Okay, so this is a little tale about Spike, if he had actually lived after the end of Buffy, cause he might have possibly been my favorite character. I know, of course, that he did not, but that is the greatness of fanfic! Anything you wish to have happened, you can make happen! Enjoy to all my fellow Spike fans. Go William the Bloody!

He threw the final piece of concrete off of himself before he was able to see the sky. It was nighttime, thank God, so he was able to keep pushing his way through. There was no way of him telling the time under there, but it had easily taken about a week for him to climb out of all of the rubble. When he was able to take his first, real, fresh breath, he deeply inhaled. He did not need to breath, of course, but the ability to do so lifted his spirits immensely. It took him a while longer to climb all the way out, but once he did tears of joy were streaming down his face, and a massive bellow of joy streamed from his throat. Now, all he needed to do was find Buffy.

Just as he was about to take off, he noticed a bit of sunrise in the east. He cursed, buried himself under the rubble again, and decided that he would have to wait until the next evening until he could venture off.

Buffy placed down her cards with a victorious look in her eyes. Never before had she so easily been dealt, not only an ace, oh no, but also a jack. So, well, she supposed that she won the extremely high bet on this hand.

"That is right," she said reaching for all of her winnings. "I guess I get hugs from all of you losers!" she said wrapping her arms around Willow and laughing.

Willow hugged her, but cast a tong stick out at Zander. He lifted one eyes brow and nodded in frustration. He had twenty. He was so close!

A knock came at the door, and they all paused in brief fright before remembering that they did not need to fear the First anymore. Buffy got up and answered the door.

"Greetings," greeted Giles. "It seems that more than we were even expecting have answered us, but, unfortunately, they can not all come to us as they are, naturally, of varying ages."

It had been Giles's idea to put an advertisement in the paper asking any girls with sudden, unnatural strength to call a number he had put aside just for this purpose. Buffy was glad, of course, because it meant they had people on their side all over the place and the secrets of vampires and goblins and stuff was no longer a secret, but at the same time she did not know how they could possibly manage all of the girls who were called.

"Well yeah," said Buffy closing the door, "but there are a crap ton of Watchers. Can't we just send those dudes to em?"

"Well, yes, I have been in communication with them obviously, however, there are not enough Watchers to meet every Slayer now in the world. Also," he said with a bit of an ashamed look at Faith in the corner, "not all of the potentials are wondrous, law-abiding citizens."

"Oh shit," Faith said, surprisingly. "Is there, like, anyway to contain them, er, like, as special place to keep em?" she asked.

"Um," said Giles, shaking his head to get the strangeness out of his mind. "Well, if they do not feel like severely injuring anyone, then a regular prison should be fine for many, however, I suppose we shall have to take the rest under our care."

"Well that's a ton of fun," said Buffy. "Are we taking any of them with us?" she asked, shocked that he had not already begun growing their stock.

"Some, yes, but only the ones who are done with school," he said.

"Alright, so we will just chill here until we've got the whole fleet, right?" she said.

"I suppose."

Thankfully, a small town was only a few miles from Sunnydale, so he did not half to walk for hours before he found civilization. He walked directly into an old clothing store, sneakily slipping by the detection. He simply walked in and took clean clothing. He was only going to walk away at that point, but he noticed a computer behind the desk. He walked over to it, and, thanks to Harmony he knew how to get on computers now and look up somebody's credit card use. He typed in Buffy's card number and saw that her last purchase had been on a soda in New York. Well, here he goes.

It had been about a week and a half since the accident, but she was still unbelievably exhausted. All of her friends were hanging out at a bar which was fun at first, but now she was crashed in her pajamas and ready to go to bed when her cell rang. She rolled her eyes and turned to answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Buffy?" a slightly familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, who is this?" she asked sitting up.

"I need to see you."

"Well let me know who you are, and maybe that will be a possibility."

"Please."

"Who are you?"

"I shall be on the East corner of central park. Please come to me tonight."

"I'm not sure if I-" and then the line went dead.

Whoever he was he had hung up on her. He sounded familiar and… British? No, she was not going to allow that thought into her head. It would only tear her up. Unfortunately, she was too curious not to get dressed and find out whom it had been. She was exhausted, true, but she was too curious not to find out who had called her. Once outside, she just called a cab and puzzled through who in the world it could be. When she got there, she threw money and got out. She took a couple of steps past all of the street urchins, and someone against a tree in the shadow said her name. She looked to him, no. He took a step forward into the light. No. It was impossible. It could not be.

"Spike."