The portal flared white around him before disappearing with a hiss and snap. Spike barely had time to register that he was falling before he hit the ground painfully. Rolling over onto his back with a groan, he squinted at the room around him.

He was in the middle of a large open space, surrounded by columns of bookshelves which hugged the walls and cast deep shadows into the corners of the room. It seemed as if blind luck had prevented him from crashing into the table that was covered with old books and scrolls. Moonlight entered through windows set high in one of the walls, and a thin stream of artificial light shone from beneath a set of heavy double doors at the opposite end of the room. Pushing himself to his feet, Spike scuffed his boots on the faded linoleum and sniffed the air, suppressing a shiver at the familiar smells. He'd only been in the building once before, and never in this room, but it was enough to trigger old memories.

Sunnydale High School, version 1.0. The library, if Angel's source was reliable, although that was hardly a given. The wizard in question had been in the employ of Wolfram & Hart, working in the Department of Temporal Paradox Resolution, and he was one of a handful of survivors that Angel kept a close eye on after the L.A. branch had been destroyed. Digging into his pocket, Spike pulled out an old-fashioned pocket-watch and flipped the lid open. It functioned more as an elaborate timer than a normal timepiece, the tapered second hand sweeping around the face of the dial as the minute hand marked off time in a slow countdown to zero. Thirty hours and counting, and then he was back where he belonged. Time to get out, get what he came for, and get back before anyone saw him. Easy enough, right?

Unfortunately, his life had never been that easy.

A sudden burst of conversation outside the doors roused him from his speculation, and he bit back a curse, scanning the room for a quick escape. He was wondering whether he'd be able to get to the barred windows in time when the doors swung open and he was forced to dive behind a tall counter that ran the length of the room. "Balls," he muttered quietly, pressing his back tightly against the counter as three sets of footsteps entered the room. A female voice grunted, and he heard the sound of a pile of books hitting the table.

"That's it for me," the voice said with a groan, and he recognized Willow. "How about the big, guy-shaped Watcher and the girl with the superpowers handle the rest of them?"

"I do appreciate the help," a male voice said, and Spike clenched his jaw. Of course. He'd expected Giles to be hanging around the place, although he thought he'd timed it properly so that everyone would be gone for the day. Didn't these people have lives? He froze when he heard the third voice speak.

"That's it for me too. I promised my mom I'd be home on time tonight." Buffy. God, it was Buffy. "Unless you want us to help you catalog them?" Her voice was teasing, and Spike's heart clenched in his chest at the light-hearted tone. It had been over two years since he'd heard the sound of her voice. He had known that there was a distinct possibility that he would run into her, but he hadn't prepared himself for the rush of emotions that would erupt simply from hearing her speak.

"Thank you, no," Giles said darkly. "The last time you attempted to assist me, I found doodles in the margins of the Gendarum Codex."

"Well, it serves you right for giving me ones without any good pictures in them," Buffy muttered sulkily in reply. "Besides, I've got a paper to finish anyway."

"Of course," Giles said. "I'll give you both a ride home."

"Right behind you," Buffy answered.

Spike heard the sound of the doors swinging open, and listened as footsteps walked away. He let out a silent sigh of relief as they faded into the distance. That had been too close. Angel and his pet wizard had clearly gotten the times wrong somehow, and Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance. He waited behind the counter for several more minutes, partially distracted by the crushing speech he was composing in his head to deliver to Angel as soon as he got back. Finally, he stepped cautiously out onto the main floor. He was about to bolt for the exit when he froze for a second time. He could hear a heartbeat.

Spike had one moment to curse himself for his stupidity before he was knocked sprawling onto the floor. He rolled quickly to his back, but before he could get up, Buffy had knelt down next to him, one hand on his throat and the other holding a stake pressed tightly to his chest. He gasped, doing his best to relax his muscles and appear as nonthreatening as possible.

"Spike," she said in disgust. "What, dropping an organ on you wasn't enough? Anyone ever tell you you're just like a cockroach?"

"Buffy," he breathed cautiously. Even in the middle of such a perilous situation, he couldn't help but stare at her. She smelled of lotion and girl-sweat, her sharp nails digging into the skin of his neck and her eyes hard in her soft teenaged face. She was so different than the Buffy he had come to know -- younger and curvier, and only a hint in her eyes of the burdens she would have to carry over the years -- but at the same time she was achingly similar. He had to force himself to remember who she was to him. This is the Slayer. She is your enemy. She hates you. "I can explain," he tried, but was choked off when she tightened her fingers around his throat. She frowned at him and dug the stake more sharply into the skin of his chest.

"Sorry, you don't get to make explanations," she said coldly, raising the stake. Spike took the opportunity to wrench her other hand free from his neck, squirming away as she dove for him with the stake. Rising to his feet, he placed himself in a defensive position, circling Buffy warily and inching toward the doors.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said slowly. "Now, be a good little Slayer. You go your way, and I'll go mine."

"And let you go out and find your dinner? I don't think so." Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts were heaving. She looked magnificent, and Spike had to tear his eyes away from her figure. Wake up, you idiot. This one will dust you as soon as look at you. She's not your Buffy. Not yet. Sensing his distraction, she aimed a kick at his head. He blocked it and swung his arm at her, cracking her across the cheek and knocking her to the floor. He winced as she hit the ground, the stake skittering off across the floor.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, instinctively going to help her up. Swinging out with her leg, she caught him at the ankles and knocked him back to the ground next to her, climbing on top of him and squeezing one of her hands around his throat again. Raising her other arm, she let a fist fly at his nose. He caught it in his hand, pushing up and bucking his torso so that she flew over his head, landing with a thud. He rolled to his feet, careful to keep his distance this time.

"I told you, I don't want to hurt you," he said in exasperation.

"Oh, please," she scoffed in reply, standing up and raising her head defiantly. "You haven't even come close to hurting me."

The words were a punch in the gut. Shaking his head slowly, he edged away from her and towards the door, ready to end this confrontation once and for all, before one of them really got hurt. Although she still held her body in the correct position to strike a blow, she was looking at him curiously, a small frown on her face.

"What were you doing in here?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Nothing. The usual. You know, being the Big Bad and all that." He had to get out of here. Seeing her like this was too much, and once more he silently cursed Angel for talking him into this job. Buffy was advancing on him slowly, the frown still in place, and he wheeled around and made a break for the library doors. He was almost free when Buffy dove and landed on him like a ton of bricks, sending them both spilling out into the hallway. She had the stake in her hand again, and after a brief struggle, Spike managed to knock it free. He was about to kick her to the side and run out when he felt the tip of a sharp blade digging into the side of his throat. Angling his head, he saw Giles glaring at him and holding a long sword to his neck. Behind Giles, a pale, wide-eyed Willow was aiming a crossbow at his chest. As he froze, Buffy wiggled free and snatched the stake up, holding it firmly against his back.

"Wait, Buffy," Giles said sharply. "Take him to the cage."

Buffy yanked Spike's hair back, digging the stake into his back as he gasped. "Why?" she demanded. "Him vampire, me Slayer. I'm not a zookeeper."

"Information," Giles said calmly, his eyes never leaving Spike. "He can provide us with the current location of..."

"Angel," Buffy said softly behind him, and Spike's heart wrenched at the pain in her voice. Even so, he couldn't let himself get caught up in her life here.

"Look," he said, holding Giles' eyes, "I know you think you know who I am. But I'm not him. I was sent...I'm here to help."

"Who sent you?" Giles asked, and Spike tightened his mouth and shook his head. He couldn't very well let them know that Angel was behind his little trip. Giles' eyes hardened, and he gestured towards the library doors. "Back inside," he said. "One wrong step, and I let Buffy stake you."

Shaking his head in disgust, Spike let himself be herded back into the library and shoved in a roomy cage in a corner that he hadn't noticed before. As the door was locked shut, he thumped his head against the bars in despair and snuck a quick look at his pocket-watch. Just over twenty-nine hours left.

Buffy wasted no time in releasing Spike, although she refused to touch him and barely looked at him. Spike, swallowing the hurt and frustration, followed her out to Giles' tiny car. The drive was a silent one, and Spike stared unseeingly at the darkened streets around him. It was surreal, knowing that there was another version of himself running around out there. Sitting on my ass out there, more like, he thought moodily.

"Why you?" Giles asked as they turned into his apartment complex, finally breaking the silence. It took Spike a minute to realize that Giles was speaking to him.

"You mean, why did I come?" he asked, and Giles nodded. "Somebody had to," he said with a shrug. "Not exactly looking forward to getting my home turned into a hole in the ground. Angel wanted to come, but...thought he should stay away. With himself on the loose right now? No use getting staked as Angelus as soon as he popped in."

At the door of his apartment, Giles hesitated. "I would never put you in danger," Buffy said, and after a moment he nodded.

"Come in, Spike," he said reluctantly. As Spike prowled around the main floor, poking through his music collection, Giles disappeared upstairs with Buffy. Spike didn't need to hear them to know that they were discussing him, so he ignored them as best he could in favor of snooping through the library. When they reappeared, Giles was carrying a small bag.

"I think, in light of everything, it's best that the two of you stay here for the time being," he said. "I'm going back to the school to keep an eye on the Hellmouth, in case this Keeper arrives early. You should avoid all contact with anyone else in this time, particularly your other selves. There's no telling what drastic changes in the time-stream could result from a simple encounter."

"We'll start to fade away and disappear," Buffy declared matter-of-factly, and Giles frowned curiously at her.

"Are you speaking of Greene's theory of time travel? Because that's certainly a unique interpretation...."

"The Michael J. Fox theory, actually." She blinked innocently, giving a little smirk. "What? I've seen Back to the Future a bunch of times." Giles groaned, but he couldn't hide the twinkle in his eyes.

"That settles it," he said firmly. "You're staying here until we have a better handle on what's going on." He grabbed a series of books from the shelves. "The Imbrium scrolls, you said? I can do a little research and report back to you later in the morning." Removing three books from the stack, he handed them to Buffy. "In the meantime, you should take a look at these. I don't know if you have access to these compendiums, but they may prove helpful." He hesitated, glancing over at Spike.

"We'll be fine," Buffy said firmly. "I promise he won't do anything worse than raid your fridge. And if he gives me any trouble...well, I happen to know where the chains are, and I know he'll be very comfortable in the bathtub." She smiled sweetly at Spike.

"Hey!"

Giles sighed. "Right. As if this day could possibly get any stranger." Hefting the books, he gave one more warning glance at Spike and disappeared, locking the front door behind him. Spike groaned in relief.

"Well, that's done. And a rather neat bit of work too, having the Watcher do some of the leg-work. In the meantime, looks like we have the place to ourselves." He tried out a leer, but it fell flat. Buffy was standing by the door, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

"So," she said quietly, "anything you want to talk about?"

Damn. "Like what?" he asked innocently.

"Oh, I don't know." She began to pace, grabbing a stake from a nearby table and twirling it distractedly. "Maybe about what you've been doing for the past two years?"

"You know, this and that," he said vaguely, watching her warily. She sighed and collapsed on the couch, and after a moment he joined her.

"I found out, after the battle in L.A.," she said, staring unseeingly at the far wall. "You'd been around the entire time. Giles knew it, Dawn knew it, even Andrew knew it. But for some reason? No one bothered to tell me. And then all of a sudden, it's, 'Oh, Buffy, there was a big battle against the forces of evil, and you missed it. But Angel's okay, and hey, so is Spike.'" She laughed bitterly. "I was so angry with you. I thought we had...I thought there was a connection there. I felt it. I thought you did too. Looks like I made a mistake." She started to get up, but Spike grabbed her arm and hauled her down next to him.

"You didn't," he said firmly, but she merely sighed and looked away.

"Are you sure?" she asked dully. "Because it seems like it to me. When you care about someone, it's kinda nice to find out that they're not really most sincerely dead after all." Spike reached tentatively for her shoulder, tracing the muscles in her neck gently and feeling her heart beat under his fingertips before she tensed and pulled away.

"Buffy," he began helplessly, but she shook her head.

"You know what? I don't think I want to go through this right now. We have a job to do." Grabbing one of the books that Giles had left on the side table, she started flipping through it. She was absolutely right, of course, but he couldn't stop staring at her. He saw his own hand reach out and touch her neck again, almost as if he was watching someone else perform the action. She held herself perfectly still as he turned her chin toward him, gently cupping her face in his hands and running his thumbs over her cheeks. After taking a deep breath, she reached up to wrap her hands around his wrists, closing her eyes.

"I can't even tell you," he said hoarsely. "Buffy, to see you again..." he broke off and shook his head, willing her silently to look him in the eyes and somehow divine what he was trying to tell her. The sense of peace and utter rightness he'd felt at seeing her again had disappeared, and it was like waking up from a beautiful dream. She was physically closer to him than she'd been for a very long time, but at the same time he felt the distance between them, and he wasn't sure if it could be bridged. The years apart had changed them, and he bleakly wondered if it was too late. You've waited too long. You gave her up, and now she's gone. His hands had gone numb, and he didn't resist when she pulled away from him gently.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she said softly. Taking the book with her, she disappeared upstairs and closed the door behind her.

Spike spent the next few hours trying to pretend that he was absorbed in his research. In truth, however, he was utterly distracted by Buffy's presence on the floor above him. He tried to force himself to remember everything that Angel had pounded into his head about time travel, weapons and Thoren demons, but instead he caught himself holding his body in absolute stillness so he could listen to Buffy breathe.

After several hours, she came downstairs to trade books with him. They exchanged them with barely a word --

"Anything?"

"No. You?"

"Nope."

-- and, to his surprise, she settled into an armchair and started reading again. Part of him was glad that she was back in the same room with him, but the warmth and smell of her body seriously decreased his ability to concentrate. After finding, to his disgust, that he'd been reading the same paragraph for the last half hour, he slammed the book shut and stalked outside for a smoke.

When he came back in, Buffy was talking on the phone to Giles, and she looked up and shook her head at his raised eyebrow.

"Okay," she said. "I'll check it out and get back to you." Replacing the phone, she sighed and rolled her neck on her shoulders. "Giles is having some trouble with a translation, and it looks like it's going to take a little while."

Spike shrugged. "I told you, there's nothing much interesting in those scrolls. There's a weapon, there's a Keeper, and there's a Hellmouth. Which is where we need to be, not stuck here reading like a bunch of...Watchers," he finished lamely. He was half expecting an argument, but to his continued surprise, Buffy merely nodded.

"Yeah. This isn't exactly my strong suit. There has to be something there we can do, but..." Looking over at the clock, she groaned. "It's already after six, and that means school's going to start soon. Not exactly the best place to stay inconspicuous. Plus, sunlight."

Spike hadn't even noticed the arrival of morning, but indeed, grey light was peeking in through the edges of the curtains. "Well, I can't look at another page of this garbage without my eyes crossing," he complained, making his way over to some closed cabinets in the corner. Peeking inside, he was delighted to find Giles' liquor stash. "Well, look at that," he said admiringly. "Keeps it in the same place after all. The day's starting to look more promising already." Pulling out out a bottle of whiskey, he went to check the small kitchen for anything edible.

"I'll be back," Buffy said. Before he could reply, he heard the soft thump of the front door closing. Clutching the bottle, he ducked out of the kitchen. Buffy was gone. Instantly, he felt a hot surge of rage. She had gone back to the school without him, the bitch. Giles must have said something in that phone call of his, or maybe she'd found something in one of the texts and hadn't bothered to let him know about it. She's keeping you out of the loop. Business as usual, eh? Not that you've given her much cause to trust you. He warred for a moment between hurt and anger, and the anger won out. Catching up a blanket that lay across the back of Giles' couch, he made for the door. He was about to step outside when a thought struck him.

Ally. She called you her ally. She wouldn't double-cross you -- that's not her style, not if I know Buffy. But did he know Buffy? Two years ago he would have said yes without a second thought. Now he wasn't so sure. It's not like she's never run off to do a job on her own before. Why should now be any different? Clenching his hands into fists, he did his best to rein in his galloping emotions. Right. She said she'd be back. Maybe she needed some air. I'll give her an hour, and then I'm off. Glancing at the clock, he amended his thoughts. Half an hour. After all, there was a limit to his magnanimity.

Throwing himself back on the couch and making himself comfortable, Spike heaved a sigh of complete martyrdom once he noticed that Giles' ancient TV didn't have a remote. Bloody perfect. Getting back up, he hunched in front of the set and flipped the channels idly for a few minutes before shutting it off in disgust. Nothing but news shows this hour of the morning, and he didn't particularly want a recap of the current events of the day. He tried once more to look at the passage he'd been studying, but once again he found himself reading the same paragraph blindly over and over. He was almost convinced there must be a spell of some kind attached to it. Growling in frustration, he finally grabbed the blanket. Half an hour or not, he was going to follow Buffy. He wrenched open the door, and almost collided with the girl in question.

"God!" Buffy gasped. "Don't do that!" Pushing past him, she entered the apartment and dropped a large paper bag on the table. Taking a sip from the cardboard cup she was holding, she gestured at the door and raised her eyebrows. "Going somewhere?"

"I was going back to the school," he admitted. "Was planning on following you."

"Why did you think..." A hurt look washed across her face. "Oh. You thought I'd ditched you." There was no reply he could give to that, and Buffy's face grew colder. "I said I'd be back," she said in a clipped voice. "Giles doesn't have a coffeemaker." Picking up the paper bag, she threw it at him, turning and striding angrily into the kitchen.

He opened the bag once she'd turned away. Inside were six packets of pig's blood.

 

The rest of the day seemed longer than any day Spike had ever lived through. Giles phoned every hour, but had no new information to provide. He cautioned them again to stay out of sight, at least until nightfall. "The prophecy indicates that the Keeper won't arrive until well after midnight," he said. "It would be foolish for you to risk exposing yourselves until there's a reason."

"Fine," Buffy said with a groan. "But you'd better hurry and let us out. I think Spike's almost finished with your alcohol."

Turning around from where he was hunched over in front of the TV, Spike couldn't help but let out a grin at Giles' indignant squawk from the other end of the line. Buffy gave him a slight smile, and he grasped the olive branch, smiling back in relief. "Kidding," she said mildly into the phone. "Although I'm about ready to start in on it myself, and that would be of the bad."

"So," Spike said once she'd hung up. "You up for it then?" He nudged the untouched whiskey bottle towards her, and she shook her head with a shudder.

"No way. You know how that stuff gets to me." She squinted at the TV. "And could you please keep it on one channel for more than two seconds?"

"Afternoon soaps should be starting in a few minutes," he said, continuing to flip channels rapidly. Finally picking one, he settled next to her on the couch, relaxing when she didn't immediately get up and walk away. "Thanks for the blood," he said after a few minutes, his eyes never leaving the screen. He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye, and he finally turned to face her. "Why don't you get some rest, Slayer?" he asked softly. "Big night ahead of us. I'll keep an ear out for the Watcher."

After blinking at him for a moment, she nodded. "Maybe a quick nap," she said. "Wake me up if anything happens." Making her way to the stairs, she paused momentarily as if she wanted to say something. Shaking her head at Spike's inquisitive look, she quirked a smile at him and disappeared upstairs. Spike listened as the bedroom door closed and, after ten minutes, her heartrate and breathing slowed and evened out.

Spike pounced on the phone the next time it rang, picking it up before it was completely finished with the first ring. Giles' wasn't exactly pleased to find Spike on the line, and didn't seem particularly inclined to take his word for it that Buffy was only sleeping. Spike finally growled that, if he had in fact drained the Slayer, he wouldn't exactly be spending his time answering phone calls like a bleeding secretary. It was enough to keep Giles from rushing back there, and he reluctantly admitted that he had no new information to share.

The next phone call was the same, and the one after that. The phone rang again ten minutes after the previous call, and Spike frowned at it before grabbing it to stop the ringing.

"What now?" he asked.

"Spike?" Giles said. The note of agitation in his voice had Spike sitting up in alarm. "I figured out why the translation was bothering me. One of the numerical symbols can have several possible interpretations, and I think the correct one...well, if I'm right, then the Keeper should be arriving within the hour."

Spike's eyes widened. "We're on our way," he said firmly, hanging up and running for the stairs. Opening the bedroom door softly, he saw Buffy lying curled up on top of the bed. She opened her eyes and blinked as Spike came in, and she looked so warm and sleepy-soft that his tongue was momentarily tied in knots.

"Time to head out, Slayer," he finally said. "Looks like our boy just might be arriving early."

Squinting at the windows, which were drenched with the late afternoon sunlight, Buffy nodded. "We'd better take the sewers," she said reluctantly. "Can you get us there from here?"

 

Navigating the sewers turned out to be relatively uncomplicated, and they emerged as the last light of the sun was slanting low across the ground. Tucking the borrowed blanket close around his head, Spike made a run for the front doors of the high school, followed closely by Buffy. As he slapped away a few errant flames, Buffy peered into the main hall.

"Looks like it's empty," she said, and he nodded.

"Library it is then."

They found Giles pacing back and forth behind the desk, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them. "It could be any minute now," he said, glancing up at the clock. Buffy opened the bag of weapons she'd taken from Giles' house. Tossing a knife at Spike, she tucked a stake into her pocket and secured another knife for herself.

"How's this going to happen?" she asked, scanning the room, and Giles shrugged.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. "The texts were no more clear as to how the Keeper would reveal itself than they were about the nature of the weapon. Based on previous examples of dimension-shifting, I would suspect a portal of some kind."

"A portal where?"

All three of them spun around to see Buffy -- young Buffy, as Spike couldn't help but think of her -- standing just inside the doors. When she caught sight of the rest of the group, her jaw dropped.

"Oh my God," Buffy -- his Buffy, and this would be giving him a headache very soon -- murmured. Her younger counterpart stared at her.

"Giles?" she asked, without taking her eyes away from her future self. "What's going on?"

"I...oh dear," Giles said. "Buffy, I thought you'd left."

"Are you kidding? You've been wigged about something all day. I wanted to find out what was happening." Her face twisted in a look of pained disgust. "You're not going to tell me I've suddenly got an older sister, are you?" She seemed to notice Spike for the first time, and her eyes widened. "You said he escaped!" she yelped. She fixed Giles with a hard look. "I want to know what's going on."

"Right." Giles pulled off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, I know that this may be hard for you to believe, but..."

"We're from the future," Spike interrupted. He looked around at three sets of eyes glaring at him. "What? Get it done fast, like pulling off a band-aid. We don't have time to sit around and swap stories." He turned to address the younger Buffy again, who was looking at him in disgusted fascination. "We'll be out of your hair in a bit, so how about you get your little Slayer-self home safe until then? Ow!" He broke off as his Buffy elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Condescending much?" she hissed. "Look, we can't really say anything about it," she said gently to her past self. "You know, all that sci-fi stuff about messing up timelines. Spike and I came here for a weapon that we need in our own time, and as soon as we get it we'll be leaving."

"Uh-huh." The younger Buffy didn't look remotely convinced, unsurprisingly. "And who's that?" she asked, pointing behind Spike.

The three of them turned and saw a man leaning quietly against the table, his arms folded across his chest and an amused smirk on his face. He was short -- shorter than both Giles and Spike -- and was dressed in what looked to be a powder-blue leisure suit, his dark hair slicked back away from his face and a gold chain around his neck. It was difficult to say how old he was; although there were no wrinkles on his face, he gave off an air of extreme age.

"Well well," Spike said quietly. "Don't suppose you'd be the Keeper we're here to see? Not exactly what I was expecting."

"Expecting, huh? Haven't heard that one in a while, I have to say. I don't know when's the last time someone's been waiting for me." His voice had a flat midwestern accent, and Spike was reminded of nothing so much as a cross between Willy the bartender and a used car salesman, with a touch of Lorne thrown in for good measure. The man grinned charmingly. "I'm Hal," he said, extending his hand to each of them in turn. He eyed the two Buffies sharply. "And unless I'm looking at a case of identical cousins, I'd say we have a bit of time-travel on our hands."

"You're human?" Giles asked, and Hal shook his head. "But you're not one of the Thoren either."

"Not even remotely," Hal said, looking around the library curiously. "I was hired for this gig. I just took this shape because I like to blend in with the different dimensions I visit." He broke off and looked around in confusion. "This is the human dimension, right?" Giles nodded dumbly, and Hal smiled in relief. "Sometimes I get them mixed up, and it's been a few decades since I've been in this one."

"I'm not surprised," Buffy said with a raised eyebrow, looking at his suit. "And how did you get here? I though there was going to be a portal of some kind involved."

"Nah," Hal shrugged. "That stuff's for the tourists. I like to make a quiet entrance, look around a bit before I have to move on. Why scare the natives?"

"Yes, quite," Giles said impatiently. "But if you're the Keeper, you have the weapon we need to prevent an apocalypse. Some of us have come a long way to find it, as you've already guessed."

Hal looked at them shrewdly with a faint smile. "I have what you're looking for," he said. "But not now."

"Excuse me?" Spike asked. He took a threatening step forward, but it only seemed to amuse the little man.

"I mean, not now," he repeated patiently. "Like I said, I like to look around for a few hours, take in a bit of the local flavor. It's one of the perks of the job, and I don't like to talk shop until I've had a bit of down time."

"I don't think so," the younger Buffy said threateningly, speaking for the first time since Hal had arrived, and he let out a burst of laughter.

"Or you'll do what, cutie?" She clenched her fists, and he hastened to reassure her. "I know who you are, Slayer. I know you could kick me through those windows if I gave you half a chance. What I mean is, I can simply jump over to my next stop whenever I want. If I have to skip your charming dimension and get there a bit early? No skin off my nose." He looked around at the rest of the group. "You'll get what you're after, but only on my schedule. I think that's a fair offer."

After a slight hesitation, Giles nodded. "It seems we have no other choice," he said reluctantly.

"Great!" Hal crowed. He walked over to the younger Buffy and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze while she cringed in disgust. "Come on, guys, this'll be fun! Now, you have any good nightclubs around here? I haven't been dancing in decades."

"Watch it," Buffy growled, extricating herself from Hal and stomping over to Giles. "Okay, I did not volunteer for creep-watch," she hissed. Giles cast a look over her shoulder, but Hal seemed to be absorbed in poking through one of the shelves of books.

"Buffy, please," he asked. "I know there's a lot going on here, but I need your help. We just need to keep him occupied for a short while until he's ready to move on."

"The Watcher's right," Spike said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, that's nice," Buffy said with false cheer. "Coming from the vampire who's tried to kill me."

"Buffy," Giles said quietly. "Do you trust me?" After a pause, she dropped her head and nodded. "Since you're already involved in this...well, apparently, this Spike has a soul."

Buffy looked up with a bitter smile. "A soul, huh? And you believe him?"

"No. But I do believe you," he said gently. Giles glanced over at the older Buffy, who smiled at him gratefully. "We need this...creature's help, and I'm not comfortable letting him out of our sight until we have what we need. Can you think of any place that might hold his interest for a few hours?"

The younger Buffy softened slightly. "Well, I was going to meet Willow and Xander at the Bronze," she said reluctantly, and Giles nodded.

"I suppose that will have to do," he said, then turned to the older Buffy. "It might be best if you two stayed here."

"What? I don't think so." Giles held up his hand, but she interrupted. "Look, I know all of that stuff about polluting the time-stream. I promise we'll stay out of sight, and I won't talk to anyone. But I'm not going to wait around here until this guy comes back."

Giles sighed heavily. "This could be disasterous," he said gravely. "I cannot impress upon you enough the dangers of altering the past." He fixed Buffy and Spike with a glare, and they nodded. "Good. I still think someone should stay behind and keep an eye on the Hellmouth."

"So," Hal said, appearing suddenly behind Giles and making him jump. "Got it all worked out?"

"Looks like," Spike said. "But you're staying with us until we get what we came for, right?" Hal nodded.

"I'll enjoy the company. Lead the way. Oh, wait a minute." He looked down at himself. "Maybe this isn't the right look? What are the kids wearing these days?" He looked at Giles and Spike, shuddering delicately at Giles' tweed. Hal closed his eyes, and the air shimmered around him briefly. When it returned to normal, he was wearing a replica of Spike's all-black ensemble, complete with heavy boots and black leather duster.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Spike growled, and heard his Buffy snort indelicately.

"Yup. You're totally in style now," she said dryly.

"I...I think I should stay here and...catalog something," Giles stammered weakly. "But I'm sure the others will be happy to accompany you."

"Well, let's go," Hal said, bouncing on his toes slightly. "Time's a-wastin'."

"Great," young Buffy said with a sickly smile. "Let's all go to the Bronze."

Continued in Part Two