"But you can kill a hundred, a thousand, a thousand thousand, and

the armies of hell besides, and all we need is for one of us,

just one, sooner or later to have the thing we're all hoping for."

"And that would be what?"

"One... good... day"

-Spike to Buffy

Chapter 19

He'd forgotten how weak he had been back then. The punch hadn't surprised him, hadn't even made him flinch. The lack of power behind it made him want to weep. How was this version of himself any better equipped to protect the Slayer than he had been? Idiot didn't even know how lucky he was. This Buffy wanted him, him, while his Buffy had thrown him away every chance she got. It was nice, he supposed, to know that this Buffy only loved this version of him because of what the action he, himself, had taken. That he had meant so much to her, but like all things Buffy, it had come too late.

Too late to stop Angel for breaking her trust. Too late loving her. Too late saving her. Too late getting the soul. The only thing he'd managed to get right was dying there at the end. Only to be brought back to deal with the Poofter. Too late to save Buffy from herself. Death after that had seemed a mercy. He was pretty sure he was supposed to go to hell. Even with the soul he had been expecting fire and brimstone, agony the likes of which he'd never imagined. Instead he'd gone to someplace that felt disturbingly like a waiting room. White floor, walls, and ceiling. White couches, white table, and white lights.

He'd almost lost his mind right there because if this was his hell he'd take the fire and brimstone any day. He already knew what it felt like to burn; stuck in a white waiting room complete with crappy music would drive him demented in an hour flat. He'd been raging at the room when the little girl showed up.

"William."

He'd spun around, instinctively, at a voice that sounded too young to be, but most certainly was, his mothers. The child herself was small, slender, dressed in a soft white gown, with full black hair, eyes like glass. Like one of Dru's dolls come to life.

"There is little time William."

"Spike." The correction was automatic. A knee-jerk reaction.

"William." The doll declared once again. Accompanying the word with two quick steps, bringing her within his reach. For a moment he almost backed away, and then he remembered he was dead. What's the worst that could happen?

"There is little time."

"Ya, you said that. Time for what?" He tried for sarcastic, couldn't manage it so settled for cheeky. It sounded so much like his mother and felt nothing like how the First had used her against him.

"I am Necessity, Destiny, Fate." She paused, her eyes narrowing as if to warn him against interrupting. He'd almost done it anyway but, truth be told, there was enough of him that enjoyed hearing his mothers voice, even if it was artificial.

"Your Slayer is dead William." Spike felt his world drop out from under him. Buffy was dead? He tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine a world in which Buffy Summers no longer existed. He couldn't. She couldn't. Not after everything he'd done everything he sacrificed. Died saving the world twice, to keep her safe. To keep her alive. Now she was gone. How had she gone out? An ambush? One of the newly found Slayers deciding she needed killing? Her 'friends' sending her off on another impossible mission?

"You could not have saved her, William."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" He roared, arm lashing out and striking one of the couches. Sent it flying against a wall, where it landed in a thud. The child looked at him intensely for one moment then, like flicking a light switch, she wasn't a child any longer. One moment she was a doll come to life, the next she looked like Dawn. If Dawn had blonde hair and blue eyes.

"You could not have saved her. Her path was twisted before either of you ever came together."

She even sounded like Dawn. His body tensed, replaying the words in his head.

"What do you mean twisted?"

"The Others saw what I had created, saw the potential, and changed her course to suit their needs. Once the path had changed I was powerless to do anything, until it had played out to the end."

"The Others...Oh for fuck's sake. You're one of the PTB aren't you? Haven't you done enough as it is? I'm dead and I'm staying dead. No more apocalypses, no more fighting for the 'good' guys. I'm done. I'm not going back." Not if Buffy's gone he added silently to himself. What was the point? Without the Slayer there what use was there? He couldn't go back to what he was before her and he'd be damned if he was going to train any new Slayers. The rest of the demon/vamp community considered him a traitor. Even he didn't want to dance to that one.

The PTB shook her head sympathetically.

"I can not return you, even if you did wish it. Nor would I allow it."

"Well...Good. So what's this about then? Come to tell me the woman I love is dead and then straight to Hell then?"

"No."

"Huh...Look if it's Hell or this room I choose Hell."

"No."

"Then what then?"

"Drusilla was never supposed to find you William. Just as Angelus was never meant to kill the woman who would one day be the Slayer. The others intervened and I was forced to allow your transformation if you were to find her again. The others led Angelus to her first, before you could change what they had planned. Angelus was their creation, the vampire who would be cursed with a soul and would, with the Slayer at his side, decide who would win the war."

Spike tried to process. That Drusilla had been placed in his path, or him in hers, wasn't all that surprising. Neither was the fact that Angelus had killed a potential Slayer. He wasn't sure what would have prompted him to come to Sunnydale earlier but he knew that that wouldn't have changed a damn thing. Buffy and Angel were like magnets. They would have come together anyway, whether he was there or not. It was the last bit that bothered him.

"Angel? You thought the Poofter would be a good choice for this? The man brooded for a hundred years before having to be kicked into the world again!"

"I agree. There is good in him but, by placing salvation as the prize, greed overcame him. As it always had, as it always will. His every action is geared toward salvation and, thus, he will never receive it. He will continue as he is, until he realizes that his goal will never come to fruition."

Spike almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Angel was weak, Spike had always known that. The problem was that one day Angel would realize that he was never going to be human. When that happened Spike was certain Angelus would return, for good. Mentally shaking himself he stared down hard at the girl before reaching into his pocket and finding a ciggy. Surprised, but happy, to have one he leaned against one of the couches, lighting the cigarette while asking, "So what do you want?"

"Your help."

"I told you I'm not going back."

"You are already back. Buffy was given a choice to send all she remembered, all she knew, all she was into a younger version of herself. One in a world where the Others have already begun to meddle and, in which, I have managed to bring you to her at the right time. Angelus, however, has also come."

"Pfft. Then I haven't got a chance have I? Him, I mean. With the Poofter there she'll get exactly what she wants."

"You misunderstand. She did not wish to return in order to be with Angelus. She wished to be with you, to prove to you how much she loved you. I allowed this to happen."

"Why?" He didn't want to think about Buffy being with him, another him. Didn't want to believe there was a way that he could have ever competed with Angel in her affections. Didn't want to imagine what she would go through, the life he had watched her live, all over again.

"Because that was how it was suppose to be."

"Figures. I do all the work, he gets the girl."

"What did you say to the demon? The one from which you received your soul."

"You tell me."

"You said 'you give me what I want. Make me what I was, so Buffy can get what she deserves.' It was a powerful wish, and impossible for him to grant."

He still remembered it. Remembered emerging victorious at last, filled to the brim with the guilt and the pain. Remembered loving her so much he had never, ever, wanted to hurt her again. Remembered being too late. Knowing that the demon had lied, he hadn't been able to give her what she deserved.

"The Demon gave you your soul; it was all that was in his power to do. But you passed the trials, William, and your wish is what allowed me to interfere. Make you what you were. And there you are now, with her, ready to give her what she deserves but some things must happen. Some trials must always be faced and I can do for you, now, what I did for her. It won't be the same because you are not alive. You must make the other listen. Make him accept you. I cannot stop the things that are to come but I refuse to fail again."

The PTB looked like Dawn no longer. She looked like his mother. From the dimple on her cheek, to the clothes she wore.

"You two were my greatest creations, made for only one thing. Made for the dance."

Now here he was. Standing across a mirror image of himself who was woefully unprepared. What to do? What to do? Smirking Spike hurled himself against his younger counterpart. His right fist swung towards the others face even as his younger self raised a hand to counter it. Spike immediately side-stepped, a trick he'd learned from Buffy, and grasped the arm that had blocked his attack. With a quick twist he sent his counterpart flying against one of the far walls. He waited, patiently, for the other him to shake himself free from the debris and mimed wiping off dust.

"You need to get stronger." He said it jokingly before launching forward again. This time his younger self stepped to the side, dodging by a hair. Spike dropped, swinging his left leg to sweep the younger off his feet. His counterpart landed with an 'oof' and rose with an irritated younger raced towards him, Spike flipped him back down. This time placing one foot firmly against the others chest and pressing down, hard.

"Stop fighting and listen you idiot. You need to get stronger."

Of course his younger self kept struggling. Ripping his leg to the side. Spike allowed himself to fall forward, then used his hand to push against the floor. He propelled himself upwards and around, landing easily behind his counterpart before proceeding to push him over. The other him turned even as he stumbled forward a few steps but Spike caught the oncoming fist easily.

"I'm you . I know all your moves, you don't know mine. Now sit down!" Using the fist still clutched in his hand he spun around, sending his younger self flying towards the largest sofa.

"Listen you damnable fool nothing you do, nothing she changes, will save her. You understand me?"

"Bullshit mate. She's mine, I want her and she'll stay alive until I say otherwise."

"Oh cause that worked out soooo well the first time didn't it? Everything was just peachy, PTB just came strolling through the door one day and said 'Hey, Spike, wanna go kick your own ass?' while Buffy stayed at home to have a girls night with Lil Bit and Red. It's not like she died, or I died, twice the both of us. futures all sunshine and flowers."

His younger self rose from the sofa, his demon coming to the forefront. Finally, something's getting through that thick skull of yours.

"You want to make it out of this alive, with her, you've got a lot to learn and we don't have much time. If you don't give a shit about her there's the door. As soon as you wake up get out of SunnyHell."

His younger self made no move towards the door, just stared at him. Yellow eyes commanding what his mouth refused to say.

"Good. Now where to start..."

Hey-yo everyone. Sorry for the wait but here you are, Chapter 19 and something from any fangirls dream (or maybe just mine) Spike VS Spike. This one was a bitch to write. Thanks, as always, to my Beta (I hope you feel better soon) and to all of you. Now, as there was some confusion at the end of the last chapter, let me say that what Buffy awoke from (and was described) was a Slayer Dream. A hint to chapters to come.

On Next Weeks Episode-

The dream was bothering her, more than she cared to admit. Not just because of what had happened, though being drowned was not high on her list of way I don't want to die it was still a terrifying prospect. What had really worried her was that the dream was too close to her previous lifes path. The Master had drowned her, Angelus had broken Spike. Was it hard to believe that Angelus would do it again? So she'd called Giles, who then proceded to call everyone else, for lunch at his house to deliberate. She wanted to find Spike, make sure he was okay, but for now she'd have to wait. Once night fell she'd go out looking and, hopefully, not run into Angelus on the way.