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Authors Chapter Notes:
Well, here's chapter two. It's still a bit exposition-y, and I know that sucks but I'm setting the scene here, people! It's like important or whatever.



This chapter is beta-d by the lovely Behind Blue Eyes. Kisses and hugs should be directed to her. Money and cookies should be directed to me.


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."


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


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.


Chapter End Notes:
TBC




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