Err, yes. Umm. I have no good excuse for the lateness of this. I just kinda suck. Sorry :-(.

This chapter is totally different to what I had planned it to be. I realised that I was getting nowhere with what I had, and therefore, I changed it. I hope it's still likeable, however :-).

Thanks to Niannah, Erica Olson and Wrathchild for betaing.

And now (after a slight delay of 50,164 years):

Change

Part Ten

"You have found yourself
Trapped in this incomprehensible maze"
Where's Your Head At? - Basement Jaxx

"Okay, so what do we do now?"

Andrew winced and pulled himself away from the sink. "What do we do...?"

Dust bit his lip and hissed at him softly so that the people in the next room couldn't hear. "We have to tell Buffy, right? And she's probably going to want to go after him without us."

"That's bad?"

He frowned at his companion. "Not the 'excluding you from combat' thing. But she might send us back to the house. She's already said that it's safer for us there. We have to make the choice right now. Do we want to go there or not? Is it going to do any more harm than we've already done for us to be at the Summers'?"

Andrew closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he said simply: "I think we should leave the decision up to Buffy."

"What?"

"I said we should leave it up to Buffy."

"Why? I know she's better at beating things up than we are, but since when are we handing over control of the whole situation to her?"

"We haven't exactly been doing that well on our own..."

"Oh come on! Yes, we screwed up, but we did the best we could under the circumstances, Andrew! Hell, you did more than you should have, which is why you've got a seven inch bandage on your arm..."

"Dust! Later..."

Dust rolled his eyes. "Right. Later. So...?"

"I'm not just saying this because we haven't done that well, Dust."

"No? Then why are you saying it?"


Tucker grinned to himself and scratched his wrist. The fluid glands that he'd just grown were still a little itchy, but they worked. He stared down at the desiccated Ananasi demon at his feet, and then up at the sticky web that coated the crypt. It had taken a little getting used to, granted. But this was a new demon and he had a new ability already.

At this rate he might actually be able to make himself powerful enough to gut little Buffy Summers, though it may take some time. In any case, he'd better get the hell away from this location. Didn't want his stupid brother sending the goons after him just yet.

Now he remembered why he really liked Sunnydale. It was impressively demonic.


"...and then there was Glory, who she defeated by killing herself. And she's also saved the world from the Master, the Judge, and several other individuals starting with "The". Plus there was that thing in Mexico..."

Dust frowned and shook his head. "Andrew, okay! You've just given me a categorical list of all the times that Buffy has saved the world. Well done. Can you now tell me what the point is now?"

"The point is that this is a very bad situation, and Buffy knows how to deal with very bad situations. It's what she's best at. I'm not suggesting that we leave things in the hands of someone who doesn't know what she's doing, and I think that at the moment we're both too tired and just completely ticked off about Tucker to make a clear decision. So we should leave it to someone who's at her best in apocalyptic situations. Okay?"

Dust looked seriously at Andrew for a few seconds and then sighed. "I guess that is at least logical."

His companion offered a faint smile. "I managed logic? Wow. Half the time I can't even do that when I'm well."

"And I suppose I'm not exactly at my 'thinking clearest' point at the moment either."

"Exactly."

Dust gave him a withering glance. "Thanks so much. Okay fine. We'll leave it to Buffy. Now we'd better get out there and tell her what's going on before she thinks we've both escaped through the bathroom window or something."

Andrew's nodded. "Probably a good idea. And Dust, it's okay, honest. I'm sure she'll make the right decision."


"I'm not sure I made the right decision."

Spike cocked his head at her as he nimbly jumped a small headstone. "Yeah?"

"I mean, what if they're right with what they said before? What if by taking him back to the house we've completely screwed up time?"

"I'd say it's a bit too late to be worrying about that. 'Sides, you didn't tell the maybe-Slayers who he was."

"Oh yeah, and the relative story was so smooth." Buffy frowned, stopped, and scanned the graveyard. No sign of Tucker yet, but they weren't quite at the crypt Andrew had described. Older Andrew, that was. Younger Andrew didn't seem to have the same weird flashy blood-related foreshadowing powers, a piece of information that could be vital or could just be due to time travel. Yet another thing that she didn't know about this whole deal. She turned back to Spike. "I know; you're right. I've got to stop second-guessing myself."

"Nothing particularly wrong with second guessing yourself if you're really sure you might be wrong. But right now? You've gotta work on the information you have."

"Which is small and pathetic. Damn." She stopped and nodded her head. "Okay, there's the crypt. How much chance do you think there is that he's still there?"

"Small to none, I reckon. Could still be around the area though."

"Or he might be way gone."

"So we track. You're the Slayer"

"And you're the one with the super senses." She walked up to the crypt door and looked at him questioningly. "You picking anything up?"

Spike frowned and listened. "No. And no familiar scents either. Must have eaten something that covers his up. Or your bloke's gone mad and he was never here."

"Or 'my bloke' isn't Andrew after all and he's screwing with Willow's magic." Buffy pulled back, centred herself, and kicked the door down. The stone made a satisfying crack as slammed to the floor, ploughing through layers of sinister looking spider webs as it did.

"You think he's not Andrew?" They edged in carefully and searched the room. Twisted strands of webbing were everywhere, but there was no sign of life.

Buffy looked thoughtful. "The door was wedged shut. He must have gotten out through a sewer exit." She wrinkled her nose and pushed aside the webbing with a stake as she moved to the back of the room. "And I don't know. I know I'm having a hard time believing that's Andrew."

Spike snorted. "Come on now. You're telling me you weren't a different person ten years ago?"

"Not that different!"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, perhaps a bit different, but I hadn't found out what I was going to be doing with the rest of my life at that point."

"You think the kid who spends all day cooking us food and answering the phone knows what he's going to do with the rest of his life?"

"Whatever the person in charge wants him to?"

Spike gave her a wry grin. "So maybe he hasn't changed that much at all. It's just that he's become the person in charge of himself. Quite inspiring, that."

"You really do think it's him, don't you?"

Spike's expression was veiled. "Yeah well," he said. "I've seen weirder transformations."


Kennedy sat perched on the bench top, shaking her head. "But Andrew's cousin? We're looking after Andrew's relatives now? As if the house isn't full enough..."

Xander gave her a look. "He needs protection, Kennedy. If Buffy was the type of person to let people in danger fend for themselves I think you'd all be in trouble. Right?"

Kennedy made a face.

"Right?"

"Okay, okay."

Xander turned to the rest of the potentials. "That goes for the rest of you. I know you're frustrated at being stuck inside again, and I know having two more people isn't going to be great for sleeping arrangements. But the people out there are tired and injured, and they need our help. The least you guys can do is have a bit of empathy about the situation and not sit in here gossiping about poor Dust and Anthony."

There was general amount of contrite nodding from the potentials and they dispersed.

Xander added after them, "And keep out of the basement! Let him get some sleep, okay?"

Xander sighed. He felt like a high school teacher. Worse, he felt like an adult; telling off a bunch of girls for gossiping. When the heck had that happened? He turned around, and bumped straight into Dawn.

"Well, you totally told them."

"Thanks Dawn, 'ppreciate the kudos. Now, didn't you have some homework to do?"

"I'll get to it. But first I wanna know who he really is."

Xander winced. Damn. "You know, I'm pretty certain we already told everyone..."

"You told the potentials a load of crap! I'm not an idiot, you know. Half the house is trying to keep some kind of secret, including Anya, who's just bad at it, and Andrew, who's even worse. Do I rate under Andrew now?"

"Dawn, it's not about that..."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Xander! I know how to keep a secret!"

Xander stared at her, torn.

"Well?"

"If I don't tell you, you're just going to do everything in your power to find out, aren't you?"

"Duh."

He sighed. "Okay, okay. Keep it down though, and do not tell anyone else. Enough damage has been done already."

"Knowing the secret causes damage?"

"It just might. Now listen, you're probably not going to believe this but..."


The basement was surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. There was a bed, and a chair, and handcuffs bolted to the wall...

Dust huddled in the chair and stared at the wall worriedly. He was fairly certain there was a logical reason for the last item, but his mind kept conjuring up stuff that was just plain nasty. Oh well, at least the bed seemed comfortable. Then again, Andrew had looked so exhausted it was quite possible he'd still be asleep had he been asked to sleep on a bed of titanium nails dipped in chilli sauce with a mongoose nibbling on his toes.

He really should be trying to get some sleep of his own. Buffy and Spike were out hunting Tucker, there was nothing that he could do at present. And he needed the sleep, almost as much as Andrew. He should rest. Really. Any second now.

He jumped when someone came down the stairs, and looked up to see a familiar face holding two steaming mugs.

"Dawn!" he said without thinking, and then inwardly winced. They hadn't told her, had they?

Dawn grinned at him. "I'm guessing you know future me, then." Off his look, she added, "It's okay. I forced Xander to tell me. He is the weakest link."

Dust managed a smile in return. "Ah. Well, I doubt it matters much anyway. The timeline's probably already tied in knots."

Dawn nodded with the air of someone who'd learned to stop worrying about statements like that. "Could be. You want some hot chocolate? Xander said you were still awake last he looked, and I thought you might want something. It helps me sleep, anyway."

He straightened in the chair and accepted a mug gratefully. "Thanks. It has been kind of difficult to rest."

"Brain won't stop being anxious?"

"Pretty much. This whole trip has pretty much been one big disaster after another." He sipped. "Mmm, nice chocolate."

"Buffy says I put way too much sugar in it. Of course, I personally don't see how that's actually possible."

"Me neither. I like chocolate when it's really sweet. Not that horrible bitter stuff that's mostly cocoa."

Dawn made a face. "Oh yeah, I know the stuff. Totally gross. And it's also about ten times more expensive that the tasty stuff. I mean, what's with that?"

He smiled weakly. "I don't know. It's stupid, really."

"Completely."

Dawn looked thoughtful. "I'm not going to ask about future me, by the way. I mean, I'm curious and all, but I thought about it and really, I think I'd rather be surprised. So you don't have to worry about me begging for information or anything."

Dust blinked. "Oh. Thanks." He hesitated, and then added, "Everyone's been pretty good about that, really. I thought they'd be grilling me or something, but they've pretty much left it alone."

"Well, when you've been through as many dangerous situations as we have, you do learn that it's a bad idea to poke at those kinds of things."

"Uh. Point."

They sat in silence for a minute, sipping their drinks. Then Dawn nodded towards Andrew. "Did he really... y'know..." She made a cutting motion on her wrist.

Dust winced. "Yeah. Trust me. We're going to have a big talk about that when this is over."

"I just can't believe he'd do it. I mean, our Andrew spent half an hour complaining about a paper cut the other day."

"He's changed a bit."

"Right."

"A lot, even. People change."

"I'm so not arguing. It must be pretty weird for you meeting up with our Andrew though. I mean, with all the... differences."

Dust chewed his lip. "It's interesting. I haven't really had time to digest it. He's certainly... different."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not like I'm disappointed or anything, though. Honest. I mean, a lot of people were a bit..."

"Annoying?"

"Overenthusiastic when they were younger. It's not as though it's anything I shouldn't have already suspected. And he's not that bad. Enthusiasm's nice sometimes."

Dawn smirked. "Sometimes. I guess I don't think he's too bad most of the time. I think Buffy's a bit exasperated with him though."

"Well he is... enthusiastic."

"Boy howdy."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I've been watching too much old TV."


"Still no luck?" Willow switched the phone to her another ear and bit her lip, worried. "That's not good."

Buffy's voice came through slightly crackled. The magic aura around many of Sunnydale's graveyards sometimes did that. "Very much of the bad. The one good thing is that we have found evidence of where he's been in the shape of two shrivelled up demon corpses; a kind of weird spider one near the crypt where Andrew... big Andrew... I mean old Andrew... oh, you know what I mean..."

"Future Andrew."

"Where future Andrew said Tucker was, and a kind of reddish fuzzy thing. It was probably quite cute before it was, y'know, regurgitated by an insane freak. Oh, hang on..." There was a scaping sound in the background. "What? Oh, but... Ah, I see..." Buffy directed her attention back to the phone. "Make that three shrivelled up corpses. Spike just found another one. Kinda ugly; green with brown warts and blue lips."

"Okay, I'll see if I can look those up. Tucker's been productive."

"You have no idea how much this is ticking me off, Willow. I'm going to be up all night trying to find him. I don't know how I'm going to survive school tomorrow."

"Another sick day?"

"They're going to think I'm some kind of alcoholic who's too hung over to work half the time. Or that I'm just lazy." She lowered her voice slightly, not to disguise the conversation from Spike, who had far too precise hearing for that, but to indicate to him that he should take the hint and not listen in. "Willow, I was happy when I got this job. It's a real job. It's not some sucky fast food joint, it's the kind of job that people who are going somewhere in their lives have."

"I know, Buffy. It's hard."

"I just... I just thought I'd finally found something that wouldn't have to be sacrificed because of my wonderful 'duty'."

"You don't have to sacrifice it, Buffy. You've only been away a few days so far. It's totally non-suspicious, honest."

"And if it keeps going on like this?"

"Well, look at it this way. If the first evil gets its way, it'll all be kind of moot, really."

Buffy managed an amused snort of laughter. "Thanks. That does make me feel better."

Willow smiled ruefully. "Well, you know me. Miss Optimism."

"Hey, sometimes I just need someone to give me a jolt of reality. Listen, I'll keep on with this for as long as we've got his trail. If we lose it I'm packing in for the night. I do need some sleep."

"Good luck."

"Thanks Willow."


Dust was wedged awkwardly into the corner of a very large white room. Part of him wondered why he didn't stretch out more, but every time he tried he couldn't quite manage it. Also, the room kept getting brighter, which was irritating because he could see the light even when his eyes were shut. Stupid room. Stupid light. Stupid person who was calling out his name. Oh, wait a second, what was tha...

Dust gasped and jerked awake. Daylight filtered into the basement through a tiny window, where he was currently folded up in the chair. Andrew was standing over him looking remarkably young...

Wait a second. He blinked several times, made an attempt to pull himself together, and twisted over to see his Andrew still sleeping soundly on the nearby bed. He looked up at the younger Andrew with a tad more composure. "Oh. Hello."

Young Andrew smiled at him hopefully and said softly. "Hi! Sorry if I woke you up."

Dust carefully stretched out, cringing. "It's... okay. I don't think I really should have fallen asleep in this chair anyway. What time is it?"

Young Andrew hopped distractedly from foot to foot. "Ten a.m."

"Did they...?"

Young Andrew looked pained. "They didn't find him. They found lots of remains, but no Tucker. They looked all night, too. Came in at six. Umm. You should probably be really quiet. Buffy's taken the day off and she's asleep in her room. Spike's in Willow's room. Xander wasn't very happy about that, but they couldn't put him in here because he... I was here and they did still tie him up a bit."

Dust blinked, slightly confused. "They tie Spike up?"

"Oh, yeah. It's because of the brainwashing. Sometimes he goes all snarly on people who have totally done nothing to deserve it, and he goes and pulls them through walls..."

Dust looked at him, slightly horrified. "He's brainwashed? He pulls people through walls? I thought we were supposed to be safe here?"

"Oh, it's okay. I mean, he hasn't done it for a while. I think he's managed to shake off the hideous influence of the First Evil in order to show his true spirit..."

Dust stared at him blankly. "I... Why were you here again?"

Young Andrew brightened. "I just thought you might want some breakfast or something."

Dust decided to delay the questions until later. After all, they were leaving it to Buffy, right? "Breakfast sounds good. You'd... better not wake yourself up. I think he needs all the sleep he can get."

"Right." The young Andrew looked uncomfortably at the bed. "He was a little... grouchy last night. Probably lack of sleep, right?"

Dust gritted his teeth. "Right. Probably. So, breakfast?"


Three quarters of an hour later, Dust was sorting through the fridge for something else to eat. He'd had a bowl of cereal and then got sidetracked by the heavenly promise of a bath with warm water and even better, bubble bath that smelt like someone had pureed a field of flowers. By the time he got out, Young Andrew and the potentials were intently watching a television program that they totally couldn't miss, but they told him to help himself if he was still hungry.

Earth fridges were sources of endless fascination to Dust. Scathck's food had always been rather plain, and it amazed him that people could find so many ways to serve up a set of basic ingredients.

He sorted through the packages and condiments with a certain amount of awe. "Swiss cheese. Edam cheese. Blue cheese. White cheese. Cream cheese. Butter. Pickled olives." He reached for a jar at the back and looked at the label curiously. "Antipasto? What's that?"

"If you put it together with pasto, the universe explodes."

Dust turned and raised an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to understand that?"

His Andrew looked more amused than Dust thought the situation called for. "If you were a geek you'd get it."

"Well, I'm not exactly one of the cool guys." He replaced the jar and closed the fridge. "Feeling better?"

Andrew made a face. "Still sore. But not 'falling down' sore. The sleep was good. I was talking to Willow just now. They haven't found him."

"I know. You told me."

"Oh goody."

Dust glared at him. "Andrew, please just be civil to yourself. And I know that sounds weird but..."

Andrew sighed. "Okay, okay. Fine."

"We won't be here for that long. Buffy will find him, and we'll be off, and this will all be like a bad dream."

He snorted. "True. I'm going to grab a sandwich and put my bag back in order. There are magical items in there that probably shouldn't be touching each other for any amount of time."

"So sorry. I didn't have time to repack them while you were bleeding to death."

"Dust..."

"I'm not just going to forget!"

There was an awkward silence, as they glared at each other. Then Andrew calmed himself somewhat. "I'm not asking you to forget. Just... after. The potentials are probably listening to us, you know. I'm probably listening to us."

Dust bit his lip. "Fine. Okay. Look, I'll make your sandwich. You should probably get the bag cleaned up. See you in the basement?"

"I... thanks."

Dust gave him an exasperated look. "No problem."


Young Andrew descended the basement steps carefully and hovered vaguely at the bottom, watching himself carefully laying out items and repacking them into the knapsack. When the older version of himself didn't offer any discouragement, he wandered a little closer. "Uh, hi."

Older Andrew seemed to take a deep breath. He turned slightly from what he was doing and nodded to his younger self, his expression carefully blank. "Hello."

Younger Andrew took the lack of visible anger as encouragement. "Uh. We probably didn't get off on the right foot back then. You were obviously very tired, and all..."

Older Andrew concentrated on filling a small box with polished stones. "I was tired, yes."

"And injured. How is that, by the way?"

"Better."

"Oh. Well. Good." He rocked on the back of his feet.

"Fine." The box filled, he stowed it carefully in the bottom of the bag.

"So... what are you doing?"

Older Andrew twitched. "Repacking." Unable to resist, he added, "Obviously."

His younger self didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. "It looks like you've picked up some interesting stuff in your travels."

Several zip-locked bags were carefully closed. "A bit, yes. Was the TV program over?"

Younger Andrew looked hopeful. "Oh yes. I mean, I normally don't watch chat shows, but this was really good. It was about..."

Older Andrew cut in, sounding annoyed. "Yes, okay. I'm sure it was great."

There was an awkward silence. So far, reflected the elder of the two, the day had been full of them. He grabbed the next package and unrolled it to unveil a collection of six wicked looking daggers.

Younger Andrew looked suitably impressed. "Wow."

Another twitch, and the voice was tinged with sarcasm again. "You're impressed by a lot of daggers. Wonderful."

"I'm not impressed. I'm just... Can you fight with all of them?"

His future self looked at him, irritated. "They're mostly ceremonial. For rituals. The two on the end are the only ones that are combat knives."

"But you know how to use them, right?"

Older Andrew gritted his teeth. "I know how to use them. But I don't. Not often."

The younger Andrew's eyes sparkled. "Oh, I see. You've made a promise not to use such fatal weapons so our soul is never again scarred by..."

And he snapped. "Will you shut up!"

Young Andrew stepped back, startled. "I..."

"I don't not use them because of some stupid promise! I don't use them because I'm not very good at using them. Why would you even think that I would be? Are you any good at fighting?!"

"N... no. But I thought if you had a lot of practice."

"I had hours of practice! This means I managed to claw my way up from being 'really, really, bad' to being 'just about average'. I'm still no damn good at it! And it's still far safer for me to run the hell away! I use these when I'm desperate, and only then! Do you have to be such an idiot?"

His younger self stared at him for a few seconds, eyes glistening. Then he turned and fled up the stairs.

Fuming, Andrew watched him go. Then he deflated and dropped his head into his hands. "Okay," he murmured to himself, "Now Dust is really going to kill me."


Willow frowned at the screen and tapped in a few more letters. She thought she'd found the first demon, but suspected that she'd need a few more details on the latter ones. Still, it wasn't horribly urgent; she could let Buffy sleep for a little longer before interrogating...

She heard a sob, and looked up just in time to see Andrew the younger go running past her towards the back door. What the heck?

"Andrew."

"Go away!"

"Andrew!" This was more like an order, and a basic niggling fear Andrew still had of her forced him to a standstill. Willow strode up, ignoring the potentials that were staring bug-eyed from the other room. "What's going on?"

"NothingI'mfine."

"Uh-huh. Look..."

"I just want to be alone, okay?"

Willow stared at him, and felt a twinge of sympathy. She'd seen how the Elder Andrew had reacted before; no doubt this was something similar. "Look, I don't have a problem with that. But I don't think you should be going outside right now. Tucker's still out there, remember."

He sniffed. "Oh."

"Hey, it's okay. Just... You can sit in Dawn's room, okay? Just for a while."

He hesitated, nodded, and scrambled up the stairs.


"I can't believe you did that!"

Andrew stared at a small wooden flute as though it held the answers to the universe. "Sorry."

Dust stabbed the sandwich he was holding with a butter knife and stared at his companion in disgust. "I asked you to be civil two seconds ago! I cannot believe you couldn't even maintain it for that long!"

"You don't know what he said..."

"Oh come on Andrew. I heard what he said before and it in no way warranted..."

Anything else he was about to say was abruptly cut off by a scream of terror from somewhere else in the house.

Dust froze. "That was you."

They took the stairs two at a time.