A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, eowyn315!!!!!




“Where are we going?” Buffy hurried to keep up with Spike’s longer stride as he made his way down the sidewalk outside her house. “Jenny’s alive? Where does she live?”

“Not telling you that here, love,” Spike muttered. “Can’t ever be too careful. Don’t know whether she’s got someone listening in or she’s listening in herself. Got a direct line to my mind, she does, can hear whatever I say. ‘Course, there *are* some protective measures in place as far as thoughts, but…well, I’ve said too much as it is. I’ve just got to get you there, right quick, before she calls me back. Can’t have her catching me anywhere near the place, or she’ll get suspicious.”

Buffy was only slightly less confused by his answers than she had been by the questions. “Can she see you? Like, where you are right now?”

“If she wants to,” Spike replied, his voice low and grim. “Where you are, too, if she tries. There’s a bloody lot of things she can do simply by thinkin’ ’em, love. That’s why we’ve got to get you there as quick as we can.”

“But why…?”

“Just…stop talking until we get there,” Spike cut her off, a little more sharply than she had expected. She flinched slightly in surprise, and the vampire’s expression softened in apology. “It’s just…just safer that way, Buffy…not to say anything that might be overheard, until we’re there.” Spike was staring at her with an anxious question in his eyes, so Buffy nodded her hesitant agreement, and he turned with a sigh to lead the way further down the sidewalk, adding almost under his breath.

“And…try not to think too loud, either.”

“Try not to *what*?”

**************************************

“Right…this is my stop, then, love.”

Buffy drew to a sudden stop a couple of steps past where Spike now stood, a delayed reaction to his abrupt halt, as well as his startling words.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“We’re about a block from the city limits, Buffy, and…and she’s got it set so she’ll know if I leave town. She’ll be on us in two seconds if I go any farther,” Spike explained with an apologetic grimace. “I can tell you the way…but I can’t go with you.”

Buffy felt a sudden, irrational burst of anxiety. “But…”

“Now, be careful, love, she’s been through a lot. She’s likely not the same woman you knew. She’s a bit paranoid and defensive and maybe a little bit…er…insane…” The last word came out in a mumbled rush muffled by a cough, as Spike hurried on, “But just a little, and…”

“*What*?”

“She knows you. You two have been working together for a while now; she should let you in without any trouble,” Spike assured her in a placating tone of voice. “I’ll tell you how to get there from here, and you shouldn’t have any trouble. I’ll wait for you right here. I’ll be here whenever you get done telling her your story and all…”

It was the still-wary expression in his eyes that made Buffy sigh in resignation and forego any further argument. It frustrated her that the vampire still seemed so uncertain around her, so skittish any time she moved toward him too suddenly or raised her voice. It made her feel guilty, in spite of the fact that she had not actually done any of the things that had made him so apprehensive of her – and it made her irritated that she felt guilty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “How do I get there?”

A few moments later, Buffy was headed off in the direction Spike had indicated, while the blond vampire stood on the sidewalk anxiously watching her go, wishing that he could go with her. He was all too aware that if they stood any chance at all of keeping their as-yet unformed plans from Willow, he could not cross the city limits. Still, it was frustrating to know that the woman he loved was walking onto unknown territory, completely alone.

As he stood there, a familiar tingling sensation began at the base of his skull, and Spike grimaced with unpleasant recognition, muttering words of frustration an instant before he vanished completely.

“Oh…balls.”

**************************************

The house was small and old, with a yard that did not appear to have been touched in months. The grass was almost as high as her knees on either side of the sidewalk, which was nearly overgrown with weeds, poking up between the cobblestones. The house itself was covered in various strange symbols, hurriedly scrawled on the walls and doors.

Unusual stones and other strange objects Buffy could not identify hung on thin cords attached to the eaves of the house, appearing to run all the way around the house in what was likely some sort of protective circle.

Buffy took a deep breath, steeling herself for what promised to be a rather strange encounter, as she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” The teacher’s voice was familiar, yet foreign, sounding doubtful and impatient and…harder, somehow.

“It’s…it’s Buffy. I need to talk to you.”

A long moment of tense silence followed her words, before Miss Calendar spoke again, her voice muffled through the door but still clearly suspicious. “You sound…different. What’s going on?”

“Um…it’s a *really* long story. Can you…can you let me in? I’ll tell you everything, just…”

The door slowly swung open, and Buffy fell silent, her eyes widening as she peered into the darkened room just beyond it. As the door opened the rest of the way, a dim light across the room barely illuminated the familiar yet vastly changed features of the pretty gypsy teacher. Buffy raised an eyebrow when she saw that Miss Calendar was holding a loaded crossbow, which was aimed at her chest.

“You sound really strange, Buffy. And…and you *look* different, too.” Miss Calendar frowned, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you sure you’re still…well, *Buffy*?”

“Yeah,” Buffy assured her with a soft, ironic laugh. “That’s the one thing I *am* sure of. Can I come in?”

The former teacher let out a rude snort without lowering the crossbow. “Yeah. I’m really that stupid. You ought to know if you can or not.”

Buffy rolled her eyes in irritation, though the more rational part of her had to recognize the wisdom of Jenny’s actions. After all, in this world, almost everyone she and Jenny had ever cared about had been killed or turned into a vampire. It was a fairly reasonable concern for the gypsy to have before inviting anyone into her home.

Slowly, cautiously, her hands upraised in a deliberately non-threatening gesture, Buffy stepped over the threshold into the house.

“Satisfied?”

“More than I was,” Jenny admitted. “Still, something’s…I don’t know. You look different.”

“I am. More than you know.”

Buffy glanced around the dimly lit room, taking in the organized clutter that filled it. Various objects she recognized as magical covered nearly every surface – at least, those surfaces that weren’t covered with computers and electronic equipment. In fact, in some areas the magical paraphernalia and electronics seemed to be connected – which was typical, Buffy supposed, for the home of a self-avowed techno-pagan.

The techno-pagan in question cleared her throat pointedly, and Buffy returned her attention to the expectant woman, who was still waiting for her to explain her last comment.

The Slayer drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for the same difficult effort it had taken to convince Spike of the truth.

After all, it wasn’t exactly the most likely story.

“Okay, so…I’m just gonna say it, and I really hope you believe me because it would make things *so* much easier, but I’m afraid you’re not gonna, and I guess there’s really nothing I can do about that, so I’m just going to spit it out.” Buffy paused, trying to come up with the right words, before giving up and just allowing the story to spill out.

“Thirty minutes ago it was 1997 and Giles and Xander and almost everybody was still alive, but Willow was still a vampire and evil and she killed Angel and took Spike and did this spell that made everything like it is right now. And Spike said that you’re about the only person who can do anything to help me, so I really need you to believe me so we can figure out some way to stop her before it’s too late to put things back the way they were.”

Buffy paused to draw in another deep breath, this time out of the necessity for oxygen, as Jenny stared at her, her expression never changing.

“I thought so.”

Buffy blinked in surprise. “What? Really? I mean…how could you…?”

“I knew she changed something, anyway. Something major,” Jenny clarified, motioning with her head for Buffy to follow her as she crossed the room and sat down in front of one of several computer monitors. “I’ve been picking up some traces of major magical output in the last few hours, but couldn’t seem to pinpoint what exactly she did.”

“Come again?” Buffy frowned, confused.

“I’m using a combination of magic and technology to track whatever magic Willow does, in an effort to study it and find a way to stop it,” Jenny explained. “To gauge the changes in her power, in the sorts of spells she uses, and how many of them have effective, workable counter-spells…that sort of thing. I’m hoping to eventually find a spell that will bind her powers and make her like any other vampire, but…so far…”

“No luck,” Buffy finished grimly for her.

“Not yet.”

Buffy studied the no-nonsense expression on the older woman’s face – older even than she remembered her – for a long moment. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

“I’ve been living with her evil overshadowing me for the past six years, Buffy. If what you’re telling me is true, then you have no idea what kind of things she’s capable of – how many times she’s changed the world to fit her whims, in one way or another,” Jenny informed her, her voice low and hard. She sighed quietly, before concluding, “Nothing surprises me anymore. But we’ve got to find a way to isolate whatever spell she used to change things, and undo it.”

“Right.” Buffy was quiet for a moment, sobered by Jenny’s grim acceptance of Willow’s power to fit the world to her own wishes. “We’ve got to find a way to stop her.”

Jenny’s small, tight smile was utterly without any trace of joy. “Workin’ on it, Buffy. Workin’ on it.”

**************************************

One instant Spike was standing on the sidewalk watching Buffy walk away toward Jenny’s house…and the next, he was in the massive, ornate parlor of the mansion Willow had claimed as her own years earlier. Of course, it had not been so ornate or so massive when she had first taken possession of it. Numerous magical modifications had been made over the years – not for the better, in Spike’s opinion.

Not for the first time, Spike took in the wrought iron circular staircase that led up to the bedrooms, adorned with the dried remains of what had once been wild roses…the lush carpet under his feet that was the color of freshly spilled blood…the stone sculptures of different sorts of creatures, human and otherwise, in various states of torment and terror, sculptures that Spike was almost certain were not actually sculptures at all.

It was a place of dark elegance, cold beauty, breathtaking terror -- and well-fitted to the nature of the wicked creature who lived there.

Spike swallowed nervously, his sharp eyes searching the room for any sign of the witch-vampire queen of Sunnydale herself, but to all appearances he was alone.

Of course, he had learned well that when it came to Willow, appearances were usually deceiving.

He heard her dark, musical laugh before he saw her, echoing in the darkened chamber, and spun around at the sound, expecting to face her…but the room was empty. He peered into the blackness at the far corner of the room, from which the sound seemed to be coming, expecting to see Willow materialize, as was her habit.

That was why the soft, cool touch on his shoulder took him completely by surprise, as Willow’s voice whispered coldly in his ear from behind him.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, Spikey.”

Spike fought to control his impulse to jerk away from her, knowing that to show too much fear at this time would be to give away the fact that something was wrong. He had become accustomed to Willow’s behavior over the past few years, and knew that she would find it suspicious if he reacted too strongly to it now. He held himself steady with an effort as she trailed her hand lightly over his shoulder and moved around to face him.

Her chillingly calculating smile was in place as ever, her piercing jet black eyes seeming to see right through him and his fragile efforts to protect the Slayer from her rage. He swallowed back the sick taste of fear in the back of his throat, reminding himself that it could not possibly be so.

*Can’t read my thoughts…can’t possibly know…steady, mate…steady…*

Willow’s voice was terrifyingly soft as she trailed her hand from his shoulder upward, to run the backs of her fingers gently across his cheek, her smile widening with the knowledge that he would not dare to pull away. “Now I can’t help but wonder…where did you get off to for so long?”