"The funeral is tomorrow," Giles told him sadly.

Spike nodded, huddling in upon himself and taking a sip of the tea Glinda had left for him. Vampire Prozac in valerian, kava and chamomile. He was sitting on Giles' couch, drained, exhausted and lost.

"It's a daytime ceremony, unfortunately. For all of Sunnydale's Hellmouth-induced ignorance, they are reluctant to hold evening burials," the man continued.

"S'ok. Don't deserve to go to her funeral anyway," he replied.

"Spike, I…"

"Here, before I forget…" he interrupted, pulling a large manila envelope from the ubiquitous folds of his duster, and offering it to Giles.

Giles took it and peered inside, seeing the papers and cash.

"What is this?"

"We gotta take care of our girls, Rupert. Most of Joyce's life insurance'll be eaten up by medical bills. I hocked everythin' I could. Those are the slips for the accounts I set up for Buffy and Dawn after I killed the Sobek cobra demon. Put the cash in them, split 70-30 with Buffy gettin' the lion's share. She's gonna be Dawn's guardian and she'll need help."

Giles looked in the envelope again, humbled. "Thank you, Spike. I'll be sure to add my own contribution when I make the deposits."

He nodded and took another sip of the tea. It tasted weird, but at least it didn't remind him of hot chocolate. He couldn't stand the thought of cocoa right now.

"What are we gonna do, Rupert?"

"The same as we have been: use your knowledge to affect the outcome."

"Didn't work for Joyce. Plan's not workin'. We need a new plan," he insisted.

"I don't think we can take Joyce's death as a sign that our current plan isn't working. I truly believe that there was nothing we could have done to save her," Giles insisted.

"Would've if I'd gotten it right. I dunno how I got it so wrong. I know Bit told me Joyce died of a blood clot."

Giles sat down next to him, offering unwanted comfort.

"Spike, Dawn is only fourteen. It's entirely possible that she misunderstood what killed her mother and interpreted it as a blood clot."

He shrugged and shook his head. "Doesn't matter now, does it."

"Spike, it's painfully obvious to me that you are determined to blame yourself for Joyce's death, even though I do not think you are in any way responsible for what happened. Joyce Summers had a brain tumor. Even if she hadn't died the same way she had before, there is no telling that the tumor wouldn't have returned and killed her at a later date. The only comfort we can take with us is the knowledge that she didn't suffer and that it was very quick," Giles said gently.

"How do we know she didn't suffer? She died alone, didn't she? Wasn't anyone there to know if she suffered any."

Giles ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "I… I did see the body…before she was taken away. Her face had no pain on it, no fear. I don't think she knew what was happening. She fell on the couch and…"

"No more. Please. I…"

Giles stopped.

"I just… I couldn't save her. Everythin' I did, everythin' I tried was for nothin.' She still died. What if… what if no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't save Buffy either?" he asked, pleading for Giles to offer him some hope.

"You can't give up, Spike. We need you. We need your strength."

"Fat lot of good I've done so far," he muttered, then grabbed Giles' wrist. "You know this changes everythin', Watcher. We have to kill Ben now. Glory's gonna start gaining power. We gotta take 'im out."

Giles shook his head. "Not yet. Some new books have just come in from the Council. I am hoping there will be some information and spells in them that can help us."

"They're not gonna do us any good! She's a bleedin' *god* Rupert! She takes over from Benny, stoppin' 'er'll be a bitch!"

"Not until I've exhausted all other options."

"Damn you, Watcher!" he yelled, throwing the mug of tea and smashing it, liquid flying all over the carpet. "You still don't trust me, do you? I'm tellin' you. You don't have a choice. Ben has to die or Buffy will!"

He stood up, storming over to get his coat.

"Where are you going?" Giles demanded. "Spike, you mustn't do anything hasty!"

He pulled the coat on angrily. "Off to take care of somethin' I can kill. Nibblet's gonna try to mojo 'er mum from the great beyond night after they bury 'er. Last time, I took 'er to Doc and he learned she was the Key. This time, not only am I *not* gonna take her to see that bastard, I'm gonna kill him before he gets anywhere near Dawn."

With that he stalked out, slamming the door behind him, and headed for Buffy's house. Upon confirming that both Buffy and Dawn were upstairs in their rooms, he snuck in and raided Buffy's weapons chest for the Gruth'lak battleaxe. The battleaxe was a much more powerful weapon than Buffy realized, and he hoped it would be enough to kill whatever demon Doc happened to be. He remembered from the previous timeline that Xander had killed Doc with a sword through the heart. This time he planned to lop the bastard's head clean off his shoulders.

He paused, listening, hearing the sounds of numb grief and silence, and his heart broke.

'I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm sorry, Dawn. I'm so so sorry. I dunno how I'll make it right, but I'll try.'

He snuck back out, half of him wanting to stay and comfort the girls, but he had things that needed to be done. He found Doc's place without any trouble. It was exactly where it had been before in the other timeline. He entered without knocking, the battleaxe tucked into his belt loop and concealed behind the duster.

"Hey. Anybody home?" he called to the dim, cluttered apartment.

A moment later Doc shuffled out of the bedroom, dressed in a robe and pajama trousers, and he had to steel himself against the wave of hate and rage he felt.

"I know you," the demon said, surprised.

"Do you now?" Spike answered, smirking, remembering from before how Doc had said he had recognized him.

"You're that guy. That guy who always hangs around down at the corner mart. Big into dominos, aren't you?

"Can't say that I am."

"That's crazy, isn't it? I'd swear you were him. I mean, your hair's a different color and you're a vampire, but other than that…"

Doc trailed off, pensive. Spike bided his time, hand twitching with the itch to grab the axe and kill the man, but he had to wait for just the right moment. He knew from experience how fast and strong Doc really was, and knew he would only have one chance to kill him.

Finally, Doc moved closer. "How can I help you?"

"Resurrection spells. Friend of mine's mum kicked it. Wanna know what's to be done about it."

"Oh, no… That's… You don't want to mess with that. I know a couple of tonics, make the grieving fly by…" he offered.

"She doesn't want any tonics."

Doc sighed, distracted and Spike moved closer. "Jeez. I don't know…"

'Just a little further…'

He was almost within striking range as the demon rifled through some papers and books piled on one of the tables. Then Doc paused and sniffed the air.

"What is that…?" He rounded on Spike, eyes wide. "You have a soul!"

"That's right, mate."

"But there's only one vampire with a soul and he's in Los Angeles."

"Newsflash, mate. There's two of us now, only I'm better lookin' and not a bleedin' poofter," he replied, closing the distance between them quickly, reaching behind him for the axe.

"Who are you?" Doc asked, still off guard and obviously confused. It gave Spike the brief seconds he needed.

"Your executioner," he answered, whipping out the axe.

He swung before Doc had a chance to react and sheared the demon's head from his body. The body fell with a heavy whomp, writhed for a moment, then lay still as the head rolled a few paces away. He looked down at the head, saw the eyes go black, then blank and the mouth drop open.

"Not gettin' anywhere near my Bit," he said to the lifeless head.

Assured that the demon was dead, he started a fire in the fireplace and threw the head in. He waited until he saw it start to burn, then picked up the battleaxe and headed out. He left the door wide open.