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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, here's chapter 3. This is the last chapter of what I consider the set-up. Next chapter is when I feel like it really gets into more of the story. So stick with this one, and then hopefully it'll get more fun.



Once again, beta-ed by the lovely Behind Blue Eyes, without whom this would be way more messy and inarticulate. Seriously, you have no idea the mess I send her and then she fixes it. Kisses and hugs, hon xx
The grass is always greener. You don't know what you've got until you've lost it. When life gives you lemons... Okay, no, that cliché didn't apply but still - this was a cliché situation, a time for clichés, because honestly? This made no sense whatsoever.

She wasn't the Slayer. She had no strength. Now that she'd had the opportunity to really breathe and take in what had happened to them, it became glaringly obvious. Her body felt different—less, somehow. It wasn't something she'd ever considered before. This time wasn't even like when she lost her powers during that Crustation thingy with the Council, because at least then her body still had the knowledge of how to fight, just not the strength to back it up. But now? She'd just struck Spike in the face with the lamest looking fist she'd ever made in her life. Not only that, her wrist was absolutely killing her. It was like her body had no idea, no conception, of how to fight. This notion scared her more than the fact that Spike was now a human and staring at her like the cat that got the cream.

"Well, well, well, isn't that interesting?" he drawled, clearly enjoying her shock. "Looks like the big bad Slayer is back to small and girly, eh luv?"

She couldn't even bring herself to get mad at his assholery. All that was going through her head was, “What the hell? What the hell had happened to them and where the hell were they?

"Where the hell are we?" she mumbled, unable to hide the fear and uncertainty in her voice. Being the Slayer had always given her a sense of protection. No matter what happened she'd be able to deal. The physical side she took completely for granted. It was her emotions that always got her crushed; that's what she feared. But fighting? Punching? Defending herself? No problemo. Well, until now.

It seemed whatever happened to send them here, wherever here was, they no longer had the strength to back up trying to get back home. Neither of them, by the looks of it. Spike was human and she wasn't super-girl any more.

This must have shown on her face because Spike dropped the grin almost immediately, his own face going slack in acknowledgment of the shitstorm of trouble they were in now.

"Look, we'll get it sorted, pet. Don't worry."

"How? How will we get it sorted, Spike?" she said, a glimmer of panic colouring her voice. "We're stuck somewhere where neither of us have the strength to defend ourselves from anything or anybody. Even Harmony could take us now!"

"Speak for yourself," he said, offended.

"I'm serious! What if that Calipso demon looks for us here? What if that was the point, huh?" His eyes were travelling all over her face as he took in her panicked rambling. "What if he sent us to this world knowing he'd be able to pick us off like cattle?"

"He's dead, luv, he's not doing anything."

"What if there was more than one, though?" she continued. "Or worse, what if we're not really here at all and our bodies are just lying in the cemetery? Some vamp could come along and just--"

"Hey! Stop!" he grasped her arms in his hands. "Calm down, luv. Just stop freaking out and we'll--"

"Stop freaking out!?" she cried, attempting to push away from his warm hands. "I don't think I've ever been in a situation that deserved freaking out more than this one, Spike!"

"Alright, just breathe, luv, just breathe," he hummed, still holding on to her. It was a mark of just how unnerved she was that she was allowing him to not only hold her, but be witness to her being less than Slayer-like. "The way I see it is wherever we are it doesn't matter because you know who's back in the real world? Your Scooby pals. Right?" he coaxed.

She nodded numbly.

"Right. An' while they may be more annoying than a pep-squad cheerleader on a coke binge, the one thing they can do is look out for you. They will find out what’s going on and before you know it, we'll be back in the bosom. Alright?"

"Okay," she croaked, calmed, her eyes searching his. He calmly gazed back at her for a moment and she could feel her limbs going slack with relief that at least she wasn't here on her own--even if it was Spike. Strangely, she was in a strange place, during a really strange time, and even more strangely, she was with a human form of Spike that was being nice to her, not to mention how free he was being with the touching between the two.

She pushed away from his hold, distractedly rubbing her arms where his touch had been. This was not the first time he'd been there to say something at the right time; something that somehow ended up making her feel better. If she wasn't at that very moment trying to stave off the mother of all nervous breakdowns, she'd be wondering first, how the hell he always knew what to say and second, why the hell he cared enough to placate her.

But she didn't have the brain-space for it at that moment. No, all she could think about was that he was right; her friends would help her and there was every possibility that they'd make it home due to their intervention.

So why did she feel so uncomfortable at that thought? Why did she still feel panic on the edge of her thoughts?

She wasn't the Slayer, but she knew intellectually that she could rely on her friends. They'd saved her before when she hadn’t been able to save herself. Yet she’d still been the Slayer. Here she wasn't. Oh God, this was hurting her head. She closed her eyes, her fingers travelling to her temples as she tried to ease away what was becoming the headache of the century. What she needed was a massage. With that special oil that made her skin crackle. Mmm, a Riley massage with...

Riley! Her eyes snapped open. Oh God, Riley could have been here with her! He could have been here, sitting across from her right now instead of Spike. Riley could be holding her in comfort, telling her not to worry, and seeing her as Buffy, not just the Slayer. It could have saved them. If he'd only waited another week...

Or if Spike had only waited another week to rub it in her face, she thought, focusing her increasingly angry gaze on Spike. He was now staring into space beside her head, clearly having his own war of words with himself. Either way, he was a lucky vamp... man... whatever! He was damned lucky the Slayer had abandoned her, ‘cause the way she was feeling right now? She'd have been making Spike pancakes.

This place, this version of her... It would have saved their relationship. She was so sure of it. He'd have been able to see her, help her and this would’ve made him feel important, needed. God, why couldn't this have happened the week before with Riley as her travel companion?

Cause that would mean the Powers liked you, Buffy.

"So what do we do in the meantime?" she said, barely containing the glare she so wanted to send his way.

Was she being irrational? Maybe. But she couldn't help it. Spike was the person who had shown her what Riley had become; what their relationship had become. She knew she was shooting the messenger, but it wasn't like Spike was this innocent person who just happened to be the one to show her. He had taken great delight in her pain before. Yet on the other hand, Riley could have died in that vamp-whorehouse, and it was all because of his insecurity.

The wind of righteous anger went out of her sails. Maybe Spike wasn't trying to rub it in, she wondered for the first time. Maybe he was trying to help her? I mean, he was trying to help her now, right? And he'd been there for her this year more than she cared to admit.

But it was Spike! The same guy who had tried to kill her multiple times, more than she cared to count. Not to mention he was the same guy who took such delight in her humiliation at the hands of Parker. The situation with Riley was different, but that didn't mean it was impossible he had simply been looking to enjoy the implosion of yet another Buffy relationship.

Interrupting her merry-go-round thoughts, Spike huffed and toed the dirt. "I have absolutely no idea what we should do."

She shifted, desperately trying to stop thinking about Riley. That was a problem to obsess over once they were back at home. Right now, she really needed to get it together. She was... well, she had to be able to rely on herself. Spike was a giant question-mark and more than ever, she was unsure of his intentions. She also wasn't particularly fond of the looks of him actually caring about her wellbeing he was sending her way. Clearly, he assumed she was a minute away from another freak out. Receiving these looks from her one-time mortal enemy who was now her... she had no idea what, was less than enjoyable.

"How's about we have another little truce, Sla .. Buffy," he corrected.

She noticed and flinched. "A truce?"

"Yeah. While we're here. I don't screw you over, you don't screw me over kind of thing," he said, a note of hope in his voice that struck her as strangely hilarious. What was he worried about? What did he think she could do to him here? Give him a Chinese burn?

"What? Are you afraid I'll get you stuck in detention or something?" she joked disconsolately.

He chuckled warmly. "Could be worse, I guess. Rather be stuck here with you than Harmony."

"Well I wouldn't get too excited. I saw her inside," she nodded her head in the direction of the school.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was just like she was in my real high school. So were Will and Xander," she frowned. "Except ..."

"They didn't know you were the Slayer," Spike finished for her, a musing tone in his voice.

"Yeah. Cause I'm not."

"I'm not a vamp and you're not all super," he said, and from the tone in his voice he may as well have been rubbing his chin.

"What?" she prompted.

"S'just ... alternate realities and all that," he said, sparing her a glance to make sure she wasn't freaking out again. Noting her calmed demeanour, he continued. "I mean, there's an infinite number, right?

"Like the world without shrimp?"

He frowned at her. "Do you sit around deliberately making up nonsense just to mess with me?"

"Oh never mind," she said in frustration.

"Well, I was just thinkin'... what if we're in a world without the beasties?"

"You mean like a Sunnydale without the Hellmouth?"

"No, I mean without any of it; vamps, demons, witches, whatever."

Her stomach fell. "Well then we really would be screwed, wouldn't we?"

"I was actually gonna say that'd be a blessing, seein' as how neither of us would be up to fighting them."

"Point taken. But then how do we get back?"

Spike's mouth closed at that and they both regarded each other in silence as they let that sink in. If they were in some non-supernatural Sunnydale, then there was not one thing they could do to get back to their world. She pushed aside the panic threatening to break through her at that thought, unaware she was still gazing intently at Spike's sunlit eyes.

"Guess we'll have to depend on the Scoobies doing it all from their end then," Spike finally answered quietly.

A bird chirped in the tree above them, breaking the shared daze they'd been in. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and heard Spike sigh loudly. Then something hit her for the first time. Her eyes widened. Spike was human. He was breathing, standing in sunlight right in front of her, and even stranger, he didn't seem to be particularly bothered by that fact. He wasn't in any pain, that she could see and he wasn't acting crazy. He wasn't affected in any way other than puzzlement at their situation.

"So how... uh, how do you feel?" she asked cautiously.

"I feel. .. warm. S'like I'm throbbing or something," he said, his hand moving to the pulse in his neck she could now clearly see.

"But I mean, you're not. .." she trailed off, wondering how to ask him if he felt the weight of thousands of victims pressing down on him yet.

Spike didn't seem to be listening to her though, his hands moving from the pulse point in his neck to the one in his wrist and then settling over his heart. As he appraised his newfound status, Buffy recalled Angel telling her of the avalanche of guilt that he was buried under almost immediately after regaining his soul. She remembered him telling her it was physically painful for him when it happened. Spike did not look in pain standing in the sunlight with his hand over his heart and a big goofy grin.

Can you be human without a soul, she wondered. Giles had never explicitly stated if being human came complete with soul package but it made sense to her that human equalled soul-having. Didn't mean you'd automatically be good - I mean hello, Hitler - but surely it meant you had the capability to be good. But if Spike was a soul-having human now, why wasn't he doubled over in pain for all the atrocities he'd committed in his life as a vampire? Why wasn't he even mentioning it?

"I'm not what?" Spike asked, picking up the thread she'd been sure he hadn't heard.

"I mean, you're human right?" she prodded.

"Either that or I'm wearing sun-factor 2000 with a built-in circulatory system," he said, his mouth curled up in a familiar sneer.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't seem any different."

"Different than what?"

"Different than soulless vamp-Spike," she said with a pointed tone.

Realisation flooded his eyes. "Oh I see what's got your knickers twisted. Let me guess, I'm not acting like your precious Angel did when he got his soul back so you're assuming I'm not only a soulless demon, I'm also a soulless human, right?" he said, his voice rising in anger.

"I didn't say that," she said, matching his tone. "I'm just saying that you'd think you'd be feeling some remorse if you had a soul, wouldn't you?"

"And why is that then, Slayer?" he said, emphasising the title which no longer applied to her. "Why would William feel any guilt for what Spike did, huh?"

"Oh so William was like this, was he? William was a snarky, quippy dickhead?" She pointed to his hair, "William had bleached blonde hair and wore god-awful punk clothes, did he?"

Spike's face hardened. "It's none of your business what William was like. Fact is I'm human now, and you're just grasping at straws trying to find a way to still treat me like I'm the dirt you can scrape off your shoe, Summers."

"Look," she began, attempting to reign in her frustration, "all I was trying to do was figure out what is going on with us."

"Yeah, us. You'd do well to remember that, Buffy. I'm not the only one affected by our little trip to Oz. I saw that punch you threw my way. I've seen Tasmanian devils with more grace," he sneered. "Fact is your body doesn't seem to remember being the Slayer any more than my soul," he accentuated with a hand on his heart, "remembers being a vampire."

They stared at each other in frustration, Spike's gaze challenging her to argue with him. She couldn't. She knew she couldn't. The fact was neither of them had any idea A) where they were, B) how to get back or C) just what the trip here had done to them. He was right; her body did not bring the knowledge of how to be a Slayer along for the ride. Maybe it was possible that whatever guilt Spike would feel with a soul back in their world had been left at the door to this one too.

Or he's a soulless human who is stronger than you and will try to kill you the second he thinks he'll get away with it.

They gazed at each other in a stand-off. He was certainly acting a lot more helpful than she would assume a soulless Spike would, the episode of comfort in her back garden a few weeks before aside. Could she trust him? Her gut said she could. But then her gut also told her to trust him in the past and he'd betrayed her more than once.

You're still alive though. And if you don't want to be in this alone, you have to give him a chance.

"What about the chip?"

"What about it?"

"Well, if you don't have it--"

"It won't matter, because I'm not going to try anything!" he cried in exasperation.

She watched him warily.

"Look, do you think I'd try something when you're not even able to fight back? When have I ever done that? I'm not Darla. I won't come after you with guns."

"Oh really? So what was that giant metal thing you appeared with a few weeks ago in my back garden?" she challenged.

"That..." he stumbled. "That was just..."

She pointedly glared at him.

"Look," he sighed, "that was a bad night, and it's not like I used it, right? I seem to recall setting it aside and sitting all night comforting you."

She glanced away in embarrassment.

"Look, Buffy," he began in earnest, "I fought Slayers because I wanted to fight Slayers. I never wanted to fight just the girl. I have no interest in killing you."

Her gaze flew back to his.

"Like this, I mean," he corrected hurriedly. "I have no interest in killing you like this. Okay?"

She observed him quietly. What choice did she really have here? And like it or not, a part of her actually believed him. And man, that pissed her off.

She sighed, breaking their mistrustful gaze.

"I'm not going to try anything, okay? I have a self-preservation streak a mile wide and if I've learned anything about transportation spells, it's that what goes through must come back."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if we came through together then maybe... maybe we have to go back together."

Now that she could believe. If Spike was anything it was a survivor. Adding to that his slightly less difficult manner of late and his possible soul-having status, she now also had the assurance that he would need her to get home. Of course that meant she'd need him too.

"Plus, I would much rather have the satisfaction of seeing you eat all these mistrustful words when we get back," he grinned, provoking a begrudging bark of laughter from her. "We're in this together, deal?"

He extended his hand towards her. She looked from his hand to his eyes, taking note of the way the daylight lit up his face.

So this was it: trust him or not. She looked into his eyes, searching for something she wasn't sure she knew how to identify. Was he the Spike who relished her emotional and physical pain? Or was he the Spike who sat next to her with his hand on her back, comforting her all night when she found out her mother was ill? Did he tell her about Riley to rub it in? Or did he tell her because he knew it was something she needed to know, not just as the Slayer but as Buffy?

She raised her hand hesitantly to meet his and, looking him right in the eyes, she noted the spark of happiness that flashed in his as her hand wrapped around his offered one. She had only a second to recognise the warmth coming from it before a spark of electricity shot up her arm. She snatched her hand back, casting a wary look at Spike, only to see him reacting in the same way, a frown on his face.

"S'just static," he said uncertainly.

"Yeah," she agreed with a frown.

"So, what is our immediate plan now that we've agreed we're both on Team Human?"

She frowned, still rubbing her hand. "I don't know. I guess we should try to find out exactly where we are."

"In Sunnydale. Next goal, please," he said with what he probably considered a cute grin.

"I mean," she ground out, "whether your theory about no demons is right or not."

"And how are we gonna do that?" he replied perplexed.

How were they gonna do that? Well, she knew what she'd do in their world; Giles. But here...

She paused, looking over to the high school that loomed behind them, and a small smile broke out over her face as a flicker of hope fluttered in her stomach.

"Silly Spike," she said, returning her gaze to him, "Where does anyone go when they seek knowledge?"


Chapter End Notes:
TBC



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