Disclaimer: See chapter 1

PART 3

(February 2000)

Spike went home to his crypt. The familiar setting did little to lighten his mood, which had sunk to unfathomable depths upon hearing three words. He'd hoped to never again hear those words in his life. He'd been hoping for too much. Not only were they thrown at him again, but to be uttered by the slayer of all people. The blond bitch that had ruined his life.

He picked up his television set and threw it against the wall. Next went the stand, and his armchair. The small table beside his chair followed the rest. By the time he was finished, he had calmed somewhat, but he was still furious. He jumped up on the tomb he called a bed, laid down and closed his eyes. He had to force himself to stay still, otherwise he'd be out the door and hunting down the slayer. Since he was still chipped, there wasn't a whole lot he could do to her, and he somehow doubted that pointing at her and laughing would help him feel better.

Vanilla Chip.

He laughed derisively, that's what he'd become. A laughing stock. A joke. He wasn't the big bad anymore, he was William the Bloody awful Poet once again. The old feelings of inadequacy were assaulting him just as they had when he was human. He hated these feelings. Drusilla had sometimes made him feel this way, and a part of him was glad that she was gone. The tiny, minuscule part of him that wasn't missing her with every fiber of his being. He dropped his arm over his eyes and sighed. His life had become crap, why didn't he just end it all? Especially since it wasn't going to get any better, according to Willow.

The door swung open, and he knew without looking who it was.

"Haven't done enough damage yet, Red? Wanna help me stake myself or something? Or, I know, you could tell me more stories about that pansy-assed poof I turn into."

She was right next to him now. He could smell her and her fear, could hear her rapid heartbeat, and he knew that she was about to apologize to him. He took his arm off of his eyes and grabbed her wrist without even looking. He sat up, holding here there, ignoring her pathetic struggle to get free, and swung his legs to the side, jumping down.

"If you even think about saying you're sorry, I'll kill you," he said harshly. He pushed her back, still holding her arm. Step by step, he edged her back until she was against the wall. "I don't need your apology. I don't need your pity. And I sure as hell don't need your friendship."

Her eyes were wide, staring up at him with none of the pity he'd expected. Instead, they were filled with understanding. Something else he didn't need. She was a human, how could she possibly think she understood anything about him? He pushed her back against the wall and got right in her face, his mouth inches from hers.

"I may hang around with you in the future, but I'm sure it's because I'm using you. Maybe for your electronic abilities?"

She stiffened, and he grinned, letting his face turn. He stared at her neck, making sure to show plenty of fang.

"What's the matter?" he asked in mock concern. "Did I hit a nerve?" He stared at her neck again, wanting so much to just sink his fangs into the pale flesh and drink her dry. She shrank away from him, and her hair moved back slightly, giving him the perfect view of a bite mark.

He traced the scar with his fingers, wondering who had bitten her. Hell, they were such *great* friends in the future, maybe she let him feed off of her occasionally.

"Who's the lucky owner of the fangs that did this?" he asked.

She frowned in confusion. "Harmony, but it's on the other side." She lifted her hair slightly and showed him the faint scar on the other side of her neck. Spike barely glanced at it. "And this one?" he asked. He didn't know why he was so interested in this mark, but there was something... odd about it. "Who bit you here?"

Willow slapped his hand away. "No one. I was only bit once. By Harmony. Oh," she said in sudden realization, "and that guy. The Fake you."

"Fake me?" He pushed away from her, needing some distance, otherwise he was going to say to hell with the excruciating pain and bite her anyway.

"Yeah, the Fake Spike," she said angrily. "And you know what? I don't know why I'm bothering. In the past few hours, I have been shot with a crossbow, bitten, and woken up to find Giles dead. No, not just dead," she continued in a harsh voice, holding back the tears. "He'd been beaten, and tortured. He had bite marks all over his neck, his face was a bruised and bloody mess, and he'd been shot through the heart with a crossbow bolt."

Her voice grew quieter, "There was blood everywhere. On the floor, the walls, the furniture. Even on the ceiling," she added, wiping angrily at a tear that had managed to escape. "And then, I found out that Buffy was dead too, and I was in so much pain I couldn't think straight, and then I woke up again, and I find out that none of it happened, and that I've gone back in time, and you're being mean, and I'm finding out that I don't much like you."

She stomped out of the crypt without so much as a backwards glance.

Spike watched her go. She did look like she'd been through hell and back. But what did that have to do with him? He hadn't done anything to her. It was the work of that Fake Spike she kept talking about, not him.

He shrugged. She was gone, and no longer his problem. Out of sight, out of mind.



Willow was fuming. She stormed through the cemetery, not even caring if something was out there waiting to kill her. The way she felt right now, she'd kill it without even breaking a sweat. Her thoughts were on the vampire she'd just left.

Spike was an ass, how could she have not realized that before? Simple, her mind told her, you never dealt much with him until after Adam was defeated. Still, he was nice to her in her time period.

Maybe he's using you, her mind taunted.

No. She pushed that thought away, like she always did. It was the un-confident part of her that tended to rear its ugly head whenever she was feeling down. There was no reason why a handsome century old vampire wouldn't want to be friends with her. No reason at all, she thought glumly.

She didn't know where she was going, until she got there. Stevenson Hall. Where she and Buffy used to room together. Were still rooming together in this time period.

Where Buffy's first roommate had tried to steal Buffy's soul and kill her.

Where Spike had tried to kill Willow after escaping from the Initiative.

Where Riley and the rest of his team had tried to kill them in the name of science and the re-capture of Hostile Seventeen.

Where the Gentlemen had tried to kill Tara and Willow.

She shuddered, wondering where all the happy memories were. She made her way inside, hoping against hope that the other her wasn't home. She tried to remember where she'd been on this particular night, but since she didn't know the exact date, she had no idea. She'd have to find out as soon as possible.

Keeping her head down to avoid being seen, Willow made her way through the hallway to the door of her old dorm room.

Home sweet home.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, before she realized what she was doing. She'd been worried about drawing attention to herself, and here she was about to knock on her own door. She quickly ran a hand through her hair and pushed the door open.

The room was dark. Empty. Thank goodness, she thought, sighing lightly. She quietly shut the door behind her and flipped on the light. Everything looked just as she remembered it. Their beds, on opposite sides of the room, each with a night stand between them. Computer. Desk. TV. All normal.

Except her. She was alien.

She knelt down at the end of her bed and shoved her hand between the mattress and box spring, pulling out her diary. She wrote in it everyday, even if it was only a sentence, or a word. More importantly, she dated it. She flipped it open, and stared at the last date penned in.

A groan escaped her.

She now knew where her other self was. She also knew that Faith was out of her coma and hell-bent on revenge.



Spike leaned against the alley wall and sighed. Buffy. The Slayer. And he loved her. Not now, but in the future. Well, not if he could help it. Maybe he should just leave Sunnydale. The only reason he was still here was on the off chance that the gang of misfits could remove the chip. Apparently that doesn't happen though, so why not leave? Go somewhere else. Maybe find a shaman or something to take it out. What was keeping him here?

A noise at the other end of the alley caught his attention. Xander and Giles were standing there like idiots, peering down the alley. Xander was messing with some sort of gun. Spike grinned. He needed a diversion from his thoughts.

He stayed in the shadows until they were close enough to touch, then stepped forward, lighting a cigarette.

"Spike," Xander sighed, sounding annoyingly relieved. He lowered the weapon.

"What are you doing here?" Giles asked.

Spike stared at them. "Me? I'm not the one out of place here."

"For your information, smarty, we've got a rogue Slayer on our hands," Xander told him, fidgeting with the gun some more. "Real psycho killer, too."

Slayers. Great, he thought. It was pretty much a fantasy come true, two slayers to kill and drain, and him with a chip in his head. And here they were, asking him for help. He hated his life. He decided to play along, gain any information he could. He schooled his expression into one of concern. "Sounds serious."

"It is. What do you know?" Giles asked him.

Spike almost snorted in contempt. Of course. Something goes wrong, Spike must know something about it. He forced himself to look and sound helpful. "What do you need?" Besides me to kill you, he thought.

"Her," Xander answered. "Dark hair, yea tall," he held his hand up about shoulder height. "Name of Faith. Criminally insane."

"Have you seen her?" Giles asked.

Spike refrained from beating on the ex-watcher, but just barely. "Is this bird after you?" He really hoped she was, because then maybe, just maybe, she would find them, with his help, and take out the blonde bitch. No more love threat hanging over his head.

Xander nodded. "In a bad way. Yeah."

Spike laid it on thick. "Tell you what I'll do then. Head out, find this girl," and now for the truth, "tell her exactly where all of you are, and then watch as she kills you." He grinned at them. They both stood there gaping at him. Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. "Can anyone of your damn little Scooby club at least try to remember that I hate you all? Just because I can't do the damage myself doesn't stop me from aiming a loose cannon your way. And here I thought the evening'd be dull." He pushed past Xander, purposely bumping into him, and took a long drag off his almost forgotten cigarette.

Xander called after him, sounding exactly like the geek he was. "Go ahead! You wouldn't even recognize her!"

Spike turned around, walking backwards. "Dark hair, this tall, name of Faith. Criminally insane." He turned back around and headed out of the alley. "I like this girl already."

"We're dumb," he heard Xander tell Giles, and he chuckled to himself. They were just now figuring that out? Feeling rather good now, he headed home to his crypt.



Willow checked the time, willing the printer to go faster, but it wasn't complying. Her other self was going to be home soon, and she'd really rather avoid running into her. Explanations would be long, and what if she didn't have time? She'd decided a few hours ago that she couldn't let it happen again.

She couldn't let all her friends die without at least trying to save them.

Shoving all her misgivings down, ignoring Giles' tks-ing in her head, she'd sat down and typed out all that she could remember of the last year and a half. She'd make sure things were fixed, even if she wasn't still around to fix them herself. Too many things had gone wrong in her time, and she needed to correct them. That had to be why she was here. Right? Briefly, she wondered if she was doing the right thing, messing with the future, but she pushed those thoughts away. The ends would most definitely justify the means.

She glanced at the clock again as the last page was spit into her waiting hand. She placed it on top of the pile on the bed. Turning off the computer, and putting everything back the way it was before she got there, she left with the stack of papers.

She hurried down the hall, keeping her head down, so busy trying to avoid people, that she ran straight into someone. She glanced up automatically. "Oh, I'm sorry. I... oh, Riley, hi."

He gave her one of his patented goofy grins. "Hi. I was actually sort of looking for Buffy. Have you seen her? With this Faith thing, she's kind of freaked. I was worried."

Willow knew exactly where Buffy was at the moment, but when she opened her mouth to tell him, nothing came out. Maybe this was one wrong she couldn't right. On the heels of that thought, a memory surfaced. She wondered if she could warn him. "No, I haven't seen her in a bit. But there is something... Riley, look into her eyes. If you really love her, you'll know." She hated to sound like a vague prophecy, but she didn't want to outright tell him. She had always thought that Riley hadn't noticed Faith in Buffy's body because he didn't love Buffy enough, didn't know her well enough. She had never told anyone else her thoughts, especially Buffy, but they'd always been there.

Riley was smiling a little in confusion. "Um, okay. Thanks. I-- I gotta go. Send her my way would ya, if you see her?"

"Absolutely." They walked out of the dorm together, then went their separate ways. Willow quickly headed to the cemetery and Spike's crypt.

A few minutes later, she knocked loudly on his door and waited. There was no answer, so she ducked her head inside and peeked. It was dark, but she assumed it was empty as well. She pushed the door all the way open and went inside, leaving the door open for the light the moon provided. She looked around for a good hiding spot out in the open. A place that didn't get disturbed often, but was in plain sight.

The place was really too bare, especially after Spike's little temper tantrum last night. She decided on the floor in the corner. He'd be sure to see them when she wanted him to, but not bump into them on accident. She hoped. She set them down, and stepped back. Pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket, she cast a quick glance behind her. The coast was still clear. She spoke the spell, then tossed a handful of herbs into the corner. The pages disappeared. She sighed heavily and put the spell back in her pocket.

"Ah, bloody hell, what do you want?" Spike yelled in frustration from the doorway. "Can't you people just leave me alone?"

Willow shrugged and headed out. She was still angry and hurt from earlier, so she decided to ignore him, and avoid him until she was gone. He was blocking her exit, so she pushed past him. "Go to hell, Spike."

"Oh, it's you." He grabbed her arm as she shoved by him, holding her there.

She stopped just outside the crypt, but didn't turn to face him. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

He turned her around by her arm, forcing her to look at him. "What's with this second slayer chick? What happens? Maybe I can help." He tried so hard to sound sincere, but Willow knew him too well to be fooled.

She thought for a minute, then glanced at her watch. "Let's see, by now you've already promised to send her after us if you find her. So, yeah, I can really see you helping." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I already know everything you've done, Spike, you can't fool me. Plus, your lies... not so believable to me anymore." She yanked her arm away from him.

Spike glared at her for a few seconds then went inside his crypt.

"You'll meet Faith tomorrow night," she called after him, then left. She needed to get home, to her parent's house. It was the safest and only place to stay. They were gone, if she remembered right, on an overnight conference in New York. They'd be back tomorrow night, but by then she was sure she'd be gone. Back to her time.