The Time Spinners

By Heather Martin

Summary- Things get a little twisted when the chip-Spike switches places with the chip-less. Can our do-gooder Spike keep Buffy and the gang from killing him? And can Buffy keep the old Spike from dancing herself back to heaven?

Rating- NC17

Disclaimer- None of the characters belong to me. They’re Joss Whedon’s property.

Spoilers- A TON for Becoming part II! Will have some from the second season to the present sixth.

This happens after Older and Far Away. It also occurs during and after Becoming part II.

Chapter 1- Surrender

Synopsis/
Buffy’s been thinking about what Tara asked her. ‘Does she love him?’ She’s finally figured it out, and intends to tell Spike. But when she does, something unexpected happens. /

February 15, 2002

Spike swallowed another mouthful of liquor. It burned on the way down. He eyed the blank television screen blindly. Nothing good had been on the cable channels. Just as well, he wouldn’t have really watched it anyway. Lately, his mind was distracted, shifting back to that one thing that haunted all he did. Buffy.

It hadn’t been this bad for awhile. Not since before her death. After her jump, he’d struggled to stay clear of anything leading to her. And when she came back, the thoughts were pleasant, giving time to focus on other things. After they made. . . no, slept together, he was satisfied, knowing there was ‘something’ between them. Now he was confused about their relationship, and no matter how long he pondered he couldn’t figure it out.

At the party she had been actually pretty decent. And to his amazement, even smiled at him a couple times. They had parted on good terms, and he was sure that he’d see her the next night. But she never showed. It had been three days since then. He was going mad with desire.

He wanted her so bad. He longed for her burning flesh. She had a fire inside that melted his ice. They were opposites, attracted by a suffocating bond. A yin-yang: her the white, him the black.

Groaning, he finished off the alcohol. He dropped the empty bottle. The glass clanged as it met the floor. He abruptly stood up. He was about to release his built-up emotions the only way he could. Yet there was no need, for Buffy took that moment to burst in. His fingers froze, just before they unbuttoned his jeans.

The slayer strutted over in all her glory. She stopped two feet away. Her hazel eyes, shining green in the light, stared straight at him. They were unreadable.

Spike gazed right back. “Lose the battle, luv?”

That did it. Buffy moved, her hand drawing up. Her fist began to make its way to his face. He didn’t blink, but waited for the blow to come. Then she stopped before it could meet the target. Her body relaxed, and her fingers unclenched. Her hand came up and touched below his eye. The wound still stung a little, but he didn’t flinch. The contact was so gentle and tender, very hard to comprehend the fact that it came from Buffy.

She removed her fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Spike,” she whispered.

Oh but she was. His head was spinning, and he had to fight from grabbing her right then and there. She hurt him, she always hurt him. It all depended if it was in a good way, or bad way.

Buffy stepped closer. Her face was only an inch from his. Her heated breath exhaled on his skin. He became aware of her accelerated heart rate.

“I want to try this the right way,” she declared.

Their lips crushed together. He dived his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing on the whole damn planet as sweet as his Buffy. Each time he tasted her it was a miracle. Like touching a piece of heaven.

His hand slipped underneath her sky-blue top. She shook her head. “No, not here. The bed,” she protested.

“Right. Hurry quick then,” he commented.

In a flash, they were both on the bed. Clothes scattered the floor in a haphazard manner. Sheets tangled around them as their nerves became alive.

A moan escaped Buffy when the vampire bit down on her nipple. With his other hand, he rubbed her second breast.

Buffy’s nails traveled over his hard back. But she didn’t dig them into his skin as usual. They grazed so lightly across the surface.

Spike didn’t understand. Buffy was acting different. There was no violence like the times before.

His attention lowered. He parted her thighs, exposing her wet juices. He sucked in the ambrosia.

His head came up, and kissed her. Their forms locked, and he plunged into her. They found a rhythm, keeping it going.

He met her gaze. Something showed within her eyes that had never been there until then. As if she only saw him. Could it be? Had she finally accepted what she felt for him?

May 19, 1998

Buffy walked through the park with her head down. She came to the road and watched a car drive by. She stepped into the street. Another vehicle sped up. She turned to discover that it was the police. The officer noticed her and turned on the light bar. The siren gave a loud sound. He pulled over to the side and stopped. Then he got out.

The teen ignored him and kept walking. She moved in front of the car. The officer drew his gun, while slamming the door. “Hold it right there!”

Buffy spun to face him.

“Put your hands on your head! Do it!” he ordered.

Fear came over her. She stared at the gun for a moment. Her hands rose.

Suddenly the gun is knocked away. Somebody kicked the officer’s face, then his shin. The man is thrown onto the hood of the blue automobile. He is apparently unconscious.

The attacker turned to face a startled Buffy.

The vampire smirked. “Hello, cutie.”

Buffy punched him twice in the face. He grabbed her shoulders, restraining her. She brought her knee up to his gut.

“Now, you hold on a second!”

He shoved her away. She reached into her coat and pulled out a stake. Spike jumped back and held up his hands in surrender.

“Hey, white flag here. I quit.”

“Let me clear this up for you. We’re mortal enemies. We don’t get time-outs,” Buffy stated.

Spike studied her. There was so much anguish in her eyes.. They were filled with blackness, directed at him.

February 15, 2002
Spike had no idea what changed. The next thing he knew, he was pumping into something warm. He couldn’t think, all he could do was move. An explosion ran through him. He trembled with ecstasy.

A female’s voice cried out. “Spike! Oh God!”

He looked down at her. Those eyes. Orbs of glittering green, full of life. The same ones that had been so dark only moments before. The pair never left him.

She kneaded his platinum hair. “I . . . I love you.”

It hit him. His brain registered what was going on. He was having sex with Buffy. The slayer. His enemy.

He pushed himself off her. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

Worry crept over her features. She sat up. The blanket slipped down from her chest. She seemed not a bit ashamed of her perfect breasts.

“I . . . thought you would be . . . happy,” she stuttered.

Spike found his black jeans and put them on. “Why would I be happy?”

Her vision got watery. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

His head cocked over to face her. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I have no clue how I got in this bed with you. Just because I came to you for help doesn’t mean I wanted to shag you. I’ve got Dru for that.”

“Drusilla?” she choked.

“Yeh, who else? All I’ve ever wanted from you is a right out brawl where I was the victor.”

She was crying freely now. “This can’t be happening. You don’t have a soul to lose. So why. . .?” She shook her head. “Please tell me this isn’t you. You’re not like this. You’ve changed.”

Spike charged at her. He straddled her, pinning her down. His face shifted to the demon. Wrinkles adorned him and his eyes were golden.

“This is who I am, slayer. This is all I’ll ever be.”

He lowered his fangs to her neck. He could feel the essence going through her veins. Soon it would be in his throat.

“Do it. Just do it,” Buffy begged.

Spike halted. His human guise came back on. His gaze turned to set on Buffy. Tears streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were shut. She was broken. She was surrendering to him like the other slayers had, giving in to their death wish.

This wasn’t right. He’d didn’t know much about right and wrong, lacking a conscience afterall, but he knew this wasn’t right.

Spike sprung to his feet. He grabbed his shirt, then fled, out into the night.

_______________________________________________

I am going to explain why the Spikes switch later on.
Just wanted to tell you that it will be clarified.

Next part will involve the chip-Spike having to deal
with the 1998 Buffy.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 





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