I found a book from years ago with some old fanfiction (which, by the way I'm not editing as I type- I cannot be bothered) so I figured I'd post it. This is the second story. Takes place as the title says...

Spike sat for hours, just looking. He didn't even notice the sun coming up. He just sat, looking at his reflection. His reflection. He was still adjusting to the fact that he had a reflection. He was looking into the face of a twenty-something, whose life was just beginning, when in truth- he had been killed a total of three times. He counted them out, just to be sure; one, he was killed and sired by Drusilla; two, he had saved the world from being swallowed by the Sunnydale Hellmouth; three, fighting alongside Angel, Gunn and Illyria.

Damn. What had happened to them? And how had he ended up a human, alive, after the apocalypse? Maybe he was he only one alive! No. He was going crazy. He must be dreaming- Angel must be saving the world this very moment, and he had been knocked out rather than...how had he died?

Well, he figured, even if he was just having a dream; he would make the most of it. He was just taking a walk. That didn't mean that he really believed he was human- he was not living off false hope- he was just taking a walk.

He wandered through the landscape, well... the park. He stopped suddenly, he ran his fingers through his hair, it was much longer than he remembered. He looked at his reflection in a puddle, it felt good having one. He suddenly realised he didn't have a top on.

"Please, oh please say I'm wearing trousers!"

"Don't worry, Spike, you're covered." He turned to see-

"Angel?"

"You too, huh?"

"But I thought that-"

"Only one of us would ever get to be human ever again? Yeah, me too... that is weird..." So, angel was alive, Spike was alive- they knew Wesley had taken his last curtain call.

"What happened? At the Apocalypse?" Spike had to ask.

"Damned if I know. The last thing I remember is a great big club taking a swing at my head." Spike combed through his memories. Gunn- Gunn had fallen, surrounded by demons; stabbing and slicing at his lifeless body.

"Oh god, Gunn- he was-"

"Hacked to pieces? Yeah, I'm beginning to remember stuff now." What seemed like visions suddenly came into Spike's head; Angel fighting, Gunn screaming, Lorne... he didn't see Lorne.

"Lorne?"

"He wasn't there, he might be..."

When they arrived at Lorne's bar they approached the stage discretely. He had just finished a show.

"Hello, Lorne."

"Miss us?"

"Listen, buddy, I don't-" Lorne froze as he saw the two of them standing there. "Angel? Spike? That really you?"

"You'd better believe it." angel replied, he smiled at Lorne. "We were wondering if you could read us- and tell us what happened at the apocalypse." Lorne's face fell.

"Well, gee. I'd love to read you guys, Angel, but explaining what happened at the apocalypse might be quite difficult- I wasn't there for one, and it was over 2 years ag-"

"Hold on." Spike cut in, "Two bloody years?! Two?! Damnit."

"Spike?"

"Well, get the reading over and done with, then." Angel took a deep breath- "Wait a tic- who say's you get to go first?"

"I always go first."

"Well, maybe you need to let someone else go first for once."

"But..." Angel continued in a little voice, "I always go first..."

"Are you listening then or what?"

"Oh, yes. Go ahead, sweetie."

"Hey, don't call me-"

"Get on with it." So spike sang, he had a sweet singing voice, and Angel didn't like it.

"Well, Spike- you have a great, shiny future ahead of you- don't give up when the going gets tough." Spike grinned, he hoped to steer clear of demons and all that stuff. Angel opened his mouth to sing when spike let out a shout and fell to the floor. He breathed heavily, blinking continuously and held tightly to his head- as if he had a killer migraine.

"Spike?" Angel grabbed Spike's wrist. Spike was obviously shocked, and he stared into Angel's eyes, terrified. "Spike, what is it?"

"Andrew... is dead- and..."

"And? And what?"

"The slayers.. they're..." he took a breath. "Buffy's in trouble."

I was 14 when i wrote this... and pretty... er... I thought I was far better than i was.