I know it sounds crazy, you guys, but come on! Give me a little credit here. I'm the Slayer. Is time travel really all that crazy a notion?"

And then Xander pretty much punched her in the gut.

"What's a Slayer?"


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She might be insane. It was a possibility, after all. As she looked into the faces of her two closest friends, who were gazing at her with matching expressions of mingled worry, confusion and fear, she felt like it was entirely possible she might actually be insane. Or it could be one of Xander's less-than-funny jokes. Oh god, please let it be one of his crappy jokes.

"Buffy," Willow started, "I think maybe you did hit your head a little too hard. You're talking about stuff that doesn't make any sense," she reasoned.

"Like what stuff?" Buffy asked faintly, already dreadfully sure of what her answer would be.

"Demons and slayers and magic stones and time travel, to name a few," Willow said with a worried laugh. "You're just confused, Buffy. You fell and hit your head but you'll be okay, you just need to--"

"Buffy!" cried a panicked voice behind her and her head whipped around to regard the person that was running toward her down the corridor.

Yep, she was definitely insane. That was the answer. Because time travel could not explain how it was that Spike was in the halls of Sunnydale High. Correction: standing in a shaft of direct sunlight, in the halls of Sunnydale High. She gaped at him and his thoroughly bewildered face as he came to a stop. He waved his hand in the air, the sunlight dancing all over his skin before turning to her with a nod of his head.

"Yeah, so I'm thinking we have a problem, pet."

She remembered the very first time it occurred to her. Where she was, what she was doing, and how much she regretted this dangerous thought from the very moment she left herself open for it to creep in. One minute, a Sunnydale cop was telling her to “freeze” and the next, said cop was unconscious and sprawled over the hood of his patrol car.

She'd been listening to him casually talk on and on about football or something equally ridiculous. What was even more ridiculous was that she was actually listening to why he, a soulless demon, wanted to save the world. She remembered how much she was desperately trying to decide if this was a demon she could trust, especially because at that moment she'd been smack bang in the shit because of the last demon she'd trusted.

But yeah, that was when it hit her. He was sitting on the patrol car lighting a cigarette and she was struck with the sudden blindingly obvious truth that Spike was hot. Actually, very hot. He had these eyes, these ridiculously blue eyes. And these amazing cheekbones. Holy facial structure, Batman! His voice, his swagger, the way he was almost even hotter when he was being all reflective.

Of course, the second she thought it - and it all went through her head in a matter of two seconds or so - she had mentally slapped herself upside the head. It was Spike. Ew. He was a demon. More importantly, he was a demon who was known for killing slayers. He was not her new heart-throb crush. She'd shrugged off this crazy notion, and in a heartbeat had thrown herself back into her life at that moment - which involved smacking Spike in the face, of course. And even through their truce, his return to Sunnydale the year later, then his subsequent returns the year after that, never once had it occurred to her again. Nope, he remained Spike in her head. Not the hot British blonde with the killer cheekbones, silky voice, and penetrating eyes. Even after Willow's marriage spell, she had quickly been able to switch back to herself: he was Spike, Spike was gross. No problems at all.

So it was a little bit of a shock to see Spike standing in front of her in the halls of Sunnydale High, the sunlight shining all over him. And there was a lot of him to shine over. Normally Spike hid himself away in that duster of his. Not so much now. No, now he was standing in front of her in his customary black jeans. But instead of a black t-shirt and heavy leather coat, he was wearing what looked to be a sleeveless black tank-top covered in safety pins. His hair was free of its usual slicked back helmet; instead it was all curly in places and spiked up in others. His eyes, which were even bluer in the direct sunlight, were rimmed with black eyeliner. His ropey muscled arms, so often hidden in the sleeves of his duster, were on full display. He was, in a word, yummy.

Oh God, he was yummy. Spike was yummy. What the hell was going on with her? She had basically been staring at him now for about a full minute with no sound escaping her mouth. He was glancing from her to their surroundings, his hand moving back and forth in the sunlight as if he couldn't believe what was happening.

"Buffy, we should probably get to class," Xander said from behind her, reminding her that her friends were in fact there. And they didn't know what a Slayer was. Her brain flew back to the panic she'd been experiencing before Spike had barreled down the corridor towards her. Jesus, where the hell was she? She could believe time-travel, she could. It may not be original but it was definitely a thing, she knew that. This, though, was not time-travel. This place, where Xander and Willow didn't know she was the Slayer and Spike was hot and standing in sunlight, was definitely not a place she had ever visited before.

"Hey, come on Slayer, get into gear here!" Spike yelled, clapping his hands, clearly coming to from his own bout of awed reflection of their circumstance. Her head whipped back to him, still gaping like a fish.

He said Slayer. He called me Slayer.

"Don't talk to her like that, okay bleach-head?" Xander said, coming up to stand behind her on her left. She could feel Willow's hand come to rest on her right arm but no matter what happened, the dazed feeling just would not leave her.

"Look, whelp, we have a massive problem here and your girl is the one to fix it. So if it's not too much trouble, pet," he said in a patronizing voice, leaning down to stare into her eyes, "maybe you could pull your head out your arse."

Oh, there we go. That's what she needed. Now she felt pissed off. A step up from dazed? Yu-huh. Her gaze narrowed as she looked into Spike's eyes and he smirked at her. "There she is," he cooed.

Okay .. okay .. we need a plan .. we need to do something other than stand here and gape at each other. Think, Buffy, think...

"Why don't you just leave us alone?" Willow said from behind her.

"Yeah, Pratt. Why are you even talking to us?" Xander chimed in.

They don't know I'm the Slayer .. oh God, where the frickin' hell... wait, Pratt? What?

Spike's eyes narrowed on Xander, a retort dying on his lips when what he'd said sunk in. His face went slack with astonishment. "What did you call me?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Pratt. Your name," Xander replied, enunciating as if Spike was retarded.

"My name?" Spike echoed, still with that look of bewildered astonishment on his face. "How the hell--"

"We gotta go. Now," she cut him off, finally taking control, and grasping his arm in her hand - ooh, firm - she yanked him down the corridor as she broke into a run. She could hear Xander and Willow calling her name in confusion and worry but forced herself not to respond. They had to get away from these mirages - which is what they are, she told herself. They're not her Scoobies. Her Xander and Willow knew who she was. Her friends knew she was the Slayer.

They broke out of the school's front doors, the sunlight touching everything in sight and she had half a second of blind panic that Spike would burst into flames, before she remembered that he was apparently wearing vamp sunblock now. He seemed to have the same moment of panic before it all sunk in again and he turned to her with a grin that was almost infectious.

"If I wasn't so freaked out, this'd be pretty cool, pet," he said with glee.

"This isn't fun, Spike. We have to get the hell out of here," she pulled at him again, yanking him with her as she strode across the lawn at the front of the school, heading towards the parking-lot.

"Yeah, but how?" Spike asked from her side. "I don't even know where the hell we are. Or when," he added, casting a look in her direction.

"What makes you think it's a when?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you look like you did back when we met."

She halted her stride in the middle of the parking lot, looking at him with a lost expression on her face. He rolled his eyes and dragged her over to a car. The sun splitting the sky caused the blackened windows to turn into an effective mirror and she took herself in.

Yep, that's how she looked back in Junior year - just like Will and Xand. Her hair was just past her shoulders. She was wearing a blue spaghetti strap top and tight black pants with faint white symbols on them; something she would never be caught dead in now. And her face! God, her face looked so much younger; so much less strained. She looked… free. She looked like life hadn't had the time to stomp all over her yet. Like she was just a girl. A girl with a really cute haircut. A sudden, inexplicable smile broke out on her face and she turned her head to share it with her companion, well, .. before she remembered her companion was Spike. But when she did take him in, a strange feeling of simpatico spread through her. He was standing beside her staring equally transfixed into the car window, observing himself like he was a man...

Oh god, like he was a man! He had a reflection! But then he was in sunlight, wasn't he?

Oh God, he was in sunlight! What if he was... he was...

"My heart's beating, Buffy," he said quietly, shock coursing through her as he turned his equally shocked head towards her. "I think... I think I'm human."


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She'd always thought Spike was probably about thirty when he was turned. He looked about thirty. The way your face changes from youthful adult to adult when you break that barrier - well Spike looked like he'd broken that barrier before he'd been frozen forever in immortality.

Only right now, now that they finally had a silent moment to regard each other, she could see that he looked a lot younger. It wasn't that he looked old normally, far from it, but she could definitely see the differences. His bone structure, while still striking, was less pronounced. His skin still had that plump of youthfulness that everyone loses in their early twenties. There were no laughter lines at his eyes. And his eyes themselves - god, they were even more striking. They looked electric, so she couldn't blame herself for staring into them the way she was.

She'd dragged him away from the car after his little 'human' realisation and they'd retreated to a less conspicuous area; underneath a tree on the other side of the lot. While they sat there, they were perched on the ground and she was desperately trying to get her bearings and form some kind of plan. Spike, it seemed, was now stuck in the daze that she'd finally shaken herself out of. He had his hand on his heart, the other holding him up on the ground. His face was still slack with astonishment and she felt her own heart beat a little quicker for him. He was human. Spike was human here; wherever here was. He had always been a strange vampire, constantly challenging her when it came to how she should treat him. And now he had a beating heart. God, how was she supposed to treat him now?

"What do you think's goin' on?" he asked, dragging his gaze to hers. She shook her head, releasing a huff of breath.

"I have no idea," she said. "I mean, Xander and Willow didn't know I'm the Slayer and they've never not known I was the Slayer. They've always known ... but they didn't know."

"Who are you - The Riddler?"

"I mean from the day I met them they've known I was the Slayer. But those people in there," she said, pointing towards the school building, "they looked at me like I'd lost my mind when I tried to tell them."

"Maybe you have lost your mind."

Buffy glare deployed.

"Or maybe you've got your full wits and it's everyone else that's lost theirs," he offered.

"I could buy that, if it wasn't for the fact that we all look so young. Insanity doesn't come with anti-ageing cream, as far as I know."

"Right. And I'm all--"

"Non-vampire. So, we can't be back in time because they'd know who I was and you'd be all," she ran her hand over her forehead distractedly.

"Bumpy is the word you're looking for."

"Right," she murmured, lost in her thoughts. "And I know I'm not crazy."

"Isn't that what all crazy people say?"

"I don't know, ask Drusilla," she said, finally looking up at him in annoyance.

He glared at her, breaking off eventually with a sigh. She looked to the sky, noting the clouds drifting quietly overhead. She glanced around her to the cars in the parking lot. She could feel the breeze lifting her hair from her face. She could smell the perfume of flowers in the air. She could hear the traffic on the street and distantly, the sound of the school bell. It felt real. Wherever here was, it felt real.

"He knew my name," he said quietly, breaking into her thoughts.

She looked over to him. "Who did?"

"Xander," he replied staring through her. "How the hell did he know my name?"

She had no answer. Wherever they were, Spike existed in her friends' lives. As a human. Oh God, this was hurting her head.

"Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know," she said, exasperation leaking into her voice.

"Well, what did you do to send us here?" he prodded, growing more agitated.

She ground her teeth. "What makes you think it was me?"

"Because I wasn't the one rooting through his stuff."

"No, you were just the one playing with his cloth thingy."

"Well you must have done something!"

"Why must it be me?" she snapped.

He huffed an unamused laugh. "Because this is exactly the kind of thing that happens when ditsy little Slayers stick their hands where they have no business."

He was looking more and more like the Spike she knew. Which was not a good thing. She sprang to her feet.

"You know what? You're the one who was all 'Oi, Slayer, come back, come see this demon thing, blah, blah, BANG, blackout!' How do I know you didn't plan this whole thing?"

He slowly rose to his feet in front of her, addressing her calmly. "First of all, don't ever imitate me again - you sounded like Dick Van Dyke. Second of all," he paused, and then calm went out the window, "are you kidding?! You're the one who was poking around in his business! I was just trying to get a swatch at his orders, not pick his bloody pocket!"

"I wasn't picking his pocket! I was trying to figure out who sent him after me!"

"Well, bravo on that one, pet," he clapped. "Another win in the Buffy column."

"Ugh!" She swung at him, connecting with his chin, before she even realised what she was doing.

Only... He barely moved. His head turned to the side but there was no flying into the air, no broken bones, no blood, no nothing. He slowly turned back to her, his shock just as apparent as hers. She looked down at her fist with a dumbfounded expression on her face.

"Looks like we're both back to boring old normal, pet," Spike said quietly, scratching at the back of his neck.

The grass is always greener. You don't know what you've got until you've lost it. When life gives you lemons... Okay, no, that cliché didn't apply but still - this was a cliché situation, a time for clichés, because honestly? This made no sense whatsoever.

She wasn't the Slayer. She had no strength. Now that she'd had the opportunity to really breathe and take in what had happened to them, it became glaringly obvious. Her body felt different—less, somehow. It wasn't something she'd ever considered before. This time wasn't even like when she lost her powers during that Crustation thingy with the Council, because at least then her body still had the knowledge of how to fight, just not the strength to back it up. But now? She'd just struck Spike in the face with the lamest looking fist she'd ever made in her life. Not only that, her wrist was absolutely killing her. It was like her body had no idea, no conception, of how to fight. This notion scared her more than the fact that Spike was now a human and staring at her like the cat that got the cream.

"Well, well, well, isn't that interesting?" he drawled, clearly enjoying her shock. "Looks like the big bad Slayer is back to small and girly, eh luv?"

She couldn't even bring herself to get mad at his assholery. All that was going through her head was, “What the hell? What the hell had happened to them and where the hell were they?

"Where the hell are we?" she mumbled, unable to hide the fear and uncertainty in her voice. Being the Slayer had always given her a sense of protection. No matter what happened she'd be able to deal. The physical side she took completely for granted. It was her emotions that always got her crushed; that's what she feared. But fighting? Punching? Defending herself? No problemo. Well, until now.

It seemed whatever happened to send them here, wherever here was, they no longer had the strength to back up trying to get back home. Neither of them, by the looks of it. Spike was human and she wasn't super-girl any more.

This must have shown on her face because Spike dropped the grin almost immediately, his own face going slack in acknowledgment of the shitstorm of trouble they were in now.

"Look, we'll get it sorted, pet. Don't worry."

"How? How will we get it sorted, Spike?" she said, a glimmer of panic colouring her voice. "We're stuck somewhere where neither of us have the strength to defend ourselves from anything or anybody. Even Harmony could take us now!"

"Speak for yourself," he said, offended.

"I'm serious! What if that Calipso demon looks for us here? What if that was the point, huh?" His eyes were travelling all over her face as he took in her panicked rambling. "What if he sent us to this world knowing he'd be able to pick us off like cattle?"

"He's dead, luv, he's not doing anything."

"What if there was more than one, though?" she continued. "Or worse, what if we're not really here at all and our bodies are just lying in the cemetery? Some vamp could come along and just--"

"Hey! Stop!" he grasped her arms in his hands. "Calm down, luv. Just stop freaking out and we'll--"

"Stop freaking out!?" she cried, attempting to push away from his warm hands. "I don't think I've ever been in a situation that deserved freaking out more than this one, Spike!"

"Alright, just breathe, luv, just breathe," he hummed, still holding on to her. It was a mark of just how unnerved she was that she was allowing him to not only hold her, but be witness to her being less than Slayer-like. "The way I see it is wherever we are it doesn't matter because you know who's back in the real world? Your Scooby pals. Right?" he coaxed.

She nodded numbly.

"Right. An' while they may be more annoying than a pep-squad cheerleader on a coke binge, the one thing they can do is look out for you. They will find out what’s going on and before you know it, we'll be back in the bosom. Alright?"

"Okay," she croaked, calmed, her eyes searching his. He calmly gazed back at her for a moment and she could feel her limbs going slack with relief that at least she wasn't here on her own--even if it was Spike. Strangely, she was in a strange place, during a really strange time, and even more strangely, she was with a human form of Spike that was being nice to her, not to mention how free he was being with the touching between the two.

She pushed away from his hold, distractedly rubbing her arms where his touch had been. This was not the first time he'd been there to say something at the right time; something that somehow ended up making her feel better. If she wasn't at that very moment trying to stave off the mother of all nervous breakdowns, she'd be wondering first, how the hell he always knew what to say and second, why the hell he cared enough to placate her.

But she didn't have the brain-space for it at that moment. No, all she could think about was that he was right; her friends would help her and there was every possibility that they'd make it home due to their intervention.

So why did she feel so uncomfortable at that thought? Why did she still feel panic on the edge of her thoughts?

She wasn't the Slayer, but she knew intellectually that she could rely on her friends. They'd saved her before when she hadn’t been able to save herself. Yet she’d still been the Slayer. Here she wasn't. Oh God, this was hurting her head. She closed her eyes, her fingers travelling to her temples as she tried to ease away what was becoming the headache of the century. What she needed was a massage. With that special oil that made her skin crackle. Mmm, a Riley massage with...

Riley! Her eyes snapped open. Oh God, Riley could have been here with her! He could have been here, sitting across from her right now instead of Spike. Riley could be holding her in comfort, telling her not to worry, and seeing her as Buffy, not just the Slayer. It could have saved them. If he'd only waited another week...

Or if Spike had only waited another week to rub it in her face, she thought, focusing her increasingly angry gaze on Spike. He was now staring into space beside her head, clearly having his own war of words with himself. Either way, he was a lucky vamp... man... whatever! He was damned lucky the Slayer had abandoned her, ‘cause the way she was feeling right now? She'd have been making Spike pancakes.

This place, this version of her... It would have saved their relationship. She was so sure of it. He'd have been able to see her, help her and this would’ve made him feel important, needed. God, why couldn't this have happened the week before with Riley as her travel companion?

Cause that would mean the Powers liked you, Buffy.

"So what do we do in the meantime?" she said, barely containing the glare she so wanted to send his way.

Was she being irrational? Maybe. But she couldn't help it. Spike was the person who had shown her what Riley had become; what their relationship had become. She knew she was shooting the messenger, but it wasn't like Spike was this innocent person who just happened to be the one to show her. He had taken great delight in her pain before. Yet on the other hand, Riley could have died in that vamp-whorehouse, and it was all because of his insecurity.

The wind of righteous anger went out of her sails. Maybe Spike wasn't trying to rub it in, she wondered for the first time. Maybe he was trying to help her? I mean, he was trying to help her now, right? And he'd been there for her this year more than she cared to admit.

But it was Spike! The same guy who had tried to kill her multiple times, more than she cared to count. Not to mention he was the same guy who took such delight in her humiliation at the hands of Parker. The situation with Riley was different, but that didn't mean it was impossible he had simply been looking to enjoy the implosion of yet another Buffy relationship.

Interrupting her merry-go-round thoughts, Spike huffed and toed the dirt. "I have absolutely no idea what we should do."

She shifted, desperately trying to stop thinking about Riley. That was a problem to obsess over once they were back at home. Right now, she really needed to get it together. She was... well, she had to be able to rely on herself. Spike was a giant question-mark and more than ever, she was unsure of his intentions. She also wasn't particularly fond of the looks of him actually caring about her wellbeing he was sending her way. Clearly, he assumed she was a minute away from another freak out. Receiving these looks from her one-time mortal enemy who was now her... she had no idea what, was less than enjoyable.

"How's about we have another little truce, Sla .. Buffy," he corrected.

She noticed and flinched. "A truce?"

"Yeah. While we're here. I don't screw you over, you don't screw me over kind of thing," he said, a note of hope in his voice that struck her as strangely hilarious. What was he worried about? What did he think she could do to him here? Give him a Chinese burn?

"What? Are you afraid I'll get you stuck in detention or something?" she joked disconsolately.

He chuckled warmly. "Could be worse, I guess. Rather be stuck here with you than Harmony."

"Well I wouldn't get too excited. I saw her inside," she nodded her head in the direction of the school.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was just like she was in my real high school. So were Will and Xander," she frowned. "Except ..."

"They didn't know you were the Slayer," Spike finished for her, a musing tone in his voice.

"Yeah. Cause I'm not."

"I'm not a vamp and you're not all super," he said, and from the tone in his voice he may as well have been rubbing his chin.

"What?" she prompted.

"S'just ... alternate realities and all that," he said, sparing her a glance to make sure she wasn't freaking out again. Noting her calmed demeanour, he continued. "I mean, there's an infinite number, right?

"Like the world without shrimp?"

He frowned at her. "Do you sit around deliberately making up nonsense just to mess with me?"

"Oh never mind," she said in frustration.

"Well, I was just thinkin'... what if we're in a world without the beasties?"

"You mean like a Sunnydale without the Hellmouth?"

"No, I mean without any of it; vamps, demons, witches, whatever."

Her stomach fell. "Well then we really would be screwed, wouldn't we?"

"I was actually gonna say that'd be a blessing, seein' as how neither of us would be up to fighting them."

"Point taken. But then how do we get back?"

Spike's mouth closed at that and they both regarded each other in silence as they let that sink in. If they were in some non-supernatural Sunnydale, then there was not one thing they could do to get back to their world. She pushed aside the panic threatening to break through her at that thought, unaware she was still gazing intently at Spike's sunlit eyes.

"Guess we'll have to depend on the Scoobies doing it all from their end then," Spike finally answered quietly.

A bird chirped in the tree above them, breaking the shared daze they'd been in. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and heard Spike sigh loudly. Then something hit her for the first time. Her eyes widened. Spike was human. He was breathing, standing in sunlight right in front of her, and even stranger, he didn't seem to be particularly bothered by that fact. He wasn't in any pain, that she could see and he wasn't acting crazy. He wasn't affected in any way other than puzzlement at their situation.

"So how... uh, how do you feel?" she asked cautiously.

"I feel. .. warm. S'like I'm throbbing or something," he said, his hand moving to the pulse in his neck she could now clearly see.

"But I mean, you're not. .." she trailed off, wondering how to ask him if he felt the weight of thousands of victims pressing down on him yet.

Spike didn't seem to be listening to her though, his hands moving from the pulse point in his neck to the one in his wrist and then settling over his heart. As he appraised his newfound status, Buffy recalled Angel telling her of the avalanche of guilt that he was buried under almost immediately after regaining his soul. She remembered him telling her it was physically painful for him when it happened. Spike did not look in pain standing in the sunlight with his hand over his heart and a big goofy grin.

Can you be human without a soul, she wondered. Giles had never explicitly stated if being human came complete with soul package but it made sense to her that human equalled soul-having. Didn't mean you'd automatically be good - I mean hello, Hitler - but surely it meant you had the capability to be good. But if Spike was a soul-having human now, why wasn't he doubled over in pain for all the atrocities he'd committed in his life as a vampire? Why wasn't he even mentioning it?

"I'm not what?" Spike asked, picking up the thread she'd been sure he hadn't heard.

"I mean, you're human right?" she prodded.

"Either that or I'm wearing sun-factor 2000 with a built-in circulatory system," he said, his mouth curled up in a familiar sneer.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't seem any different."

"Different than what?"

"Different than soulless vamp-Spike," she said with a pointed tone.

Realisation flooded his eyes. "Oh I see what's got your knickers twisted. Let me guess, I'm not acting like your precious Angel did when he got his soul back so you're assuming I'm not only a soulless demon, I'm also a soulless human, right?" he said, his voice rising in anger.

"I didn't say that," she said, matching his tone. "I'm just saying that you'd think you'd be feeling some remorse if you had a soul, wouldn't you?"

"And why is that then, Slayer?" he said, emphasising the title which no longer applied to her. "Why would William feel any guilt for what Spike did, huh?"

"Oh so William was like this, was he? William was a snarky, quippy dickhead?" She pointed to his hair, "William had bleached blonde hair and wore god-awful punk clothes, did he?"

Spike's face hardened. "It's none of your business what William was like. Fact is I'm human now, and you're just grasping at straws trying to find a way to still treat me like I'm the dirt you can scrape off your shoe, Summers."

"Look," she began, attempting to reign in her frustration, "all I was trying to do was figure out what is going on with us."

"Yeah, us. You'd do well to remember that, Buffy. I'm not the only one affected by our little trip to Oz. I saw that punch you threw my way. I've seen Tasmanian devils with more grace," he sneered. "Fact is your body doesn't seem to remember being the Slayer any more than my soul," he accentuated with a hand on his heart, "remembers being a vampire."

They stared at each other in frustration, Spike's gaze challenging her to argue with him. She couldn't. She knew she couldn't. The fact was neither of them had any idea A) where they were, B) how to get back or C) just what the trip here had done to them. He was right; her body did not bring the knowledge of how to be a Slayer along for the ride. Maybe it was possible that whatever guilt Spike would feel with a soul back in their world had been left at the door to this one too.

Or he's a soulless human who is stronger than you and will try to kill you the second he thinks he'll get away with it.

They gazed at each other in a stand-off. He was certainly acting a lot more helpful than she would assume a soulless Spike would, the episode of comfort in her back garden a few weeks before aside. Could she trust him? Her gut said she could. But then her gut also told her to trust him in the past and he'd betrayed her more than once.

You're still alive though. And if you don't want to be in this alone, you have to give him a chance.

"What about the chip?"

"What about it?"

"Well, if you don't have it--"

"It won't matter, because I'm not going to try anything!" he cried in exasperation.

She watched him warily.

"Look, do you think I'd try something when you're not even able to fight back? When have I ever done that? I'm not Darla. I won't come after you with guns."

"Oh really? So what was that giant metal thing you appeared with a few weeks ago in my back garden?" she challenged.

"That..." he stumbled. "That was just..."

She pointedly glared at him.

"Look," he sighed, "that was a bad night, and it's not like I used it, right? I seem to recall setting it aside and sitting all night comforting you."

She glanced away in embarrassment.

"Look, Buffy," he began in earnest, "I fought Slayers because I wanted to fight Slayers. I never wanted to fight just the girl. I have no interest in killing you."

Her gaze flew back to his.

"Like this, I mean," he corrected hurriedly. "I have no interest in killing you like this. Okay?"

She observed him quietly. What choice did she really have here? And like it or not, a part of her actually believed him. And man, that pissed her off.

She sighed, breaking their mistrustful gaze.

"I'm not going to try anything, okay? I have a self-preservation streak a mile wide and if I've learned anything about transportation spells, it's that what goes through must come back."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if we came through together then maybe... maybe we have to go back together."

Now that she could believe. If Spike was anything it was a survivor. Adding to that his slightly less difficult manner of late and his possible soul-having status, she now also had the assurance that he would need her to get home. Of course that meant she'd need him too.

"Plus, I would much rather have the satisfaction of seeing you eat all these mistrustful words when we get back," he grinned, provoking a begrudging bark of laughter from her. "We're in this together, deal?"

He extended his hand towards her. She looked from his hand to his eyes, taking note of the way the daylight lit up his face.

So this was it: trust him or not. She looked into his eyes, searching for something she wasn't sure she knew how to identify. Was he the Spike who relished her emotional and physical pain? Or was he the Spike who sat next to her with his hand on her back, comforting her all night when she found out her mother was ill? Did he tell her about Riley to rub it in? Or did he tell her because he knew it was something she needed to know, not just as the Slayer but as Buffy?

She raised her hand hesitantly to meet his and, looking him right in the eyes, she noted the spark of happiness that flashed in his as her hand wrapped around his offered one. She had only a second to recognise the warmth coming from it before a spark of electricity shot up her arm. She snatched her hand back, casting a wary look at Spike, only to see him reacting in the same way, a frown on his face.

"S'just static," he said uncertainly.

"Yeah," she agreed with a frown.

"So, what is our immediate plan now that we've agreed we're both on Team Human?"

She frowned, still rubbing her hand. "I don't know. I guess we should try to find out exactly where we are."

"In Sunnydale. Next goal, please," he said with what he probably considered a cute grin.

"I mean," she ground out, "whether your theory about no demons is right or not."

"And how are we gonna do that?" he replied perplexed.

How were they gonna do that? Well, she knew what she'd do in their world; Giles. But here...

She paused, looking over to the high school that loomed behind them, and a small smile broke out over her face as a flicker of hope fluttered in her stomach.

"Silly Spike," she said, returning her gaze to him, "Where does anyone go when they seek knowledge?"

"The library? And just what are you expecting to find, Buffy? A book called Five Ways to Know if you're in an Alternate Dimension?"

Buffy turned to regard him standing next to her outside the library doors.

"Actually, I bet Giles would have a book like that."

"Yeah, in our world. What makes you think he'll even be in this one? If there are no Slayers, there are no Watchers."

"No, but there will still be librarians," she said, unperturbed. "Unless we're in 'Illiterate World’. Hey, you could be president if we are!"

He scowled at her. Ignoring his scowl, Buffy leaned against the wall, a small smile playing on her face.

"Besides, this will be a good test. If we are in a world with demons, then Giles will know about them."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just am, okay?" she said impatiently, hating the thought that there was a Giles that wouldn't be able to help her. No, she was sure if he was here, he'd help.

He watched her silently for a moment, before turning back to the library doors. "Well, come on then, no sense waiting out here in the hallway. In you pop," he said, placing a hand on her back to push her through the doors.

She jerked her shoulder from his grasp. "Hey, no touching, got it?"

He held his hands in the air, adopting a faux-wounded look. "Oh, and here I thought we were best friends now, what with me looking after you when you got all teary."

Her jaw clenched. "We're stuck here together, in circumstances that are…" she paused, frowning as his hand moved once again to cover his beating heart, a twinkling look on his face, "unusual. But don't get any ideas. I trust you because I have to but it's not exactly--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "I got it, don't worry."

He turned to look through the window into the library; his eyes almost wounded. It was true they were here together and for better or worse, it was this way until they figured out what was happening to them. They'd have to rely on each other. But she'd be damned if she'd forgotten that back home Spike would still be only a begrudging ally. So she ignored the suspiciously unhappy look on his face and settled back on her plan. Giles was the knowledge man in their world. If he was here he'd be her best bet for help, she was sure of it. So taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

The relief she felt when she spotted Rupert Giles was indescribable. A smile broke out over her face as she restrained the urge to run right up to him and hug him till he burst.

The sound of the doors swinging shut behind them drew Giles’ attention away from the books he was stacking up on the check-in desk. He turned to them with a welcoming smile... that immediately froze on his face.

"William," he started, drawing a disgruntled cough from Spike beside her, before turning his incredulous gaze to her. "And Miss Summers."

Buffy's smile dimmed a little. "Uh, hi Giles."

Giles blinked at that, his eyes flicking between her and Spike. "Well, this is most... unusual to find you both here. Together," he finished, the faux smile remaining.

Buffy exchanged a glance with Spike. He shrugged, appearing at a loss just like she. She swallowed, trying to figure out where to begin. "Uh, yeah. Well, you know, we were wondering if you could maybe help us with a problem we were having."

"Well, certainly," he replied, looking no less puzzled, but at least the Joker-perma-smile was gone. "This is a problem you and William share? Together?"

"Most definitely," she said firmly.

"Right, then," Giles said, placing the books on the counter and slowly approaching them, his hands in his pockets. "So how can I help you both?"

"Well it's, uh, a bit complicated," she started, at a loss for how to continue. "You see, we were just wondering if, uh…"

"We were looking for a book," Spike interrupted. "And we thought you could maybe help us with that."

"Yes! A book, that's what we were looking for," she seized.

"What kind of book were you looking for?"

"What kind of book were we looking for?" she mumbled, trying to think. "Well, a book on, um..."

"Interdimensional travel," Spike blurted. She threw a wide-eyed look his way. He just shrugged at her. She had never wanted to hit him so much as she did at that moment.

She laughed nervously, turning back to Giles. "He's such a kidder."

"Yes," Giles said unsurely, a wary expression on his face.

"What we were actually looking for was a book on, uh--"

"Vampires," Spike blurted, and she froze.

"Vampires?" Giles asked skeptically.

"It's for a project," she said hurriedly.

"Yeah, we're researching the influence of vampires in pornographic literature," Spike smirked.

Buffy immediately blushed beetroot, her eyes widening in horror.

"All right, you two. What exactly is going on here?"

"Nothing, Mr. Giles. Really," she said hurriedly. "We're only looking for a book. Spike's just being," she paused, glaring at Spike out of the corner of her eyes, "difficult."

"I see. Well, if you are interested in vampires I suggest you check the fiction section. Last row on the back wall," he said, sparing a glare for Spike before returning to the check-in desk.

Buffy's hand flew out, hitting Spike on the arm.

'What?' he mouthed to her, and received only a death-glare in return.

Fiction section. Oh God, Giles didn't know.

Unless... it might be a cover. Yeah, that's it. Giles might be covering because he didn't want to blurt out to civilians the truth about the supernatural. Although, she remembered coming into the library the first time she met him, and he wasn't exactly big on concealing it back then.

She started forward after Giles. "Mr. Giles, I'm sorry. We're really not trying to be difficult. I was just wondering if you had any non-fiction books about, uh, vampires?"

"Non-fiction?" he queried with a frown.

A pained smile on her face, she nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid not, Miss Summers. Vampires exist entirely in the realm of fiction. Now, if you were looking for some non-fiction works on the presence of vampire myths, I'm sure you could find some in the municipal library downtown. We merely have school related non-fiction books here."

Buffy felt the world shifting under her feet.

Oh God, he really doesn't know. Oh God, we're without a Giles.

"Are you sure?" she tried in desperation. "Not even one little--"

"Buffy!" Willow called, barreling through the library doors with Xander hot on her heels. Buffy turned around to face them as they both came to a screeching halt when they saw her still in the company of Spike.

God, what is with all the outrage at me being with Spike? Is he a soulless vampire here too?

"Buffy, what are you doing? We were worried, you just took off!" Willow said, concern colouring her voice.

"With him," Xander added, casting a glare at Spike who was more than happy to return it.

"I'm okay, you guys," she said, observing the two carefully.

"So, what are you doing with this creep?"

Spike sighed. "Oh, big shocker there - the whelp is still a dick."

"William!" Giles admonished. "Watch your language."

If she could have taken a picture of Spike's face at that very moment, she would blow it up, have it printed onto the wall of her living room and never need to watch TV again. Xander also seemed to enjoy it, his snigger prompting Spike to stand up straighter.

"Right, enough pissing about," Spike started.

Buffy made a grab for his arm, but he side-stepped her. "Spike!" she hissed at him, but he ignored her.

"Okay, does anyone in this room know what a Kalator demon is?" he asked loudly.

"Spike!" she warned, edgily observing the reactions of her Scooby doppelgangers.

"Anybody?" he asked again. "Raise your hand if you do."

Buffy let out a half-deranged burst of laughter, drawing the attention of her doppelganger friends. "He's really funny, isn't he? Just a laugh," the plastic smile she wore started to drop inch by inch with each incredulous look she received, "riot."

"All right, what on earth is going on?" Giles demanded, removing his glasses. Not a good sign, in any dimension. "Why are you all out of class? Why are you all in here asking ridiculous questions and most importantly, why am I receiving friendly visits from my nephew and the girl he describes as - with all due respect, Miss Summers - 'the Anti-Christ'?"

Spike pointed at Xander in confusion. "He's your nephew?"

Buffy turned to Spike in outrage. "You called me what?"

"I didn't call you anything!" Spike said, turning to Giles, panic leaking onto his face. "It was the whelp, right? He called her... I mean, cause I'm not your... I can't be... right?" he asked, hope and desperation making his voice crack.

"Really, William, what is the matter with you?" Giles snapped, his patience clearly wearing as thin as his hairline.

"I could give you a list," Xander spat.

"Just wait a minute! Can we get this clear before the jibes start up again?" Spike cried at Xander, before turning to Giles. "Who, exactly, is your nephew?"

"You are, you berk!" Giles replied in exasperation.

Bug-eyed, Buffy turned to Giles. "Spike is your nephew? This Spike? The Spike in front of me?"

Puzzled, Willow turned to Xander. "Is this some kind of role-play they're doing?"

"Wait - what!? I'm your... what!?" Spike sputtered, nearly choking on his newly acquired breath.

"I have had just about enough of this," Giles snapped, throwing the last book onto the desk. He turned to the clock that hung above the heads of all the confused teenagers in the room and noting the time, continued with a sigh, "It's nearly the end of the day and in addition to acting like an insane idiot, you are clearly not going to bother going to class. I'm taking you home."

"You're taking me home?" Spike repeated with wide, incredulous eyes.

"Yes, I am taking you home!"

"Wait, you can't!" Buffy cried, her panic immediately setting in from the thought of separating from Spike. A thought she was sure would cause her great pain at a later stage.

"Why not? What is going on with you?" Xander said. "You're confused or something, Buff. I think you really hurt yourself earlier."

"You don't understand; I have to be with Spike!" she said, taking in everyone’s expressions: Giles’ demanding, her friends' confused, Spike's incredulous and not a little bit terrified, and all the while desperately trying to not panic.

"Mr Giles, Buffy fell and hit her head earlier. Could we maybe have permission to take her home?" Willow asked cautiously, taking Buffy's hand in hers. "You've hurt yourself, Buffy, I'm worried about you."

"I haven't hurt myself, I'm just--"

"Acting like a crazy person," Xander supplied.

"It would appear she's not alone in that," Giles sighed, glancing at Spike's gaping fish mouth. "Miss Rosenberg, I think you and Mr Harris should return to the classes I know you should be in right now, and I will accompany these two to their homes."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, old man!" Spike cried, only to be yanked forward by Giles.

"I think you'll find you are, my boy," Giles replied coolly.

While this was all going on, Buffy was trying to hold off a panic attack. She was almost positive this was all a very bad dream and she would wake up any minute now.

Any minute now. Any minute...

"Miss Summers, if you're quite ready," Giles began, indicating with a tilt of his chin that she follow him and Spike out of the library. Buffy tried to silently plead with Willow and Xander, only to receive a nervous smile from the former and a frown from the latter.

"You'll be okay, Buffy. You just need to rest at home," Willow assured her.

"At home," she said breathlessly, locking eyes with Spike whose arm was in the grasp of Giles. Spike's eyes were, if it was possible, even wider than hers. It would be a pretty funny sight, if she wasn't a hop, skip and a jump away from a full-blown panic attack.

"I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"But--"

"But nothing, Miss Summers! Now, come along," Giles said sternly, dragging Spike through the library doors.

She trudged forward in what felt like slow motion, resigned to her fate. She could only hope that Spike would have some sort of plan, because she was on auto-pilot. As she followed Giles out of the library, his arm around a struggling Spike, there were a few thoughts jumbling around her head that were causing her abject fear. Giles was not a walking supernatural textbook. Willow and Xander had never heard of a Slayer. Spike was Giles's nephew. And strangely, the thing causing her the most worry at that very moment, the thought of being dragged away from the only person who didn't think she was flying over the cuckoo's nest.

Please, Spike, have some kind of plan.