* I * A Desperate Action

Spike runs. Up the tower, as fast as he can. As he reaches the top, the girl screams out to him, and the old man--demon, whatever the hell he is--turns to greet him.
"Doesn’t a fellow stay dead when you kill him?" he asks the creature.
"Look who’s talking."
"Come on, Doc," Spike says, readying himself for a fight, "let’s you and me have a go."
"I do have a prior appointment," Doc says, indicating Dawn, tied to the end of the platform behind him.
"This won’t take long," Spike promises. He’s cocky. The old guy doesn’t look like much of a challenge. Hell, if Harris could best him…
"No," Doc says, "I don’t imagine it will."
Spike lunges, but before he can make contact the old man is behind him, plunging a knife into his lower back. Spike screams. Bloody hell, that hurt. He manages to get himself between Doc and the girl, and re-evaluates the situation. He’s never seen anything that could move that fast.
"You don't come near the girl, Doc," Spike warns.
The old man sniffs the air. "I don't smell a soul anywhere on you... why do you even care?"
"I made a promise to a lady."
"Oh." Doc nods in understanding, but then his reptilian tongue lashes out at Spike‘s head.
Spike dodges it, but it’s just a feint. Before he knows what’s happening, Doc has a hold of him from behind, pushing him to the edge of the platform. The little old man guise is obviously a ruse, designed to give his enemies false confidence. The creature is impossibly strong. Spike struggles to free himself, to keep away from the edge, to send the old bastard over the side in his place, but it’s no use.
"I’ll send the lady your regrets," Doc says.
Spike has just enough time to see the look of sheer terror and defeat on Dawn’s face. "No," he pleads.
His plea is met with a shove. As he falls, he hears the little girl’s anguished scream mingle with his own.
***
The vampire awoke with a start. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
"You okay back there?" the pilot asked.
"Fine," Spike said. "Just dozed off, had a dream."
"Not a good one, by the sound of things."
"It never is."
The pilot made a sympathetic noise. "Anyway," he said, "I was just about to wake you. We’re almost there."
Spike grunted in reply. He gazed out the transport pod’s window as the Council headquarters came into view. At least, he guessed that’s what it was, since that’s where he was headed, but all these buildings looked alike to him. Architecture these days was all about efficiency and functionality. Aesthetic considerations were a luxury belonging to another time, another world.
He could see that other world, hanging low on the horizon. It looked healthy again, blue and green and lush, just like in pictures he’d seen long ago, taken during humanity’s first explorations of this barren rock they now called home. It looked ripe for the taking, which was exactly what the Council intended to do.
How the hell he figured into their plan, he had no idea. He supposed that’s what he’d been summoned here to find out. He was too recognizable for a spy mission, so that was out. The Slayer was safely tucked away on Mars, undergoing intense combat training, so he wouldn’t have been called here for her benefit.
He’d know soon enough, he supposed.
He felt a familiar series of bumps as the transport docked at the airlock. The hatch opened. "Thanks, mate," Spike told the pilot as he climbed out. After passing through a series of pressurized chambers, he was met by two security officers, armed to the teeth with anti-vamp weaponry. No doubt he’d set off their alarms when he’d entered. Spike sighed as he showed them his ID and his standing invitation.
The senior guard inspected them, then ordered the underling to stand down as he handed them back. "Sorry, sir," he said. "Just following standard precautions."
Spike tried to rub the weariness out of his eyes. "Weren’t you told to expect me?"
"Yes sir, but you never can be too careful."
He nodded, then noticed the underling staring at his coat. "Something wrong, junior?"
"No, sir," he said. "I mean, yes, sir. Your coat."
"What about it?"
"It’s leather. Leather was outlawed in 2198, sir."
Spike blinked at the boy. "Well, yeah, but that’s because we only managed to make it off of the planet with about 50 heads of cattle. I’ve had the coat for just a bit longer than that." He smiled, a humorless grin that matched his mood. "But you’re welcome to do your duty and try and take it from me."
"N-no, sir," the officer said. "Please, carry on."
Spike pocketed his papers, and did just that. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Nobody here would fight with him, except for the Slayer, and she’d been gone for over three months. Maybe he’d stop by the cadet lounge later, see if anybody else would give him grief about his coat. Most of the folks around here were used to it, but there were bound to be some new recruits who wouldn’t know any better.
The prospect of a good, old-fashioned bar brawl lifted his spirits a bit. He found himself smiling as he moved through the antiseptic white corridors towards the briefing room. His smile faded as he approached the room’s entrance and prepared to undergo another identification process. The doors around here opened automatically for anybody with a body temperature, but for him it required a voice code and a retina scan to gain admittance. It always reminded him of bad science fiction movies he used to watch, back when there’d still been such a thing.
He stopped at a panel outside the door, but as he opened his mouth to recite his code, the door slid open, and a dark haired boy in his mid-twenties stepped outside.
"Oh, hey, Spike," he said.
"Harris."
"Mom was just sending me down to check on you."
"Well, I’m here," Spike said as they both stepped inside the room. He looked around at the assembled officials. "Now, does somebody want to tell me why I’m here?"
"Of course, William," a matronly woman in glasses replied from the head of the conference table. "We’ll begin just as soon as you have a seat."
The Watchers, ever the sticklers for formalities, all waited as he took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and Nick Harris sat catty-cornered from him. As he sat, he scanned the table until his eyes fell on Anne. She smiled and offered him a little wave, and he responded with a wink and a grin. Once again he was struck by how much the girl resembled Joyce Summers. It amazed him that the woman’s genes could still have such a strong influence after so many generations.
"As you all know," Chairwoman Harris began, "the Council of Watchers is working with the military in an effort to reclaim our home planet from the vampire infestation."
A few eyes shifted to glance at Spike on those last two words. He pretended not to notice.
"It seems that our scientists have made an astounding technological breakthrough that will bring us one step closer to that goal. Time travel, of course, was first proven possible over twenty years ago, but there were still several variables to be worked out, and stabilizing the process to control where, or should I say, when you would end up proved difficult, at best." She paused for effect.
"Look," Spike interjected, "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm very old, and very tired. Will you be getting to the point any time soon?"
"Patience, William," she said. "I'm getting there." She smiled. "Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to announce that our people have perfected the process so that they are able to pinpoint a precise moment in time in which they are able to either extract or introduce an object."
"An object," Nick said. "You mean, like a person?"
"Great!" Spike said. "So, we send somebody back to stake that Lilah bitch before she ever gets a chance to push the button, and this whole sodding mess will never have happened. Good plan."
"I’m afraid it’s not that simple," the chairwoman said. "To do that would change the entire course of history."
"Yeah," Spike said. "That’s kind of the point. It’s not like it’s been a history any of us feel too bloody attached to."
"Perhaps not overall, no, but if we were to pursue that course of action, where would we draw the line? Why target Lilah Morgan? Why not go back even further and target, say, Adolf Hitler?
"Because Hitler’s not responsible for the mess we’re in now, that’s why."
"Yes, well. Even so, William, we in this room are rather attached to our existences. I’m fairly certain that if you polled the other colonials, they would feel the same way. And you yourself wouldn‘t want to do anything to endanger the very existence of your Anne here, would you?"
Spike looked at the young woman, who appeared less than pleased at being used to manipulate him. Good for her. Still, he sighed. "You’ve got a point. So then, what is the plan, and what’s it got to do with me?"
Mrs. Harris smiled. "I’m glad you asked. As you know, the colonial military is fairly new, and though it is not without its heroes, there are none living who are capable of inspiring the confidence in the troops that is necessary for a successful strike against the Earth’s inhabitants. Ideally, the Slayer would lead the charge, but although Jessica has proven a skillful fighter, she is hardly capable of commanding an entire army. Besides, supernatural gifts aside, our soldiers are hardly likely to have much confidence in a fourteen year old girl."
Spike furrowed his brow as he listened. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
"What our army needs is not simply a Slayer, but the Slayer. The greatest who ever lived. And we now have the ability to retrieve her." Mrs. Harris pressed a control on the consol in front of her, and the lights dimmed. She pressed another control, and a holographic projection appeared in the center of the table.
If Spike’s heart still worked, it would have skipped a beat. The holographic model in front of him was crude, but even so, he had no trouble recognizing what it represented. As he watched, a dimensional portal opened up beneath the tower’s platform. His memory worked to fill in the absent details, so that in his mind’s eye he was looking at a perfect re-enactment, as vivid and real as it had appeared in his dreams night after night for the last three centuries. He clenched his jaw as the chairwoman continued.
"Our scientists are confident that they can retrieve Buffy Summers from the midst of the portal that killed her, before irreparable damage is done to her body. They will then replace her with a lifeless clone. The body will fall out of the portal, just as in her Watcher’s account of the event, thus preventing any disruptions of history. The real Miss Summers, however, will be brought here, very much alive, to finish out her mission by leading the assault against Earth." The chairwoman turned off the hologram and turned the lights back up. "Any questions?"
The room went silent as all eyes turned to Spike.
"No," he said.
"All right, then," Mrs. Harris said. "I suggest we--"
"I mean, no," Spike said. "You’re not doing this."
The woman’s smile faded into a look of confusion. "But, William, I’d have thought you’d be pleased."
"Pleased? You thought I’d be pleased that you want to pull her out of the bloody frying pan and into the fire? To fight a war that’s not even hers? She already finished out her bleeding mission, and she got to die for something that actually meant something to her."
"William--"
"No!" He jumped up, knocking his chair over behind him. "You won’t do this. It’s not fair to her. Let her rest in peace."
Mrs. Harris leaned back in her chair. With a sigh, she took off her glasses, and set them on the table. She looked up at him, her face full of sympathy, yet set with determination. "I’m sorry, William, but I am not asking you. I’m telling you."
Spike stared at her for a moment, then he hung his head in resignation, and ran a frustrated hand through his dark curls.
"Whether to bring her back is not the issue," the chairwoman said. "The decision is already made, and orders have been handed down. It will happen tomorrow, with or without your cooperation." She paused to let this sink in, then continued. "The reason we asked you here is that, because you have a history with the girl and we believe your presence will be beneficial in easing her transition to our time, we feel that you are the best candidate to assume the role of her Watcher."
Spike’s head snapped up. "You… you want me to be Buffy’s Watcher?"
"That’s correct."
Spike laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was too much. It was all too absurd. He had to get out of there. He turned around and headed for the door, but it failed to open for him. He kicked it. "Somebody open this bloody door!" he shouted. Nick jumped up and opened it for him, and he stormed out into the corridor. He heard the doors swish shut behind him, and he began to pace. He wanted a cigarette. Something else that no longer existed, at least not off world. He wondered if the vampires back on Earth had managed to regrow tobacco after the radiation clouds had abated, or if that was another thing they’d ruined forever. At any rate, he couldn’t have a cigarette, no matter how badly he craved one, and right now he craved one more than blood.
He heard the doors swish open behind him, and he stopped pacing.
"Uncle Spike," said Anne.
"I’m not your bleeding uncle, Sunshine, and I think you’re a little old to keep calling me that."
She came to stand in front of him. "Spike," she said, "you can’t say no to this."
"I bloody well can too." He pointed at the roomful of Watchers. "They’re going to bring Buffy back, like some kind of tool, because that’s all the Slayers ever are to these people. And they want me to be her Watcher?" Again, he laughed.
"Why is that so funny? You’ve acted as a Watcher before."
"It’s funny, because when Buffy wakes up she's going to be one seriously brassed off Slayer. She’s going to look for someone to blame, and then more likely than not she’s going to proceed to kick my ass. She’s liable to drive a stake through my heart as soon as she sees me." He considered this a moment. "Come to think of it, that’s not funny. It’s not funny at all."
Anne shook her head. "I don’t understand. I thought you and Buffy were allies."
"Allies, yeah, but we were never exactly friends. She barely tolerated me even at the best of times. I mean, the night she…" His voice trailed off, and he swallowed. You'd think it would have stopped hurting after all this time. "That night was the closest we ever came to making peace. I don’t know. Maybe if she hadn’t died…"
"Maybe she would have loved you the way you loved her?"
Spike winced. That bit of his life story had been passed down through the generations like some kind of bleeding fairy story. The Slayer and the Lovesick Vampire. He found it bloody irritating. The look he gave Anne said so.
"Oh, come on. Even if it wasn’t common knowledge, it’s so obvious whenever you talk about her. Even now. And even when you’re not talking about her, it’s pretty clear you’re thinking about her. You were in love with her. I think, probably, you still are."
Spike sighed. "Yeah, well. It hardly matters, either way. She didn’t love me, and she was never going to love me. I was about to say, maybe we could have been friends."
"Well, now’s your chance to find out. Look, Unc--" She stopped herself as he shot her a look, then continued. "Spike, she’s going to be here tomorrow, no matter what. She’s going to be alive, and alone, and I don’t care how brave a Slayer she was, she’s going to be scared. You’re the closest thing she’ll have to a friend here, and she’s going to need you. And she’s not going to stake you. From the stories I've heard, she passed up her opportunity to do that too many times for it to even be an option for her any more."
When Spike didn’t say anything, she continued. "We need her, Spike. We need her bravery, and we need her abilities, and we need her legend. And in exchange, she gets a second shot at life. It’s not the life she knew, but it’s got to be better than dying, doesn’t it?"
Spike shrugged. "Take it from me, Sunshine, there are worse things than dying."
"She’s coming, Spike. Try to think of this as a second chance. For her, and for you." With that, she gave him a gentle squeeze on the arm, and then left him alone.
He thought about what she said, and he knew that she was right. They did need Buffy. Desperately. Maybe it wouldn’t do them any good, but… if one person could make all the difference in this fight, that person would be Buffy Summers. Maybe he could finally get a chance to make it up to her for the way he bollixed things up so badly that night, failing to keep Doc away from Dawn like he’d promised. And maybe… maybe he could finally stop seeing her lifeless body every time he closed his eyes.
His mind made up, he turned back to the briefing room, where Anne and Nick held the doors open for him. He strode back inside, picked up his chair, and sat down.
"I accept," he said.
***
Spike stood outside the doors to the temporal physics lab, trying to get up the courage to go in. It was almost time. In a few minutes, he would come face to face with the long dead love of his life. He hadn’t seen her for over three hundred years. What the hell would he say to her? Where would he even begin? What if she wasn’t exactly like he remembered? Or what if… what if whatever they brought back in that contraption wasn’t his Buffy at all? Spike closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His lungs didn’t need it, but his nerves sure did. He opened his eyes, and stepped up to the security panel.
"Voice authorization code?" a friendly sounding digitized voice asked.
"Sunnydale," Spike said.
"Please hold for retinal scan," the voice instructed. Spike stood facing the panel as a light flashed directly into his left eye. "Thank you, William," the voice said. "Please proceed."
The doors swished open, and Spike entered the lab. Anne, Nick and Mrs. Harris were all inside, waiting for him. Anne’s eyes went wide at the sight of him.
"Spike! Your hair!"
Spike raised a self-conscious hand to his newly bleached locks. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Just want to be sure she’ll recognize me. What d’you think?"
She eyed him critically for a moment, then nodded her approval. "It suits you."
"It should," he said. "I kept it this way for the better part of a century."
"Are you nervous?" Anne asked.
"A bit. You?"
"Me? Nervous? Hey, I’m about to meet my great, great, great… suffice it to say, my really great aunt, who also happens to be this legendary superhero that you used to tell me bedtime stories about when I was a little girl. Why should I be nervous?"
"Hey, at least you’re not purported to be the spitting image of one of her best friends," Nick said. "Come to think of it, maybe I shouldn’t be here. If I look as much like my really great grandfather as you say I do, I might just confuse things for her."
"I hate to say it, Nicholas" Mrs. Harris said, "but I think you may be right. Perhaps it would be better if both of you give the Slayer time to settle in before she meets you. I know how much you both wanted to witness this event, but you’ll both get your chance to meet her."
"Damn," Nick said. "I was afraid you’d say that."
"She’s right," Anne said. "Come on, Nick. Let’s go down to the cadet’s lounge. I’m buying."
"Yeah, okay," the boy grumped as she led him out of the lab.
Once they left,the chairwoman turned to Spike and smiled. "How are you, William?"
"Absolutely terrified," he said. "If anything goes wrong…"
"It won’t," Mrs. Harris said. "The procedure has been thoroughly tested. They wouldn’t be doing this yet if they weren’t certain they could pull it off."
A technician signaled to them from behind the controls on the opposite side of the chamber.
"They’re ready to begin," the chairwoman said.
Spike nodded, and stepped up to the rail to get a better view. When he did, he drew in a sharp breath. Below, inside a small chamber, lay Buffy’s lifeless body, looking exactly as it had when he’d first seen it lying on a pile of rubble. Peaceful, serene, beautiful--and absolutely horrifying. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. "Is that…?"
"The clone," she said. "A perfect physical reproduction, minus brain function. It’s not entirely ethical, I concede, but desperate times…"
"If you don’t mind my asking," Spike said, "what the hell did you use to clone her?"
"In the twentieth century it became standard procedure to catalogue tissue samples from each of the Slayers. I’m not certain what the reasoning behind it was, but the catalogue survived the relocation."
"Lucky for us," Spike muttered.
"Yes, quite." The chairwoman either missed his sarcasm or chose to ignore it.
The technician signaled for them to put on their safety goggles. Mrs. Harris handed Spike a pair as she settled her own in place. As he put them on, a blinding white light flooded the room, and then after a moment it abated. Spike took off the goggles, and looked in the chamber. It looked much like before, only now the figure inside was covered in cuts and bruises, and it began to cough.
"Buffy!" Spike jumped over the rail to the chamber below. "Open this thing up!" One of the lab techs came over to help him inside. Once he was in, he dropped to his knees beside her. His hand trembled as he reached out to stroke her hair. He had to touch her, to verify that she was real. "Pet? Can you hear me?"
"Spike?"
Emotion flooded through the vampire as she spoke his name. He fought to keep his composure, but he couldn't keep his voice from breaking.
"Yeah, baby. It’s me. You’re gonna be okay."
She reached up and grabbed his coat collar, then opened her eyes. "Where’s Dawn?"
Shit. How the hell was he supposed to answer that?
"It’s okay, love," he said. "You saved her. You saved us all."
Buffy seemed to be satisfied with this, for now. She nodded, and then she passed out.
***
She was even more beautiful than he remembered.
He’d half expected the opposite to be true. He was sure he’d built her up so much in his memory over the ages that she couldn’t possibly have been as beautiful as the face he pictured whenever he called up her memory. But here she was, flesh and blood, right in front of him. Her beauty awed him still, just as it had the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. What’s more, he knew that once she woke up, once her features became animated by her passion and wit, she would become even prettier.
She’d been out cold for a full day, but the doctors insisted there was nothing seriously wrong with her. Her injuries hadn’t been that extensive to begin with, and her Slayer healing factor had already undone most of the damage. She was just exhausted. Spike knew she hadn’t slept in days. He remembered thinking that she already looked worn out when she’d come to him to ask for his help in getting Dawn out of town. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her sleep between then and the final showdown with Glory. Unless he counted the hours she’d spent in a catatonic stupor.
"Spike?"
The sound of her voice snapped him out of his reverie. He sat up and scooted his chair closer to her bed. "Hey," he said. "How do you feel?"
"Like I threw down with a hellgod and then jumped off of a really tall tower," she said. "You?"
"Just… really happy to see you, pet."
She sat up, and Spike reached over to adjust her pillows. "Where is everybody? I mean, no offense, but I’m kind of surprised they let you be the one to keep vigil."
Spike simply stared at her. He had no idea where to even begin.
Buffy looked down and fidgeted with her sheet, then offered him a half smile. "Not that I mind," she said.
That was encouraging. Spike scooted his chair closer. "Buffy, listen to me. There are some things you--"
"What the hell are you wearing?"
"What?"
She looked him up and down. "You’ve had exactly one outfit the entire time I’ve known you, not counting that time you fell into the GAP a couple of months ago. So what’s with the Jetsons getup?"
Spike looked down at the black fatigue pants and light gray fitted shirt that had become his standard attire. He supposed the shirt’s material was a bit shiny, but it hardly counted as Jetsons-wear. "These are just my clothes," he said.
"Since when?"
"That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Slayer, if you’ll shut up for two seconds and listen."
"Jeez. Defensive much?"
"No."
"Fine," Buffy said. "Shutting up now. Spike talk. Buffy listen."
Again Spike stared at her, this time out of a sense of déjà vu.
"Your two seconds are up," she said.
He felt the corners of his mouth quirk upward. "Same old Buffy," he said.
Buffy eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what, pet?"
"Like a puppy who just found his long lost favorite toy." She looked around the room for the first time. "And why doesn’t this look like any hospital I’ve ever seen before? And why are you the one keeping bedside watch instead of, well, just about any of the others? Where are the others? What the hell is going on, Spike?"
Spike sighed. "You’re not going to like what I have to tell you."
"Why not? Is it Dawn? Oh, God, she was cut. That old guy cut her."
"Dawn was fine, love."
Buffy gaped at him. "’Was?’ She ‘was’ fine? Oh, God." She started to get out of bed, but Spike held her down.
"Hold on, Buffy," he said gently. "It’s nothing like that. Just listen."
"Spike, take your hands off of me right now before you lose them."
"No. You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to listen to everything I have to tell you."
"And I’m going to do this why, exactly?"
"Because I’m your bloody Watcher, that’s why!"
Buffy blinked at him for a moment, and then to his surprise she burst out laughing. Spike let go of her, and sighed. Had she always been this bloody bullheaded?
"Okay," Buffy said. "I get it. Very funny. It’s in incredibly poor taste, but I can laugh. So. Joke’s over. Go get my sister."
Spike closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, a gesture which, as he did it, he realized was very reminiscent of her original Watcher. So much for trying to break it to her gently.
"Buffy, the year is 2336. Originally, you died when you jumped into that portal. The Council of Watchers, of which I’ve become a member since the last time we met, figured out a way to snatch you out of the portal before it killed you and bring you here to our time, so that you can help us take back the planet, which is currently populated by vampires who are not going to let it go without a fight."
Buffy’s smile never wavered. "You done?"
"For now. Oh, and, we’re in the infirmary at Council headquarters, which is stationed on the moon."
"The moon," Buffy said. "Wow. That’s… creative. You come up with that all by yourself, or did Dawn help?"
Spike sighed, and sat on the foot of the bed. "Pet," he said gently, "Dawn passed away about 250 years ago."
Buffy’s smile faded. "Okay. You know what? This isn’t funny anymore."
"It’s not meant to be."
Buffy got up. "If you won’t go get them, I’ll go find them." She looked around the room until she found her clothes, and pulled her pants on underneath her hospital gown. "Giles’ll be here somewhere. No way he’d leave you here alone with me."
"Buffy, be reasonable," Spike said. Ignoring him, she started for the door. He stood up to try and stop her as she passed him, but she shoved him back down on the bed. "Buffy!"
He followed her out the door, and out of the infirmary.
"Okay," Buffy said. "So this obviously isn’t Sunnydale General. Where the hell did they take me, Spike?"
"I already told you, love."
"Giles!" Buffy called. "Where’s the waiting room? There’s got to be a waiting room."
"Buffy, let’s go back to your room and talk about--"
She spun around and came back to stand in front of him. "Spike," she said, "you help me find Giles right now or so help me I will kick your ass up one side of this freaky hospital and down the other."
"Maybe later, pet. First, I want you to do something for me."
Buffy sighed. "What?"
"Look behind you."
Slowly, Buffy turned around, and for the first time looked out the windows that made up one wall of the corridor. "Oh, God." She walked up to one, and put her hands against the glass. Outside was a small city, made up of indistinct gray structures, all alike. Transport pods and larger carriers flew back and forth in the traffic zones above. Beyond the city was a vast, gray landscape that stretched to the horizon, where it met up with black sky filled with unfamiliar constellations. Above the horizon, brilliantly blue and beautiful, hung the planet Earth.
"I guess that explains your shiny outfit," Buffy said after a long silence.
Spike went to stand beside her. "Yeah. And hey, we finally got flying cars."
"About time," she said. She looked at Spike, who stood next to her in the sunlight. "Umm… why aren’t you bursting into flame?"
He tapped the glass. "Special polymer. Filters out the hostile bits while letting light through."
"Neat."
"Yeah. They kind of had me in mind when they built the place. I thought it was right considerate of them."
"So, you’re really a Watcher?"
"I’m really your Watcher, love."
"And I died."
"Originally."
"But you have a time machine, and you used it to save me, so I can fight the vampires that took over the world."
"In a nutshell."
"Damn. Suddenly a hellgod trying to destroy the universe sounds like a piece of cake."
"I guess this is a lot to take in all at once."
Buffy turned around and slumped against the window. She looked stricken. "So. That means all of my friends and family, all the people that I ever cared about… they’re all gone."
"Yeah, pet. I’m afraid so." Spike struggled for something to say to make it better, and realized that nothing possibly could. "For what it’s worth, I’m still here."
Buffy looked up at him. "You always are, aren’t you?" She managed a smile. "That’s actually worth quite a lot right now."
"Come on," Spike said. "Let’s get you back to bed."
She nodded, and stood to go with him. "Maybe if I go back to sleep I’ll wake up and this will all be a freaky dream I can tell you guys about at the next Scooby assembly?"
"Sure, pet," Spike said. "Why not?"
*

* II * Briefing


Buffy looked around at the conference room. It didn’t look so special. It was big, and white, and cold, but the chairs just looked like chairs, and the table just looked like a table. It all looked so typical. This didn’t look like the future. She looked down at her outfit. It didn’t really look very futuristic, either. She’d been issued a set of military fatigues, and told that it was standard Slayer wear. She’d have to do something about that. She wondered if they had good shopping on the moon.
She missed the magic shop. She missed her home. Hell, she even missed Spike’s crypt. She focused on the places that had comprised her home. She tried not to think about the people. It was easier that way. Spike had offered to tell her what happened to everybody, but she just wasn’t ready for a history lesson yet. Just the idea that they had all mourned for her, and then had all gone on with their lives, lives that had ended centuries ago… it was all a little too much. She had to get used to the here and now before she could even begin to deal with the then and there.
She looked across the table at Spike, and he offered her a reassuring smile. She made a point to return it, then continued her perusal of the room. She didn’t know which was more bizarre, that she was on the moon in the year 2336 or that Spike was her new Watcher. How the hell was that even possible?
"I don’t get it," she said.
"Don’t get which part, pet?"
"I don’t get how you can be a Watcher. I mean, when Angel was dying, the Council wouldn’t lift a finger to help him, because he was a vampire. And he had a soul."
"Yeah, but Angel spent a hundred years hiding from the world and not lifting any of his own fingers to help anybody before he met you. He was still pretty new to the hero business when that happened. The Council didn’t know what to make of him."
"But you were somehow easier to figure out, oh soulless wonder?" She wrinkled her nose. "Or is that it? Did you go and get a soul?"
"I’ve always had a soul, pet. It’s just not human."
"And suddenly that doesn’t matter to the Council?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Nothing sudden about it, Slayer. It took over a hundred and fifty years of being a good dog, helping out the Slayers and minding all of my bloody p’s and q’s. The Council refused to even recognize me as an ally before that. It took another thirty years after that for my kids to take control and make me a member."
"Your kids?"
Spike waved a dismissive hand. "I just call ‘em that. Your friends’ descendents, actually. And Dawn’s. Been watching ‘em for generations."
Buffy tried to imagine this. She’d awakened to find her friends were long dead, but Spike had actually watched them all grow old and die, just as he’d been watching their descendents grow and live and die for centuries now. She softened her attitude.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?"
"Why have you stuck around all this time? Why did you keep helping?"
Spike looked at her, then he looked at the table, and shrugged. "I promised you I would, didn’t I?"
"You said you’d protect Dawn."
"Till the end of the world. I figured that applied to her kids, and to their kids, and so on."
"But, technically, the world did end. I’d say you had a pretty good out."
"Maybe. It didn’t end so much as take a hiatus. ‘Sides, the Summers line didn’t end. Even if they aren’t called Summers anymore. I’m in this as much for Anne now as I am for you and Nibblet."
"Anne?"
"Yeah. She’s the last of Dawn’s descendents, at least until she starts having kids. You’ll get to meet her here in a minute, she’ll be here for your briefing."
"Wow." Buffy sat back in her chair and let this sink in. She smiled. "I bet Dawn made a good mom."
"She made a great mum," Spike said.
The doors swished open then, and a blonde woman entered who looked to be about Buffy’s age--not counting the three hundred years or so since her last birthday. She looked eerily familiar.
"There’s our girl now," Spike said. "Anne Richards, meet your aunt Buffy."
The girl stopped in her tracks, and stared at Buffy. "Oh, wow," she said.
"You’re not a-kidding," Buffy said. She stood up, and went to shake hands with her "niece." "I can actually see the family resemblance."
"Really?" The girl blushed. "I’m sorry. I just, I mean… you’re Buffy Summers."
"Yeah," Buffy said, "that’s my name, all right."
"I’m sorry," she said again. "I don’t mean to make you feel weird."
"I don’t really think you can add a whole lot to the weirdness factor at this point," Buffy said.
Just then, the doors opened again, and a familiar face walked in. Buffy’s eyes went wide, and her heart skipped a beat. "Xander!" She ran over and threw her arms around the boy. "They got you, too!"
"Uh, yeah," Nick said, "Spike told me I look just like him. I guess it’s really true."
Buffy let go of him and took a step back, embarrassed. "Sorry," she said. "It’s just… what was I saying just now about the weirdness factor?"
"Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not like getting hugged by pretty girls is something I’m wont to complain about." He held out his hand. "Nick Harris. Pleased to meet you."
"I’m--"
"Buffy Summers. Yeah, I know."
"Seems like everybody does," Buffy said.
"That’s because your name is legendary," said a woman as she entered the room. She spoke with an English accent, and looked to be in her fifties. A pair of glasses perched on her nose, and her attire appeared somewhat formal compared to the casual dress of the others in the room. Finally, thought Buffy, a Watcher who actually looks like a Watcher.
"This is my mom," Nick said. "She’s head of the Council."
"Oh," Buffy said. "So you’re the one who decided to play God with my life? Glad to meet you."
Mrs. Harris removed her glasses and regarded Buffy. "The decision to bring you here was not mine alone to make, Miss Summers."
"Of course not," Buffy said. "I’m sure good ol’ Spike here had something to do with it."
"Actually, William was quite vocal in his protestations against the plan."
Buffy looked at Spike, who appeared to be fascinated with a spot on the table. "Really?"
"He thought it would be unfair to bring you here to fight our battle."
"Oh. Well, here’s a sentence I never thought I’d say: Spike was right. It’s not fair."
"Yes, I suppose he was. But has anything about being the Slayer ever been fair? Besides, the alternative is that you would be more than 300 years in the grave."
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I kind of figured that when I jumped. It’s not like I did it on a whim."
"I don’t understand," Anne said. "Buffy, did you want to die?"
Buffy looked at her. "No, I didn’t want to die. But I did want the fighting to be over. You’ve kind of taken that option away from me."
"We haven’t," Mrs. Harris said. "No one is going to force you to fight our battle. You are free to refuse. Provisions will still be made for you to stay and live out your life here on the colony."
"Really?" Buffy asked. The Council might have made some changes since she’d last dealt with them, but she still didn’t trust them. "What’s the catch?"
"Only that you allow us to explain our situation to you before you make your decision."
"Sure," Buffy said. "I can do that."
"All right, then," Mrs. Harris said, and smiled. "Take your seat and we’ll begin."
Buffy leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "I‘m good standing."
The chairwoman paused, and then gave a conciliatory nod. "Very well," she said as she took her place at the head of the table. "How much has William explained to you?"
"Just that vampires took over the world and now you want to get it back. So, how did that happen, exactly?"
"Good question. It seems that after your demise, a new Slayer failed to receive the calling, and with your contemporary still undergoing incarceration--"
"Does this have to all be in Watcher-speak?" Buffy asked.
"Faith was still in prison," Spike clarified.
"Gotcha."
"At any rate," the chairwoman continued, "despite the best efforts of William and your friends, the vampire population of Sunnydale began to increase exponentially."
"Yeah," Spike said. "It wasn’t just locals siring new ones. Vampires started coming from all over once word got out that the hellmouth no longer had a Slayer."
"The law firm known as Wolfram and Hart opened up a branch in Sunnydale soon thereafter," Mrs. Harris said. "It was headed up by a vampire named Lilah Morgan."
"Why does that name sound so familiar?" Buffy asked Spike.
"She was one of those lawyers what gave Angel such a hard time in Los Angeles. Before she came to Sunnydale she got Drusilla to turn her."
"Damn," Buffy said. "Guess I should have encouraged you to stake her for me."
Spike looked puzzled for a moment, and then the memory seemed to dawn on him. Buffy suspected he’d have blushed if he was able.
Mrs. Harris cleared her throat, and continued. "Under Ms. Morgan’s council, the vampires began to organize. Within twenty years, they developed a nationwide network, which included some of the most brilliant scientific minds in America. Within fifty years, the network had expanded globally."
"Around that time," Nick said, "they started to go public. They began demanding equal rights, even rallied some humans to their cause. The Vampire Rights movement caused a lot of trouble."
"Vampire rights?" Buffy couldn’t believe this. "What kind of rights did they expect to receive? They’re killers."
"Yes," Anne said, "but they claimed to be looking for a way to peacefully co-exist without presenting a threat to humans. They said they were working on developing synthetic human plasma--’synth’ for short--that would be capable of sustaining them in lieu of blood. They offered to share their findings with us, and the US government was all for it, for medical purposes. They’d been working on perfecting synthetic blood for years, for use in transfusions and in surgery. They’d have a never-ending supply, independent of blood donations, plus it would eliminate the chance of any diseases making it through the screening process."
"The vampires claimed to be on the verge of having the formula all worked out," Nick said. "They offered to work with humanity to perfect it, in exchange for clemency, and they got it. Lilah Morgan was made official liaison between the vamp leaders and Congress. At her insistence, a cease and desist order was issued against the Slayer. She wasn’t allowed to touch vampires. She left the country to slay them elsewhere, but it wasn’t long until other governments followed suit. The Slayer was turned into an outlaw."
"During this time," the chairwoman said, "NASA finally succeeded in sending several manned missions to Mars, and had combined with other space-faring nations to begin colonizing the moon. The Council, ever vigilant against the forces of darkness, did not buy into the vampire race’s overtures of peace, and began relocating the archives to the lunar colony. Fortunately, William was able to provide intelligence on the vampires’ ultimate plan in time for us to gain the British military’s cooperation in building an arc of sorts, thus transporting the entire Council, an army platoon, and the means by which to live to the lunar colony before the plan was enacted."
"Yeah," Spike said, "but just barely."
"So, what was the plan?" Buffy asked.
"Long story short," Spike said, "the vamps eventually perfected their phony blood. It was deemed a medical breakthrough, and vampires became regarded as bloody heroes. They laid low for another hundred years or so, pretending to live in peace with humanity, and humanity ate it up. Generations passed, and eventually the human race had completely let its guard down. They even elected that Lilah bitch to be their bloody Vice President."
"Surprise, surprise," Nick said, "soon after, the President died under ‘mysterious’ circumstances. Lilah Morgan was promoted to president. The media loved her. She was double-billed as both the first vampire and first female president of the United States."
"And then she pushed the bloody button," Spike said.
Buffy gaped at him. "The button? As in, the ‘let’s wipe ourselves off the face of the planet’ button?"
"That’s the one. See, the vamps had their never-ending supply of blood, so they didn’t need humanity anymore. They’re impervious to radiation, and the resulting nuclear winter blocked the sun out for over a century. They turned the planet into a bloody vampire paradise."
"Oh, my God," Buffy said.
"Yes," Mrs. Harris said. "But the radiation has since abated, and the planet has become healthy again, ready to support human life. We’ve been working for the past several years on developing a plan to take back the planet. We will be ready to move on it in a month. You were brought here to lead the assault. Any questions?"
"Yeah," Buffy said. "For starters, why me? What do you think I’m going to be able to do for you? You all act like I’m the Second Coming or something. What makes me so much more special than all the other Slayers?"
"The sheer magnitude of the enemies you defeated, for one thing. The Master, Dracula, Glorificus… you prevented an apocalypse no fewer than six times."
"Right," Buffy said. "Prevented. It sounds to me like you already had one. I don’t have any experience in post-apocalyptic planet recovery, or whatever you’re calling this."
"You’ll improvise," Spike said. "You’ll figure it out as you go. That’s what you’re good at. It’s part of what makes you so special." Buffy gave him a questioning look, and he glanced down at the table. "As Slayers go, I mean."
"It’s what we were good at," Buffy said. "I didn’t do any of those things by myself. My friends and I, we were a team. I’m no good without them."
"Rot," Spike said. "Yeah, they were helpful, but you know as well as I do there were times they just got in your way."
"That’s not true."
"No? Just think about all the times I used them against you. They could be as much a liability as an asset."
"But… okay, so there were times when I could have done my job more easily if I didn’t have to worry about protecting them, but there were also plenty of times when there was no way I could have won without their help."
"Look, I’m not saying they didn’t have their uses. They were brave kids, and they had a lot of skills. Especially the Wiccans. But you were the one who held ‘em all together, love. You were the one who inspired us all to fight the good fight."
"And that is all we are asking of you now," the chairwoman said. "We need you to inspire us, Buffy. Provide our troops with the will to win."
"Oh," Buffy said. "Is that all? And here I thought you might want me to do something really hard, like stake their leader or something." She shook her head. "I have to get out of here," she said. "Meeting adjourned." She started for the door.
"William?" the chairwoman said. "Do something."
"What? Didn’t I mention? Buffy doesn’t work for the Council." Buffy had her back to him, but she could hear the familiar smirk in his voice. "The Council works for Buffy." He got up and followed her into the corridor.
"Good show, pet," he said. "That was telling ‘em."
Buffy spun around to face him, but he held up a hand before she could say anything.
"I mean it," he said. "I think you really made an impression."
"A bad one, I hope. I was trying to lower their expectations."
"I’m pretty sure you didn’t manage that."
Buffy sighed. "What do they expect me to do, Spike?"
"Your job, pet. That’s all."
She shook her head. "Yeah, well, they’re in for a disappointment if they think I’m going to be able to win their war. I mean, sure, I’m good at the action stuff, but I’m not exactly Big Idea Girl. That’s what the gang was good for."
"Nonsense," Spike said. "You had plenty of good ideas. I mean, whose idea was it to use a bazooka on the Judge?"
"Xander’s."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Really? Huh. Who’d have thought he’d come up with something that clever?"
"Spike…"
"All right, so the whelp got lucky. But what about… what about that time you, Xander and Willow all combined with Giles to take out that Adam bloke? That was a great idea."
"It was Willow’s idea."
"Oh." Spike chewed his bottom lip as he searched his memory. His face lit up. "Hey, what about that time you teamed up with me to defeat Angelus?"
Buffy squinted at him. "That was totally your idea," she said.
"Yeah, but you were smart enough to trust me."
She rolled her eyes. "That’s a judgment call," she said, "and the jury’s still out over here."
"Yeah, well, the point is, you have good judgment. And just because you delegate the brainstorming doesn’t mean you’re not a good planner. You may not think of yourself as big thinker, but you’re a fast one, that‘s for sure. It wasn’t the Scoobies who put me in a wheelchair, and it wasn’t any of them who sent Angel to hell. They weren‘t the ones knocked Glory on her ass, either." He shook his head, and his voice turned bitter. "There‘s a plan that would‘ve worked, if…"
His voice trailed off, and a dark, far away look flashed across his face. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. He put his hands in his pockets, and sighed.
"Anyway, listen to me, pet. After the first time you and I fought, I began to study you. I even had my minions record videotapes of your fights so I could study your technique, pick out your weaknesses." He looked nostalgic, which bothered Buffy, considering he was talking about a time when he’d been trying to figure out a way to kill her. He shook his head. "I’ll be damned if I could find any," he said, and smiled. "You were… incredible. And you’ve only gotten better since. And do you know why?" He walked up to her, and tapped a finger against her temple. "Because you use your head. You’re a very clever girl, Buffy. Don’t ever let anybody tell you different."
Buffy blinked in surprise. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to getting compliments from Spike. She shook her head. "Maybe, but… I don’t know how to do it without them, Spike. They’re all gone. Everything is gone. I don’t have anything anymore."
"You’ve still got me."
Buffy looked at him, and had a moment of déjà vu.
I hate you.
And I’m all you’ve got.
"You’ll always have me," he said. "And you have the Council at your service, not to mention an entire army at your command."
"I don’t know how to command an army."
"Well," Spike pursed his lips as he seemed to consider this, then shrugged. "You’ve got a month to learn."
Buffy studied his eyes. They conveyed total sincerity. His confidence in her was touching, as well as infectious. Maybe she really could pull this off. On impulse, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.
He cocked his head to one side and smiled, a bit shyly. "What was that for?"
"Thanks," she said. "I’ve been meaning to do that for days now. Well, I guess centuries, from your perspective. Ever since that talk we had on the stairs. All things considered, I guess I should have taken a sec to go ahead and do it then, huh?"
"Maybe," he said. With a tentative hand, he brushed a stray hair out of her face. "Can’t say it would have made losing you any easier."
Buffy stared into his eyes for a long moment, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came. She began to grow increasingly aware of his closeness, and she swallowed. Hard. Mercifully, he broke off the gaze, and started down the corridor.
"Come on," he said. "Let’s go down to the lounge. I’ll buy you some lunch."
This made Buffy snicker.
"What?"
"’I’ll buy you lunch?’ There’s a phrase I never thought would make it into the Spike vocabulary. Especially the ‘I’ll buy’ part."
"Yeah, well, things change, Slayer."
"So I’ve noticed," she said as she fell into step beside him.
***
Spike found them a table towards the back--not too private, but not exactly in the midst of the action, either. Not that there was much action. The place looked like part commissary, part bar. Its patrons looked to be mostly uniformed military types. In her fatigues, Buffy blended right in.
As they sat down, a waiter met them with a menu for her and a mug of something thick and red for Spike. "I’ll just have the special. Oh, and, do you have iced tea?" The waiter nodded. "I‘ll have that then." He left to fetch her order. "I guess they know your type," she said, grimacing at Spike’s lunch.
"If it makes your delicate sensibilities feel any better, Slayer, it’s not blood. It’s synth."
"The synthetic blood they told me about in the meeting?"
He nodded. "Been living on the stuff for over a hundred years now." He took a drink, and shrugged. "It’s got a bit of an aftertaste, but it’s not too bad once you get used to it."
"I’ll take your word for it," Buffy said.
The waiter brought her an egg salad sandwich and a glass of tea. She lifted the bread on the sandwich and frowned at its contents.
"I know it’s not exactly the Bronze," Spike said. "Not much of a menu."
"No, this is fine. It’s just, I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was."
"Eat it anyway," he told her. "If I recall, you didn’t eat much during those last few days, and I know you’ve hardly eaten since you got here. You need to keep up your strength."
Buffy crossed her arms and regarded him warily. "Something tells me you’re going to be an even bigger pain in the ass as my Watcher than you were as my enemy."
"Shut up and eat," he told her.
"Fine." She picked up half of the sandwich and shoved it into her mouth, then gulped her tea to wash it down. She set the glass back down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Satisfied?"
Spike smirked at her. "That was very ladylike," he said. "Finish your sandwich. Then I’ll be satisfied."
Buffy sighed, and proceeded to nibble on the second half as Anne and Nick approached. She watched them make their way over. She couldn’t get over how much Nick reminded her of Xander. Suddenly she missed her friend terribly.
"Okay if we join you guys?" he asked.
Spike shrugged.
"Sure," Buffy said.
Anne pulled up a chair next to Buffy. "I just wanted to tell you, you were amazing during your briefing."
"See pet?" Spike said. "What’d I tell you?"
"Thanks," Buffy said. "But I thought I came across as less amazing and as more scared out of my mind."
"Of course you’re scared," Nick said. "Who wouldn’t be in your situation? But the way you took charge, asked questions, and demanded answers? We’ve never seen a Slayer do that before."
"My guess would be that that’s because they’re all scared little girls," Buffy said.
"Your guess would be correct," Anne told her.
"I’ve been there," Buffy said. "The Council can be pretty intimidating, especially when you’re new to the whole big Chosen One deal."
"But I guess it’s safe to say you’ve gotten over it," Nick said. "Being intimidated, I mean. Not being chosen. From what we’ve read, you pretty much spanked the Council and put it to bed without its supper until they agreed to your terms."
Buffy shrugged. "Really, I just… wait, from what you’ve read? Did you read Giles’s journals?"
"Actually, he’s referring to Quentin Travers’s accounts of your last evaluation," Anne said.
"But Giles’s journals are here, right?" Buffy looked at Spike. "Is there any way I could read them?"
"There’s a chance they didn’t make it off of the planet," Spike said, "but if they did, pet, are you sure you want to read them?"
"You know how anal he was about keeping records," she said. "He’ll have everything written down. Spells, tactics… it could be all of the big ideas I need are in there."
"All right, then," Spike said. He drained his mug, then tapped Nick on the shoulder. "You know the library better than I do. Come help me see if they’re in the inventory."
"Sure," Nick said. "We can check on the console at the bar."
"Wow," Anne said after the men left the table. "I’ve never seen Spike so--"
"Pleasant and easy to get along with?" Buffy interjected. "It’s sure an interesting change of pace."
"Actually, I was going to say ‘happy,’" Anne said.
"Oh."
"You know, he was so afraid that you’d hate him."
Buffy furrowed her brow. "I pretty much got over my whole ‘I hate Spike’ phase after he took several rounds of hellgod torture for my little sister. I thought he knew that."
"He thought you’d blame him for bringing you here," Anne clarified. "He knew you’d be unhappy."
"Oh." Buffy said. "He was right, I did. At first. But now I know it wasn’t his fault."
"I suppose it’s selfish," Anne said, "but I’m glad you’re here. For his sake, if for nothing else. I mean, it’s not like he was chronically depressed or anything, but I’ve known him my whole life, and even at the best of times, there was always something in his eyes. He always seemed just a little sad. My mom and my grandfather both said he was the same way when they were growing up. My mom thought it was because he always outlives everybody, and I’m sure that’s part of it. But I have a feeling it goes all the way back to when you died."
Buffy sipped her tea. She didn’t quite know what to say.
"I’m sorry," Anne said. "I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just, I haven’t seen that look in his eyes since you got here."
A feeling of warmth flooded through Buffy, and she smiled. Then she frowned. Should hearing this make her feel this good? After all, this was Spike they were talking about. She realized this was the same feeling she’d gotten when she’d seen the look on his face after re-inviting him into her house. She had to admit, having the power to affect Spike so much felt good. Admitting that, on the other hand, felt terrifying. She wasn’t ready to even think about what it meant.
"It’s funny," Anne said. "Spike is over four hundred and fifty years old. He never has trouble keeping up with the times. He can adapt to any new situation. But those years he spent in Sunnydale? That was his time." She smiled. "He never gets tired of telling stories about that era. Especially not if you’re in them."
"You really care a lot about Spike, don’t you?" Buffy said.
"You sound like that surprises you."
"Well… that’s because it does. I mean, he really could be a pain in the ass. And that wasn’t even when he was plotting our deaths. Most people I knew didn’t even like him. The only one who even came close to caring about him the way you do was my sister. And my mom… she was pretty fond of him, but then she also thought that Dracula seemed like a nice guy. She wasn’t always the best judge of character."
"He mentioned that you barely tolerated him back then."
"That’s putting it mildly," Buffy said. "But I have to admit, he was starting to grow on me."
Anne sipped her drink, then set it down. She took a deep breath, then said, "He loves you, you know."
Buffy was about to take a bite of her sandwich, but she paused in mid-bite. "What?"
"Oh!" Anne looked panicked. "Oh, God. I thought you knew--"
"I did," Buffy said, putting her sandwich back down. "I mean, I do. Know. I mean, I do know that he did love me, but… still?"
"Isn’t it obvious?"
"Some people said it was obvious back then, but I didn’t see it until I was knocked over the head with it." She wrinkled her brow. "And that statement comes really close to being literal." She shook her head. "I guess, I can be a little dense in these areas. But, I mean, it’s been over three hundred years. You’d think he would’ve gotten over it by now."
"Call me a romantic," Anne said, "but I think that’s what makes it so incredible."
All Buffy could do was nod dazedly as this new information soaked in.
"Anyway," Anne said, "You could really break his heart. Please don’t."
Again, Buffy found herself speechless. She’d never given much thought to being the one to break Spike’s heart. She’d always been too concerned with making sure it would never happen the other way around. Thankfully, before the silence had a chance to turn awkward, the guys returned to the table.
"Giles’s diaries did make the relocation," Spike said. "We’re heading down to the library to get them. You coming?"
"Actually," Buffy said, "I was just about to see if my new niece here wanted to take me shopping."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Shopping? Love, this is the moon, not the bleeding Sunnydale Promenade. I think you’re going to find the selection here lacking."
"Maybe," Buffy said, "but there’s got to be someplace around here I can pick up some decent clothes. No offense, but these army grays you guys gave me really don’t do much for me."
Spike gave her an appraising look. "You certainly do a lot for them."
Buffy felt herself blush. Okay, so maybe his feelings were a little obvious. Still, she didn’t want to go there. Not now. She knew he was flirting, but flirting back was not an option.
She turned to Anne. "So, how about it? Can you show me where to get some clothes that are a little less butch?"
"Sure," Anne said. "I know a couple of places."
"Here," Spike said, "you’ll need this." He handed her something that looked like one of those laser pointers.
"What’s this?"
"It’s linked to my expense account. Just think of it as a credit card. Anne will show you how to use it."
"You have an expense account? Which you use to actually pay for things? Wait. How big is it?"
Spike couldn't have looked more frightened if she'd held a stake to his chest. "It’s big enough," he said. "Just… don’t abuse it."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," Buffy said.
"And don’t stay out too late. Your training starts tomorrow, you’ve got a big day ahead of you."
"Yes, Giles," Buffy said.
Spike smirked at her. "If you don’t mind, I’m going to take that as a compliment."
"Of course I don’t mind," she said. "That’s how I meant it."
Spike had that look on his face again, like she’d just given him something incredibly valuable and he was trying not to show how much he thought it was worth. Buffy felt herself getting all warm and fuzzy again as a result. It was strange to be around him and not feel any anger. It was nice. A little too nice.
She knocked back the rest of her tea, and looked at Anne. "Let’s go."
***
Buffy made it back to the apartment they’d given her with one shopping bag. Not because she’d taken care to be gentle with Spike’s expense account, but because he had been right about the selection. Still, she’d managed to find a few things that suited her style a little better. Maybe they would help her feel a bit more like herself, help her create some semblance of normalcy.
Who was she kidding? A few tank tops and some tight pants weren’t going to bring her anywhere closer to normal. Not even Slayer normal. Hell, not even Sunnydale normal. No more than they would ease the homesickness she felt.
Inside, she noticed a stack of books on the kitchen table. She set her bag on the table and laid Spike’s credit thingamabob beside it, then picked up the note lying on top of the books.
Don’t stay up all night reading these. You really do have a big day tomorrow. I’ll be by to get you at eight o’clock sharp.
Sleep well.
Spike
Buffy laid the note on the table, then carried the journals into her bedroom. She stacked them on her nightstand, and went to get ready for bed. After she changed, she sat on the bed, and considered the stack of books. She picked one up, but then put it back, unopened. It felt weird to even think about reading Giles’s diaries. They’d always been off limits. She felt like she was violating his privacy, even though they were now a matter of public record, at least as far as the Council could be considered public. It occurred to her that one of those journals would hold his account of her death.
"So not ready for that," she muttered.
Buffy climbed under the covers, and turned out the light.
She didn’t sleep a wink.
*

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