He didn’t know how to begin.

She saved him the trouble by looking up and, in her surprise, flipping over and tumbling into the pool.

“Spike!” she sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

“Might ask the same of you, pet. Or maybe it’s your habit to make yourself at home in a parallel universe.”

Buffy pushed out of the pool and grabbed a towel. “I’m not making myself at home. I’m just …”

Spike cocked an eyebrow.

“Whatever. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Figure I made the same mistake as you, kitten.”

“Tried to get a tan?”

“Well, not exactly. Spritzed on that cursed potion you had in your bath.”

“And you’re here?”

“Apparently so.”

“How come you’re not …” Buffy extended a fingertip to gently touch his hand “… y’know, all lit up like a bonfire?”

The smallest touch from her and he was gulping for air.

And that’s when it hit him.

“Well, thing is, I think there’s something a little off about this parallelogram.” He guided her palm to his chest and pressed it against his heart.

Buffy’s eyes went wide. “How?”

“Dunno.”

“Is it permanent?”

“Seein’ as how I just figured it out two seconds ago, I can’t rightly say.”

“Oh.” She dropped her hand. Buffy wasn’t crazy to find her island paradise invaded by her former nemesis, but he’d shown up with a pulse and without a sun allergy.

He was the first thing to show up in the dimension that hadn’t been exactly what she’d ordered … well, if she’d been ordering. Which she wasn’t.

Right?

***

“Okay, so here’s what we know about the Unfugs so far,” Willow summarized. “One, they’re big with the magicks. Two, they’re the merchant princes of the demon world. Three, they’ve set up shop in Sunnydale recently and have made a mint peddling all sorts of gear. That covers it, right?”

Xander nodded. “Still doesn’t explain how the bottle made it to Buffy’s countertop.”

“Xander’s right,” Anya agreed. “But I don’t know that it matters. The thing is to figure out how to get her back.”

“Them back,” Dawn added. “Spike has to be with her.”

“Dawnie, we don’t know that,” Willow patiently replied.

“It d-does make sense. After all, nobody’s seen him. And his blanket …”

“Fine, then. We need to get them out. The Unfug spells are referenced in this text, but they’re mostly about creating the charmed objects.”

“Well, that’s a good first step,” Anya brightened up. “Of course! We need to charm a … maybe a surfboard, or a tiki torch or a beach towel …”

“Um, Ahn? Sweetheart?”

“Well, there are lots of alternate realities, but they aren’t infinite.”

“They’re not?”

“No. At least, not exactly. So all we have to do is figure out how to chuck a telephone into Buffy’s dimension and at least we can talk.”

“You mean her cell phone? Will she get service?” Dawn asked.

“Not a phone exactly. A magick phone,” she looked pointedly at the witches. “Something that wouldn’t be out of place on a beach. That we can use to communicate.”

“Oooh – wait a sec!” Dawn rushed from the living room, thundering up the stairs, pausing for a minute and then thumping back down again, proudly brandishing a conch shell. “From our trip with dad, to Hawaii. I wanted to find one on the beach, but when all I found were the regular bitsy shells, he bought this one in the gift shop.”

“Okay,” Willow said, reaching for the super-sized shell and turning it over in her hands. “This could work.”

***

“So you figure you’ll just take a break, then?” Spike followed her into the house, nearly tripping on her as she stopped cold. “What?”

“The house … it’s different.”

And it was different. Buffy had cleaned up her ice cream, but she certainly hadn’t moved in a kick ass stereo system with a tower of CDs.

“It’s a bootleg of a Buzzcocks show … and the Sex Pistols’ first U.S. radio interview … this is fan-bloody-tastic!”

“This wasn’t here.”

“It’s here now.” He headed for the stereo.

“I’m gonna check out the rest of the house.” Buffy fled as music assaulted her eardrums from the living room.

Sure enough, the kitchen had all sorts of other things in it, Weetabix and tea bags and steaks. Not Buffy-friendly food.

But the real shock was the second floor. It took her a few minutes to realize that not only was the bedroom now fitted out for two, the bedroom was actually bigger. A whole second closet was added, filled with clothing that was Spike-like. Or maybe Spike-lite, because there was a little bit of color and things like swim trunks and sandals that she couldn’t quite imagine Sunnydale Spike being caught dead in.

“And that’s a whole ‘nother level of weirdness,” she mumbled as she checked out the bathroom. Yup, bigger here, too, with a whole extra two shelves of guy-specific stuff. Razors – did vampires shave? – plus guy-specific shampoo and, of course, hair gel.

By the time she made her way back down to the main level, she wasn’t surprised to find Spike tearing through a bag of jalapeno potato chips, flopped out on the couch, listening to something noisy on the stereo.

“What’s that you were saying about getting out of here?”

Spike looked up. “You’re right, pet.”

“No, I’m not. I mean … maybe in theory … can you turn that off?”

Spike reached for the remote and turned it down. “Will that do?”

“I guess. Anyhow, I don’t know what we could do.”

“Look for clues.”

“Like that blue dog on television?”

He shrugged and popped another chip in his mouth. “There’s always a door out of a demon dimension.”

“But what would tell us how to find it?”

“That’s the rub, innit it?”

“I’ve been gone a day now.”

“Your mates ‘ll notice, yeah?”

“I’m sure they’re working on it.”

“Probably be yanked out of here and back into Sunny D before you can say sand and surf.”

“Sand and surf!” Buffy bit back a giggle.

“Or maybe we have a little more time than that.”

“So, Spike … ever been trapped on an island paradise with your mortal enemy before?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Me neither.”

Okay, so she was all but saying what he was thinking. “How ‘bout we do this place up right, pet? Grill something tasty for dinner, frolic in the surf, maybe watch some telly and pig out on whatever materializes in the cupboards?”

Buffy frowned. It was wrong, right? She should be doing research or looking for something to beat up. Only there wasn’t a library in sight, and her friendly neighborhood demon was standing in full sunlight. She slowly broke into a smile, an ear-to-ear grin that called on muscles she hadn’t recently used. “Okay. Let’s make the best of it.”

“Too right we will.”

***

“How are we so sure he didn’t kill her?” Xander whispered, after glancing to make sure that Dawn wasn’t listening.

“Hey, I don’t like Spike any better than you, but for starters, no body.”

“Great. Then he turned her.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Listen, weird things have been happening lately. Right? And not weird like, Sunnydale freak-fest, but weird like … weird.”

“Oh, that clears it up.”

“No, I mean … I think that right now, it makes sense that something happened that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Willow …”

“I promise. If we find one shred of evidence that Spike’s done anything wrong, I’ll be the first to go after him, okay?”

“If they are trapped somewhere together, I just hope he’s behaving himself.”

Willow frowned, but settled for returning to her spellbook. The sooner she figured out how to talk to Buffy, the better she’d feel.

***

They’d had the kind of day that Buffy had stopped dreaming of a long time ago … back before Riley left, really.

There had been the obligatory and somewhat awkward walk on the beach, but with every step it got easier and easier to forget that he was Spike, the Evil Undead. By sunset, she couldn’t help but think of him as just a guy. Maybe not the guy she’d imagine for a romantic walk in the surf, but lately when she tried to picture her perfect date she kept coming up with Jude Law.

Okay, so Spike wasn’t Jude. But since when had she had a thing for British accents anyhow?

Later Spike had grilled steaks and veggies, which were surprisingly good. They’d downed a bottle of wine and devoured an apple tart that turned up in the refrigerator at just the right time, sitting outside watching the night sky.

“It’s like the stars turn on, one by one, with a switch,” Spike mused.

Buffy glanced at him. He was miles away, even though he was right here on the patio, feet up on the railing.

“They’ve moved, y’know. Shifted, just a bit, since I was a boy. So gradually, it’s almost impossible to recognize. But if you know what you’re looking for, the patterns just pop out.”

“I’ve never been much for stargazing. Unless you count Us Weekly.”

“’S relaxing. To see there’s something bigger than us and our petty little problems.”

“Like being stuck in this alternate dimension?”

Spike turned to face her. “Don’t think ‘ts so bad now, pet.”

She gulped and stood too quickly. “Well, I think I’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

“Right. Tomorrow we repair the SS Minnow and set sail.”

Buffy smiled and turned to head up, Spike on her heels.

Only when she entered the bedroom did she realize the problem.

There was still only one bed.

***

Willow finished chanting and Tara gave one last wave of incense for good measure.

“That should do it,” Willow whispered, and on cue, the conch shell disappeared.

“He – he wouldn’t hurt her, Willow.”

“Maybe not. But we don’t have any idea what kind of world they’re in. It could be a hell dimension.”

Tara grimaced. This was the same argument from the summertime. “Or it could be paradise.”

***

“So what do we do?” Buffy stared at the big bed. Despite her mental pleas, the house had failed to spawn a second bedroom or even a second bed. In fact, she’d been rather desperately imagining a sleeping bag for the past few minutes and that hadn’t shown up in any of the closets, either.

Now Spike was upstairs and staring at their king-sized problem.

“Listen, this is a big bed. And I’ll bet if you walk your pretty little self over to that closet, there will be a generous pile of downy pillows.”

Buffy frowned, but decided that she’d just fling open the doors and prove how uncooperative the house was being on this front.

Instead, she flung open the doors and found an avalanche of pillows coming her way. She tossed a few towards Spike, and he set about dividing the bed in half.

“That’ll do, I think. Your virtue will be safe.”

“Thank you.”

Buffy crawled into her half of the bed and burrowed under the covers. Sleep wouldn’t come, though. It wasn’t just that she was in an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous place, no. Buffy couldn’t help but wonder … if the dimension gave residents everything they wanted, exactly when they wanted it, why would there be only one bed?

***

Xander turned to Anya, staring at her not-quite-sleeping face in their too-small bed.

“Ahn? Sweetie?”

“Yeah?”

“So have you ever been to these alternate dimensions?”

“Personally? No. But I’ve had postcards.”

“So what are they like?”

“Most are them are fine, just different. Some are nice. Are you worried about her?”

“Always. And no, ‘cause hey, Slayer.”

Anya frowed, sitting up. “Or maybe not.”

“What do you mean … not the Slayer?”

“Maybe not. If we were to poof! into an alternate dimension right now we would still be us, but we might not be … well …”

Xander waited, trying not to show his impatience.

“Remember the spell with Jonathan? Buffy was still Buffy – but because the conditions were different, she was changed.”

“But that doesn’t mean she won’t be okay, right?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Different is just different.”

“So if Spike is with her, she can defend herself?”

Anya fell silent, thinking again.

“Ahn?”

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s just … you have to understand that Spike might be different, too.”