Chapter 2: The Third Wheel

“It's amazing,” Buffy whispered as she surveyed the street they were walking down. “It's all still standing.”

“Exactly how much came down?”

“All of it.”

“All of it?”

“The whole town, the last thing being the welcome sign. Like you were signing your work.”

Spike fell quiet for a few steps. “How many...?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thirteen. Including you and Anya.”

“Damn.”

“I'm supposed to say it could've been a lot worse. That's what everyone tells me when they realize I'm thinking about it. But honestly? I want to punch anyone who says that.”

“Willing to bet Xander doesn't say it.”

“Never.” She sighed. “It feels like we have a lot more in common these days. More than we've had in years. At least I have someone to drink with.”

“Sorry, love.” He cautiously reached out to take her hand.

She grasped the offered hand firmly. “If this is real, if it's not a dream or something...”

“Feels pretty real to me.”

“Then we need to understand it... And find out if it's permanent.” She pulled him to a stop and turned to face him on the sidewalk. “Because if I have to go back to that... Spike, I don't want to.”

He shrugged. “So we fix things so it can't happen. Likely that's why we're here, anyway.”

“Assuming us being here is intentional, and not some magical screw up.”

“Who cares? We're still here, either way. I say we take advantage.”

“And assuming we're actually messing with our own timeline.”

“Let's assume.” He gave her a brief kiss. “You won't be going back to that. Alright?”

“You can't promise me that.”

“I just did. What happened to the slayer who was always convinced she'd find a way to win the day?”

Buffy looked him in the eye for a long moment before replying, “She found out exactly how much she had to lose by winning.”

The conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps on the sidewalk behind them. They pulled away from each other as they turned to face Angel, who looked angry as he marched toward them.

“Seriously, Angel?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you I'd stop by the mansion to talk to you later. We can handle this.”

“The problem is that there's a 'we.' I don't know what he's done to you, Buffy, but nothing about this makes any sense.”

“Well, no, it doesn't. But it will. ...In about five years.”

Angel's steps came to a sudden halt. “Wha-- What are you saying? That spoon gave you a premonition? Or... You're... No...”

Spike laughed at the sight of understanding dawning on Angel's face. “This is better than Back to the Future.”

“I don't know,” Buffy hedged. “A DeLorean would've been cooler than a spoon.”

“Actually, I liked the train.”

“Weirdo.”

Angel looked annoyed. “You really think trying to convince me you're time travelers is funny?” He pulled a stake from his coat pocket. “Who are you? Really?”

Spike pulled a stake from his own pocket with an eye roll. “As if you're the only one who's carrying.”

“And we are time travelers,” Buffy added, carefully shifting her position so she could quickly get between them if the need arose. “As in time traveling us. Go home, Angel. I promise to come talk to you later.”

“And leave you alone together?”

She sighed and caught Spike's eye.

He replied by putting his stake back in his pocket with a sigh of his own.

“Come on, Angel.” She waved for him to cover the remaining distance between them. “But if you tag along, try not to bombard us with questions. We don't have all the answers yet.”

“And probably won't give all the ones we have,” Spike added. “And no 'saying hello.'”

She clenched her teeth as she sucked in a breath. “Don't start.”

“Just sayin', love. You got a few bad habits, and he's one of the worst.”

“What? I have bad habits? This from the man who never remembers to cover his mugs before putting them in the microwave?”

Angel gulped. “You live together?”

Spike gave him a smirk. “Uh-huh,” he said in a tone that dripped with smugness.

“But not... I mean, only sharing a kitchen, right?”

“Nope.”

Buffy shook her head and turned to continue their walk toward the factory. “I can't believe I wasted months of my life mourning you.”

“She means you.” Spike rushed to fall into step with her.

“No, I don't,” she corrected as Angel came up on her other side. “Well, maybe both.”

“If it tips the scales, love, he's the one set me up with Elizabeth Taylor's nightmare.”

She avoided eye contact, focusing on the sidewalk. “But he's not the one who handed it to you.”

Angel opened his mouth to question this line of conversation, but Spike reached back to grab his shoulder, stopping them both.

“Leave it be, Liam.”

Angel looked him in the eye, and finally identified what was different about him. “You...? Your soul,” he whispered in shock. “How? Why?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” As soon as Buffy had gotten a few yards ahead of them, he dropped his hand and they resumed their walk behind her.

“You chose it?”

“I did. Turned out to be a mistake. At least, she probably thinks so.”

With that revelation, they fell silent, each deep in their own thoughts.

When they had reached the charred remains of the factory both vampires had briefly called home, Spike made eye contact with Buffy and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Not knowing how long we'll be here, maybe we should play it cool,” she answered. “Just Mom and the three of us. So you should probably keep being seen as the bad guy. At least for now.”

“Right, then. You go in, be their hero. I'll pick up the car and meet you at home.”

“Stay close until you hear us coming out, just in case something else goes wrong. And, uh, tell Mom I'll be pretty late.” She nodded toward Angel in explanation. “You might want to fill her in on a few things. Just the basics. At least enough for her to get why you just called her house 'home.'”

He winced, realizing. “She's not expecting us both back tonight.”

“Safe bet.” She turned to Angel. “The stairs took some structural damage in the fire. Don't walk on the middle of the treads, and we'll need to keep a good grip on Willow and Xander on the way up. Especially Xander.” She jerked a thumb toward Spike. “This moron gave him a concussion.”

“Five years ago,” he reminded her.

“Which would be tonight,” she shot back before continuing to address Angel. “While we're with them, keep your mouth shut about anything related to time travel or Spike. We'll figure out what -if anything- to tell them later. And let me go down ahead of you. I need to take care of a personal issue with my friends.”

“Gonna have to talk the boy into confessing,” Spike said quietly. “Can't just make it go away.”

She frowned at him, confused.

“Anya.”

“Shit. You know he's not going to 'fess up on his own.”

Spike shrugged. “Get her to do it, then. Let word get round to the cheerleader.”

“The Willow guilt train is not one I want to ride again, thanks.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Just plant the seed with 'em, Slayer. Either they'll let it come out and things will fall into place, or--”

“Or Anyanka lives a hell of a lot longer than another four and a half years,” Buffy finished, suddenly realizing the opportunity before her. She turned to head inside. “If they want to spill their guts, it'll be their choice. I'm staying out of it. Angel, give me two minutes.”

When they were alone outside, Angel asked, “Anyanka? As in the patron saint of scorned women? You know her?”

“We did. Good bird, for the most part. Best not to cross her, though.” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and started toward a well-shadowed corner of the building to wait for the sounds of Buffy's return. “Best not to shag her, either, unless you mean to make a habit of it.” He grinned to himself as he strolled away, imagining the wide-eyed stare behind him.

Meanwhile, in the factory's lower level, Buffy cleared her throat to draw the attention of the very distracted hostages.

Willow scrambled to her feet while Xander struggled to sit up, both wiping their lips as if they could erase the make-out session their friend had just interrupted.

“Buffy! Hi! How did you find us?”

“You were kidnapped by a drunken vampire who didn't actually plan this thing out, and Angel's living at the other of the two places he knows best in this town. Process of elimination.”

“That's one good thing to come out of all this, at least,” Xander said as he struggled to his feet. “You found Spike, so you probably dusted him, right?”

She abruptly turned away, masking her reaction by poking her head into the stairwell to look for Angel.

He was midway down the flight, taking his time to determine the stability of each step. “I think this section is the worst of it. Bring them to me, and I'll lift them over.”

She nodded in acknowledgment and turned back to her friends. “If you two are finished being assholes to people who love you, it's time I took you home.”

Shocked at the harshness of her words, Willow and Xander meekly followed her to the stairs.