Hal insisted on chatting with young Buffy about the local nightlife all the way to the Bronze, leaving her with no alternative but to cast occasional despairing glances back at her older counterpart. Spike only half listened, being distracted with keeping an eye out for Angelus or for anyone else from this time who would recognize them. His Buffy walked next to him silently, her hands in her pockets and a frown on her face.

"I don't remember this," she said suddenly, and Spike turned to her.

"Remember what?"

"This," she said, gesturing vaguely at Hal. "I mean, that's me. Shouldn't I remember meeting this guy when I was seventeen? Shouldn't I remember meeting myself? Because I don't."

Spike frowned. "Huh. Yeah, I suppose so. What does that mean?"

Buffy laughed slightly. "You're asking the wrong person. Before I came here, Giles tried to explain about time paradoxes. It felt like part of my brain had died."

"Can't say I was much better at it," Spike admitted. "Now Fred, she was the one who could have straightened this all out."

"Fred? Oh, she worked with Angel, right?" Her voice softened. "I heard about what happened to her."

"Yup," Spike said brusquely. "Bright girl, that one. She didn't deserve to go that way."

"She was a friend of yours?" she asked in a mild tone.

Buffy's questions were making him edgy. He couldn't tell what she was getting at, or even if she was trying to get at anything at all. Maybe it was just casual talk -- and how sad was it that he couldn't recognize a simple conversation between them anymore? Had they ever even had that at all? He thought so, there at the end. But after two years, his memories of those final months with Buffy had petrified into a series of images -- some painful, some pleasurable -- that he had done his best to gently set aside. He had tried not to think about her too much, figuring that it was for the best that he let his experiences fade into a set of wistful memories. When he was feeling especially sentimental, he would pull them out to go through slowly, savoring the memory of each look, each touch. But he was starting to realize that the weight of his subconscious seemed to make him particularly unsuited for actually carrying on a conversation with her. The thought was immediately depressing. And what had she been asking him anyway?

"Of sorts, I guess," he answered. "Helped me out, because she thought it was the right thing to do."

He could tell she was hesitating. "Do you...you know...have anyone?"

He shrugged casually. "Oh, well, me and Angel have been getting it on fairly regular..." He dodged the hand that tried to swat him, grinning at her and enjoying her answering smile. "Not as such," he admitted. He wasn't going to ask her in return. Nope, wasn't going to happen. He didn't want to know. Alright, so he wanted to know, but he wasn't going to ask. Because he was okay with it. She'd moved on, he'd moved on, he was happy with it...

"So, how about you?"

He cringed and cursed the lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. He braced himself wearily, waiting for her to sing the praises of that utter wanker, the Immortal.

"Nope, not right now," she said evenly, and he gaped at her.

"I thought...well, you and..." He couldn't even bring himself to say the bastard's name out loud. Luckily, Buffy rescued him.

"The Immortal?" she said dryly. "Yeah, I heard about you and Angel acting like complete asses toward him, thank you very much." She shrugged. "I was, I'm not anymore. It was fun." Her face took on a dreamy, distant look that made him want to punch something, and she laughed softly. "It was a lot of fun. But I knew it wasn't a long-term thing."

"Is that right?" he muttered, breaking off when they turned the corner and approached the Bronze. Spike stepped forward and took the younger Buffy by the arm, ignoring her flinch.

"We'll be up keeping an eye out from the balcony," he said. "Try to keep your little friends away." Reaching out, he grabbed Hal by the collar as he started to walk away. "A few hours, you said, and then we get what we came for," he growled.

"That's what I said," Hal said distractedly, his eyes fixed on the club entrance. He removed Spike's hand and straightened his jacket. "Now, if you don't mind?"

Spike looked pleadingly at young Buffy, who rolled her eyes and fixed an artificial smile on her face. "After you!" she said brightly, giving her older counterpart one last helpless look before following Hal into the Bronze. Spike waited a moment before following them in.

Inside, it was fairly crowded for a Tuesday night. As he ducked behind a pillar, Spike saw Willow and Xander already waiting at a table. Either there was no band, or they were in the middle of a break, which meant Spike could easily hear young Buffy introduce Hal to them as a friend of Giles. He smirked, and felt a tug on the back of his jacket.

"Up here," Buffy muttered, leading him towards the stairs that led to the balcony. He followed her up, keeping to the shadows, and they settled into place in a corner that gave them some relative privacy, but still afforded a view of the floor below. Buffy sighed.

"This is so weird," she said quietly.

"No kidding," Spike said. "Being back in a place that doesn't exist anymore. It's gotta be strange for you, seeing yourself like that."

"Strange doesn't even begin to describe it," she said, leaning over the balcony. Spike hesitated slightly before moving to stand next to her. As much as he tried to deny it, he was still drawn to her, as if they were opposite poles of a magnet.

"You could have looked around the place a bit," he said. "Earlier today. Get Sunnydale in your system one last time before heading back."

Buffy shook her head. "I couldn't let myself," she said softly. "Besides it being too dangerous, I didn't want to see..." She broke off. "There are people here I've said goodbye to once already. It would be too hard."

"You were afraid of seeing your mum?" he asked quietly. When Buffy nodded, he rested his hand gently on the small of her back, warmed through when she didn't pull away from him. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, his hand splayed on her back and rubbing small circles where the bottom of her shirt rode up. She shivered occasionally, but gave no other sign that she either approved or disapproved of his actions. As awkward and difficult as their conversations so far had been, their current silence was extremely comfortable, and he found himself leaning more closely into her.

He was so distracted by her presence that he forgot to watch the floor, and he only took notice again when he heard Buffy chuckle next to him. The band had returned, and it looked like Hal had dragged a reluctant Willow onto the dance floor. His dancing ability seemed to be as bad as his fashion sense, and Spike smirked at the pained look on Willow's face. Buffy and Xander were dancing next to them, looking amused, although Spike caught her throwing an occasional worried glance upward at the balcony. Spike watched them for a while, his hand resting forgotten on Buffy's back, his thumb rubbing slowly over her skin. Buffy shivered again, and when he glanced over at her, he saw that she was sporting a light blush.

"Do you remember the last time we were up here?" she asked in a low voice. He froze for a moment, then resumed moving his hand slowly over her back.

"Never forgot it," he said, his voice slightly husky. He was amazed that she had brought it up, and he was equal parts aroused and ashamed when he thought back to the ways he had taken her up here, and the things he had said to her. "Buffy..." he began, but she interrupted him.

"That girl down there still has all that ahead of her," she murmured, and Spike followed her gaze to see the younger Buffy dancing with Xander and laughing at something he had said. "Mom and Dawn, the Mayor, Glory...you. I wonder what she would say if I told her? I don't think I would have believed it."

Spike removed his hand from Buffy's back, clenching his fist subconsciously. "Can't say as I'd blame you," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "Warning her about all of the little nasties ahead. Self-preservation, isn't it?"

She shook her head, still looking at the figure of herself dancing out on the floor. "I wouldn't," she said slowly. "Even if I could get away with it, I wouldn't. All of that? It's a part of who I am. I don't know who I would have become without it. All of it." She looked up at Spike, and he was struck silent by the clarity in her eyes. "Even the bad parts," she said softly. "Because I've learned that sometimes good things can come out of badness."

"Is that right?" he breathed, and she nodded.

"You did," she said simply.

He froze for a moment, and felt his face cracking in a wide grin. The pleasure he felt at her statement loosened his tight limbs and caused a wave of arousal to uncoil in his belly, and the sparkle in her eyes had his hand returning confidently to its place on her back.

"Well then," he said with a smirk, nodding at the figures down below. "I guess she has a lot to look forward to, doesn't she?" Buffy rolled her eyes, a small smile tickling the corners of her mouth, and he leaned down next to her. "What do you figure the mighty Slayer would say if she knew all the dirty little things she'll get up to when she grows up?" he said seductively.

"Oh, I'm sure she'd stake you. Evil, disgusting vampire," Buffy said primly, but it was obvious she was trying not to laugh.

"Don't be so sure, Slayer," he whispered in her ear. "Might be more interested than you give yourself credit for. Too bad it's strictly hands-off this time around -- might have been fun to find out. Could invite her up here, let her have a taste," he teased. She snorted in disgust, but he could hear her heart beating faster and smell the subtle scent of her arousal. "Ooh," he crooned, "looks like she likes it."

"Shut up Spike," she said weakly, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"Or maybe I can just watch the two of you," he said thoughtfully, stepping aside quickly to avoid her elbow.

"Spike!" she hissed. "That's sick!" She shook her head in disgust. "Oh my God," she muttered. "You are such a guy."

"Well, yeah," he scoffed. "Two lovely girls, Slayers no less?"

She screwed up her face. "I'm not...you know...that way."

"What way?" he asked innocently. "Why, Slayer, are you saying you've never touched yourself? That's what it amounts to, doesn't it?"

She gasped in outrage, but her eyes had dilated and he could still smell her arousal. "That is so not the same thing, and you know it. What about you, huh?" she challenged. "What if I wanted to go find the other you and make a nice Spike sandwich?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Good-looking bloke like me? No problem." She gaped at him, her bluff called.

"I always thought you were in love with yourself," she muttered. "Now I have proof."

His arousal had been simmering throughout their banter, and before he could stop himself, he found himself lunging forward, grabbing Buffy by the upper arms and slamming his lips onto hers. She froze, and he immediately pulled back.

"Sorry, sorry," he stammered, running his hands over his face. "I didn't mean..."

His words were cut off when she pulled his wrists down, latching on to his mouth with a sigh. He kissed her back, gently and thoroughly. The only places where they were touching were their lips and where her fingers circled around his wrists. She finally released him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and continued kissing her.

She was giving off small moans and grunts as they kissed, and the sound was driving him crazy. He found it impossible to keep his hands still, running them over her back and ass, grabbing the back of her neck, and tickling the sides of her waist while she squirmed. Her fingers tightened on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him tightly against her. She was warm and soft, and she tasted exactly as he remembered. It almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Oh my God."

He spent a moment wondering how Buffy could possibly be talking to him when he was kissing her so hard, but he finally opened his eyes to see the younger Buffy standing five feet away, staring at the two of them with a look that was equal amounts fascination and repulsion.

"Hal's ready to go," she said flatly. "And as soon as this is all over, I'm going to go and wash my eyeballs with bleach." Turning around, she ran lightly back down the stairs. Spike released Buffy, running his hands through his hair and feeling, despite his earlier teasing, slightly ashamed. Buffy smoothed her shirt and hair, her face bright red. She turned to follow her younger self down the stairs, but Spike caught her arm before she could leave. He knew he shouldn't ask, he didn't want to go there again, but he couldn't stop himself.

"What does this mean?" he asked, trying to keep any note of pathetic insecurity out of his voice. She hesitated.

"I don't know," she finally said. "But it means something." Reaching up, she dropped a light kiss on the corner of his mouth, then turned and ran downstairs, leaving him to follow.

"So...me and Spike?"

They'd been walking through the long passageway for about ten minutes in total silence. Spike pricked up his ears at the muttered question. Even though she had spoken in a low voice, he knew it was the younger Buffy.

"Yeah, about that...you probably shouldn't have seen that."

A bitter laugh. "See, and this is where I suddenly don't believe all of this time travel crap. Because there is no way I would ever be with him," she spat out, her voice shaking. Spike wheeled around.

"Well, if it's any consolation, princess, I hate you too. At least, the Spike from this time does." His Buffy was glaring at him. "What? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Okay. Could you please go back to not helping? Because that was working out just fine," she said pointedly. With an aggrieved sigh, he turned back around and followed Hal, pretending not to listen to the two girls behind him.

"Look, about me and Spike?" his Buffy was saying. "It's...complicated." And there was his favorite word. Spike bit his tongue to keep from interrupting them again.

"So, what, Spike's really some nice fluffy puppy who's only pretending to kill and eat people? Let me guess: he's just misunderstood?" the other Buffy asked sarcastically. Spike snorted, and he could almost feel his Buffy's eyes burning a hole in his back.

"Not exactly," his Buffy said ruefully. "But he's changed."

"So I've heard. Apparently, he has a soul now."

Spike was starting to get awfully sick of that phrase.

"You know," he muttered to no one in particular, "there should be a secret handshake, or a membership card, or something like that. Maybe a great glowy mark on my forehead that lets people know I'm in the club. Because I could really do with a little less of the attitude." The Buffys ignored him, and they continued on in silence for a few more minutes.

"So," the younger Buffy said suddenly with false cheer. "Looks like I make it through high school after all, huh?"

"Well, either that, or I'm a very, very old senior," his Buffy said dryly.

"Is there any chance that Principal Snyder gets eaten by some random vamp? Because that really, really would not suck." Spike heard one of the Buffys giggle, and then the other join in. It was at once one of the strangest and most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard.

"Not so much," the older Buffy admitted. "Sorry."

There was a pause, and then the younger Buffy asked softly, "I'm going to have to kill him, aren't I?"

"Snyder?"

Another pause. "Angel." She gave a bitter laugh. "Don't try to tell me he's not dead. I know he is."

"I..." his Buffy began helplessly, then trailed off. "I can't tell you," she said firmly. "But, what if I told you..."

"He's dead," Spike bit out, spinning around to stare at the two faces looking up at him. "And when the time is right, you'll do what you have to do." The younger Buffy had gone pale, and his Buffy gave him a furious look before grabbing his arm and dragging back down the passageway.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed. "You can't tell her that!"

"And what were you going to say?" he challenged. "That he somehow makes out all right? Back from the dead, and all souled up? Slayer, you can't forget who you're dealing with here. You give that girl the least inkling that she should spare Angelus, and that's a weakness that'll be used against her." He grabbed her arms tightly. "She's dealing with monsters," he said quietly. "Him and me both. She can't pity us, not for an instant. Not if she wants to survive."

"I didn't spare him," she whispered fiercely. Spike didn't think she was aware that her lower lip was trembling slightly. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I did it. She'll do it."

"I'm not doubting you," he said earnestly. "But what would have happened if you'd gone into that last fight with Angelus knowing that he would get his soul back? Can you honestly tell me there isn't a part of you that would have held back, just a little? Because that can be all it takes."

Buffy lowered her head. "I've thought about it," she admitted. "And honestly? I don't know." She gave a short laugh. "You know what's funny? When I found out I'd be coming back here, I prepared myself for seeing Angelus again. But I didn't realize that the weirdest thing of all would be knowing that the other you is out there right now, hating me."

"Yeah," Spike said firmly, eyes fixed on hers. "That other me wants you dead, and so does Angelus. You can't forget that, and you can't let that other Buffy think any differently." He pulled back, leaning wearily against the opposite wall of the passageway. "Funny, I never thought I'd be in this position, trying to convince you that I'm nothing but a monster."

"I know what you were," Buffy said softly, stepping forward and taking his hand. "And that's not who you are now. Not anymore." Squeezing his hand briefly, she released him and trotted down the passage in the direction that Hal and the younger Buffy had disappeared. Shaking his head, he followed after her, amazed as always by how she could manage to say so much to him in so few words. He jogged after her, catching up with her right before they reached Hal and the other Buffy.

"Do these bloody tunnels never end?" he muttered. "Hal!" he called. "We didn't ask for the extended tour."

"We're almost there," Hal said without turning around.

"If you can jump around in different dimensions, why can't you just take us right to it?" Buffy complained. Hal shrugged carelessly.

"Don't ask me, I didn't build the place. The Thoren have a thing for mazes, or something like that. I never quite got them, but...well, their money's as good as any demon's, so I can't complain."

"What's this weapon do, anyway?" the young Buffy asked.

"We need to stop an apocalypse," her older counterpart replied. "See, when two Thoren get together...well, let's just say their version of doing the nasty involves worlds collapsing. Not exactly a good thing."

"So this is the only thing that will kill them?"

"Kill them?" Hal burst out, turning on them. "Are you crazy? You think my employers would leave something here that can kill them? That may be how your species likes to...enjoy itself, but I hope you don't mind if I think that's a little barbaric."

"Okay," the older Buffy said slowly. "So, what does this weapon do? Stop them from hooking up, or something?" Hal looked at her incredulously.

"Boy, you're not much fun, are you?" He blew out a breath in disgust. "Don't any of you have the slightest idea of what you're looking for?" He groaned at their slightly sheepish looks. "Well, it looks like I'll have to get them to talk to their publicists. Look, all this does is activate a protective barrier at the right place and time in order to prevent any residual unpleasantness from the mating."

There was a long pause before the younger Buffy spoke. "Are you trying to tell me this is some kind of...mystical condom?" she asked blankly.

"Well, I guess that's a good a term as any," Hal said with a shrug, then gestured forward. "Right this way."

Turning a corner, they entered another chamber, even larger than the first. In the middle was a flat stone table, almost like an altar. The air above it seemed to be in constant shimmering motion, reminding Spike of the portal through which they'd first entered. Apart from this, the room was empty. Hal walked up to the table, waved his hand over it, and plucked a piece of paper out of thin air.

"This is part of the chant you're going to need," he said. Reaching into the glowing region of air above the table, he seemed to root around for a while before withdrawing his closed hand. Opening his fingers, he let dangle...oh God.

"The amulet will be useless without the right words," Hal said. The object in question, a large green stone hanging from a thin silver chain, glinted in the reflected firelight. Spike backed up and shook his head.

"Why does it have to be an amulet," he moaned.

"What'll this do, exactly?" Buffy asked.

"Precisely what I said," Hal answered. "Create a mystical barrier that will keep all of the different realities safely in the right place. No fuss, no muss, and no danger to the user. On top of that, it's rather attractive, if I do say so myself."

"Why do you need us to take care of it?" Spike asked. "Why can't the Thoren do this themselves whenever they feel like getting a little happy?"

"They're incredibly forgetful," Hal said with a sympathetic smile. "They can barely be troubled to keep track of each other, let alone a little thing like this. That's why they hired me. I keep things for them. If it was up to them, they'd keep losing it, and it would never be there when it was needed. The problem is, even when it's not lost they tend to forget it's there -- they felt kind of bad the last time they messed up your dimension. So, they left it here so that any warrior would be able to find it if needed."

"Are you sure about that?" the older Buffy asked. "Because it took weeks of looking through old prophecies to figure out what we needed to do."

"Huh," Hal said, his brow furrowing. "Looks like that's another thing they'll need to bring up with their PR people. Oh well," he shrugged. "I'm just here to keep track of things."

"So, that's it?" Spike asked. "You just give us this and we're on our way?"

"Well, not quite," Hal said. Behind him, a door appeared in the far wall of the cavern. Three large, troll-like demons entered through it, swinging long clubs and grunting loudly. "You see, the Thoren specified that only warriors be allowed to claim the amulet." With a flash, Hal disappeared, leaving the three of them alone with the demons.

There was no time to make a plan. The closest of the demons lumbered heavily toward him, roaring as it came closer. Spike ducked under a swinging arm and jumped onto its back. Its skin was just slimy enough that he had a hard time getting a grip, and with a ferocious shake, the monster launched him into the air and sent him sprawling on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the two Buffys being slowly backed into separate corners of the room by the two other massive demons, dealing out occasional kicks and punches as they circled the monsters warily. A kick to the gut distracted him, and he threw himself back at his demon with a snarl. It was only then that he realized, to his shock, that the knife he had been carrying at the Bronze had completely disappeared.

It was nearly impossible to get purchase on the thing's slippery hide, and every time Spike grabbed it, it managed to slither out from under him. In complete frustration, he took to kicking at its knees. When it fell to the ground with a howl, he kicked it in the head a few times until it swatted him away.

"Is there some demon law against personal hygiene?" he heard one of the Buffys gasp. "Because the slime? Not the way to win friends and influence people."

Spike risked a glance and saw that the younger Buffy had planted herself on top of one of the tall rocks at the edge of the cavern, kicking at the demon that kept swiping at her with its claws. In the other corner, Spike saw his Buffy fighting silently and fluidly with an intent scowl on her face, deadly and beautiful as ever. And even in the midst of his own fight, he felt a rush of pity for the young girl she used to be, who never failed to mock the monsters even as she fought them. The woman she had become was powerful beyond measure, her vibrant spark expanded into a steady glow, but that girl was gone forever.

"Spike!"

The warning came too late. He felt his demon grab him by the ankle and toss him in the air as if he weighed no more than a piece of paper. He landed heavily about ten feet away, rolling to his feet with a groan.

"Oh, balls," he ground out, ducking back under the demon's reach and sprinting for the wall. Another quick glance back told him that the Buffys were managing to hold their own, but neither of them had managed to incapacitate her own demon in the slightest. As his demon swung back around and lumbered toward him, Spike saw a green glint from the back of the neck of the monster that his Buffy was fighting. Its glow reminded him of the amulet Hal had retrieved.

"Buffy!" he called hoarsely. "Back of the neck!"

His Buffy shot a glance at him, then squinted at the demon that was moving towards him.

"I see it," she said grimly, reaching down and catching up a sharp rock from the floor of the cavern. Copying her actions, Spike hefted his own rock, catching Buffy's eye and nodding before throwing the stone with all his might.

Buffy's rock left her hand at the same time that his did, the two passing each other in midair. Spike watched in grim satisfaction as his stone hit Buffy's demon squarely in the back of the neck. The bright green spot exploded in a burst of light, and the demon howled and scrabbled at its neck, twisting its arms to try to reach the spot where it had been hit. It sank to the floor with a moan, twitching faintly before collapsing in a heap. His own demon was similarly incapacitated by Buffy's rock, and Spike didn't even try to resist the urge to kick it in the face as it lay on the ground.

"That's right," he gloated. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Giving it one final kick, he ran over to where the last of the demons had the younger Buffy cornered. She was keeping it at bay with one of the torches from the wall, and the demon's flesh was seared and blackened in spots. He was reaching for another rock when one flew past its ear, embedding itself in the neck of the monster. The older Buffy ran up next to him, and they watched as the last of the creatures crumpled to the ground and lay still.

The sound of their mingled panting was loud in the sudden stillness of the cavern. The younger Buffy looked particularly shaken, her face pale and her free hand clutching her side. Spike's nostrils flared at the scent of human blood. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he pulled Buffy's hand away from her side and winced at the gush of blood. He could see three long gashes near her ribs where the demon had caught her with its claws.

"It's fine," she said shakily. Spike ignored her, shrugging off his coat and removing his overshirt. Wadding it into a ball, he pressed it gently over Buffy's wound and held it there for a minute. She glanced up at him with a look of surprised gratitude mixed with the faintest hint of something heavy and dark. He felt something uncoil in his belly, the subconscious, hidden part of him that still longed to dance with this Slayer even though it would probably lead to his death. He shuddered as his Buffy reached out from behind him, pressing her warm hand on top of his. He couldn't look away from the younger Buffy in front of him. He blinked and pulled away only when he heard the sound of applause coming from the other side of the cavern. Hal had returned.

"Not too bad," he said approvingly, looking over the three dead demons dispassionately. "Looks like you did a pretty good job." He blanched at the furious look Spike was giving him. "Hey, don't blame me. I just work here." Holding up the amulet and shaking it gently, he raised his eyebrows at them. "Do you want it or not?"

Spike exchanged a glance with Buffy before stalking over and grabbing it out of Hal's hands.

"Don't forget the incantation," Hal said, flinching slightly as Spike wheeled around and snatched the folded paper away from him. "Do whatever you want with it, whenever you want," he said cryptically. "It's all yours. Now, if you don't mind, I'm running late. Not that it wasn't fun chatting with you nice folks, of course." He pointed at the far wall, and Spike turned his head to see a portal opening up, the air around the edges flickering and shimmering. "You don't mind if you see yourselves out?" By the time Spike had turned back around, Hal was gone again.

"Well," Spike said. "That was...anticlimactic."

"Fine by me," Buffy said fervently. "Let's just get out of here." Supporting the younger Buffy on either side, they stepped up to the portal, paused for a deep breath, and walked through the gateway together.

 

Giles was waiting on the other side, and he gasped at the younger Buffy's appearance as soon as they stepped back into the library.

"My God," he breathed, taking in her shredded, blood-stained shirt. "What happened?" he asked harshly, examining his Slayer with a gentle touch.

"Demons," Spike said succinctly. "Big and slimy, sharp claws and all."

"It's okay," Buffy said, wincing as Giles prodded at her injury. "Except for the ow factor of you poking at it like that."

"I'm sorry," Giles muttered. "But you should probably have this looked at. It could require stitches."

"A world of no," she said firmly. "No hospitals. And mom would totally freak out. Look, it's already starting to feel better. Just...wrap it up or something, okay?"

Giles nodded, fixing Spike with a glare before heading back into his office and reappearing with a first-aid kit. Buffy cringed when the antiseptic spray was applied.

"How could you be so thoughtless?" Giles ground out, not looking away from Buffy's injury. "At the very least, I should think you would have consideration for your own life." He glanced up at the older Buffy with a fierce look, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Huh?" she asked. "I mean, we were all in danger. It's not like..." She trailed off and swallowed. "Oh," she said. "She hurts, I hurt."

"Except that you don't," Spike said slowly. He looked up to find Buffy staring at him in confusion. "You said it yourself, Slayer. Why don't you remember any of this happening? Why don't you remember Hal, or meeting your older self when you were back in school?"

Buffy shrugged. "I kind of figured there was some kind of memory spell we did, something that would keep us from changing the past too much. Maybe something tied to that amulet?"

"Amulet?" Giles asked, but Spike ignored him.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. "Your mind can play tricks on you, but your body doesn't lie." Pointing over at the younger Buffy, he gestured at the bandage Giles was winding around her stiff torso. "That's gonna leave a mark," he said, then paused at the reproachful look the younger girl was giving him. "And I'm sure it'll be quite a lovely little scar," he said awkwardly. "Barely noticeable." He turned back to his Buffy. "But you don't have one. If you did, I'd bloody well know about it, and you know I would." He gave her a heated look, then looked over to see that the younger Buffy had turned slightly pink, and that Giles was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I beg you not to complete that thought," he said faintly. Finished with his job, he set aside the first-aid supplies and sat back on his heels thoughtfully. "This does lead to some fascinating conundrums," he said, his anger seemingly forgotten in the face of an intellectual puzzle. "It has been speculated by some quantum theorists that reality itself is a series of probabilities -- and that when those possibilities are made actual, reality creates itself." Giles looked at the confused faces around him. "To put it succinctly, each time there is a choice between two or more possible courses of action, a separate reality is created for each set of circumstances. A separate universe, if you will."

"So...like in Back to the Future, part two?" the younger Buffy asked with a smirk, and Giles groaned.

"Honestly, your taste in cinema is appalling." He stood up hurriedly, digging behind the counter and retrieving a pile of books. "But this could be a possible solution to a problem that has baffled theorists for years. In addition, it would solve one of the knottiest problems of time travel: the paradox of being unable to change the past. For instance, Spike could not have done anything in this time which would have contributed to the death of his past self."

"Because then I wouldn't have been around to go back in the past and kill myself," Spike answered, then looked at the silent faces around him. His Buffy in particular seemed like she was trying not to laugh. "What?" he asked defensively. "Maybe I've done a bit of study in my time." The curiosity around him had turned to complete skepticism. "All right, so maybe I've seen a movie or two myself," he admitted sullenly. He felt a surge of affection when his Buffy leaned over and poked him gently in the side with a small grin. He smiled back at her, grabbing her finger and squeezing it before releasing her.

"You are basically correct," Giles admitted. If he had seen the friendly gesture between them, he was clearly pretending it had never happened. "The best possible solution to this paradox is that, by changing the events of this timeline, you have effectively created an alternate universe, one that has deviated from your own from the moment you appeared in this time. It would explain why Buffy has no memory of these events, and no physical scars. You are in a different reality from the one you belong in."

There was complete silence for a minute, each of them seemingly oppressed by the weight of his or her own thoughts. The notion of alternate realities and separate universes seemed too big somehow, too grand and imposing for their brief adventure. Spike gave a slight shiver at the thought of different worlds other than his own being affected by his own actions, and then shut down that train of thought before it could go any further. It was no use worrying about things he couldn't control. Time to focus on his job: get back to his own time, amulet intact, and take care of business there. Speaking of which...he pulled out the watch, and saw that only about an hour remained on the timer.

"Well," he murmured, swallowing around the lump in his throat and forcing a nonchalant tone. "As much as I hate to interrupt the philosophy lecture, soon it'll be time for me to head back." He couldn't look at his Buffy, couldn't think about her, not in present company. He was afraid that whatever came out of his mouth would be best saved for a private moment.

"Yeah," the younger Buffy said, shaking herself out of the spell they had all fallen under. "I should probably get out of here myself, before mom really kills me. I think I have a clean shirt in my locker I can wear. Ride?" she asked with a glance at Giles, and he nodded. She stood up stiffly and walked over to her older counterpart. "So...are you heading back too?"

His Buffy nodded. "Sooner or later," she said softly. "It was...well, it was really, really weird seeing you." They gave identical grins, and the older Buffy's face softened. "Be careful," she said quietly. "Whatever's coming, you can handle it. You're strong."

"Slayer," Spike said, and the younger Buffy turned to him. "Don't trust me," he said quietly. "You will, one day," -- and oh, how precious that thought was, and the feeling of awe in being able to say it was overwhelming -- "but it's not the time for that yet." Buffy looked him in the eyes for a moment, then nodded decisively.

"Thanks," she said softly, turning and making for the library door.

"Except if I come to you in a little while with a plan," Spike interjected hurriedly. "You'll know it when it happens. I'll help you out with a spot of trouble with the police. You can trust me on that one." Buffy looked back and forth between him and her older counterpart in confusion.

"Yeah," his Buffy said ruefully, then grinned. "You'd better go with him on that one. Oh, and there's the thing with the chip. I know he'll be a major pain in the ass, but don't stake him on that one either."

"Hey!"

"I...I don't want to know," the younger girl said firmly. "Whatever you're talking about, I don't want to know." She raised her eyebrows at Spike. "So, no stakeage, but I shouldn't exactly turn my back on you either?" She shook her head. "All I want at this point is a long, long sleep, so I can forget all of this happened."

With a last look at them, she disappeared through the library doors. Giles hesitated before following her.

"Will you still be here when I get back?" he asked the older Buffy. "I'd like to see you off, if I may." She nodded, and he smiled and ducked through the doors. Buffy and Spike were left alone together, each of them staring at the floor.

The library door swung shut behind Giles with a soft thump. Buffy was staring at the floor of the library as if the secrets of the universe were etched on it. For one of the only times in his existence, Spike wasn't sure that he had anything to say. So, Buffy. Nice seeing you around the place. What say we meet up for a spot of tea when we're back safe in our own dimension?

He groaned internally. Who was he kidding? They'd say goodbye, maybe share a polite hug or a chaste kiss. They'd make empty promises to keep in touch with each other. He'd go back to L.A., she'd go back to Rome, or London, or wherever she was living these days, and that would be the end of it. The thought was too depressing to contemplate. He'd thought he'd gotten safely over her. He'd stopped picking at the memories as if they were an open wound, and he'd thought that they'd finally begun to heal over. And yet here he was, and in a day or two she'd threatened to unravel all of the pieces he'd carefully put together.

The worst of it was that he didn't know what he really wanted from her. Friendship? A relationship? What if he wanted more? What if -- and it seemed like a heresy to even consider it -- what if she wanted more, and he couldn't give it to her? The thought wasn't as unbelievable as it might have been several years ago. He suddenly realized that, Harmony aside (and she barely counted), he didn't have much experience with being an ex in a friendly capacity. And oh God, did this mean he would end up like Angel in her eyes? The thought made him shudder. If they were going to move on, he wanted to do it half a world away from her, at least until he had a little more time under his belt.

Stupid humans and their backwards notions of relationships. No self-respecting vampire would be caught dead trying to be "friends" with an ex. If you couldn't win your girl back with a little torture, you could always dust her. Or yourself, or the both of you, depending on how maudlin you were. You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. The words were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd heard them before. He had a vague recollection that he'd been drunk when he'd heard them. No matter, whoever said that was a right smart bloke. Must have been thinking specifically of him and Buffy.

Frustrated with the continued silence, Spike swung himself up to sit cross-legged on the wide library table. He pulled the amulet out of his back pocket and took a close look at it. There was nothing special about it that he could see, but he knew very well that that was no guarantee of effectiveness. He felt in his pocket for the instruction sheet he'd grabbed from Hal as well, and upon opening it he rolled his eyes. He didn't know what he'd been expecting -- some ancient scroll, perhaps, written in Latin, Greek, or one of the demonic tongues -- but the title at the top was in block Roman characters:

 

THE END