About an hour and a half later, my throat was dry from talking. It seemed that with the exception a few minor variances, the Jossiverse, and what ever this place was, were congruent. I have this theory that Joss is a dimension-hoping Deveel with access to the watcher diaries, and he was cashing in big time in my universe. How very Robert Asprin. Go read Another Fine Myth. You'll understand.

Willow sat across from me in a state of shock, and poor Buffy didn't have a secret left to her name. I tried to feel bad for the Slayer, but I just couldn't. I was having too damned much fun with Spike.

"So, explain to me again exactly how Angel had a baby?" the red head asked, shaking her head in wonder.

"Who cares?" I asked sullenly. "It was a stupid plot line. It never should have happened. Who ever heard of a freakin' vampire having a baby?"

"The poof, a father. Wonder if the kid was born with his hair gelled back?" Spike mused, an evil gleam in his eye.

I grinned. "Yeah, hair-boy as daddy-o. Is that a scary concept or..." I trailed off as I saw the glare Willow was giving me. "What?" I demanded.

"Buffy would never talk about Angel like that."

"So?"

"So, you shouldn't. You... you just... shouldn't! It's - it's just wrong to hear those words coming out of her mouth. If Angel heard her saying that - "

I scowled back. "He's a major wanker! He walked out on her. What a wuss boy! He's all 'I love you, are you still my girl, blah blah blah', and then he gets all broody and leaves her! And I'm supposed to worry about how he would feel if he heard me say this? Tough shit, Angel cakes. Life sucks, and then you die." A thought occurred to me. "And then, if you happen to be a vampire, unlife sucks too." Spike snickered as the red head fumed.

"He loved her, he really did!" she insisted. "And Buffy loved him! They just couldn't be together. But one day, if he achieves Shanshu, who knows...."

"Yeah, yeah, saw every last pathetically sad and angst-filled episode of it. Warmed the cockles of my grief lovin', irredeemably evil heart. I loved it, I hated it, I beat my pillow against the couch and screamed at the TV when he broke it off. So in my books, he had his chance." I shook my head.
"Geeze, people! Get fucking OVER it already! Move on! Let it go! Just cuz the Buffster and the Poofster sucked face in the graveyard after Joyce's funeral doesn't mean that they're getting back together. Yeesh." Spike's eyes widened with interest and Willow looked ready to have a
conniption. Oops. Looks like another of Buffy's secrets just bit the dust.

I was feeling parched. And a little too in touch with what was going on. A little bit of a buffer zone between me and the reality I had just dropped in to would be very nice about now. "I need a drink."

"Oh, I'll get you something," Willow offered, jumping up. "Juice? Water? Some tea?"

Nice girl. A little slow to clue in though. "Errr, thanks, but I was thinking something a little more potent. Say," I glanced hopefully at the vampire. "Like what's in the flask Spike usually carries around with him."

Spike's mouth curved up in that sexy smile he's so damn good at and pulled the stainless steel micky out of his duster. "This what you're talking about, luv?"

I gave a grateful sigh. "Give!" He wisely handed it over.

"A TV show," Willow spoke softly, incredulous. "I can't believe that there is a reality where we're just imaginary characters."

I'd have to say it was a safe bet that Willow was having trouble processing. Spike, on the other hand, appeared to be coping admirably. Then again, the fact that we were having such a great time dissing Angel might have been distracting both of us just a little. I smiled and took a swig from Spike's mickey. Scotch, single malt. Nice to see the boy had some taste.

"So, you're sayin' there's a whole group of fans of this show who think it's really all about me?" he asked from his place on the floor, leaning against the couch. He snagged the flask from my hand and took a pull off it.

Ego was not something that was ever going to pose a problem for Spike. He might let the love of his life beat the shit out of him, but he had poise and self-confidence.

"Yup. You've got a bloody harem - that is, if you can ever figure out a way to get to my reality. Cuz the actor guy, well, you know. He has a girl, a life, shit like that. I mean come on, he's an ACTOR. Kinda the point and all, the whole make-believe thing. But you, on the other hand...." Spike snickered as I waggled my eyebrows suggestively. "You've got a hot, undead body that ain't never gonna wear out, providing of course you avoid such irritations as holy water, pointy wooden things and sunlight. That's very attractive to an obsessed fan. If you showed up at a media con... honey, the femfen would eat you for breakfast. Not to mention some of the fanboys." I did my worst Austin powers impression. "It would be Shagadelic, ba-by!" It sent the vampire in paroxysms of laughter. I gazed down my nose imperiously. "Oh, do be-have!"

He totally lost it, falling to his side, gasping for unneeded air, overwhelmed with mirth. I'd never seen the Spike on the show really laugh before. It was a sight to behold. Damn, I'm good. I just found a whole new way to take out vamps. Make 'em laugh themselves to death. Might help if there was a conveniently placed picket fence around for them to fall onto. Yeah. That would work nicely.

Willow abruptly stood. She looked a little glazed.

"I've got to get some sleep. It's late and I have a class in the morning."

"Night, Red," Spike piped up through his chuckles, showing no inclination to leave. I could see by the set of Willow's mouth she'd been hoping she wouldn't have to ask. I intervened before she could.

"Um, I really don't want to be alone, Willow. Spike's just going to keep me company for a while longer."

"Well, all right," she acquiesced. "But don't stay up too late, okay?"

I promised that I would be a good girl and get some sleep and with only one backwards glance, she finally made her way up the stairs and off to bed.

"I didn't think it was possible to fit that much anal retentive control freak into such a small package," I remarked rather cattily when she was out of hearing range.

And he was rolling on the floor again. I say once more - damn, I'm good.

I knew there was a reason that I liked Spike. Beyond the fact that he was dead sexy I mean. When he produced an almost full 26'er of vodka and a 40 pounder of scotch from a long neglected cupboard in the kitchen, I realized why. Resourcefulness. I love that in a man, vampire or human. We proceeded to get snookered.

"Alright, pet, let's go over it one more time."

"Okay," I agreed happily. Of course, I was about three sheets to the wind and would have happily agreed to a great many things that I would have regretted later. Good thing Spike was keeping my virtue safe. And that has got to be the most bizarre part of all. My virtue was well and truly safe because that damned vampire loved the moron who usually occupied this body, the woman who couldn't see that the best guy in her life was sitting right in front of her. Gah. It's just not fucking fair I tell you!

"Angel."

"Bloody fucking poof."

"Parker."

"Eww! Ick! Kill it before it multiplies! What the hell was she thinking?"

"Riley."

"Loo-hoo-hoo-HOO-ser!"

"Spike."

"Bootylicious hunk of vampire who should be chained down and shagged senseless. And then some. Repeat as necessary."

Make that 4 sheets to the wind.

"I've got to get that on tape, I've just got to," he mumbled, a dazed grin on his lips.

"Okay," I nodded happily.

The scotch was long gone and we were sharing the last of the vodka. Or we were supposed to be. Fang boy decided that he was going to have the last of it. I decided that he was going down. Just as he was lifting the bottle to his lips, I gave him a hard shove and yanked it away. He lay on the floor, staring up at me in shock. For all of 2 seconds. Then he pounced. I screeched and leaped off the couch, but he tackled me, and I hit the floor. Hard. A few drops of vodka splashed out.

"Spike! Alcohol abuse! Don't spill the fucking booze!"

"Oh, sorry, pet," he replied cheerfully, with a complete lack of remorse. He had me pinned to the floor, and was trying to wrest the bottle out of my grasp. I had it under my chin, my arms curled up over my head, and he wasn't getting anywhere. He resorted to dirty pool.

"Ticklish, luv?"

"Oh, fuck..."

I hate being tickled. I always have. And that sonofabitch was merciless. I swear to God, I'd probably be able to handle hot pokers better. Then again, I'm not going out of my way to find out.

"I give up!" I gibbered between shrieks. "Uncle! Stop!"

Finally, the unbearable sensations stilled. I drew a ragged breath, and another.

"Spike, you were supposed to share the last of it," I whined, allowing my inner bitch free reign. When in Buffy.... Oooh! That was catty of me. Heh.

"And how do you propose I do that, luv? There's really not enough left to share." He was giving me that exasperating and annoying yet oh-so-endearing smirky look that I loved. I suddenly had a very wicked idea.

"Get the hell off my back and I'll show you," I promised.

He slid off me and lay on his side, propping himself up on his elbow with his chin in his palm. "I'm waiting."

I sat up, cross-legged and faced him, holding the bottle out in front of me. There was probably about two ounces left in it. "Trust me?" I asked.

"Well...." he studied me for a moment. "Not really, but go on."

I smiled evilly. I hadn't done this since a room party at a science fiction convention many years earlier. It had been a lot of fun then, and I was betting it would be even more fun now. I took a swig, pulling in about half what was left in the bottle - then I leaned forward, slid my free hand into
the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him. I don't know what he thought I might do, but I could tell right away, this wasn't something he'd considered.

Sharing a drink in a kiss can be fun. You're swapping spit anyways, so what's a little bit of alcohol? I forced some of the potent liquid into his mouth, and we both swallowed. He started to pull away but, relentless bitch that I am at times, I didn't let him. Tightening my grip on his hair, I held him securely against me. He didn't really fight me. Much. After a very thorough exploration of his mouth, I finally eased up. The look on his face was almost as good as when Buffy jumped him in 'Smashed'. Not quite, but almost.

"One more shot left," I remarked casually as I handed him the nearly empty bottle. "Your turn."

Damn. He was getting that mopey, mournful puppy dog look.

"I think we've both had enough for tonight," he began. I cut him off.

"Geeze, Spike! You could give broody-boy a run for his money right now," I groused, and I caught a flicker of indignation on his face. Good. "I mean really," I continued, pressing all the buttons I could think of, "I'm startin' to wonder exactly who got the soul when Willow re-cursed him." He
scowled and grabbed the bottle, slamming back what was left of the hootch. Looks like he wasn't going to share after all. Whatever. I went for the jugular. "Maybe you got caught in the nimbus of it, 'cuz you're turnin' into a soddin' Nancy-Mpppbff!"

I suddenly found myself pinned to the floor, my mouth full of vodka and Spike's tongue. Not a bad combination at all. Cold, strong hands on my body, one slipping under me, arm wrapping around me, pulling me close to him, the other touching my face, fingers sliding into my hair as his tongue danced with mine. Yeah, this was definitely more fun than that room party had been. I returned the kiss and embrace with equal fervor. My roving hands slid under his shirt, tracing patterns down the skin of his back, until they reached the waistband of his jeans. As I let several fingers stray under the stiff material, the vampire above me pulled his mouth off mine, his body stiffening as if in pain. I forced my passion-fogged eyes to focus. Oh, hell. The guilt and self-loathing on his face was brutally obvious.

Fuck.

Or not, apparently. God, when did I get so vulgar? Clearly the result of too much fanfiction.

With a deep sigh, I drew him back to me and pulled his head onto my shoulder. Stroking his hair, I murmured comforting gibberish about how it was going to be okay. I was a liar. I didn't know if it was ever going to be okay again. I felt a cool dampness slowly spreading on my t-shirt and let my
fingers brush gently over his cheek. Tears.

Love's bitch indeed.

It was starting to really hate Buffy.

"Ewww! Couldn't you get a room? I'm going to be scarred for life now!"

I woke to the strident rebuke of a highly offended teenager. Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten about Her Glowiness. I sighed. Where I come from, I'm the parent of a 13 year-old daughter. I shudder to realize this is what I have to look forward to.

The body that had been curled around me stirred. Squinted around the room. Apparently remembered everything in a sudden rush, judging by the way his eyes snapped open and the guilty look dropped over his features as he struggled to sit up. "Dawn, I can explain, it's not what it looks like..."

"Lay down and shut up, Spike," I cheerfully interrupted, shoving him flat on his back. He glared at me until I pointed out the obvious. "Sunlight. Open drapes. You wanna be crispy fried Spike? Be my guest, but don't come crying to me when you turn into a pile of ashes. And try not to singe the furniture while you're combusting, okay?" It was actually amazing that he hadn't gone poof already. We'd fallen asleep on the floor right in front of the sofa, just about the only place in the room that wasn't bathed in sunlight.

He had the good grace to look mightily embarrassed. "Nibblet, would you mind?"

Dawn gave us a look that spoke volumes about her opinion of our sanity, but she did as he asked and closed the curtains. Spike tried to get up, but I wasn't having any of it. I just leaned back against him and pinned him to the couch.

"Hey!" he objected.

"Stay put," I retorted. "You make a good leaning post."

He was all flustered. I stuck my tongue out at him and then grinned. He shook his head and looked up at Dawn.

"See, bit, it's like this. Your sis, she, well, last night - "

I cleared my throat and stared at him.

"What?"

After I was certain he would keep his mouth shut, I turned my attention to Buffy's sister.

"Actually, it's exactly what it looked like, Dawn. I had a very bad night. Some nasty stuff went down. Spike brought me home. He stayed because I didn't want to be alone, and Willow really needed to get some sleep. And, apparently, we fell asleep too. No big."

Dawn wasn't buying it.

"There's no way you can be Buffy," she stated flatly.

The sound of our jaws dropping was deafening. Spike and I just stared. How the hell could she know?

She rolled her eyes at our reaction and snorted.

"When," she pointedly asked Spike, "did the aliens kidnap her and replace her with this clone? If my sister woke up to find your arm around her, all you'd have left is a bloodied stump. Ergo, she must be a pod person." She studied me for a second, and then flashed her brilliant, megawatt smile. "Unless you've finally clued into what a great guy Spike is, in which case, yay!"

Reaching back, I grabbed a throw pillow from the couch. I turned it into a projectile weapon and nailed her in the head. She laughed and threw it back. Then her eyes got all shiny and her face screwed up into a funny expression and I felt my stomach do that flip-flop it does when I see that one of my kids are hurting. I got up and went to her.

"It's so nice to see you joking around, Buffy," she said quietly, her lips quivering with repressed emotions. "You're so tense all the time, and tired and angry. And you're usually being so mean to Spike and to see you not be mean to him is just so nice."

Well, that did it. We were both in tears and then we had to hug and you know how it is. I felt like I was comforting one of my girls. Which brought home, in a really painful way, that I might never see them again. And suddenly I was hugging Dawn much too tight and trying to keep back my tears. The gasping finally clued me in.

"Sorry," I apologized sheepishly as I let her go. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength." We were laughing as Willow came downstairs.

"Dawn, do you want me to make you some oatmeal? I was going to..." The redhead trailed off as she took in the scene.

The teen sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll get some OJ out of the freezer." She headed into the kitchen.

Willow looked me over, then glanced down at Spike. Her brow furrowed as she lifted her gaze back to me.

"Does Dawn know?"

"Nope," I answered. "I really don't see any reason to tell her just yet. Hopefully we're going to figure out how to reverse this and it'll never be necessary."

Willow nodded in agreement, then tried to ask the harder question without actually asking. "So, Spike and you, you guys had a nice, um, quiet, restful night, right?" Her eyes begged me to tell her that we hadn't betrayed Buffy. I swear, just being in whatever dimension this is makes a person evil, because I just couldn't help myself.

"Oh, yeah," I nodded, wicked glee bubbling up in me. "It's amazing how restful a good shag can be. Works all the kinks out."

Willow's gasp of shock and Spike's spluttered denials gave me a fit of the giggles. I decided to let the red head off the hook before she had an aneurysm or something.

"I was just kidding!" I assured her. "Nothing happened, Willow." She got that look on her face then, the one that screams 'I'm really hurt'. I sighed. Time to apologize.

"I'm sorry, I really am. But - well, let me couch it in terms that will make sense to you. I'm on the edge of completely wigging out here, and I need to laugh about something so I don't. Add in that I happen to think witty repartee is high art, and you end up with joke-y and sometimes inappropriate me. Think you can deal till Buffy comes home?"

I got a nod from her. I smiled. Then I realized there was more. She stood there, lower lip captured between her teeth, looking like she had something she really wanted to say.

"What is it Will?" I asked gently.

"Can I just... I know you're not her, but..." And more waterworks.

I pulled her into a hug. Poor kid. They were all kids. Real kids in a real Sunnydale on a real Hellmouth. Dealing with the Big Bads out there all by themselves. Now I wanted to hunt down Giles and smack for leaving them to fend for themselves. What the hell was he thinking?

After a moment, she straightened up, wiped her eyes and smiled. "Thanks."

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We'll figure it out. Just you wait and see. She'll be back in no time."

A calmer young woman turned and entered the kitchen leaving me alone with my vampire. He'd moved onto the sofa, sitting at one end with his legs sprawled across the length of it. I lifted his feet and settled into the other end, then let them rest in my lap. He was about to pull them away when I caught one and dug the fleshy pad of my thumb into the soft instep. His eyes
widened in surprise.

"You're gonna rub my feet?"

I ignored him and pulled one of his socks off. His foot was pale, smooth, and devoid of black nail polish. I grinned.

"Maybe I'll paint your toenails. How do you feel about pink hearts?"

This time I got the pillow in the head.

"How do you feel about hanging from the rafters by your entrails?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"Good answer."

I continued to rub his foot, moving in slow circles down the arch to the heel. Judging by the pleased expression on his face, Spike was enjoying it. His head was resting on the arm of the sofa, eyes closed.

"So," I started conversationally, "Your feet. You clomp around in those roach killer boots all day and yet they don't stink."

"I don't sweat. No moisture, nothing for the bacteria to grow in. And having a rather low body temperature helps, too."

"Huh," I replied, processing. I stripped the sock off the other foot and started working on it. This time Spike started the conversation.

"That was pretty nasty what you did to the witch. You're certainly a mercurial bird."

"I try. It's a dirty job but somebody's gotta do it."

He laced his hands behind his head and opened his eyes, fixing me with his stare. "I doubt the Slayer would have even known what mercurial meant."

"Testing me, fang boy?" I grinned at him and changed the pressure on his foot from a hard rub to a feather light caress. He jerked it off my lap.

"Hey!"

I grabbed it back and resumed the message. "Just making a point. Well, several actually. Item the one." I gave him a mock glare and shook my finger at him. "If you ever tickle me again, I'll chain you up and tickle you within an inch your life. Do not test me on this - you will lose. Item the
second. Can I help it if you people are just begging for it? Does the word gullible mean anything to you? And I mean really, where's the fun in life if you can't torture people now and again? You, of all people, should understand that."

"You were good with Dawn."

I stopped rubbing his feet and got really quiet. I missed my girls. He pulled his feet from my lap and moved over to sit beside me. You know, for being an evil, demon-spawn, soulless vampire, Spike is an amazingly compassionate and intuitive guy. He slipped his arms around me and scooped me into his lap just as the sobs hit.

"We're gonna get you home Dee, just you wait and see."