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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much to The Enemy of Reality and Minx for beta'ing. And to you for reading and reviewing. Anything you don't like, bad grammar and the like, is me - ignoring their sage advice.
“Wait!” Andrew jogged down the darkened street. William might have a prissy Englishman exterior, but the man just beneath the surface was built for sterner stuff. “Slow down a sec, Speed Racer.”

When William turned to face him, his long leather coat flapped around his calves. It reminded Andrew of Batman’s cape (the comics, not the Clooney version) and he had to grin. He couldn’t help himself. It was just so good to see Spike again.

“Is my stride not suitable?” William asked. “It’s terribly difficult to simultaneously run and swagger.”

Andrew struggled to catch his breath. “No, that’s not it at all. Your strut is chock full of attitude. It’s just that we need to strategize. The Bronze is only a block away.”

William nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck in a manner that was so like Spike it nearly brought tears to Andrew’s eyes. A car passed and William stepped back onto the sidewalk; he eyed the vehicle with fascination.

“I think you’d blend in a little better if you stopped ogling everything with a motor,” Andrew said.

“It takes some time to grow accustomed to these ‘cars.’ I cannot imagine the advances made in steam engines to allow for such a device. I assume some methods of electricity are involved as well?”

“The internal combustion engine isn’t really my forte.” Andrew waved a dismissive hand. In their short acquaintance William had shown a burning interest in pretty much everything this time had to offer: cars, architecture, ‘electrification.’ Even zippers. Andrew just hoped the LAX air traffic patterns didn’t shift to Sunnydale tonight. Planes would send the man into a joygasm.

“So, what’s to be done once we get to the metallic establishment?” William ran his fingers through his newly platinum hair.

“Metallic estab- oh! The Bronze!”

William nodded. “You said you had a plan.”

“That I do, my good man. That I do. It’s quite simple, really. We’re going to mimic what Spike was supposed to have done, if he hadn’t managed to smash his Desoto into the Wasatch Mountains.”

“What would that be?”

“A two step approach. You’ll lure Buffy out of the club, then warn her.”

“Wait. We’re going to a club? A sort of club that allows ladies?”

Andrew laughed. “Well, I’m not sure that you’d think of The Bronze as having ladies. Gentlemen either. But both genders will be there. It’s a … what do you call it? A club for people to gather and dance.”

“A ball?” William looked flummoxed.

“No. Just a place to chat and mingle. What’s an English translation for that? It’s like … a pub! With music instead of fish-n-chips and cold beer instead of warm.”

William gave a defeated sigh. Andrew longed to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but held back. “You’ll only be there for a few minutes. Just long enough to get her out to the alley.”

“And how should I manage to accomplish that task?”

“Oh, that part will be easy as pie. No direct contact with Buffy is even needed. Just wait until a bouncer is within earshot of her and tell him that a vampire is attacking someone outside. A slayer can’t resist that bait.”

William nodded, thoughtfully. “I suppose I could manage that.”

"Let’s hear it,” Andrew said. “A practice run. What would you say?”

“Once you identify the bouncer person, I suppose I should tell him something like— ‘I say, a vampire is accosting someone outside this establishment. We must alert the constable’.”

William glanced at him, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Andrew resisted the urge to face palm.

“Maybe you could pull back on the nineteenth century, Sherlock,” Andrew said. “How about ‘There’s a man outside the club who’s tryin’ to bite someone.”

William pursed his lips and nodded, whispering, “There is a man outside of this club who is trying to bite someone.”

“And remember the accent. A little less ‘Masterpiece Theater’ and a little more ‘Sweeney Todd’.”

“Working class accent. Right, right,” William muttered.

“Then, once she’s in the alley, all you have to do is warn her. Tell her your name is Spike – it’s important she knows that part – and that you’re going to kill her on the Night of Saint Vigeous.”

William winced. “Kill her? I must ask – is that absolutely necessary? I feel most uncomfortable…”

Andrew cut him off. “She’s not going to take you seriously if you threaten her with a pillow fight. You’re Spike, for goodness sakes! It’s got to be a death threat.”

William released a resigned sigh. “Very well, and after that?”

“You run.”

“Well, that seems rather ungallant. Threaten a lady and run.”

“If she gets too close, she’ll realize you’re not a vampire. It’s about saving her and her friends too. The Powers wouldn’t have sent me if it wasn’t super-important that you warn her.”

William looked unconvinced, but Andrew powered through. “Don’t worry. I’ll be in the alley to help you with your lines. I won’t abandon you, William. If I have to, I’ll even create a distraction.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could be most distracting indeed,” William said with a smirk so Spike-like that Andrew found his confidence rebounding.

“Come on,” Andrew said. “The Bronze waits for no man.”

~*~

Since Buffy had first told him of the future, the concept that had most captured William’s mind was advances in electrification. He found the idea endlessly fascinating. He happily spent untold hours pondering the ramifications and possibilities that awaited humanity with such a wondrous discovery.

As he walked into The Bronze, he took it all back. He was overwhelmed, hit by a deafening wall of sound. The lights joined in the assault, flashing in time with the too-loud music, similar to the type Andrew had played at the odd Barber Shop. He felt a wave of relief when Andrew pulled him through the press of bodies and into a darkened corner.

“Stop looking so wide-eyed,” Andrew more or less shouted in his ear. “You’re Spike. You’re cool personified, remember? You’re sex on…”

“Yes, well enough about that,” William interrupted. “Is the club always so frenetic?”

Andrew shrugged. “No idea. I never came here when I was in high school. I was more of a Dungeons and Dragons person myself.”

“Dear god, man. I had no idea! There are so many things that Buffy neglected to tell me about the future.”

Andrew nodded sagely. “It’s true. The nerd didn’t really come into his own until the new millennium.”

Unsure of how to respond to that rather cryptic statement, William said nothing.

Andrew looked around nervously. “I’m going to go get us something to drink. It’ll help us blend in a little better while we look around for Buffy and her crew.”

While the lad was away, William noticed several of the patrons glancing his way with curiosity. He leaned against the wall and crossed his legs in what he hoped was a casual gesture. After schooling his face into a smirk, he tilted a glance toward a small crowd of onlookers; they all looked nervously away.

William smirked, this time for real. By jove, I’m rather getting the gist of this whole Spike persona!

When Andrew returned, he bore a bottle and a small glass of amber colored liquid. “Pour vous,” he said, handing the whiskey to William. Andrew held up his own bottle of what appeared to be water. “Zima! How I’ve missed you.” He glanced over at William. “They discontinued production back in 2008, although it’s still marketed in Japan.”

William understood nothing of what the lad had just said, so he tilted his glass towards Andrew’s bottle. They clinked. “To the success of tonight’s endeavor.”

“And Zima,” Andrew added, before bringing his drink to his lips.

The familiar burn of whiskey eased down William’s throat, warming his chest most comfortably. Perhaps a bit of Dutch courage would help push him further into his role as Spike.

They finished their refreshments expeditiously and Andrew went up for another round. Once they had fresh drinks in hand, Andrew gave William a meaningful glance and leaned over to shout in William’s ear. “We should look around for Buffy, the Scoobies. You know?”

William nodded his agreement. He knew. He was full of a mixture of dread and anticipation about seeing her, about his foolish guise, but he knew.

He pushed off the wall he’d been practicing lurking against, and followed Andrew as he wove a path through the throng of people. With concentration, he managed to slink rather convincingly.

They wove toward the sound of the music. Some rather scruffy gentlemen were on a stage playing with electrified instruments. Below them a crowd had gathered, moving their bodies in a rhythmic fashion. It was all rather primitive, really, and it took him a moment to realize that they were engaged in … well, he supposed it was dancing.

In the center of the floor, as though she was lit by a spotlight – was Buffy.

For an instant his heart forgot to beat. He reminded his knees to not buckle and his lungs to continue to take in air.

God she was beautiful. And so heart-breakingly young. Her cheeks still held the slight chubbiness of girlhood. Her eyes glowed with the vibrancy, the innocence, of youth. Her hair was so bright – her whole being shone, radiated. He forced his gaze down, staring at a spot of chipped tile while he collected his emotions.

After a moment, Andrew grabbed his arm. “There she is! Dancing with Willow and Xander!”

Her friends were with her? He hadn’t even noticed. Eager to see the Scoobies he’d heard so much about, he cast a glance back toward the dance floor. A tall boy and short redhead flanked his Buffy.

These were the friends who’d risked their lives time after time? Who’d faced monsters and sacrificed so much? To his eyes they too seemed barely out of childhood. He’d heard tales of their exploits, but he’d never stopped to consider their youth, their vulnerability. Seeing them in a new light, he reconsidered how truly astounding their accomplishments had been.

William dared to glance over at Buffy again. Bare arms raised above her head, she wriggled her hips in a most seductive fashion. He’d been so stunned by seeing her that he hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. Or … wasn’t wearing. Her tight trousers clung to her legs and the curve of her hips in a most revealing manner. And her violet blouse was barely there at all, the neckline dipping low enough to expose the upper curves of her breasts. It had no back whatsoever.

William swallowed hard, trying to chase the sudden case of dryness from his mouth.

He leaned over to shout in Andrew’s ear. “Is Buffy wearing a common fashion? I mean to say, is it typical for young women? She appears to be rather … well, undressed.”

Andrew nodded and shouted in William’s ear. “Crop tops too. I blame Britney Spears.”

“Her friends are attired in the same kind of uniform as many of the other youths. It’s odd that Buffy hasn’t chosen to dress similarly.”

“Uniform?” Andrew asked.

“The jumper with the colored stripe across the middle that so many are wearing.”

“Ah, a clothing fad of the late nineties. Not a uniform,” Andrew said. “Just be glad we’re here in the winter and it’s too cold for jorts.”

The song ended and though the room wasn’t exactly quiet, it was no longer necessary to shout to be understood. Andrew shot a glance at a gentleman standing near Buffy. “There’s your bouncer. Go tell him your line about the vampire, but loud enough so that she can hear it. Then follow me to the alley as fast as you can.”

William hesitated, feeling rather like he was about to take a small step off a very large cliff. He downed the remainder of his whiskey.

“You remember what to say, don’t you?” Andrew asked.

William nodded, took a deep breath and walked toward the burly man standing near Buffy. He made certain to keep his eyes on the floor, for when he looked at Buffy, his heart felt as if it would leap out of his chest. How he’d manage to talk with her –threaten her– in the alley, he had no idea.

It’s only a dream, William. Well, it’s probably a dream. You can do this.

He tapped the large man on the shoulder. At the last second, he remembered to smirk and tilt his head at a cocky angle. Just as the fellow turned, William blurted, as loud as he could manage, “Sir, I believe there’s a fellow in the alley trying to bite someone. It’s most disturbing!”

It wasn’t quite the line Andrew had given him. He only hoped it was close enough.

Buffy turned and ran to her table. While she fumbled with her coat, William spun around and headed for the exit. The crowd was so thick that it was impossible to see if Andrew was ahead of him or not. When William burst into the alley, he was alone.

He moved toward the darkened end of the alley, but was stopped by a strange hissing sound coming from the street, behind him.

“Psst, Spike. This way.” Andrew’s voice.

With no time to waste, he spun around and ran toward the sound. From a darkened corner, behind a large metal rubbish container, a hand popped up, waving at him frantically.

The door crashed open behind him and he turned to see Buffy spilling out of The Bronze. She cast a glance up and down the alley.

“Now,” Andrew hissed in the dark.

William stepped from the shadows, remembering to saunter. Buffy crouched into a fighter’s stance upon his approach.

“Hey, you’re the guy who said there was a vam—that someone was being attacked in the alley. What’s the sitch?”

Unfortunately, Buffy’s manner of speech was as incomprehensible in her own time as it had been in his.

“Where are your friends?” William surprised himself by veering off script.

“What?” Buffy gave him a perplexed look.

“Coming into a dark alley, all by yourself – it doesn’t seem a very prudent course of action.”

“Um, again, I gotta say ‘what’?” Buffy shook her head. “I’m trying to figure out what weirds me out more. That you talk like you swallowed a dictionary or that you sound like you’re a member of the Mom Patrol.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Mom Patrol?”

“Yeah, warning me not to walk down dark alleys. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me what to wear.”

“Well, yes.” William felt relief at the opportunity. “About that. Your manner of dress is most disturbing.”

She shot him a scornful glance. “You’re shitting me. And I’m going to take fashion tips from a ‘Hot Topic’ wannabe like you?”

William heard a strangled groan coming from the alley behind him. Andrew again.

“I don’t wish to impugn your fashion sense.” William held his hands out to her, palms up. “It’s just that you might consider wearing more clothing when you’re out. If not for propriety, for the sake of … well, it’s winter after all. You shouldn’t wish to catch a chill.”

Behind her, two teens burst through the door. Willow and Xander. They looked at him with curiosity.

“What’s his damage?” the tall boy – Xander – asked Buffy.

“Not sure,” she replied. “He said there was a vamp in the alley, but I’m not seeing much on the attack side. So far just the Boy Who Cried Wolf. He talks like a Fashion Police version of Giles, with a big side order of the Weather Channel.”

The three of them looked at William, waiting for him to make a move.

As much as he hated to admit it, what he really wanted right now was encouragement from Andrew. A whispered line or even a groan would have been most welcome. He turned his head, trying to catch a rustle of movement behind him. All was silence.

Knowing he was in this alone, at least for the moment, he turned to face her – determined to find a way through.

“I came to warn you,” William said. He jutted his chin out and gave her his best approximation of a chilling smile.

“About the dangers of not layering sufficiently?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest.

“I came to warn you about the night of Saint Vigeous. Remember the date.”

“And why is that? A cold front’s moving in? I’ll need mittens?”

She looked so cocksure of herself, and yet he knew that Spike – the real Spike – would be there in a matter of days, putting her in real danger. The thought spurred him on.

William took a deep breath and stepped toward her taking care to swagger, just a bit. “Because that’s the night I – kill you, slayer.”

Her eyes widened at that. “How do you know I’m the slayer? Who the hell are you?”

He gave her his best icy stare. “Spike.”

She collected herself and tossed her head back. “Well, Spike, I don’t think I’m gonna worry one bit about the night of Saint Vigorous–”

“Not Vigorous. Saint Vigeous,” he ground out. Some things never changed.

“What I think is going to happen is that we’re going to end this now.” As she stepped toward him, she looked entirely – well, there was no other word for it – fearsome. He knew he should run or say something, but he remained rooted in his spot. He was swamped, not with fear, not precisely. It was more a sense of awe. That such a sense of power could emanate from her, his small, darling Buffy.

“Help! Someone!” From behind the Scoobies, a familiar figure ran up the alley towards them, arms flailing dramatically. Andrew. It came to William in an instant. Andrew had been silent because he’d doubled back to create a well-timed distraction, as promised.

What an absolutely ingenious lad.

Andrew skidded to a stop directly in front of Buffy. “There’s a guy… biting some girl.” He panted for air, pointing at the alley’s darkened end. “That way.”

Buffy looked between Andrew and William. Deciding on a course of action, she leveled a glare at Andrew. “You’d better be legit. Because two false alarms in one night is gonna make me seriously cranky.”

“As serious as the heart attack I’m about to have,” Andrew said between gasps.

She turned to run down the alley (her trousers really were tight around her posterior) and Willow and Xander followed behind.

“Don’t forget,” William called after her in his best menacing tone. “The Night of Saint Vigeous. Spike. Speak to Giles about it.”

“Whoa.” He heard a female voice faintly, but it wasn’t hers. Willow. “He knows you’re the slayer and he knows about Giles too? Not good, Buffy.”

“I hear you, Will. He’s not exactly threatening, but definitely weird enough to look into.” Buffy’s voice faded out as they rounded the corner of the alley, in search of Andrew’s nonexistent vampire.

“Come on,” Andrew urged, propelling him toward the street. They rushed along for several blocks before stopping near a brightly lit shop next to a busy carriageway.

For a while they said nothing, still struggling to breathe. Once William recovered, he turned to Andrew. “Thank you most sincerely for your well-timed distraction. Do you think I managed to accomplish the task? Did I give sufficient warning?”

“She rated you ‘weird enough to look into.’ I think that’s a score for our team.” Andrew still struggled to catch his breath. “Boy, you really have a grudge against halter tops, don’t you?”

“What will happen now, I wonder. Perhaps at this juncture I shall wake from my dream, or whatever this is.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Andrew replied. “Things were just getting good.”

William had to smile. The lad was growing on him. “Well then since the remainder of the night appears to be ours, what do you suppose we should do? What would Spike do?”

Andrew looked at him with wide eyes. “I really don’t know. I guess he might play a few hands of poker at Willie’s or…” He stared off into the distance, a wicked twinkle flashed in his eyes. “Spike might consider paying a call on Angel.”

“Who is she?”

Andrew burst out laughing. “Wow, Buffy really was pretty skimpy on the details, wasn’t she? Angel is the vampire who sired Spike.”

“Ah, yes. I recall now. She has told me of him. But why should we seek him out?”

“He’s set to turn into Angelus and break Buffy’s heart in a few short months.”

“Break her heart? But she’s still a child! And if he was set to sire me, he must be…”

“Older than dirt,” Andrew said. “Don’t I know it?”

“The thought of this is most disturbing.” William tugged on his foreign-feeling hair, a swell of rage rising in his chest. “But what could we do? I take it that Angel would know immediately that I’m not actually Spike. That I’m human.”

Andrew grinned wickedly. “That’s the beauty of it. He’ll see human-you and think he’s seeing Spike with a soul. I’ll give you a few lines to say to him. A little something about how you’re the true champion and you’ve fulfilled the Shanshu Prophecy. He’ll jump to all the wrong conclusions. Probably break his own brood-o-meter.”

“Causing unpleasantness to this fellow sounds like a capital idea, Andrew. I believe I could quite be on board for such a venture.”

Andrew gave a squeal of joy and clapped his hands.

“Shall we stop by the oddly lit shop with the numbers on front?” William asked. “Perhaps at the seven and eleven establishment we might be able to procure some bottles of Zima. You know, refreshments for the Angel endeavor.”

Andrew put his arm about William’s shoulder and laughed. Pulling him toward the store, he said, “William? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”



*Thus endeth the tale*





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