A/N: I apologize for any Angel-bashings. But they're just so much fun!

1997

Buffy sighed in relief. At least she had snapped back before the confrontation with a certain bleached wonder.

But she wished that she wasn't sent into the middle of a conversation. And she didn't exactly like what she was hearing.

"So, we dig up some graves tonight?" Xander, the younger Xander of 1997 said.

"Oh, boy! A field trip! Are you gonna call Angel?" the young redhead asked innocently.

Buffy grimaced. The Angel who she hadn't seen once in her future? "I don't think so."

"Yeah, why bother him, huh?" Xander said wryly.

"Angel and I have been, um...never mind. As far as Angel's concerned, I'm taking the night off, okay?" Buffy didn't feel like talking about him at the moment.

"So, we're set then. Say, nine-ish? BYO shovel?"

"And I'll pack some food. Who else likes those little powdered doughnuts?" Willow asked cheerfully.

"Me!" Xander said quickly. Never one to pass up an opportunity for food.

"Cordelia?" Willow asked.

"Darn, I have cheerleader practice tonight. Boy, I wish I knew we were gonna be digging up dead people sooner. I would've canceled."

Buffy frowned. As bitchy as she was, Buffy had sort of missed Cordelia's sarcastic comments in that future world. Where was she anyway?

"Alright, but if you come across the army of zombies, can you page us before they eat your flesh?" Xander asked.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes and stalked out of the library.

"Xander? Zombies don't eat the flesh of the living," Giles commented.

"Yeah, I knew that. But did you see the look on her face?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. Her friends. So goofy.

"I think I'll go home, check up on things there, before we head out tonight," Buffy said. "See you guys later."

Buffy headed out into the darkening gloom, walking rapidly. She wanted to get home—needed to get home. See her mother, maybe talk to Dawn—

No, no Dawn in this world. No one to talk to about the earlier…or later, if you think about it that way…encounter with Spike.

Buffy was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't notice the dark figure with the tazer until it was too late.

2001

Spike took another swig of his half-empty bottle of tequila and leaned back into his chair.

He couldn't believe it. After chasing after the Slayer for so long, even getting tortured by a hell-god in the bargain, it was the younger version of Buffy that had fallen for him. Not the one who he had fought with, danced with, pleaded with. Not her, but a sweet little schoolgirl.

The irony of it was too much.

He was about to take another drink when the crypt door swung open. In rushed a nervous Dawn.

"Spike! Something's wrong with—" She skidded to a stop and frowned, hands on her hips. "Are you drunk?"

Spike shook his head, then immediately regretted the action as the world spun and his head began to pound. "Oh no, not at all, Nibblet. Just had a couple of sips."

Dawn glanced pointedly at the row of empty bottles on the floor. "Right. Anyway, I came to tell you that the switchie thing happened again, just now, and there's something wrong with Buffy. I think she's knocked out or something, which has never happened before. Do you think the spell's getting messed up?"

1997

"Okay, we're ready to go. Chris? What do you think?"

Christopher Epps stared in horror at the unconscious blond girl on the table.

"What did you do?" he demanded. "We can't just…We can't kill a girl! I thought we agreed to only use the bodies of—"

FLASH!

Buffybot sat up, blinking in the sudden gloom.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "Where am I?"

Eric frowned, confused. "That was supposed to knock you out for a few more hours," he remarked.

"Where is the tazer?" Chris asked nervously.

Eric shrugged. "Got rid of it. I mean, we have the girl now. What else do we need?" He walked over to the table. "Buffy, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this by force."

She blinked up at him, perplexed. "What is it you wish me to assist in?"

Eric grinned. "Knew you were a good choice. Cooperative, very good. Now, I want you to lie down on the table and hold still while I strap you down."

Buffybot gave him a dazzling grin. "Sure, mister. Who are you?"

Unfazed by her strange behavior, Eric smiled back. "I'm Eric, don't you remember? Second period, desk two rows behind and to the left."

Buffybot shook her head and continued to grin as she obediently allowed him to strap her to the gurney. "I'm sorry, Eric. My memory files do not recognize you. I don't go to school. But Dawn, my sister, does."

"Summers, you don't have—"

"Buffy!" Chris couldn't believe what was playing out before his eyes.

Buffybot turned and regarded him with another dazzling grin. "Hi, that's me. I'm Buffy! Who are you?"

Chris gave her a strange look. "I'm Chris. Look, that's not the point. What are you doing?! Do you want your head removed?!"

Buffybot's brilliant smile dimmed. "No. Willow said that my head needs to stay on. She said it will be very hard to put back on if I accidentally lose it." She frowned. "You may not take my head."

Eric paused, a very sharp metal instrument in his hands. "Buffy, I'm sorry, but we've got to do this." He looked up at Chris. "Daryl would love her face and bubbly personality."

Buffybot snapped the restraints and calmly got off the gurney. "I am sorry, Eric and Chris. My head is not free for harvesting." She brightened. "Oh! But you could call Warren and ask him to build you a head! He's very good."

"Warren?" Chris asked, frowning. "Oh! The tech-geek."

Buffy gave another dazzling smile, then proceeded to walk out of the basement.

"Wait," Eric said. "How did you get out of those bonds? You can't be human!"

Buffybot turned around and smiled happily. "That's right. I'm a robot."

Then she turned and walked away.

"No!" Eric jammed the knife back onto its tray. "Now we'll never be finished in time."

"That's all right," a voice said from the dark recesses of the basement. A stitched-up figure stepped out. "Now, what was that about a robot?"

Chris flipped open the phone book, relieved that there would be no killing. He flipped to the M's.

2001

Buffy was still somewhat groggy, recounting her story to Willow.

"…And then that creep Eric zapped me and next thing I know, I wake up here," she finished.

Willow was puzzled. That had certainly never occurred in what she could remember. Buffybot must have upset history! She must have done something wrong and gotten everything messed up. Eric was supposed to go after Cordelia, and the Scoobies were supposed to save her at the last moment. And Daryl and the incomplete body were both supposed to perish in the fire that followed.

She said as much to Buffy.

And then realized that it would be poor Buffybot being cut apart. And no one had any clue what was happening, so no one would be able to stop—

FLASH!

Buffybot smiled happily from the couch where Buffy had just disappeared.

"Oh, no! Buffy just went back to get killed," Willow said, distraught.

Buffybot's brilliant grin turned confused. "No one's getting killed, Willow, my best friend."

Willow's jaw continued to drop as she heard the tale of what had occurred in the basement.

1997

Buffy's friends didn't understand why she was dragging them to the house of Chris Epps.

"But he's such a nice kid," Willow gasped, trying to catch her breath.

"How's it possible for him to sew up his brother Daryl?" Xander asked. "And how the heck do you even know this stuff?"

Buffy shook her head. "No time. Get ready."

She kicked open the basement entrance. And was extremely surprised to find it completely empty. Neat cardboard boxes, stacked around the walls. Nothing suspicious at all.

"I guess they cleared out," Buffy mused to herself. "Guess the other Buffy knew what she was doing, after all."

She walked away from the house, leaving a very puzzled group of people behind.

"Other Buffy?"

Meanwhile…

Chris knocked on the door, looking at the address. Yep, this was it.

"Hello?" A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman.

Chris smiled. "Hi. Is Warren home?"

2001

"I have to get over there," Spike protested.

Dawn just gave him a look. "After what happened last time? No. Way." She paused and sniffed the air, wrinkling he nose. "Besides, you're drunk."

The blond vampire groaned. Hostage in his own crypt. Well, not his own crypt, per se. But the crypt he was staying in. Didn't that make it his in a way?

"Now," Dawn said eagerly. "We all know she has a crush on you. The question is: how do you feel about Buffy?"

1997

"B-but I've never finished a robot before," Warren protested. "I'm not sure it would even work—"

"Oh, it will work," the blanket-swathed figure said darkly. "I have it from sources that you have quite a bit of experience in the field."

Warren shook his head desperately, glancing at the two guys in the corner. Chris and Eric showed no sympathy.

"I-I guess it could work," he ventured. "But no guarantees. The robot could only be for a specific function, not really adaptable to a wide range of capabilities."

The cloaked figure nodded. "Fair enough." He paused. "Just make her to love me."

Warren nodded. Now, that just may work. A robot driven by emotion, with total devotion to a single being. He smiled to himself. Maybe after this little assignment he could try to build himself a girl…

Meanwhile…

Buffy couldn't sleep. Closing her eyes, the conversations with her befuddled friends would replay in her head. And then, overlapping their confused faces came another image. A sweet, bleached vampire with cheekbones sharper than a knife and eyes so blue she could practically drown in them…

Buffy drifted off to sleep.

On an interstate highway…

A black 1959 Dodge DeSoto FireFlite roared down the paved road, speeding toward a certain Hellmouth 300 miles away.

A/N: The next chapter might take a slight while to get up. But I promise Spikey-goodness!