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Authors Chapter Notes:
This is set post-Into The Woods in a Season 5 with no Glory and no Dawn (which I'm sad about because I love Dawn but hey, no Glory = no Dawn). It quickly veers off into its own little territory. In this fic, Spike has realised his feelings for Buffy as on the show, but his stalker leanings have not manifested themselves in the creepy shrine.



I'll be aiming to post a chapter a week now that I'm back writing again, and I already have some chapters written ready to post. I hope you'll leave a review so I can know if people are interested or not :)


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.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------


"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?"


---------------------------------------------------------------------------


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."


Chapter End Notes:
TBC




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