A/N: thanks to my wonderful beta, Eowyn315!!! :)



“Here we are.” Buffy threw open the door to her Watcher’s apartment, walking quickly inside, leaving the door open so that Spike could follow. “There’s gotta be something in here that’ll prove…”

Her voice trailed off as she turned to face the blond vampire, and realized with a frown of confusion that he had stopped on the porch.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why aren’t you coming inside?”

A single raised eyebrow was Spike’s response, as he gave the door a look that was almost suspicious before meeting her eyes in a dubious glare. “Can’t, remember?”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she remembered that in this world, Spike would not have Giles’ invitation into his home.

But…in this world…

“If Giles is…is gone…” she wondered aloud, swallowing hard, her voice lowered and trembling over the difficult words. “Then why would you need an invitation?”

“Are you out of your bleedin’ mind, Slayer? Oh, wait…you are…”

“No, I’m not!” Buffy snapped, rolling her eyes in frustration. “Okay, maybe in this universe you’re disinvited from the house still…I get that…but this is Giles’ house! And…”

“Not anymore, it’s not.”

Buffy blinked, startled by those words. She waited a moment, taking in that concept, before shaking her head in confusion. “Then…who…?”

“You live here now, Slayer,” Spike informed her, a bit impatiently, as if he still wasn’t quite sure it needed to be explained. “Have ever since…well, for quite a while now.” He was quiet for a moment, his expression softening with sympathy at the pain in her eyes. “Moved in when…when she…”

“When Giles died,” Buffy finished for him, her voice flat and sorrowful. Suddenly, her eyes widened with alarm as she looked back up at him, panicked. “Spike…my mother! Is she…she isn’t…”

“Alive and well, last I knew,” Spike assured her.

Buffy relaxed slightly, her shoulders sagging with relief, but her worried frown did not fade as she persisted, “And…she lives here, too?”

Spike nodded.

“Why?”

“Well, you didn’t have much choice but to move after your house sort of…well…blew up.”

Buffy took that in with remarkable calm, nodding once. “Willow?”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, Buffy observed quietly, “I guess there’s a lot of stuff…I need to hear about.”

Spike’s wary gaze did not falter as he countered softly, “Still not sure I’m convinced you do need to hear it, love.”

Buffy looked up through solemn emerald eyes shining with the remnants of her tears, her jaw set with determination. “Then I’ll just have to find a way to convince you.”

With a steady, purposeful stride, she moved toward the blond vampire, who immediately tensed, his eyes widening at her approach. Buffy rolled her eyes as she walked past him to the coat rack beside the door and removed his black leather duster from the hook where Giles had irritably hung it, after Spike had cast it down on the sofa.

“Come on, Spike. Have you really gotta read the worst into everything I say?”

Spike stared at her levelly for a moment. “Yeah.”

Buffy sighed. “Fair enough. Explain this.” With that abrupt change of topic, she thrust the duster toward him, her eyebrows raised in a silent question as she waited for his reaction.

Spike frowned, reaching out to cautiously touch the familiar black leather, confusion in his eyes.

“But…how…?”

“If I’m crazy, then how in the world did your duster get into Giles’ apartment? Or, my apartment…or whatever.”

“It’s a trick,” Spike insisted, shaking his head. “It’s some kind of…some kind of…” But his protest trailed off as his fingertips carefully touched the butter-soft leather, and he realized that it was without a doubt his very own duster, not an imitation of some kind. “It’s impossible.” As he spoke, he reached down to touch the leather of the duster he was wearing…utterly identical in every way to the one she had shown him.

“Apparently not.”

Spike nodded absently, his attention still focused on the duster for a long moment. Then, he looked up to meet her eyes again, a bewildered question in his own.

“Now are you willing to believe me?”

Spike considered for a moment, still looking more than a little stunned. “Say that I do,” he finally spoke, his voice soft and cautiously even. “Say I believe that this…all this…” He waved his hand in the air in a vague sort of gesture, still staring down at the coat as she folded it lightly over one arm. “…has only existed for the last five minutes, and inside this house…that’s the only thing that’s really how it’s supposed to be…”

Buffy nodded, half encouraging, half impatient, as she waited for him to go on.

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

The Slayer blinked, confused by his question at first. “Help me stop her? Help me fix it?” she suggested, her tone indicating that the vampire wasn’t really all that bright.

Spike’s harsh bark of laughter was not exactly a confidence-inspiring response.

“What? You *do* have your soul in this reality, don’t you?” Buffy snapped, irritated as much by the fear his reaction stirred in her as by the reaction itself. “You’re still good…right?”

“Two very separate, unrelated questions,” Spike reminded her, his voice heavy and weary as he moved toward her, taking the coat from her and heading to the sofa, where he sank down on the edge of it, apparently quite overwhelmed by the whole situation. “But yeah…and yeah. And how do you know that?”

“See…in the really real reality,” Buffy explained, “you saw this reality.”

Spike just stared at her dubiously.

“Never mind. Just…” Buffy sat down beside him, not quite meeting his eyes as she asked in a hushed, fearful tone, “…maybe you should just tell me…about *this* world…so we can see about getting back the other one.”

Spike said nothing for a few moments, and then began quietly, “What do you want to know?”

“How did this start? How did she…get turned, and all? Just…just start at the beginning.”

Spike’s ironic smile sent a shiver down her spine, as he whispered, “You mean at the end.”

Buffy swallowed hard, fighting a rising feeling of fear in the pit of her stomach. “Angel did it…right?” she persisted, anxious to move him on to the narrative of what had happened.

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Angel did it. Took you lot all by surprise. Made you think he was good for years before he finally outed himself by offin’ her.”

“But…you knew better,” Buffy guessed, her voice softening with pain of events that for her were only days old, even if Spike thought they had happened years ago.

“Yeah.” Spike nodded grimly. “Knew him longer. Knew what he was all about. Just…couldn’t say anything. He made sure of that. Initiated a sire’s claim…”

Buffy frowned, confused. “How…?”

Spike’s averted gaze and shaking head silenced her half-formed question. “There’s some things you needn’t ever know, love…no matter how bad you think you want to. Just know that…I would have warned you, if I could have, but…but I couldn’t. And…eventually…Angelus got tired of hiding. He took…what he’d been wanting for years.”

“Willow.”

A heavy moment passed between them, before Spike cleared his throat and went on quietly.

“Of course…stupid git didn’t know what he was getting himself into. The little witch had been studying for years…learning magic so bloody well that by the time he got a hold of her, she was already a force to be reckoned with…even *before* he turned her. Once he did…he didn’t last a week. She took him out, and…and took over his claim over me…”

“That’s…why you’re working for her. Right?” Buffy winced at the pathetic, almost pleading sound of her own voice, surprised at the desperation she felt to hear that Willow’s role as Spike’s “mistress” was not of his own choice.

Spike looked stung by the question, staring at her for a moment before replying, “Yeah. You know that, love…except…” He frowned, remembering, and shook his head as if to clear it. “This is bloody confusing.”

“Tell me about it.”

Spike smiled in response to her words, though it was not a happy smile; it never touched the depths of pain in his crystal blue eyes.

“I haven’t got much of a choice. Claim basically forces me to do as she says. But…but I try…to do what I can to help you, love. Whenever I can find a way to get around it. See…I’ve gotta do what she tells me…but if she doesn’t think to tell me…you see?”

Buffy nodded, the first traces of a genuine smile creasing the corners of her mouth at Spike’s ingenuity.

“Course,” Spike went on with a shrug, “helps that, for whatever reason, she doesn’t seem to want you dead.”

Buffy blinked, startled. “She doesn’t?”

Spike shook his head, looking up to meet her eyes. “If she did…you would be.”

“Oh.” Buffy swallowed, staring down at the floor for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was choked and trembling. “Why…I mean…why wouldn’t she…?”

“Guess she’s got other plans for you…sooner or later. I’ve asked her.” Spike hesitated, then added flatly, “She hasn’t been very forthcoming so far.”

Buffy’s heart was smitten with compassion for the blond vampire, at the sound of the concern in his voice. It was obvious, though he hadn’t quite said as much, that he had paid a painful price for his attempts to help Buffy in this world – and from what Spike had told her before…she hadn’t exactly been appreciative of his efforts.

“You love me.”

Spike looked up at her sharply, alarmed and distrustful. “Yeah,” he finally admitted in a slow, cautious voice. “You know that.” He frowned. “How do you know that?”

“You did…in my world, too,” Buffy explained. “And…I was too stupid to see it.”

Spike considered that for a moment before informing her, “Here, you saw it.”

Buffy watched him closely for a few moments. She reached out a tentative hand toward his arm, cringing inwardly when he tensed under her touch, but did not quite pull away. Her thumb stroked slowly over the smooth, cool skin of his arm, and she waited in solemn patience until he looked up questioningly to meet her eyes again.

“But I was still stupid.”

Spike’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing speculatively as he studied her expression. “What are you saying, Slayer?” he asked, an anguished plea audible in his voice. “Don’t…don’t play me, love. You’ve…you’ve already…so many times…” His voice broke slightly over the words, and he looked away for a moment before regaining his courage and facing her again.

Buffy felt her eyes well with tears as she shook her head. “I’m not,” she assured him. “I’m not…not sure what I’m doing, Spike. What I think or feel about…all of this. But…but I want you to know that I’m sorry. For hurting you. In…*any* way that I’ve hurt you.”

Spike just stared at her, clearly uncertain whether or not he should accept her words.

“And…and I want to fix this. I want to…make things right again. To stop her, somehow…”

Spike was quiet for a moment, before speaking in a soft, apologetic voice. “You won’t be able to stop her, love. If this is the world she wants…this is the world now, yeah? Don’t you see it, pet? If she’s strong enough to do this…to change *everything*…even in your world…how do you think you’re gonna stop her?”

Buffy’s heart sank with those words, at a loss for an answer. “But…there *has* to be a way…” She thought a moment before asking almost desperately, “Spike…who hasn’t she killed? Who’s still alive here? How many of my friends has she left me?”

Spike’s mouth twisted in a sorrowful grimace. “Buffy…”

“*Tell me*.”

Spike drew in a deep breath, letting it out in resignation. “Your mum,” he assured her with a nod. “Your mum is fine. And…and there’s one other…that’s all…”

“One other?” Buffy frowned.

“Yeah.” Spike nodded as he rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her to rise as well. “Just a lucky break that it so happens to be the one person who could maybe help you find a way to fight her. Come on.” Spike headed toward the door, nodding toward it in a gesture for her to follow him. “Let’s go see a gypsy about a spell.”