Chapter Notes: Anya's Bootstrap Paradox explanation has been taken from an episode of Doctor Who. The scene can be found on YouTube.

And while I'm almost certain that everyone and their grandmother have seen them (or at least have enough pop culture knowledge to know what happens in them), I'm gonna give a mild spoiler warning for the first two Terminator films.

I can see the end as it begins

~ Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

I slam the front door behind me, but I can't take another step inside. Instead, I lean back against the door and close my eyes. Doing all these little, ordinary things is exhausting. Why am I up and ready to go when it comes to slaying, but the normal things make me tired?

At least I don't have to worry about college. All the forms have been filled out, and all my teachers know I'm not gonna be there anymore. Half of them didn't care and signed the forms without saying a word to me. The other half actually looked happy that I was leaving. Jerks.

The only teacher I stayed to talk to was Professor Lillian. He said he was sorry for my loss, but he said it like he meant it.

I told him I might be back next semester, but honestly? The conversation with Spike last night has been repeating in my head, constantly asking if college is really for me. On the one hand, I worked so hard to get in. But on the other hand, what am I gonna get out of it? Debt? The idea of wasting money on an education that might not even take me anywhere useful is a daunting one, now that I have a little sister to provide for.

Why can't there be a major called Slayer 101: How to Kill Vampires and Other Unsavoury Types Who Want to End the World? I would totally ace that. And turn it into a well-paying career.

I finally open my eyes and look at the clock on the wall. Noon.

My future self didn't tell me exactly when I'd be getting the call from Dawn's school. But she also said that after the meeting, I would take Dawn to the Magic Box, indicating that the meeting happens at the end of the school day. Meaning I have around two and a half or three hours until I need to be there.

There are chores to be done, but I don't feel like it. They can wait. I go through the day's plans in my head instead. Attend a meeting with Dawn's principal, go to the Magic Box, take Dawn to Spike's crypt…

Spike. He doesn't know about all this time travel business. And considering his future self will be showing up in eleven hours, he really needs to know.

I can go over there now and tell him. About all that, and about using his crypt as a temporary hiding place later.

The thought of seeing Spike motivates me in a way the idea of doing chores didn't. It totally doesn't mean anything, though. Even when he was evil, I'd still pick seeing Spike over doing chores. Chores are a different kind of evil that creep up on you slowly until suddenly there's a huge pile of laundry and no clean clothes for you to wear.

Ugh, chores.

I haven't even taken another step inside the house and I'm already leaving again. But then lately I've tried to stay away from it whenever I don't need to be there. It hasn't felt like home since Mom died.

The walk over to Spike's crypt is slow-going. I can't help but watch the people I pass on the street; out with their friends, pushing prams, jogging. All blissfully unaware of the things that go bump in the night, and how the little blonde girl they're passing is the only one keeping them all from becoming vampire chow. They have no idea about the big, reality-destroying apocalypse that's just around the corner.

What would they do if they knew? Say goodbye to their loved ones? Live like today is their last?

I don't have time for all that sentimental stuff. If I got caught up in doing things like that, I'd lose my concentration and the world would end. I can't afford to appreciate my life enough to enjoy it. The last time I did that, I unleashed a monster.

Spike's crypt is soon before me, looking so lifeless and empty. And it should look lifeless at least because Spike's, you know, dead. But he's never acted like it. He's always so full of life and enjoys the time he has on this world, and I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of how he can just throw caution to the wind and have fun because he wants to.

He's evil, though. He doesn't have the responsibility of making sure the world is still spinning the next morning. He doesn't care about things like that.

Or maybe he does now? If only because I do. And yeah, he needs to do it for the right reasons like because it's the right thing to do, but it's a start, I guess.

I go to push the door open before remembering what Dawn said last night. I wanna tell myself she's not here and I can come and go as I please, but that just makes me feel like those rude people who think they own the planet. The type of person Cordelia used to be.

Treating Spike like an actual person is hard, which makes me feel even worse because I probably should have been treating him like that a lot sooner.

I hesitate. Sigh. Then knock on the door.

No reply.

Which doesn't surprise me because, duh, vampires sleep in the day. I should probably let myself in, but last night he said he's been sleeping on the couch instead of the bed downstairs, and Spike would totally be one of those guys who sleeps in the nude and the last thing I wanna do is walk in on him and see his… parts.

My face heats up at the thought. Ugh. Why does he have to be so pretty?

Also, knowing Spike, if I walked in on him and saw what he's packing down there, he'd be insufferable about it. Which is the last thing I need right now.

So, I knock again, louder this time.

I hear a thud on the other side of the door, quickly followed by an F bomb. "Who's there?" Oh joy, he sounds grouchy. But to be fair, so do I when someone wakes me before I'm ready to get up.

"It's me," I call out.

"Buffy?"

Huh, less grouchy now, hearing it's me. "Yeah. Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure."

I hope he's not naked, but with how hesitant he's been around me lately, I'm certain he would've warned me if he is. Unless his 'being nice to the Slayer' metre is up and he's gonna turn into a dick again. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time a vampire's turned into a big fat jerk because of me, but it would still sting.

I push the door open and step inside. He's sat in the armchair, in the middle of pulling his black t-shirt down over his head. Not naked then, but half naked. And thank god he's hiding those abbs, because I would never have been able to concentrate with those things on display.

Why do the bad boys always have to be so darn attractive?

As I walk over to the couch, I look over his face. It's still bruised, but it looks better than it did last night. The blood we brought must be helping him. I wince inwardly at the reminder that I almost objected to bringing it to him.

"Mind if I sit?" I ask.

He gestures to the couch. "Be my guest."

I take a seat, but I don't start talking right away. Instead, I stare at my hands like they're the most fascinating things in the world. How can I start explaining everything to him? Will he think I'm crazy like Giles thought I was crazy? What if, after the beating he took from Glory, he's decided there isn't enough in it for him and is gonna leave town as soon as he's all healed up?

I mentally shake myself. This is Spike. I shouldn't care about what he thinks of me, or whether or not he's gonna stick around. Up until a couple of days ago, I hated his guts. So, why can't I say anything to him? Why are the words getting muddled in my head like I'm a sixteen-year-old girl trying to ask a jock out on a date?

God, it was so much easier to talk to him when he was trying to kill me.

"Buffy?"

My head snaps back to him. How long did I space out for?

"Sorry, just collecting my thoughts," I say. "Something big has happened."

"Something bad?" he asks. "Do you need to get out of town with the Bit? I can have my car packed and ready in an hour. Unless you wanna bring your Scoobies with you, then I'll have to find us a bigger ride."

I blink and stare at him, waiting for him to start laughing and declare he's just kidding. But it doesn't come. He's being serious. He was beaten within an inch of his (un)life just a couple of days ago and hasn't even fully healed from it… and he's already offering to help me again. Without me even needing to ask.

Fuck, he really does love me.

"Not bad," I tell him. "Just big. But if something goes wrong then I'll take you up on that car offer. Just me and Dawn, though. Apparently, it's safer if we split up to confuse anyone who tries to chase us down."

"Right. So what's this big something?"

I sigh. "Don't laugh, but… Last night after Dawn and I got back home, I got a phone call… from me. Me in the future."

His brow goes up. "Well, that's a bloody first."

"You're not questioning it?" I ask. "Giles refused to believe time travel was even a possibility when I first told him."

"Then Rupert needs to hand over his Doctor Who fanboy card," says Spike. "With everything that's happened to us, time travel isn't all that unusual. A first, but not unusual. Should be just another Tuesday for you lot."

"Spike, it's Friday."

"You know what I bloody well mean."

I roll my eyes and continue with my story. I tell him everything; about what Giles and Anya told me about time travel, Willow's phone call, and the phone call to the Magic Box. The only time he reacts is when I tell him that he's still around in the future.

"Don't know why everyone's so surprised," he says. "You of all people should know I'm hard to kill."

"Yeah," I say. "And you're like an annoying boomerang. Every time I kick you out of town, you circle around and come right back."

He smirks. "Admit it. You can never get rid of me. Your future self seems to have realised that."

"Can you let me finish?"

"Sorry." Spike waves his arms, gesturing for me to continue.

I finish by telling him the plan my future self provided for me.

"The others are gonna hide in Xander and Anya's apartment," I say, after explaining the purpose of the bot. "And if you don't mind, Dawn and I will hide in the lower level of your crypt."

"Not a problem, Slayer," he says. "Can hide here for as long as you need."

"I actually don't know how long we need to stay hidden," I admit. "Until eleven tonight, maximum. I'll have to talk about it with the others. We need to find a way to stay in contact with one another, or at least discuss a good time to come out of hiding. We don't know how long Glory will go on a rampage for once she figures out her precious Key is actually the Buffy Bot 5000."

"Make sure Red erases any info she has about you lot," says Spike. "I doubt the Hell Bitch is smart enough to figure out electronics, but you never know."

It suddenly occurs to me that I might be sending the information that Glory needs directly to her. "Spike, does the bot know about Dawn?"

"No," he replies. "Mostly 'cause I didn't wanna tell the bloke who made her, in case he got any bright ideas about selling the info to Glory for whatever twisted reason he might come up with. All the bot knows is that she's your sister and that you've gotta protect her."

I sigh with relief. He was thorough with the bot's information, but not to the extent of potentially putting Dawn at risk.

"Anyway," I continue, "if we have to hide for a while, Dawn might have to do her homework here." Trying to convince her of that is definitely not gonna be fun. Homework is for home, she'll probably say. Or she'll use the threat to her life as an excuse to get out of it. She can be such a brat. My life was threatened every day when I was in high school, and did I ever complain? Well, maybe a little, but I got on and did the work anyway because I didn't have a choice.

"Something the matter, pet?"

Of course he knows something's wrong. Why can Spike read me like an open book when Riley, my actual boyfriend, couldn't even tell I'd swapped bodies with someone else?

"I didn't go into detail about the play-by-play of today's events that my future self gave me," I tell him. "I missed out the part where I'll be called into Dawn's school for a meeting with the Principal. Turns out, she's been skipping."

"And you're, what, surprised by this?" he says. "She's a teenage hormone bomb who's struggling to deal with the death of her mother and the fact that she used to be a mystical ball of energy. She's both barely a year old and as old as the bleeding universe itself. You're expecting her not to act out?"

When he puts it like that, it almost makes sense. I know I acted out plenty sometimes when dealing with the stress of slaying on top of school and boy trouble and the drama between my parents. But while I understand her actions, I can't excuse them.

"Spike, if I can't make her go to school, social services will see me as an unfit guardian and take her away," I say.

"Then you bloody well tell her what's going on," he says. "You can't expect her to behave herself when she doesn't even know why she's supposed to."

I look down at my hands. "I know. That's what my future self told me to do. I'm just so used to her being the baby and needing to take care of her. I don't want her to have to worry about life the way I had to at her age, before I was old enough to deal with it properly."

"But you can't suffocate her in bubble wrap and then expect her to make it on her own when you're not around to protect her anymore."

"Future Dawn said that," I say. I guess this kind of advice is something that has to be learnt with age. Spike is old, so it makes sense he knows this stuff, just like our future selves do. Which is totally weird, because he's never had to raise a teenage sister before. Or maybe he did? He might have had a younger sibling when he was alive, for all I know. "I know what I have to do, but it's easier said than done. Especially with a stupid Hell God after her, meaning I have every reason to protect her."

"No one said it'll be easy," says Spike. "But personally, I don't see the point of school. It's just a factory spitting out mindless little automations…"

I glare at him.

"…who go on to be productive members of society, and she should go."

"Trust me, I know first-hand that school sucks," I say. "But she needs to go. If I could, I'd pull her out and home-school her, but Giles has already made it clear he'll never agree to that in a million years."

"I'd offer, but I'd probably corrupt her."

I can't help but snort in amusement. "At least you're honest about it. But if you're up for it, you can help her with her homework. If last night proved anything is that she'll jump off a bridge if you tell her to. She'd definitely do her homework if you're the one helping her."

I expect him to protest at least a little, but instead, he just shrugs. "Can help her with History and English, I suppose. If I let you help her with English, she'll bloody fail."

"Hey! I got very high SAT scores!"

"Then the American school system is doomed, if they passed you with your vocabulary," he says. "Christ, Slayer, I've never heard anyone butcher the English language as much as you."

I cross my arms. "Oh, like you're any better, Mr. Sodding-Barmy-Bint!" I try to imitate his accent – but judging by his reaction, I failed. Spectacularly.

He winces and rubs his forehead like he's been hit with a sudden migraine. "One: At least those are actual words and not the rubbish you and yours come up with. Two: I will pay you everything I own if you never try and copy my accent again."

"Ugh. Now you sound like Giles."

"And I'm starting to see why he refused to home-school the Bit. Teaching you already gave him enough grey hairs."

"You know, maybe I should let you home-school my sister. Then I can sit back with a bag of popcorn and watch as she slowly drives you crazy."

But instead of looking terrified at the thought of having to wrangle a "teenage hormone bomb" he just shrugs. "Be easy, since she likes me. And I'd get to spend more time with you."

I stare at him, not knowing what to say to that. He must know that we don't have a chance, right? I've made my feelings very, very clear on the matter. Only, I did kiss him, after he revealed he never told Glory anything. Does he think that's a preview of things to come?

No, I don't think so. Otherwise, he would've said something before now. And what he just said doesn't imply there'll be a relationship between us, just that we'll be spending time together. But maybe I should make it clear, just in case?

But I really, really don't wanna talk about it again. Also, what if he decides to leave upon realising there's nothing in it for him? Nothing worth staying for? I mean, I know his actions when getting tortured by Glory were selfless; he didn't expect anything from doing that. But then that was in the heat of the moment. What about now, when he has time to think it through?

What if I tell him it'll never happen and then when I stop by later with Dawn, we'll find his crypt empty?

The thought of him being gone is… surprisingly painful. Maybe it's not him specifically, though. I've just lost Mom. I lost Angel, I lost Dad, I lost Riley. I'm constantly facing the fear of losing Dawn. Maybe I just don't wanna lose anyone else right now, even Spike, my mortal enemy.

Or maybe I don't wanna lose this… easiness that's settled between us. We're bantering like we're old friends, I'm not trying to force the pleasantries and I feel like myself. I don't have to make myself girl-y to please some guy, and I don't have to make myself look stronger so my friends don't worry. I can just be… me.

What I wouldn't give to have a relationship like this.

But it can't be with Spike. I don't have to be a genius to know that'll end badly for everyone involved. Even if the ride could, potentially, be worth it in the end. Even if it could be beautiful, and intense, and wild. Even if it could end up being something greater than what Angel and I had.

I'm the Slayer. I have to think about the consequences of every action I make. And I can't unleash another monster.

I don't know what Spike's thinking when he sighs and looks away. "Don't know why our future selves couldn't come sooner. Might've saved me from making a lot of mistakes."

He doesn't need to say what those mistakes are. The bot. Chaining me up. Drusilla.

"They said something about the walls between realities only being thin enough a few days before and after Glory's ritual window," I tell him. "S

o they couldn't have come earlier. I think they wanted to, though."

I know that if I ever get given the chance to travel back and stop Mom from dying, I'll take it.

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "I'd want to save your mum, too. The look on her face when I last saw her… She didn't even look angry. Just disappointed. And that was worse. That was the moment I knew I'd fucked up. Then she was gone before I could even begin to figure out how to make it up to her. She died thinking I was…" He doesn't finish, just looks away in shame.

My heart warms a little, because out of everything he did, that seems to be his biggest regret: disappointing my mom. He really cared about his friendship with her.

"Why were you at my house?" I ask.

"Was returning some of the things I stole," he says. "Not everything, just the first box. Got the fucking stupid idea to get the bot made before I could return the second box. Should've just returned it. I went and bloody proved she had every right to be bloody disappointed in me."

I've already forgiven him for the robot, but if I hadn't then seeing him so filled with regret would melt those angry feelings away. "If it helps, I'm almost pretty sure if Xander had the chance to get one made for him back in high school, he would've done it." I don't specify that it would've been of me, given his crush on me at the time. I just leave it open enough for him to assume the robot would look like some random girl.

"Don't have to try and make me feel better, Buffy," Spike says. "Especially you."

"I'm just trying to stop you from wallowing, because we've got more important things to deal with," I say, getting to my feet. "Now, I need to go back home and wait for Dawn's school to call me. I don't know what time we'll get here."

"Right," he says, nodding. "Let me know if there's a change of plan."

"Will do."

I turn and walk towards the door. I'm halfway there when his voice calls out.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. The Bit may not show it a lot, but she thinks the world of you. You shouldn't try and replace your mum. Just be a big sister."

I stop, then turn my head back to him. His eyes, so blue and so sincere, stare back.

I smile, but don't say anything. Instead, I turn back around and leave, walking out into the daylight where he can't follow.

"What did she say?"

Dawn is sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area outside the Principal's office. I know she hasn't eavesdropped, because the receptionist is at her desk close by, constantly looking up in between typing.

The temptation is there to brush her off; to assure my sister that everything's fine and we were just talking about grown-up things. But our future selves were right, and Spike was right, too. If Dawn doesn't understand why she's supposed to behave, then she won't see a reason to. And everything she's done this year has pretty much proven that when Dawn smells a rat, she'll keep butting her nose in until she figures out what it is. To the point of putting herself in danger.

Either she'll figure it out eventually, or will keep acting out until I'm forced to tell her. And knowing how stubborn I can be, that'll be at the last moment when I'm one strike away from getting her taken away from me.

"Not here," I tell her. "In the car."

She looks surprised that I haven't given her the typical brush-off, and nods. We make our way outside just as the final school bell rings, avoiding the rush of students all trying to get out of the building to start their weekend. They all look so… young, and it's hard for me to remember being one of them. Back then, I acted like I was so mature and that I knew best despite what the adults around me said.

There were times when I had to be, thanks to being the Slayer. Now I see that the other times, trying to act like an adult made me more childish. Uncomfortably, a lot of those times concerned Angel.

We get into the car, but I don't start the engine. I just sit there, staring at the students still leaving the building. This place wasn't built to be a school. I'm not sure what it used to be. But I guess they had to make do with what they could find thanks to the actual high school blowing all the way to Timbuctoo, curtesy of one giant snake mayor and yours truly.

"Buffy?"

I sigh. "I should have told you this morning what was going on. I thought I was protecting you. It's been engrained into me to protect you. But now I know that keeping you in the dark is basically inviting you to do the exact opposite of what I need you to do to keep you safe. I promise from here on out there won't be any secrets between us – but you've gotta make that promise, too. If there are things going on with you, I need to know. You need to talk to me about how you're feeling instead of bottling it all up and acting out at school. OK?"

Dawn stares at me, and I can tell she didn't expect any of that to come pouring out of me. But after a moment of silence, she nods. "I'm sorry about skipping. I just… I couldn't stand people staring at me. Feeling sorry for me. Even Kirstie feels sorry for me, and I don't know how to deal with that. I couldn't be in the classroom."

"I get it," I say. "There are times when I hated being at school, too. But just because I skipped school occasionally doesn't mean you get to do the same."

"What did Principal Stevens tell you?" she asks. "It has to be bad if you're talking like this."

I sigh again. "She said if I can't make you go to school, I won't be found fit to be your legal guardian and they'll take you away. So please, even though you hate it, you need to go to school. You need to just stop acting out and making things worse. Unless you want to get sent to our dad, who's technically never even met you, and who cares more about his secretary than us? Or get shipped off to some foster home three states away and potentially never see me again?"

Maybe I'm being too harsh, saying those last parts, but she needs to understand how serious this is. And I'm just tired of her bratty behaviour; tired of her stupidly throwing herself into danger like she's trying to intentionally spite me. As much as I love her, I can't help but wonder why the monks couldn't have given her the personality of a shy introvert who's sensible and does as she's told. It would've saved me a lot of headaches.

Her wide eyes tell me she's gotten the message, loud and clear. "I didn't know they could do that."

I want to keep going and point out that she doesn't think these things through or consider the consequences of her actions, but I don't wanna overstep and send her running. My hand needs to be gentle but firm.

"Well, now you know," I say. "I don't think you'll be surprised to find out that after all this is over, you're grounded for two weeks."

For a moment, she looks ready to protest, before she figures that it's a reasonable response to her behaviour and deflates. "Fine. And by "all this", do you mean the stuff with Glory? What's going on? Who called you last night?"

"That's the second thing I wanna tell you," I say. "Just keep an open mind and don't say anything until I'm done."

I tell her about our future selves and about the plan for the day. As I talk, I find myself grateful that my sister's future self is alive, because I wouldn't even know how to explain things to her if she was dead in the future. I feel sorry for Willow and Anya, who have to break it to Xander that he won't be alive twenty years from now.

At least, in their version of the future. My future self said if their plans work, everyone will survive. And I have to believe her. I can't stand the thought of living in a world where half of my loved ones are gone.

After I finish the story, I try to read the expression on Dawn's face. She looks both excited by the latest developments but I can also see a bit of fear; fear of how badly things can go if we fail.

"Do you think my future self will have all the answers for my exams?"

I roll my eyes. Of course that's the first question she asks. "The spell only boosted their memories for these next few days, so no. And even if she did, that would be cheating."

"But she's me, and she must have learned this stuff, so it's not technically cheating," says Dawn. "And if she can do my homework for me then I'll still technically be doing it."

"Do you want me to extend the grounding to a month?"

Her mouth snaps shut.

When we walk into the Magic Box, Xander is sitting at the table reading a comic book (an X-Men comic by the look of it) while Anya is stalking a couple of people browsing (but trying to make it look like she's not stalking them). Giles walks past them with a cup of tea in is hand and is the first to see us.

"Buffy, Dawn," he greets. "Willow and Tara are in the back room. They're almost finished."

He doesn't say what it is they're almost finished with, within earshot of the customers, but he doesn't have to.

My Watcher disappears into the storage room and we walk towards the back of the shop. Xander then jumps up from his seat, starts moving like a robot and says with a deep Austrian accent, "Come with me if you want to live."

I'm proud of the way Dawn follows my lead as we both cross our arms and raise our brows at him, unimpressed.

Anya walks over to him before either of us can say anything. "Honey, that film isn't an accurate portrayal of time travel. Stable time loops don't make any sense if you think too hard about them."

Xander sighs, like he's had to sit through Anya's running commentary of these films once already. "Ahn, Terminator and Judgement Day are the greatest action movies of all time. You must never say they're not perfect in every way."

"But they're not," says Anya. "OK, let's put it this way. Who created Skynet?"

"Miles Dyson," her boyfriend replies.

But Anya shakes her head. "No, he found the hand of the T-800 and copied it, rebuilding Skynet from his research. But where did that information originally come from? It's the Bootstrap Paradox. Like say you're a fan of Beethoven and travel back in time to meet him, only to discover that Beethoven doesn't exist. So instead, you copy all of his music and get it published under the name Beethoven, making you Beethoven. But if you were just copying the music instead of creating it, who put the notes and phrases together? Who created Skynet when its so-called creator used what had already been created as a template? And who originally thought to send Kyle Reese back in time when John Connor only sent him back to ensure his creation?"

"No!" Xander shoves his fingers into his ears. "La-la-la-la-la-la! I'm not listening!"

"Anya, stop, please," I say, rubbing my forehead. "You're giving me a headache."

"Me, too," says Dawn. "I think I prefer geometry over this."

"I was just trying to clear up the incorrect information being spread by pop culture," says Anya. "Especially since we are dealing with time travel right now."

Xander realises that Anya's no longer disrespecting his favourite films and pulls his fingers out of his ears. "OK, riddle me this, Anya. If the time travellers come back and change the event that causes them to time travel in the first place, won't that create a universe-breaking paradox? Since they then won't travel back to fix things, meaning the thing won't be fixed and will happen again, which will spur yourself in the future to go back and fix it without realising you already tried-"

"Aagh! Stop it!" I'm tempted to cover my ears, too. "Seriously, my head feels like it's having its own paradox right now, trying to keep up."

"But what Xander's described is the Grandfather Paradox," says Anya. "He makes a good point. What will happen when the future they're trying to prevent gets erased?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out." Xander picks up his comic book. "I've been preparing by reading and watching everything to do with time travel. Days of Future Past is a classic, but it hasn't really answered my questions."

I sigh. "I'm sure our future selves know what they're doing. They made a plan for us and they made a plan to actually change things, so surely they've planned for paradoxes, too."

"Or they're just jumping in blindly and hoping for the best," says Anya. "We tend to do that a lot."

That ignites a little ball of doubt, because she's not wrong. A lot of our plans in the past have been made up on the fly with not a lot of time to consider the consequences or any outcomes that might make things worse. And while most of them have worked out fine, some of them haven't. Case and point, that time we magically bound ourselves together and ended up unleashing the First Slayer, who promptly tried to murder us in our sleep.

What if the plan to stop reality from collapsing ends up collapsing reality anyway?

I guess we'll just have to wait until they get here. Right now, I'm willing to try anything that'll keep Dawn out of Glory's hands.

"Maybe we should just change the subject?" I suggest.

"I concur," says Giles as he reappears again. "I only caught bits and pieces of your conversation, and even that was enough to give me a migraine. I trust everything went well at the university, Buffy?"

I nod. "Yep. I'm all dropped out."

"Good on you," says Xander, as he takes a seat again. "Welcome to the real world. Lots of fun to be had on the outside. Willow will see the light someday."

"I'm not sure if I wanna go back next semester or not," I explain, as Dawn takes a seat, too. I remain standing. "I need to have a real think about what I wanna do with my life, because I so don't wanna put myself in debt over a degree I might not even use."

"Whatever you choose, you've got my support," says Xander.

It looks as though he's gonna say something else, but Anya interrupts. "Have you considered retail? I was telling Xander earlier that Capitalism is a very patriotic way to make money."

"What Anya is trying to say," says Giles from the till, "is that there is a job here for you should you need one."

I haven't thought about a job, but then if I'm gonna be paying the bills for me and Dawn, I'm gonna need one. Right now. Even if I haven't thought about my future, long-term career. "Thanks, Giles. I'll think about it. But I feel obliged to warn you that my skill set isn't really retail-oriented. I can't slay the customers."

"You can only slay the customers if they're trying to steal the money," says Anya. "Or if they're displaying the un-American attitude of browsing instead of buying." She directs a glare at the shop door, which the older couple have just left through.

"You could be a security guard at the mall," Xander suggests. "Then you get to beat people up for a living. Not much of a uniform though."

"Buffy at the mall in a uniform?" Dawn looks me up and down like she's imagining it. "She would totally cramp my style if I'm out with my friends."

Being a security guard is a decent idea, but the uniform would be a total drag.

"If you want a job that puts your skills to good use, why don't you open up a dojo?" Anya suggests. "Or even just offer self-defence classes for the masses? D'Hoffryn knows the people of this town need it, with the mortality rate."

That's… actually a good idea. "Won't I need qualifications? Or money to begin with?"

"I assume there are classes you can take that will provide you with the necessary qualifications to become an instructor," says Giles. "The bank typically loans money for start-up businesses, but the loanees will need to provide a substantial amount of collateral to fall back on should the business fail, so that the bank knows you can pay back the loan money."

I frown. "So, you can only take out a money loan if you already have money? Why would you need to take out a loan then?"

"That is a question many people have asked since the dawn of time," my Watcher says. "But if you intend to embark on this endeavour, you do not need to set up your own dojo or buy your own building. Simply hiring a hall will suffice. It is certainly something to look into. I will be willing to provide any finances you require to get it all set up."

"Giles, I can't take your money," I say. "This is about me becoming self-sufficient."

"But there is no shame in receiving financial help," he tells me. "Besides, the Council is paying me a substantial amount to simply watch you and provide assistance. You are doing all of the work, so therefore you should be the once receiving payment. I find it abhorrent that the Council does not pay its Slayers once they turn eighteen. Though I suppose they don't because… Well, not many of them live that long."

And on that depressing note, I'm gone. "I'll think about my job prospects once Glory's been delt with. I'm gonna go check on Willow's progress with the bot. Oh, and we need to figure out when we should come out of hiding, or how we can communicate with each other."

"I have a couple of walkie-talkies we can use," says Xander. "You should be able to get a signal from under Spike's crypt."

"Great!" I say. "What about a time?"

"Perhaps we should play it by ear," Giles suggests. "Keep an eye on the news should Glory go on a rampage."

That's when it sinks in, that I'll be hiding while Glory would potentially be hurting people. I guess I could leave Dawn with Spike and go out to confront her, should the worst happen. But then what would that achieve? I know I'm not strong enough to hold her back for long. I might be able to stop her from hurting a few dozen people maximum before she inevitably knocks me out and goes after those people, anyway.

What if she literally starts tearing the town apart, looking for her Key? How long will it take for her to track down the others and torture them? How long will it take her to track down Dawn?

I take in a deep breath and let it out. Our future selves didn't warn us against anything like that, so they must be confident that if she does go on some kind of rampage, it wouldn't last for long. At least, I hope that's the case and they haven't severely misjudged the situation.

Unfortunately, we don't have any better ideas other than to trust what our future selves tell us.

I make my way into the back room. I wanna go over to the punching bag and take out my frustrations on it, but I don't have time for that. Instead, I walk over to where Willow and Tara are sat cross-legged together, facing one another and holding hands.

There's a necklace on the floor between them, and they're both chanting something under their breaths. The necklace starts to glow, then it rises from the floor and floats between them. When they finally stop chanting, the necklace begins to fall, but Tara reaches out and catches it before it can hit the ground.

Willow notices me first and smiles. "The spell's done. And the bot's been reprogrammed. We should be good to go when you are."

"We should make sure it works first," says Tara, as she climbs to her feet. She pauses briefly to help Willow up, before she walks over to where the bot is resting on a chair.

"It'll be easier if we switch on the bot first," says Willow. She leans in and presses something on the bot's back. The eyes of my robot twin snap open and she stands to attention, as if she's a soldier awaiting orders.

Tara then places the necklace around the bot's neck and says something in another language. There's a flash, and my twin is replaced with Tara's twin, orange shirt and all. The real Tara reaches forwards and pokes her twin's cheek, but the glamour doesn't glitch. It's as if she's really touching skin. She adds the finishing touch by dressing the bot in her jean jacket, and not even that disrupts the glamour.

"Impressive," I say. "Hopefully it'll fool Glory for a while."

"She knows her spells, though," says Willow. "We're hoping that she'll be really arrogant about finally getting her Key and she won't notice anything for a while. Oh! And I added another spell into the mix. When she breaks the necklace, it'll unleash a spell that'll thicken the air around her and render her immobile for a while."

"How long do you mean by "a while"?" I ask.

She shrugs. "The book says it can hold back humans for hours, but she's a Hell God. So it probably won't hold her for as long. Then the bot can keep an eye on her if she's still, you know, functioning."

"Tell her about the camera," says Tara, looking proud of her girlfriend.

"Oh yeah!" Willow walks over to her laptop on the workbench and sits down, before moving it onto her lap. "I discovered a camera inside of the bot's eyes. I don't know if it's a standard thing for all of Warren's creations or if Spike asked for it specifically, but I managed to hook it up to my laptop. So we can watch what's going on. But it'll be useless when Glory inevitable destroys the bot in the middle of her tantrum."

"It's still something," I say. "Good job, Willow."

She smiles. "Shall we send her out? Or should one of us accompany her to the fair?"

"Send her out alone," I say. "We don't know the exact time Glory approached Tara originally. The last thing we need is for one of us to still be there when that happens. Send her out now, then the rest of us should make our way to our designated hiding places."

"Anya's not gonna be happy about closing the shop early," Willow says as she types something into her laptop.

The glamoured bot jolts, coming to life, before she shuffles away and leaves out the back door. I don't know what kind of technological magic Willow performed, but the bot moves just like Tara, too.

Tara pulls a large, baggy hoody over her head and keeps the hood up. "In case any of Glory's minions see us leaving the shop."

"Smart," I say, nodding my approval.

Willow slaps down her laptop and slips it into her book back, which she slings over her shoulder. "You know, as much as I was creeped out by Spike making a bot version of you to do… um, naughty things with, if he didn't have one made then we wouldn't be able to make this plan work. I would've had to have tried to put April back together, and I could barely salvage anything from her. It's almost like he was meant to get one made. Um, no offence."

"No, I understand what you mean," I say, staring at the door the bot left out of.

The thoughts I had back at Spike's crypt creep in again. No amount of telling myself that he's dangerous and the whole thing will end in disaster can keep the thoughts away, because he's pretty and he nearly sacrificed himself to protect my sister and he loves me in a way I don't think my other boyfriends did.

He's bad, I repeat in my head. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

But boy, does bad look good on him.

It's like that question Cosmo once asked its readers when I was sixteen and I ate that shit up like candy. Would you go on a nice and sensible date with a nice and sensible guy, or would you let the bad boy take you on a wild night out filled with excitement and fire and passion?

I guess Ben would be the nice and sensible guy who would take me out to a nice restaurant and act all polite and make small talk about my day, my friends, my family, etc. My friends would approve of him and he'd never threaten my life or the safety of my loved ones, or even the safety of the world.

But would he ever be able to inspire passion within me? Would my skin feel like fire when he touches me? Does the thought of him fill me with excitement?

No. But I know a guy who can give a right answer to all those questions. And though I know the whole thing will end badly if I ever do decide to give him a try, at least it'll be fun while it lasted. We'll make some good memories together.

Even if it can never be.