Chapter 1


It was the nightmare Spike could never stop having. He was stranded in a shiny bright world with blazing suns. It was so hot he had to wipe the sweat from his skin in layers. Lying on his back, naked in the grass, he watched a flock of blue birds soar across the sky.

But then another wave of heat tore through the valley and he rolled onto his side, covering his eyes with his hands. He needed to shield them from the sun.

After a while, he sat up and saw a row of trees on the edge of the horizon. Tall and leafy, they stretched across the landscape as far as the hills. And there were hills rising against the sky like crystal green castles bathed in sunlight.

Spike struggled to his knees and took a deep breath.

The air smelled like water, fresh, clear and sparkling. A river was nearby—and something more.

Buffy. She was standing on a precipice looking down on the water, her body, like the hills, stunning in sunlight and shadow.

Spike rose to his feet. She was only a short distance away. He could reach her if he tried.

But how was all of this bloody possible?

In this time, there was no clean water and nothing grew. Birds were extinct and the sun hadn't shone in seventy years. And he couldn’t lay in the sun. He was a vampire.

Then he was running, trying to reach her. But when he stood at the edge of the precipice, his skin suddenly was cold and wet, and the sun had disappeared.

Spike shivered so hard he couldn’t move.

But then he understood.

It wasn’t Buffy. It couldn’t be her. Was never her. Because. Like the rest of the world, she no longer existed.

###

Spike steered his vintage Jeep Cherokee to a halt in front of Club Zero and stepped out, cursing. It was noon and the rain was falling from the sky in buckets. Like always. Sighing, he shut his eyes and lifted his chin, letting the water soak his face.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. The rain stung, its acid burning his skin. But he kept his head tilted up. He’d wipe off his face once he got inside. He needed to stand in the rain and feel the pain. It would help him remember his dream.

Or was it a nightmare.

It hadn’t felt like one. More like wishful thinking. But how sad and lonely was that? Here it was 2082, and he was still hanging onto ancient dreams and long-dead memories. Bloody Fool. There was no sun here, no birds, and no grass. LA was a wasteland, a sodding wet bog, cold and gray and lifeless. Well, except for a handful of humans who clung onto their existence like a mad dog with a bone. Vampires, on the other hand, were like mice in a cornfield. Everywhere.

Spike hugged the leather duster around his waist, checked both ways and hurried across the street. Navigating over the demolished road, he easily leaped over the pools of mud and chunks of concrete that littered Wilshire Blvd.

He stopped at the bottom of a staircase and nodded to the vampire emerging from the shadows. A broad-shouldered giant, he gestured to Spike, inviting him to make his way up the stairs.

Spike covered the steps three at a time and arrived at the top of the landing in seconds. Then he waited patiently as the vampire disconnected the security device and opened the back door to Club Zero’s second floor balcony. Spike edged by the vampire and gave him as friendly a greeting as he could manage, and walked into the Club.

Inside, Spike let the familiar feeling sweep over him. The place reminded him of The Bronze. Same set of stairs leading to a balcony overlooking the dance floor. Same stage directly across from the main entrance, and an alcove beneath the staircase near a long wooden bar. But the crowd wasn’t the same. The lean, ragged faces of the dead and the dying filled Club Zero, as it did every afternoon and every night. It was a lust club, a place where vampires and humans let themselves go mad for a few hours every day.

Spike stood at the banister of the balcony overlooking the dance floor and marveled at how much the world had changed since the last apocalypse in 2012. There was little to distinguish the humans from the vampires now. They all lived in a world without sunshine or fresh water, just a steady downpour of poison rain and gray days and black moonless nights. Even the darkest skin was ashen. And everyone was hungry. Ravenously so.

But Spike hadn’t come to Club Zero to analyze the customers or to reminisce about days long gone. He was looking for a girl.

Spike wiped the remaining water from his face and spotted an empty seat at the bar on the opposite side of the dance floor. He headed for it.

"Long time no see, Spike,” said Geronimo Jones, the lone bartender and sole owner of Club Zero. A small-boned, elegantly coiffed Japanese human, he liked vampires, liked having them for customers and loved having them in other ways more intimate.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think this wasn't a friendly visit." Geronimo had a knack for picking up on moods and must have sensed that Spike’s motives for being at Club Zero weren’t recreational.

"You wouldn't be here to shut down an old friend's club. Right, Detective?" He reached beneath the bar and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Nope. Never bust a friend." Spike didn’t flinch at the word Detective. He’d never thought he’d end up a gumshoe, but after Wolfram and Hart was permanently shut down, he had to find something to do, and detective work was in his blood. Angel’s calling and all that rot. So he’d taken a job with the Culver City Police Department.

He took a swig of the Jack Daniels Geronimo had poured and choked back a cough. The shit wasn’t a month old. Just brown fermented rainwater dumped in a plastic bottle labeled to look like the original stuff. Geronimo must have hoped that Spike had forgotten Jack’s real burn. But Spike decided not to mention it and said, "Don't seem to be many new faces here tonight.”

"Hardly any new faces in all of LA, Spike."

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

"Should I keep the Jack handy?" Geronimo held the bottle over Spike’s glass.

"No, I'm good."

"You got that right." Geronimo craned forward, his eyes darting to Spike’s fitted pants. "And that pretty ass of yours is always good to see."

"Relax, Geronimo," Spike said, accustomed to the bartender’s advances. "Not in the mood for you this afternoon. Need something new." Spike had given in to Geronimo’s flirtations once or twice before, but today he was working.

Geronimo sighed. "A man can always hope." Looking disappointed, he turned and headed toward the other end of the bar. Then abruptly he swung back and faced Spike, using the bottle of Jack as a pointer. "Check out the fresh eye candy,” he said.

Standing in the middle of a group of humans and vampires was a new face. A girl, or young woman, long blonde hair, still dripping from the rain. About five feet two inches tall, wearing all black. A super-short shiny skirt, thick dark tights, thigh-high black plastic boots and a black waist-length jacket that looked like leather.

Spike titled his head to the side. "Drop the bottle Geronimo. No need to be obvious."

"If I swung that way, I'd fuck her." Geronimo raised an eyebrow. "She’s pretty."

Spike swallowed. "Yeah, she’s okay."

"Looks like your type."

"You have no understanding of my type, mate.”

Geronimo grunted. "She’s a vampire."

Spike cleared his throat. He hadn’t sensed that. Too busy lost in a memory. "That’s a bloody shame."

Geronimo winked. “Maybe she’s the one you’re looking for?”

“Yeah, the chosen one,” Spike muttered. “Except she’s a vampire now.”

At that moment the girl looked at him from across the bar. He nodded and gave her one of his sexy grins. She responded in kind, excused herself from the group and headed in his direction.

"Pour me another drink," Spike instructed Geronimo. He gulped it down while keeping an eye on her, and the way her pants clung to her shapely, lithe body. And the way the nipples of her perky breasts pushed delicately through the white blouse beneath her jacket. All of her was familiar. Too damn familiar.

Bloody hell. If he could breathe, he would have passed out.

Chapter 2

Heat, hot, flames, wind. Screaming. Lots of screaming. Buffy stood in front of him, begging him. Pleading. He ran, as quickly as he could. Making his way to the edge of the cliff, one step away from oblivion. "Spike!" It was Buffy calling him. He turned and ran toward the sound of her voice, but she was gone. There was nothing left, but the sun.

###

"Funny running into you here.” This Buffy's voice was lighter, less strained than he remembered from that last year, those last days.

"Who are you?” Spike wasn’t buying it, he couldn’t, not if he wanted to remain sane. This girl, this Buffy look-a-like, insulted the Slayer's memory. She was a vampire.

Still, Spike felt his mouth hanging open. She had the same hair, the same oval eyes and shiny lips. She even did that nervous fidgety motion with her hands. He turned away, pretending to be interested in what was happening on the dance floor. Maybe he was dreaming with his eyes wide open. That could be it. That had to be it. Shit. Dreaming was going to turn him into a bloody lunatic.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, tapping his shoulder. “You seem distracted. Should I leave? Were you looking for someone else?”

He faced her. “I’m looking for a girl,” he managed to get out.

“I’m a girl,” she smiled. “Well, technically I’m 80 years old, but I was twenty-six when I got turned. So young woman works.” She glanced at the empty seat next to him. "Can I join you?"

"I thought you already had." He gestured for her to sit down. "You do know this is not your friendly neighborhood bar. Vampires come here to drink human blood from the source and humans are here because they like that."

“I know what a Lust Club is.” She touched the collar of his shirt lightly, pretending to straighten it. "Blood straight from the body, instead of a cup."

“Well, since I haven’t seen you before I thought you were new in town.”

She licked her lips. “Yeah, I’m new, but I’ve been around, New York, DC, Cleveland.” Playfulness floated in her eyes and Spike felt his stomach drop.

“Why are you here?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

“I hear you’re not the type of vampire to indulge in what a Lust Club has to offer,” she said. “You only like rat’s blood.”

‘How do you know what I like, pet?”

“I’ve asked around.”

He looked at her sideways. “Why would you ask about me?"

Hands steady, she slipped out of her jacket and opened the collar of her blouse. She held the edges apart, exposing her juggler.

“What are you doing?” Spike asked.

“Making you an offer,” she responded. “Don’t you want a taste.”

“You just said it, I don’t drink blood directly from a body, any body, human or vampire.”

“I think I can change your mind.” She had a guileless smile on her face.

“What makes you think that?”

“I can smell your arousal.” She giggled softly. “So are you sure you’re not thirsty?" she insisted.

"You should be careful,” Spike said, unable to stop his leg from shaking. "I don't like playing games."

"You don't know what games I'm willing to play."

"I'll give you that, pet.”

She sat there, super cool, gaze hard, holding her collar open. The scent of her arousal joined his and filled the space between them.

He wanted to grab her. Take her. But his fangs were digging a hole into the sides of his mouth.

She titled her head. "So it’s true, you don’t suck blood from vampires or humans?” She shook her head. “Amazing. These days lust clubs are the only place where vamps and humans can legally exchange blood and explore their sexual desires. What’s your problem? Are you a eunuch?”

“No, I’m not a eunuch,” Spike said. Now he really wanted to bite her.

His usual feelings about biting and blood had suddenly evaporated. This girl was taunting him. Not only with her looks, but with her mouth. He moved swiftly to her, and buried his fangs in her neck before he could change his mind.

As his fangs sunk into her cool flesh, she stiffened and made a noise, a grunt or a moan, or both, he didn't care. Her blood was in his mouth and her hands were on his hips holding him to her.

Spike deepened the bite as his body molded against hers. As he sucked, his arms tightened around her waist. Then his hands slipped down to cup her ass. He paused, his erection wedged against her stomach.

"I want you," she whispered. "I want you to understand…"

Spike withdrew his fangs from her neck and licked the wound, lapping at the drops of blood flowing from it. "Understand what?"

"That I'm a good cop and will make you a good partner," she said earnestly.

Spike stepped back. "You've got to be kidding."

She covered the wound on his neck with her hand. "I’m serious.” She extended her other hand. “My name is Buffy Summers, Lieutenant, and I’m your new partner."

"What?" He wiped his mouth and rubbed his hands over his eyes, as if awakening from yet another dream. Had she actually said her name was Buffy? Buffy Summers?

"We were scheduled to meet at the precinct later this evening, after nightfall." She closed the front of her blouse. "But I thought why wait for a formal introduction. Heard you’d never had a partner before and I wanted to meet you outside of work, show you I can be whatever I need to be to work with you."

"You're out of your mind."

"Could be." She closed her eyes for a second as if gathering strength from some secret reserve. "I know we'll make a good team.”

"Not likely." Spike didn’t quite know how to feel. This girl’s idea of getting to know a new partner sucked. "This wasn't a smart move…looking to make points by letting me bite your ass."

"I didn't mean it that way…and you bit my neck." She pulled on her jacket.

Spike grabbed her by the collar and pulled her roughly to him. "Get out of here before I forget I'm a civilized vamp."

"Okay,” she said, unfastening his fingers and heading toward the exit. "I'll see you at work then."

"I said get out."

With a backhanded wave, she walked out of the Club.

"What in the bloody hell was that?" Spike plopped down on the bar stool.

Geronimo held out a fresh tumbler filled with Jack. "Some tasty looking shit, Spike. That girl was bold."

Spike stared at the path Vampire Buffy had taken to exit Club Zero. Now he had to believe his dream was a nightmare, and a harbinger of things to come. But that awareness only made him feel worse. After so many decades, a vampire that looked exactly like Buffy, and who had maneuvered her way into becoming his partner was too far of a stretch of coincidence. There was something demonic going on.

"Maybe you should give her a chance," Geronimo was saying.

"You're wrong, Geronimo." Spike raised his glass and drained it. "I don't have to give her a fucking thing."

to be continued...

Chapter 3

A stake twisted in his chest. Sparks flew from his nostrils, his eyes and his soul, severing his heart from his mind, his love from his dreams. He shot upright in the bed and didn't know where he was.

###

Spike walked into the Culver City Police Station a little after seven o’clock in the evening and headed straight for his desk. A stack of crime film lay piled on top of it and he rifled through them. Of course, he couldn’t keep his eyes from checking out the front entrance. He was waiting for her to walk in, needing her to walk in.

“Spike!” He shot to his feet. Rupert? No, it wasn’t Giles. It was Captain Thomas.

“Get in here!” The voice shouted.

Spike walked past a group of officers on his way to the Captain’s office. He didn’t need to knock before entering. “Did you hear we got a lead on a demon selling fresh water?”

“Yeah, I heard that.” Captain Thomas didn’t raise his baldhead from the papers he was staring at on top of his desk. “I also heard about you refusing to work with a partner.”

He looked at Spike on that last word.

“Captain, she’s not the girl she seems to be.”

Captain Thomas stared up at him, deep creases in his brow. “Well, whatever you mean by that, it doesn’t matter. She’s your partner. Period.”

***

Spike walked out of the office and immediately collided with a small, perky blonde vampire with smiling hazel eyes.

“Sorry Lieutenant didn’t mean to bump into you like that,” she said smugly.

“I’m sure you had no other choice,” Spike responded. “Follow me. We’ve got an assignment and we need to get on it.” He pushed by her and marched toward his cubicle. “We’re after a demon by the name of Horace Cross.” He said over her shoulder. “He’s a dealer, manufactures and sells fresh water on the black market.”

Spike could hear Vampire Buffy’s footsteps dragging behind him. “You know about demons right? They don’t mingle with humans or vampires. A group of them went into the water business a few decades back and got good at it.” He was not feeling Buffy’s presence and spun around. “Are you going to keep up or what?”

“Yes, Spike.” She jogged to his side.

He continued. “The demons were doing a good job cutting into the profits of some of the legitimate water manufacturers but Cross’s recipe started killing customers.”

Buffy stepped into his cube. “What did the Captain give you on Cross?”

“He has a man in Cross’s crew who got us a list of his customers,” he answered.

“You said they call him King, right? King Cross.” Buffy sat on the edge of his desk. “I know that name. Didn’t you two have a run-in?”

“You could say that.” He wasn’t going to give her any more information.

She seemed to get his drift, and didn’t press it. She just hopped off the desk. “That information the Captain gave you, we should get it on a jump drive and upload it into the supercomputer’s search engine.” She faced him. “It will tell us who’s next in line for a delivery within minutes.”

###

The streets were a blistering sea of mud, wind and broken rock, day or night. But when the dim light that constituted daylight vanished, the weather became truly nasty business. Spike steered his jeep carefully over the wet, broken streets before driving up onto a large slab of concrete behind the Planetarium.

“Let me do the talking here, Buffy.” Opening the jeep door, Spike eased from behind the steering wheel. “The officer on duty is not the type to suffer a newbie.” Standing next to the jeep, he pulled his collar up around her neck. It wasn’t raining. But the wind had picked up to practically gale force levels, and was turning debris into shrapnel.

Buffy slammed the door shut on the passenger side, a hand over her face, shielding her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”

Spike could only hope Buffy wouldn’t screw up in front of Officer Grant and piss her off. He didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary.

They arrived at the main gate of the rear entrance, checking in with the security guard, a stubby little vampire clearly relishing the chance to wear a uniform. He studied their identification, inserting their ID chip into the decoder over and over, as if one or both had broken. Finally, he turned a knob on the monitor and Spike’s image came up on the screen.

“Okay, your appointment is confirmed. You can go in.” He stepped aside, pressed a button and the twelve-foot steel double doors parted, revealing the central rotunda of the Planetarium's first floor lobby. They walked down a short corridor into the main hall.

“Get in line,” Officer Grant said over a loudspeaker.

Spike grabbed Buffy by the sleeve of her jacket. “Wait here.”

“There’s nobody here but us,” Buffy said, not too quietly.

“Just wait,” Spike repeated.

The ground level of the Planetarium was an enormous space. Had to be the size of a small sports arena from back in the day, Spike figured. Buffy was right though. It was empty. No other people, human or vampire, except for the two of them and Beatrice. A large square woman with steel-colored hair hanging limply to her shoulders, she sat in a swivel chair in a glass encased command center. Her attention diverted by the control panel, she appeared to be fingering it at vampire speed, as it stretched out in front of her.

Politely, Spike pretended to search the empty hall. “Officer Grant, we have an appointment,” he began. “We were scheduled to meet with you to run some data on a fresh water dealer.”

Beatrice tugged the sleeves of her crisp uniform shirt over thick forearms. “No talking until it’s your turn.”

Buffy jabbed Spike in the shoulder, and he turned. She gave him a what-the-fuck glare. Then she plastered a broad grin on her face and sauntered toward Beatrice’s island fortress.

Spike took hold of her jacket sleeve as she passed by and pulled her to his side. “Let’s grab a seat in the waiting area.” He smiled toward Beatrice. But Buffy eased her arm out of Spike’s grasp and kept moving forward.

“Ma’am,” she said to Beatrice. “The air cooling system’s regulator has stalled.”

“What?”

“The large fan in the generator is spinning instead of looping.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Beatrice’s fangs cut her upper lip as she stared at Buffy. “Have you lost your mind? There’s nothing wrong here. My computer is operating perfectly, as usual.”

“If you’d be quiet and listen, you’d hear it.” Buffy raised her hand as if to shush her.

Spike groaned inwardly. Beatrice was going to beat the arrogance out of Buffy.

“I don’t hear shit,” Beatrice said.

“Close your mouth and listen,” Buffy responded.

That tore it. Spike took a step back, waiting for Beatrice to break through the glass barrier and rip a chunk of flesh out of Buffy’s neck.

Buffy raised her hand and pointed to the control panel. “This is the Gray Matter XL20 supercomputer created by Dr. Daniel Gray of Ohio for the old Department of Energy back in 2052.” She licked her lips. “It has a twin pack benchmark performance of 72,000 teraflops.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“It makes a trillion calculations every nanosecond.” She raised a hand and cupped her right ear.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, her attention on the massive keyboard. Spike strained, trying to differentiate between the creaking noises of an old building from the pings and murmurs of a supercomputer. Then his ears found a small gurgle-and he pushed away from the wall, walking up next to Buffy.

Beatrice’s expression had changed from annoyance to recognition. “You talking about that tiny clunking sound?” She spoke firmly, her eyes shifting from Buffy to the end of the hallway to the dashboard in front of her.

“It’s an easy fix, Beatrice.” Buffy had walked up to the enclosed chamber, her palms on the glass, a finger pointing. “That lever, there. Pull it all the way down.”

“This one?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I understand.” Beatrice’s hands moved busily over the keyboards. “That will shift the big iron to interface with that small cluster of parallel processors automatically eliminating the ramp up from quadratic equations within the mainframe structure.”

“Exactly, and the repositioning of those processors will react in such a way as to recoil instead of spin.”

Whatever they were talking about at least Beatrice looked happy, Spike thought. Taking Buffy’s lead, he pasted a smile on his face and joined the mutual admiration society, as cheerfully as he could. Ten minutes later, he and Buffy were back in the jeep with the address of a man named Dr. Xander Harris.

Spike didn't react to the name. He wasn't going to let another coincedence make him insane. He'd get to the bottom of it. Later. “Where’d you learn so much about computers?” Spike turned the key in the ignition.

“You should ask me why my hearing is better than yours.”

"No, I should ask you why the doctor's name is Xander Harris!" Spike shouted, feeling somewhat, okay, very much, out of control.

"So what?" Buffy glared at him. "It's a guy, a vampire doctor guy, and he's our lead."

Spike paused. She had a point, and the name "Xander" hadn't made her flinch, not a bit.

"Okay." He pushed down on the gas pedal hard, causing the tires to skid over the concrete.

He gripped the wheel, barely gaining control before steering onto the highway that would take them to Beverly Hills and Dr. Xander Harris.

to be continued...

Chapter 4


They’d traveled together and found a place where they could stay, relax, and get to know each other better. Spike just wished he could remember why.

###

He parked the jeep across the street from the address Beatrice had given them for Dr. Xander Harris. Spike knew the neighborhood. The building was the old Naval Observatory; a five-story complex resting on the side of a small hill surrounded by an acre of thick mud and jagged rocks. There was also a twelve-foot high steel gate circling it, along with a half-dozen teams of security guards, each dragging a trio of dogs on iron leashes.

“How are we going to make this happen?” Buffy sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the complex.

“This is why having me as a partner comes in handy,” he said, double-checking the weapons holster strapped around his waist. “I’ll get past security, shut down the surveillance system and then,” he paused, pointing. “Meet you there.”

There was a weakening in the gate near the main entrance. “In ten minutes, knock that portion of the gate down and walk through. Shouldn’t have a problem, you’re a strong girl.” He half-smiled at Buffy. “I’ll have Harris, and all you need to do is get him back to the jeep. I’ll handle the guards and the dogs.”

“Why not go in together?” Buffy asked.

“Don’t need your muscle for this.” What he did need was for Buffy to stay in the jeep. If Harris was inside, he wanted to spend some alone time with him. Find out who he was, really.

He stepped out of the car, slipped off his coat and tossed it into the back seat.

“Be careful,” Buffy said.

Spike paused and stared at her. She looked different for a moment. More color in her cheeks, less veins around the eyes. Like a human girl.

But he turned away, slamming the door behind him before jetting across the street.

A moment later, he was on the other side of the gate, crouched on the ground on one knee. He glanced back at the jeep. Buffy wouldn’t be able to see him through the brick wall. Still she was looking in his direction with something like worry on her face.

He moved over the rocks until he reached the rear entrance of the building. The guards didn’t notice him. He was too fast and too quiet. He wasn’t concerned about them anyway. Dogs couldn’t smell him, couldn’t pick up his scent with the wind spinning everything around.

Running his hands along the side of the cement wall, Spike searched for the customary wires that meant an activated vamp sensor. His fingers wandered over the surface, finding nothing. He pressed his spine against the wall and kept moving toward the house. He’d check again once he got inside.

He snapped the padlock from its hinges and eased the door open. A long flight of stairs was straight ahead. Bending his knees slightly, he jumped up, soaring over the stairs not touching a step until he reached the top landing.

“Who are you?” A familiar voice came from around the corner. A man with a eye patch stepped from the shadows. “I have a crossbow and will shoot you.”

“Harris?”

“You have broken into my home and I am completely within my rights to shoot you.” Harris raised his hand and pointed the weapon at Spike’s head.

“Harris, you can’t shoot me,” he laughed. “I’m a vampire, remember?”

Harris looked at him narrowly. "My name is Doctor Harris and I don't know you. But I do know a crossbow can shoot you in the heart and kill you. You'll see...”

Spike suddenly felt as if he were burning, standing in the middle of an inferno, drowning in black flames. He could barely see, but Harris still stood in the middle of the room with someone standing next to him. Taller, wearing a long, leather coat. Spike stumbled forward, wanting to see more clearly. But the room burst into an ocean of flashing lights, blinding him. He blinked and blinked again. But the lights zigzagged back and forth in front of him and wouldn’t go away.

The next instant everything went hopelessly black.

###

Buffy was hovering above him when he opened his eyes.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

“Get up. We’ve got to move,” she said. “Cross—he’s here, in the house.”

“Where’s Xander?” Spike sat up.

“Dr. Harris’ is not here,” Buffy said. “No one’s here but us and Cross.”

“What the hell happened to Xander?” The prat had held a crossbow at his heart. “He staked me.”

“You weren’t staked, Spike. You were drugged.” Buffy was pulling him up by the armpits. “Something knocked you out.” She tugged harder. “Come on, get up. We’ve got to go. Now.”

Glass crashed. A window must have hit the floor in another room and the sound of yelping dogs was coming closer. And Security must have found the switch to the vamp sensor. His skin tingled all over.

Getting to his feet, he hoppled behind Buffy and out of the laboratory into another dark room until a bright light flooded the space. Buffy had flung open a door.

“Follow me,” she ordered.

###

The flames shot through his body, and burned the flesh on his legs and left him screaming at the bottom of the ditch. But Buffy had said something nice to him. But he couldn't remember what it was.

The bathroom was the same size as the rest of the suite. Like a Roman bath Spike imagined. It reminded him of stories Darla used to tell. Tall luminous blue vases with real flowers sat atop white marble columns. The entire place was decorated with alabaster and sparkling gemstones. And anything that wasn’t a precious stone or carved marble was gold-plated and extra shiny. On the far wall was a long vanity mirror with two gold bowls and curvy faucets.

“This is a fucking palace,” Buffy whispered. Then she clarified her comment. "I didn’t mean that literally,” she giggled.

He ignored her. “Is that a swimming pool?”

“It’s a Jacuzzi.” Buffy turned on the faucet. Within seconds, a waterfall was streaming steamy water into the huge bin.

They stood next to each other looking at the hot water rushing into the tub. The rising steam coated their skin, covering them with a thin layer of moisture. It reminded Spike of when he lay in Buffy’s arms on cot in the basement in Sunnydale. Her body had been so warm, he'd felt the sweat roll down between her breasts. That had happened the night before they fought "The First."

Self-conscious, he backed away from the tub. The last time his emotions had gotten him into trouble was more than eighty years ago. Spike closed his eyes. “Get out.” He directed Buffy toward the door.

“It’s big enough for a squadron in here. Be reasonable. We can bolth wash here together. You do the bath while I shower.” She gestured to the opposite side of the room where Spike saw a huge open area with slate marble walls and giant spray jets sprouting from the ceiling and walls. There was a drain on the floor, too.

“You stay on your side of the bathroom,” he ordered. “I’ll stay on mine.”

“You got a deal,” Buffy extended his hand.

Spike pushed it away. “Just do your business and get out, okay?”

“Most definitely okay,” she smiled.

Spike turned from Buffy and slipped off his coat, dropping it to the floor. Then his boots, t-shirt and jeans joined the pile. Next to one of the sinks was a bottle of oil, he emptied the bottle in the tub of water. A bouquet of yellow and white flowers was in a vase. He grabbed a handful and dropped them into the water, too. The Jacuzzi was nearly full. He turned off the faucets and pressed the button Buffy had pointed out on the side of the tub. The murmur of the motor buzzed softly.

He spun around. Buffy, who supposedly was taking a shower, was watching him. “Are you just going to stand there?” He crossed hia arms over his bare chest. “And stare at me?”

“You’re beautiful.” Buffy was leaning against the wall, still dressed in black clothing. It made her eyes look like emeralds, a gemstone Spike hadn’t seen in forever. They sparkled, dark and dangerous. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. The space between them felt like it was shrinking. He turned and stepped into the tub, lowering his body into the hot, swirling water.

to be continued...

Chapter 5

Bloody god awful dreams...

“What happened to Harris?” Spike asked.
“He went to Africa, don’t you remember?”
“Why'd he go there?” Spike was confused. “I thought he liked practicing medicine in LA.”
"He had a job to do."

###

There was so much wrong here Spike couldn’t just pick one thing. He was in a lavish bathroom in a suite in a fancy hotel, one of the last left in LA, and he was naked. Not the worse thing, but standing three feet away staring at him, with lust in her eyes, was Buffy. And, God help him, she’d just said he was beautiful.

In what time zone would she say something like that to him?

He should get out of the tub and run. Haul ass to some other side of town; see if he could get someone else to help nail the demon dealing bad fresh water.

But no, there was no one. Except for the chosen ones—Spike and his partner, Buffy, hot on the heels of the bad guy, itching to put him down. Which in a very scary way felt natural, even if it was the year 2082 and his partner looked like another girl named Buffy. But that girl was a slayer and not a vampire.

He put his hand over his chest, clutching at something he knew was missing. Something that should be there.

He then saw the look in Buffy’s eyes and it trapped him again. He couldn’t swallow. The blood-sucking, soulless demon that looked like Buffy. Talked like Buffy. Watched his back…like Buffy...stood in front him, threatening to take off her clothes. And his body was responding, even if his soul didn’t want it to.

“You’re just going to stand there and stare at me?” he said, hoping she’d disappear.

“What’s wrong Spike?” Some of the lust in her eyes was replaced with concern. “All I want is to have some fun. We’ve been chasing Cross for days.” She started taking off her clothes. Boots first.

There was an ache in the back of his throat. “You think I want to be with you?” He stood up in the tub. “Do you know who you look like? What she meant to me?”

“Not really.” Buffy said. “I shouldn’t mean anything to you. I’m a vampire. You’re a vampire. We can’t afford feelings. We’re about survival.” She finally stopped staring him straight in the eye and started fidgeting with her hands again.

For a second, he thought he saw sadness in her expression, and a painful memory seemed to flicker over her eyes. But she quickly pushed it aside.

He had to think. There had to be something he could say or do to make this moment less surreal. “You took the time to learn about me before we hooked up at the Club, right?” he said.

“Well, yes." She studied the floor as if rethinking a decision.

“But now you think something’s wrong." He leaned forward, hopeful.

“Yeah, you’re out of your freaking mind.”

Spike saw it in her eyes. The worm had turned and she went back to disrobing. The wool tights joined the boots on the floor. Her blouse hit the linoleum next and she had her hands on the zipper of her black skirt.

Spike took a step toward her. “There’s so much about you that’s the same.” His resolve wasn't as resolved as he’d planned. This close he couldn’t stop himself. He had to touch her. He reached out and caressed her cheek. “You feel so cold.”

“So,” she smiled, as if she’d won a bet. “We’ll turn on the hot water in the shower and fuck under the steaming spray.”

“Buffy would never say that,” he said, but his cock had twitched so hard neither one of them could ignore it. And than a big part of him lost interest in avoiding what had to happen next.

Vampire Buffy made the first move, or remaining true to form, continued leading Spike down the path to bloody hell. She embraced him, hands cupping his ass. He froze, wondering why she smelled like his Buffy and not death.

Releasing him suddenly, she slipped out of her blouse and tossed it on the floor. Now, her hands were on the zipper of her skirt. They worked quickly and Spike’s eyes followed the skirt as it joined the other items.

They stood facing each other naked.

“Can you see me?” Buffy said, the tremor in her voice sending shock waves through his body.

“What?” he said quietly. “I’m looking at you.”

“Good. Watch carefully.” She stepped close, kissed his chest, just once, and placed her palms over his pecs. A slow massage and then her hands drifted expertly down to the tense muscles of his stomach until she was holding his cock.

Vampire or not, cool hands or not, Spike was trembling, he wanted her that much.

She squeezed his cock, as strong as the Slayer used to, and a satisfied expression swept over her face when Spike groaned.

“I need you to see me,” she said. “The real me.”

Spike felt hypnotized and all he could do was mumble. “Okay.”

The water steamed from the showerhead, soaking her hair and her body. Spike didn’t recall when Buffy had turned it on. But it was falling over him and her lean body, and from her pointed nipples.

“Promise, you won’t hate me later,” he said quietly.

“Why would I do that?”

Spike’s hand touched the slight swell of her stomach. “Just promise.”

“Okay," Buffy said. "I promise.”

###

Six Days Earlier...

“Scout’s Honor, Buffy, this will work.” Willow sounded confident. “I promise you, it’s the only way to save him.”

“I know,” Buffy answered, wishing it hadn't come to this, but what else could she do. "It's the only way to bring him back, and I’m the only one who can get the job done.”

“Come on Buffy, it’s not going to be all that bad.”

“Magic always has its consequences," Buffy muttered, before looking Willow in the eye. "If it’s not going to be bad than why don’t you come with me?”

“I’m not the Slayer.”

"I’m not the only slayer around anymore either.”

“You’re the only one who was the one and only Slayer.”

“For a couple of months,” Buffy corrected her. “Than Faith showed up and I was one of two.”

“And now you’re one of thousands,” Willow said. “But that still doesn’t change the fact you were the one.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied. “But I wish we didn't have to use magic, or at least I wish you were the one stepping into the portal.”

“I’m only a witch, Buffy.” Willow shrugged. “I can’t save the world. I can only create the portal you will use to save it. And you're the one who said, bringing back Spike will save the world.”

Buffy nodded. "Yes, the first slayer told me in a dream, and I believe her."

“I know," Willow said. "Saving Spike, bringing him back from hell, will make all the difference.”

“I need him, too, you know.”

“Yes, Buffy, we kind of figured that out a while back.”

“Oh.”

“Sunnydale at the bottom of a crater with Spike burned to a crisp.” Xander strolled into the basement. "You unable to get that insane expression you called a smile off of your face for what?" He counted on his fingers. "Three years?"

“What are you doing here?” Buffy said. "And it was only one year, and then he was back in LA."

"And then a year later, he was dead again." Xander was counting on his fingers again. "I know Willow is right Buffy. If we can get him back, maybe he can help us stop Wolfram and Hart. If not, we won't have any slayers left by this time next year."

"It's bleak, Xander," Willow said. "But not that bleak."

"Okay, you're right." He walked over to Buffy and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Be careful. This isn't your usual trip to another dimension. You're going to hell to convince Spike he has the power to come back here, if he wants to. But you have no idea, what his version of hell is all about."

"Willow has taken a look. She says there are a few things that concern her." She sighed loudly. "We've got it under control."

"Okay then, let's do this," Xander said and kissed her on the forehead.

A twisting, spinning portal came up through the wall and circled Buffy. Willow and Xander held onto to each other as she stepped into the portal and vanished.

When the room stopped spinning, Xander gave Willow a hard look with his one eye. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Willow bit her upper lip.

"Willow?"

"Yes, but there may be a few things Buffy will have to overcome."

"For instance," Xander glared at her.

"She might not remember she's the slayer, or that she knows Spike, or, I don't know, she may not even be a slayer in Spike's version of hell."

"Oh my God, Willow."

"It will be okay." Willow started up the staircase. "I'm sure of it."

to be continued...

Chapter 6


“I love you.”
“No, you don’t.”

###

Buffy pulled on her high-collared, long black coat, grabbed a weapon and shoved it in her bag. "I’m leaving,” she shouted at the bathroom door. She figured Spike was still on the other side, still pissed because she hadn’t said anything to him since they’d untangled themselves from the bathroom floor.

He’d behaved like a fledgling and Buffy wasn’t having it. This wasn’t the time or the place to have an in depth discussion about what had happened between them. Vampires didn’t do that sort of thing. Talk, talk, and talk about everything they did or said or thought. Besides to Buffy, the memory of it was bad enough.

Clutching at his body, screaming out his name, the orgasm exploding inside her and all around her. She hadn’t been able to think about anything but Spike and what he was doing to her. His hands and his mouth, his lips and his tongue, caressing her, making her shake, making her want to feel him everywhere.

It was just too intense and she hadn’t liked it. Well, not too much.

So, as soon as they’d both finished, she’d jumped up from the floor (which was where they’d ended up) and fled.

In the bedroom of the suite, away from Spike, she’d fallen asleep for a while before calling room service. She’d needed a big ass glass of blood. Something to settle her stomach because her brain wouldn't stop churning.

God. She’d gotten off without biting. It made her shiver to think about it. But she couldn’t shake the thought. An orgasm? Without biting. She’d let him kiss her, too. Buffy hadn’t kissed anything since the night she was turned.

###

Club Zero, of all places, ended up being the place where Buffy and Spike were supposed to find Horace Cross, the fresh water-dealing demon.

The two of them had managed to get their minds back on business after the wild sex on the bathroom floor. Spike listened to her plan and agreed it made sense. Although, he was still the most peculiar vampire she’d met in LA, which she mentioned once or twice during the course of their discussion. She also reminded him that considering most everyone in LA was a vamp, calling him the oddest of them all was saying quite a bit.

He hadn’t said much after that--for a change. Just gave her a smug smile, which barely turned up one side of his mouth. She shook her head and turned her back to him. But she couldn't stop thinking he had a very sexy smile.

Now Buffy was tiptoeing into the main lobby of Club Zero, teetering on her high heel shoes. She could barely make it through the double doors her ankles wobbled so badly. It was Spike who had insisted she wear them. He said the crowd in the bar wouldn’t recognize the two of them as cops if they dressed like human beings. She had no idea where he’d found the clothes, but she agreed.

But Spike hadn’t given her a pair of fancy high-heel shoes, a slinky black dress and push-up bra, just to see her sprawled face-down on Club Zero’s sticky floor. She grabbed a nearby ledge to steady her ankles.

Once standing hands-free, Buffy took a moment to look around.

The Club was packed with party-goers, mostly male vampires, interestingly enough, standing, or sitting at square tables. On the dance floor, there was a stage she hadn’t noticed the last time she'd been there, illuminated by thin rays of red and orange light coming from fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The way the light sliced through the darkness reminded Buffy of the nightclubs she’d seen in LA in 1999, with strobe lights flashing and hip-hop music blaring.

She spotted Spike on the other side of the room, leaning against a wall. Next to him, or draped over him, was a lanky, red-headed female vampire wearing a brightly colored blouse, hanging seductively off one shoulder. Her hand was beneath Spike’s shirt and a leg was wrapped around his hip. Spike probably called it blending in, but it looked more like him being used as a fucking pole (and she meant that literally).

Buffy headed toward the twosome then changed her mind and veered toward the stage. Getting as close as she could, she still couldn’t see over the heads of the vampires milling around, not even in three-inch heels. A nearby empty chair looked like the leg-up she needed and she stepped up onto the seat cushion.

That was when the crowd went silent.

A shapely vampire girl with long dark hair strolled onto the stage wrapped in a long white coat covered with feathers. Her eyes were shut as her brightly painted mouth slowly curled into a smile. Raising her head, she blinked her thickly lashed eyes open as the music cut through the silence. It was a raw sound, the strumming of a base guitar, backed up by the rap-rap-rap of a drummer’s sticks on the skins. The vocal came in next as the girl shed her coat. Her naked body was stunning, although the way she moved to the music was what captivated Buffy. She could have been alone in the room the way she swayed with abandon, her hips rotating seductively as the singer’s rough voice drowned out the guitar and the drums.

Buffy shivered. This vampire looked familiar. Turning, Buffy searched for Spike. He had to know her, too.

Then Buffy felt the room turn upside down and inside out, and she was half-way in another nightclub, straddling two worlds. In one, the long-legged brunette wearing a G-string was swinging her hair to the music in the center of the stage. In the other world, Buffy wore high-heeled boots, slim black jeans, an Armani sweater and diamond hoop earrings. She also was walking through a cemetery in the sunshine and she carried a stake. Not the traditional weapon for a vampire in 2082.

Buffy looked at the girl dancing on the stage. Suddenly she knew her name. It was Faith, and the redhead with Spike was Willow. They both lived in the world where Buffy carried a stake. And in that world, they weren’t vampires. Fuck. In that world, neither was Buffy.

###

The crowd roared and Buffy’s eyes keyed in on the vampire girl dancing on the stage. The trip to the other time zone, or world, or dimension, or wherever the hell it had been, was over. And yeah, unsettling as all shit, but Buffy wasn’t going to let a bit of madness stop her from doing her job. She looked around for Cross and Spike.

Still curiosity killed the cat for a reason. So first, Buffy had to get a better look at the vampire on the stage. She leaned forward precariously on the seat cushion. Then suddenly, her heel slipped and the floor rushed up to her.

But an instant before she lay face-first on the tile, a strong hand grabbed her arm, keeping her from crashing.

“You okay, Buffy?”

What? She thought. Who's this? “I’m fine.” She couldn't see his face. “I’m fine.” She repeated, attempting to escape his grasp. He held her tightly around the waist. Her fangs emerged instinctively and she got ready for a fight. But he was strong, stupid strong, and she was trapped.

“You seem to be interested in the dancer, too”, he said casually.

Buffy recognized his voice and jerked her body sideways in another attempt to get away. She’d remembered him from the other night when she and Spike were chasing Cross at the mansion.

“Faith is lovely.” Dr. Xander Harris’ lips moved next to her ear. “One of the more perfect females I’ve seen in any world, in any time zone.” His mouth was moist against Buffy’s cheek. “Well, except for you, Buffy.”

“Thanks.” She managed a light tone. “But I don’t know her, and I wasn’t watching her.”

The doctor spun Buffy around to face him. “Don’t lie to me. You were watching Faith. Who wouldn’t? And you recognized her?" He grabbed her jaw. "Have you figured out who you are?”

He forced her to look up at him. “Come on Buffy, I need you to remember who you are sooner than later. We’re running out of time.”

Buffy struggled in his arms, wondering where in the hell was Spike. He had to see she was in trouble.

Harris pointed at the stage. “That’s Faith. She’s a vampire slayer, just like you. Well, she is in the real world. Here she's a vampire.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Buffy said. “There aren’t any such things as vampire slayers. Haven’t been in seventy-five years.”

“Damn,” Harris said and let her go. “I’m here on borrowed time. It took all of Willow’s strength to get me into this hell.”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy said, but she knew. She just didn't want to admit it. She’d been in that world Harris mentioned. And only a few minutes before she'd remembered Faith and Willow, the redhead hanging all over Spike. She also knew that in that world, she carried a stake and could stand in the sunshine. Shit. There was even sunshine in that world.

Harris had called it hell, or had he called 'this world' hell?

Whatever, Buffy shrugged. She had to accept the possibility of one thing. In that world, she was a vampire slayer.

Buffy shook her head. Now, how unnatural was that?

to be continued...

Like Mice in a Cornfield by Denny - Chapter 7

Spike played with a strand of Buffy’s hair with his fingertips.

“What?” She smiled.

“I know the kind of woman you are,” he said earnestly. “I met you a long time ago.”

Buffy leaned back against the bathtub. “I don’t get that.”

Spike brushed aside the hair in her face. “I’ll try and explain it to you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her on the mouth.

“What are you doing?” She murmured against his lips.

“Kissing you.” He pressed his mouth to hers firmly.

“Is that going to explain how you used to know me?”

“Don’t you remember?” he said. “We used to make love.”

“I don’t remember that at all.”

He moved his lips from her mouth to her throat. “Yes, you do.”

“That feels odd.”

He stopped kissing her. “Because you enjoy it?” His moved his lips down the side of her neck to base of her throat. “Or because there’s no biting?”

“I guess that’s what’s missing,” she said. “The biting.”

###

If LA circa 2082 was Spike’s hell, Buffy was having a hard time understanding why. Here, he had everything a vampire could want. He could traipse through the streets of LA all night and all day. Suck human blood from breathing humans at the corner Lust Club. Even fuck his new partner without regret.

Spike ruled in 2082.

He was a big, bad cop in charge of his city, respected, and with the clout to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to do it. Spike never had it so good. In Wolfram and Hart’s hell dimension, he had everything he could ever want. It was tailor-made to keep him as happy as he could be.

Buffy shuddered.

So how were she and Xander going to convince him to come back with them?

Damn. Willow had left out some serious pieces of the puzzle.

“Xander.” Buffy said to the man she’d thought of as Dr. Harris, drug dealer extraordinaire, until a few minutes ago. “How are we going to get Spike out of here and back home?”

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, Buffy,” she replied. “Who else do you think I’d be?”

“Well, you still have a pair of fangs creasing the corners of your mouth, so forgive me for not being positive that you’re the girl you claim to be.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “If we’re going to be fussy, you need to get rid of those scrubs and horn-rimmed glasses and,” Buffy paused, surprised she hadn’t noticed the change in his appearance. “Your two good eyes, which you didn’t have two nights ago.”

“Hell dimension,” Xander raised an eyebrow.

Buffy shrugged, concurring. “We’ve got to think of a way to get Spike out of here, which isn’t going to be easy. We keep merging and un-merging with ourselves. It’s like our brains are hop-scotching back and forth through the portal.”

“I think I’m following that.”

Buffy huffed. “The longer we stay here in these bodies, the more wonky things are.” She grabbed Xander by the shoulder. “Sometimes I’m me and than I’m her.”

Xander exhaled. “Same here.” Then he blinked a few dozen times. “Well, I don’t think I’m you. I’m me, and then I’m a vampire doctor in the year 2082, who is me.”

“You’re babbling.”

“Can’t help it,” he replied. “Willow should have told us more about what to expect. She sends me here to help you and I’m having the same problems as you.”

Buffy pointed at the blond vampire, moving through the crowd toward them. “Spike is heading this way. We’ve got to come up with something.”

Xander turned to the half-dressed brunette who had moved to his side and was straddling his leg. “Faith,” he said. “Maybe she can help us.”

“How?” Buffy asked. “She doesn’t look like she’s interested in anything outside of stripping off her clothes and humping your leg. Other than that, she hasn’t had much to say.”

“You do remember that back in our time, she’s a slayer, too.” He gulped.

“Yeah, I remember. She’s just like me, except this is not our Faith. This one is a stripper and a vampire.”

Xander rubbed a shaky hand across his mouth, noticeably affected by Faith’s hand rubbing his crotch. “I think she can help us, nonetheless.”

“Do explain,” Buffy insisted. “How can she help us convince Spike that this is a hell dimension and not the future.”

Xander shrugged. “Faith has a way with men.”

###

This wasn’t going to be easy. But Spike bloody refused to lose another partner. Be it 2082 or 2004, he’d had his fill of dead lovers and dead comrades.

Crossing the room cautiously, he got as close to Harris as he dare. The doctor was waving a stake at Buffy. And the mostly naked brunette vampire was holding Buffy's hands behind her back.

“Harris, I wouldn’t make that mistake mate, if I were you.” Spike stopped a few feet from the threesome. “We can talk this through or else someone is going to get dusted.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Spike. “What the hell are you seeing?”

He stared at Buffy. "You know what I'm seeing. Harris is Horace Cross," he said. "The redhead I was talking to over there, she’s our snitch, and she confirmed what we came to Club Zero to find out. Dr. Harris of West Hollywood and King Cross, the fresh-water dealing drug lord of Culver City, is one in the same.”

“That’s not true, Spike,” Buffy said. “That snitch is a lying witch."

“You're confused,” Spike said to Buffy. “Be quiet so I can save you.”

“Come on Spike,” Harris smiled. “How could I be this Cross character?”

Spike rubbed his hand over his face. “You are a murderer and I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“I don’t think you’re seeing the world the way it is," Harris said.

“He’s right, Spike.” Buffy’s eyes were wide. “Whatever you think you see, it’s not real.”

Harris lowered his stake and turned to the brunette. "Let Buffy go. Let her talk to him."

Spike chuckled. "You think my partner is going to convince me not to kill you?"

Buffy walked up next to Spike. “You're not seeing reality. I know it’s weird, but just listen to me, and I’ll explain, okay?”

Spike looked around. Club Zero didn't appear any different than usual. Geronimo was at the bar, serving up bad booze to a throng of customers. The dance floor was crowded. The music was loud. Vampires and humans were cuddled in corners blood-lusting after each other. It was another routine evening at Club Zero. For a moment though, he had sensed something. A stage in the middle of the dance floor, spotlights beaming, a dark-haired vampire girl had danced across it, stripping off her clothes. That explained the half-dressed brunette vampire holding onto his partner and wearing a feather boa wrapped around her neck. Then there was Buffy and Harris, or Cross, they were changing, too. Although Spike couldn’t figure out exactly what was changing about them.

“Spike?” Buffy’s hand moved to his arm. Smartly, Harris and the brunette vampire kept their distance.

“Who’s she?” Spike couldn't help it. He had to ask about the girl with Harris.

“Faith,” she said. “My name is Faith.”

“She works for you?” Spike said to Harris. “Another fresh water drug dealer?”

“No.” Harris was emphatic. “I work for a witch.”

The music stopped and the crowd that had been dancing and lusting parted like the Red Sea. It was as if Spike and the threesome were center stage, the stars of a melodrama, and all of Club Zero’s customers wanted to see how the story ended.

"You know what Dr. Harris is?” The one called Faith asked him.

“What?” Spike took the bait.

“He's a figment of your imagination, part of this dream you call living."

Spike looked at Buffy. “Get out of the way. I've got to dust these two."

“You’re getting confused again,” Buffy said.

She squeezed his arm. “A week ago, you were in LA, but the year was 2004, and you were in a fight with an army of Wolfram and Hart demons.” Her hand moved to his face, her fingertips touching his lips. “You weren’t alone. You were with Wesley Wyndom Price, a former Watcher, Charles Gunn, a vampire hunter, a god king you called Illyria or Fred, who was a scientist turned god king, and Angel.” She took a deep breath. “They were all killed.” She took another breath, this one more jagged. “Me and Faith, another Faith, not this one, we wanted to help you, but when we got to the alley it was too late.”

Buffy wiped her eyes. Spike hadn’t noticed she'd been crying until then.

“When we arrived,” she continued. “The demons had no interest in us. They were standing in the alley, weapons at their sides, and you were standing with them, and when they vanished, you vanished, too.” She took hold of his arm again. “Willow, she's a powerful witch in 2004, she figured out you were here and created a portal to bring you back home.”

"And where is here, Buffy?" Spike asked.

"This is a hell dimension," she said. "Wolfram and Hart brought you here to suffer, to suffer horribly."

"Why?" He grabbed her shoulders. "Why would this world be hell to me?"

"It's a reset, Spike," Harris interjected. "It keeps playing the same tunes over and over again."

"So when does it reset? What's the big bad thing that keeps happening that makes it hell for me? Is it you?" He pointed at Buffy. "Showing up and looking like her. Pretending to be her." He laughed out loud. "That's not hell. That's just my new partner, giving me shit."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy cried. "We're here to save you."

“According to the story you just told me, you always arrive too late to save me or anyone," Spike said. "I think you’re here because you want to be here."

“You've got to believe me," Buffy pleaded. “You can come back with us. You just have to believe.”

"No.” Spike snatched his arm away from her. “I don't have to believe a bloody thing."

###

A little before dawn Spike parked his jeep in front of the ruins of the Hyperion Hotel. Captain Thomas was shuffling back and forth on the sidewalk, pacing. Spike had called him from Club Zero.

“Did you take care of Harris?” he asked as Spike jumped out of the jeep.

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Spike said.

“His assistant?”

“Her name was Faith,” Spike replied. “She’s dead, too.”

“How about your new partner?”

“She’s in the backseat of the jeep.”

Captain Thomas walked over to the vehicle and peered in. “Sound asleep, huh?”

“Yeah.” Spike frowned. “After she killed Faith, she drank a couple of bottles of Geronimo’s Jack Daniels and passed out.”

Captain Thomas sighed. “Do you really want to keep working with her? She’s dangerous.” He was still looking through the back window. “You should put her down, Spike.”

“She’s Buffy, Captain.” He walked up next to him. “My partner for eternity.”

“She’s broken.” Captain Thomas took off his glasses and wiped them off with a handkerchief he'd pulled from his vest pocket. “She’ll never be fixed. She’ll keep playing out this same scenario over and over, and taking you with her.”

Spike chuckled. “It does seem like we’ve been through this a few thousand times already.” He turned from the car and faced the Hyperion, hands thrust into his pockets. “But it doesn’t matter as long as we catch the big bad, as long as we’re doing our jobs. Doesn’t matter, the toll it takes on our souls.”

Captain Thomas laughed. “You don’t have a soul, Spike. Neither one of you do. You’re vampires. You’re like mice in a cornfield. You scamper around, picking up kernels, and doing whatever you have to do to survive. You have no conscious and no remorse.”

“Yeah, and some might call that hell.” Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “You got a light?”

The Captain snapped his fingers and a small ball of fire appeared in front of Spike’s face.

“Thanks," he said.

“See you tomorrow?” Captain Thomas asked, heading toward the end of the street.

“Where else would I go?”

Spike pulled the smoke deep into his lungs and watched as Captain Thomas disappeared around the corner at the end of the block. He took a couple more puffs of the cigarette and then flipped the butt into the broken slabs of concrete and brick that was once the front yard of the Hyperion Hotel.

“Hey Spike.” It was Buffy’s voice behind him. He turned. She was standing with her feet spread apart, one hand on her hip, and in the other, she was twirling a stake.

“Buffy?”

“I’m sorry it has to end this way, Spike.”

“I know, Pet. But it always ends this way.”

“Damn you. I was telling the truth.”

“No, you weren’t Buffy," he said. "Not the entire truth.”

“You’re never going to go back, are you?”

“Nope, bloody never.”

“And every night, you’re going to let me dust you.”

“No, I never do.”

“Why?”

He moved quickly, grabbing the stake from her hands. “Because this is my hell. Not yours.”


The next thing Spike knew, he was sitting in his Jeep Cherokee, driving down Wilshire Blvd, heading for Club Zero.

He’d had the dream again. There was sunshine. Birds. Trees. And Buffy was standing on a precipice.

He looked out the window at the rain; the acid rain was falling from the sky. He looked up. There was nothing in the sky but clouds and darkness, and gloom. It was all going to happen again, and somewhere in him, he wished he could change it. But he never would, even if he could.

Because the girl he'd find at Club Zero wasn't Buffy, couldn't be her. Never be her.

Because like the rest of the world – she no longer existed.

The End.