Spike turned, grinning smugly, to face Buffy. “Well, that was…” His words trailed off as he caught the look on her face, her eyes wide and horrified as she looked back and forth between him and the unconscious slayer on the ground. “Buffy? Pet?” He took a step towards her, his extended hand dropping as she took a hesitant half-step backwards; his smile melted, his eyes filling with confusion and hurt before blazing with anger. 

“Right. So that’s how it is, eh? What—do you think I’m gonna rip your bleedin’ throat out now? Is that it?” Pain and anger coloured his tones in equal measure as he glared furiously at the girl before him.  How could she think he would hurt her? 

“Spike. No.” Buffy shook off the sudden fear that had gripped her as she watched William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, take down—well—her. “I’m sorry… I know you’re not going to… I just… it was a shock, that’s all.” She stepped quickly forward, closing the distance between them and placing her hand gently on his arm, willing him to accept her apology. “How long has it been?” she asked quietly. 

“How long has what been?” Spike snapped, pulling away from her roughly as he stubbornly refused to understand her question. 

Buffy swallowed hard; she had really hurt him, she knew that, but she wasn’t quite sure how to make things all right between them again. “How long has the chip not been working?” she clarified. 

With an exasperated sigh, Spike squatted next to the fallen slayer; after rifling through her pockets for a few moments, he came up with several stakes—which he cast aside—and a pack of cigarettes.  Lighting one and settling himself more comfortably, he answered, “I don’t know. Didn’t know it had bloody well stopped working. Figured taking out Miss GI Slayer here was worth the headache. I was as surprised as you were that it didn’t go off.” He looked up at his slayer. “I’m not plannin’ on going out on some kinda killing rampage, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” He paused to take another long drag on the cigarette before continuing quietly. “That’s not me anymore. Thought you knew that,” he added sulkily. 

“I do, Spike.” She sank to the ground beside him, once more placing her hand on his arm and waiting until he looked at her, earnest green eyes capturing and holding his hurt blue ones. “I really do, and I am sorry. It was just… for a moment, I remembered how really scary you can be.” She smiled softly at him, hoping that he would listen to her and that she could muster the words to undo at least some of the harm she had done. 

Buffy watched in amazement as a cocky smile spread across the mercurial vampire’s face, the hurt in his eyes replaced by a twinkling mischievousness. “’m scary!?” he asked with a smirk. 

Buffy rolled her eyes; only Spike would take being called scary as a compliment. “Yes, Spike, you’re scary. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know it!” 

The conversation was interrupted by the stirring of Buffy’s counterpart; the slight movement, the indrawn hiss of breath as the insentient girl began her journey back towards consciousness reminding them that they had a situation requiring their full attention. 

“So, what d’you want to be doin’ with her?” Spike asked, climbing quickly to his feet and offering Buffy a hand. 

“I don’t know.” Buffy took the proffered hand and allowed Spike to help her to her feet, grateful that she had so easily, if somewhat unintentionally, found the right words to ease the pain she had caused. “I just want to find Dawn,” she sighed resignedly. “But I guess if we can somehow convince her to help us, we’d stand a better chance of beating Mr Big Ugly.” 

Spike frowned, not sure that convincing this slayer to help them was going to be all that easy. Stooping, he quickly removed the unconscious slayer’s belt and set to work; rolling her onto her side, he looped the belt around first one wrist and then the other.  Checking that it was firm enough to restrain without constricting the blood flow to her hands, he then threaded the remaining belt through the girl’s rear belt-loops, tying her hands securely to her own pants. “Right then,” he said as he stood and looked at Buffy, “you better give her a good check over for any less obvious weapons.” He turned away, lighting another smoke and surveying the darkness as Buffy carefully checked the other girl for concealed weapons. 

“Ok, done,” Buffy announced, holding up two more stakes and a small knife for Spike’s inspection as he turned once more to face her. 

Spike discarded the half-smoked cigarette and moved to gather the now softly moaning girl in his arms. He carried her over to the wall and settled her gently against the rough brick. Brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face and tucking them neatly behind her ear, he surveyed the large purple welt marring her cheek and muttered quietly, “’m sorry, love.” 

They didn’t have long to wait for the downed slayer to regain consciousness; once she had, they watched dispassionately as she struggled furiously against her bonds, snarling angrily when she realised that she couldn’t escape them. 

“Are you done now?” Buffy asked calmly. The only answer she received was a scathing look of hatred.

With a sigh, Buffy continued. “Look, we didn’t ask for you to go all damage-bound on us, so stop making out like you’re the wronged party here. All I want… all we want,” she clarified, waving her arm to indicate the impatiently glowering vampire, “is a few answers and then, as long as you promise to let us get on with finding Dawn, we’ll let you go and no one is the worse for it, ‘kay?” 

A grudgingly-given terse nod was her only answer; Buffy smiled tightly, exhaustion and worry beginning to take their toll. “First,” she began, some of the pent-up anger and frustration she had been feeling since Dawn’s kidnapping seeping into her voice, “where the hell do you get off attacking us like that? What, you see another you and the first thing you think is kill!? No hey, gee, I wonder what that is all about? Or That’s interesting. She looks just like me? Just… Kill!?  I mean, my Giles would have a fit if another me showed up and I just straight out killed it—her. He’d be all ‘scientific discovery’ this and ‘research possibility’ that. I wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.” 

“Giles?” The captive slayer spoke the name quietly, her voice shaking and her face momentarily haunted before the cold, hard shields of bitterness and anger were once again in place. “Giles is dead,” she shot back angrily. 

“Dead?” Buffy’s bottom lip trembled fractionally at the thought of her Watcher—her friend, instructor and, more importantly, father figure—being dead. “How?” 

“Does it matter?” The other girl’s face closed off even more as she ground out her bitter response.   

“Where are the Scoobies?” Buffy inquired more gently, changing the subject, trying to somehow break through the angry shields her counterpart had erected. 

“Who?” 

“My friends.  Your friends here, I guess… you know, Willow, Xander…” 

“Oh, them. They’re around, I guess. I run into them sometimes,” she answered dismissively. 

“Oh.” Buffy fell silent; although she hadn’t been able to let go of her hostility towards her friends just yet, she couldn’t imagine her life without them in it.  If she was brutally honest, sometimes they were downright self-centred, but they were always there for her when it really mattered… no matter what. She looked up at yet another of her friends and, swallowing hard, she asked the question that she had been putting off. “And Spike?” 

The other slayer sneered, her eyes narrowing as she was reminded once more of the vampire’s presence. “Dust,” she answered coldly. 

“Yeah, think we got that much earlier, princess,” Spike interjected snarkily. “I think what the Slayer is askin’ you for is a few more details. Isn’t that right, love?” He turned to Buffy, a cocky smile still firmly in place as he placed himself in the line of sight between the two girls. He listened to Buffy’s heart pounding wildly in her chest and silently willed her to regain control of her emotions; the last thing they needed was for this hard-arsed bitch to realise just how much her words were affecting her counterpart. Buffy offered him a tentative smile and a short discreet nod, both indicating her gratitude and acknowledging the reason for his intervention.  

Safe in the knowledge that his slayer was quickly pulling herself together, Spike turned back to the other, far more bitchy version. “A little help from you, an’ we’ll be on our way. You won’t have to be seeing us again. An’ we won’t be having to put up with your delightful company any longer than we have to.” 

“And why would I help you?” the girl on the ground retorted bitterly. 

“Maybe because it’s your job, pet.  You know, sacred calling an’ all that. ‘s not like we’re askin’ you to help us tumble a Red Cross van or rob a soddin’ bank.  We’re talking about rescuing your sister.” 

“Sister? I don’t have a sister.” Allowing her aggression levels to drop from murderous to just plain antagonistic for the first time since encountering the dimension-hopping pair, the downed slayer frowned bemusedly at her counterpart. “You have a sister?” 

“Yeah, I do. And I could do with your help if I’m gonna get her back.”

tbc