A/N: Sorry if this is shorter than usual. Next one will (hopefully) be longer.

2001

For a moment, all Spike could do was stare. Then he found his voice.

"What the bloody hell did you—"

FLASH!

Buffy yelped and fell off the bed, immediately rolling to her feet and assuming a defensive stance.

Willow held her hands up. "Hey, Buffy! Chill!"

The Slayer took a few minutes to calm down as her gaze darted around the room. She slowly lowered her arms.

"So I'm…back?"

The redheaded witch flinched before she realized what the Slayer meant. She nodded guiltily. But Buffy's attention wasn't focused on her.

"Hey! You were trying to kill me!" she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the vampire by the door. "I was trying my hardest to not kill you, but you didn't seem to have any qualms about bashing my brains in with that block of wood." Her mouth dropped open in horror. "Oh God! What if you got the other Buffy?"

Spike gave a wan smile. "Shouldn't hold back, luv. Besides, it didn't work out last time. Your mum got me with an ax."

The girl wore an expression of complete bemusement.

1997

He raised the wooden stud and prepared to slam it into the Slayer as she lay there, helpless for that one moment, open to the killing blow.

And he…hesitated.

There was no reason to pause, to give his enemy time to shed her vulnerability. But he paused just the same. Long enough to sidestep the ax hurtling toward the back of his head. Barely sparing a glance, he disarmed the woman and shoved her away, shaking off his funk. Prepared to snuff out the Slayer once and for all.

FLASH!

And all of a sudden, she…changed. She was suddenly staring up at him with a completely blank and unblinking gaze, a plastic smile more befitting a store mannequin on her too-red lips. And…was that a new hairdo?

But a slight variation in hair coloring wasn't what caused the small gasp from the woman who had had the ax. Perhaps she was alarmed at the smoke pouring from the Slayer's midsection. And maybe the wiring visible beneath a peeled back slab of skin on the Slayer's belly had something to do with it as well.

"B-buffy?" Joyce called out hesitantly, slowing inching toward the prone robot.

The vampire backed away. This wasn't right. Only a moment ago, he could've sworn that the Slayer had been completely human. He could still remember the rapid pulsing of her heart and the smell of her innate intoxicating aroma mixed in with vanilla scent.

But now there was nothing. No smell of the Slayer but that which clung to her clothing. No smells other than the vague traces of other human scents and household items.

And one vampire. Spike sniffed the air very, very carefully. Yes, it was faint and would never be noticeable under different circumstances. One could only find it if one was specifically looking for it.

But it was there. A very faint smell, worn and covered by a million other things, especially the smoke that continued to billow out of the robot's midsection. But the smell still lingered, seemingly buried deep within the machine.

He cocked his head, trying to figure out just why the scent was so familiar in such an ambiguous way. He knew he'd smelled it before, but…

"Spike!" one of the idiots supposedly guarding the perimeter yelled. "Cops!"

The bleached vampire spared another glance at the robot before fleeing the scene.

2001

Willow was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, swinging a screwdriver all the way.

"I'm sure your Buffy can take care of herself," the Slayer said uncertainly. She glanced at the vampire in the corner. "I mean, she's fought you before, right?"

"Uh, right. Of course."

The Slayer narrowed her eyes. There was definitely some stuff these people weren't telling her about her future self. Like every time she asked a question about their Buffy, one of them always changed the subject.

It was almost as if—

FLASH!

Buffybot lay on the ground, staring up with a frozen, empty smile, the skin on her belly still peeled back.

Willow rushed to her, screwdriver ready for action.

1997

Buffy leapt up, off the ground. Right into her mother.

"Oh! Mom, hey!"

Joyce backed away till she hit the wall, eyes wide.

"Uh…or not?"

Her mother shook her head, bemused relief shining in her eyes. "B-buffy, I, I must have been hallucinating or something from all the chaos going on. Never mind that. Are you all right? Did you run into that gang on PCP?"

"Hey, Mom, it's okay. Everything's all right. Wait…" The Slayer frowned, wheels beginning to turn in her head.

If they won't tell me…

"Um, what exactly did you think you saw?"

Joyce shook her head again. "It was the strangest thing. I-I got here a few minutes ago, and there was this gangster, about to hit you…and then, you weren't you anymore. Well, you were, only…not you, exactly."

Buffy's frown only grew. "So what did you think I was?"

Her mother sighed. "A machine or something. Your stomach was open…and there were wires and blinking lights. And smoke."

The Slayer's mouth dropped open.

A robot.

Meanwhile…

"Spike, did she hurt you?"

Undead throats do not suddenly grow dry or close up.

"It was close, baby, but…"

"Oh, come here."

His Dark Princess, his Black Goddess, lay her head upon his shoulder. And pushed him away with a sudden snarl, eyes wide with rage.

"It's all falling apart!"

Spike took a tentative step forward.

"Dru?"

Her pale hand darted forth, faster than the eye could see. When it withdrew, several lines of crimson laced his cheek.

"Dru!"

"You lie," she hissed, slinking away. "Slayer's a metal dolly, hmm? And you want to play."

The unsettling hint of shameful truth in her words stung more than the bloody welts on his face.

"Dru, I—"

"Shh! No talking. It's not your turn, my bad, bad boy. You've been a naughty one, like that horrible little Slayer. She's tangling the threads…I can see them, all caught and twisted like a spider web in a storm."

Now she lost him. The blond vampire shook his head in confusion. "Luv, what are you ranting on about?"

She sneered, a frighteningly lucid look suddenly appearing in her eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, my Spike. Little dollies smelling like vanilla." Just as suddenly, her anger dissipated. "But that's all right, dear." She smiled, her mind already gone. "It's not too late."

Slinking back towards Spike, Drusilla licked the already-healing gashes on his bleeding cheek.

"It's his dead seed in the pretty dolly. He's lost forever. But you, my sweet, you can still be saved. You're still my knight."

She drew back and grinned.

"Kill her now, my Spike, and everything will be all right. We can have strawberry crumpets."

He smiled a bit uncertainly at her. "Whatever you say, Dru. Right, then. Oh…how's the Annoying One?"

Dru gave a small pout. "He doesn't wanna play."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Figures. Well, suppose I better go make nice."

Walking over to the cluster of minions gathered around the Anointed One, the bleached vampire tried to assume a serious and somewhat polite manner.

"You failed." Such an icy voice from an innocent little face.

"I, uh…I offer penance," Spike replied, trying to be reasonable.

"Penance?!" a vampire by the Anointed's side roared. "You should lay down your life! Our numbers are depleted, the feast of St. Vigeous has been ruined by your impatience!"

"I was rash, and if I had to do it all over again..." Spike laughed, unable to play the charade any longer. After the unsettling little episode with Dru and the discovery that something was very wrong with this Slayer, he needed some fun.

"Who am I kidding? I would do it exactly the same, only I'd do this first."

He grabbed the little boy and carried him to the cage suspended in midair, reveling in the small limbs flailing uselessly, the small voice crying out in fear. The vampires who tried to rush to the Anointed's aid were no match for him.

Locking the door, Spike jerked the chain, grinning as the cage rose higher and higher…directly below the unshaded window near the ceiling.

"From now on, we're gonna have a little less ritual and a little more fun around here," he announced almost pleasantly. Then, without warning, he gave the chain a jerk.

With a piercing scream, there was nothing left of the boy once known as Collin but a few particles of dust drifting down towards the ground, silhouetted by beautiful and very deadly rays of sunlight. For a moment, Spike could've sworn the dancing sunshine had a hint of vanilla musk.

But he shook that off. With a smirk, Spike held out his hand to his vampiric paramour, his sire.

His one and only love in this world.

"Let's go see what's on TV."

TBC