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This Time Around by chlarkspuffy
 
Chapter 6: Man in Black
 
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A/N: 'YBuffy' refers to Buffy of season 5. I use it only when both Buffys are in the same scene. In other words, only when there is ambiguity in a scene, is YBuffy used in the narration. It is not used by the characters themselves, and is also not used when there is only one of the Buffys in the scene.

Loads of hugs to my new beta, dreamsofspike. Also, thanks to slaymesoftly for getting me through the toughest bit - the beginning. :) Last, but hardly the least, thank you to alwaysjbj, for making the perfect banner.

~*~



Sunnydale, 2001

The next day YBuffy told them about how she had killed the slimy demon with Spike’s help, and the older slayer told them as much as she remembered about the Queller demon.

“A heads-up wouldn’t have hurt,” YBuffy huffed.

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the door flew open and Spike burst in, flinging the smoldering blanket away from him once safely inside the confines of the shop and away from the sun’s deadly rays.

“What’s Dead Boy doing here?” Xander asked, the derision in his tone matched by that in his expression.

YBuffy rolled her eyes and turned to face the vampire. “Spike, this is a private party and I don’t remember inviting you. Don’t you have some stupid shows you watch during the day?”

“Top of the mornin’ to you, too, Slayer,” he retorted with a grin, accustomed to the hostility and acerbic responses his appearances usually elicited from the slayerettes and their feisty leader. He couldn’t really fault them for it, what with his many attempts at killing the lot of them.

“Dare I ask what brings you here, Spike?” Giles inquired, his expression somewhere between distaste and curiosity.

Spike smirked at the still-disgruntled Slayer and reached inside his duster for a cigarette.

“Light that and it will be the last time you use that finger,” Buffy threatened, pointing to his thumb that was preparing to ignite his zippo.

“Got a better use for it in mind ’ave you?” he asked, curling his tongue at the innuendo. His smirk widened as her colour rose. Getting the Slayer riled up was among his favourite pastimes, now that killing her was out of the question.

Before Buffy could come back with any of her witty remarks, however, Spike cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring at the scent that teased his senses.

That can’t be right.

He opened his eyes and moved towards Giles, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw another Buffy rise silently to her feet. She had been sitting at the table, obscured from his vision by the figure of Giles. Now, she came around and stood in front of him, her eyes glimmering with a myriad of indecipherable emotions.

“Knew I smelled another Slayer.” Spike’s gaze was transfixed by the familiar, yet not-so-familiar blonde in front of him. “You smell like her, though not exactly,” he said matter-of-factly, his breath catching when she smiled at him tentatively. He looked at her quizzically. “Who’re you, then?”

“He’s not terribly bright for a master vampire, is he?” Anya muttered, as usual to no one in particular.

“Hello, Spike,” Buffy said, exercising control she didn’t think she possessed. What she really wanted was to throw herself into his arms and reacquaint her lips with his. Sure, he wasn’t her Spike, but in a sense he was, wasn’t he?

And his clothing’s a little different, but other than that, he looks pretty much like my Spike – all blond and pouty.

Her blatant perusal of him came to rest on his face, and that look in his eyes almost did her in – the one he used to have whenever she bestowed some small mercy upon him. All she had said was “hello,” but he was standing there, looking at her as though she had said “It’s good to see you, Spike.”

Spike realised that he probably resembled a poof, jaw hanging open and gaping at her. He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, overcome with some emotion he couldn’t quite define, because the Slayer was looking at him without a trace of the hatred he was accustomed to. “What the bleedin’ hell’s goin’ on?”

“Meet Future Buffy,” Anya said by way of introduction, since no one else had spoken or seemed inclined to make the introduction.

Spike eyes widened and again, he cocked his head as he openly appraised the woman in front of him. “Years must’ve been good to you, Slayer.” His eyes rested suggestively on her torso. “Perhaps too good.”

Buffy bristled at his implication and crossed her arms in front of her. “I am in excellent fighting condition, I’ll have you know,” she said in a haughty tone, an eyebrow arched for effect.

His eyes lit up in amusement and he chuckled. “I’m sure you are, luv. I’m sure you are.” Apparently, the passage of time hadn’t made her any less susceptible to his taunts. “Although you sound like you’ve been spending an unhealthy amount of time with your Watcher, here.”

Buffy rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of her younger self’s earlier action. “Giles isn’t the only Brit I know, you know?”

“’s that right?” Spike asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey Buff?”

Both girls turned their heads towards Xander.

“I mean McFly,” Xander clarified.

“One of them needs to have a different name,” Anya said.

The girls looked at each other and the older one smiled. “Call me Joan.”

“Joan? What kind of name is that?” Willow said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“What kind of a namby pamby name is Buffy?” Spike scoffed.

“Hey!” both Buffys exclaimed indignantly.

“Joan it is, then,” Spike said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

‘Joan’ swung back around to face Xander. “You were saying?”

“Oh, I was thinking that you can’t give us any information about our future selves, but what about Fang-face? Please tell me you dust him? Sometime soon?” His eyes lit up. “Or maybe I do the honours?”

Buffy considered her young friend thoughtfully. “What makes you think he gets dusted? And why do you think I would tell you either way?”
Xander’s hopeful smile slid off.

“Oh c’mon Buff. It’s not like his existence is going to affect us. Now, his disappearance, on the other hand, would do as a whole lot of good, don’t you think?” he asked, looking around at the others for confirmation. “I for one, would love to know how at least, if not when, so that I can start the celebrations.”

Spike snorted. “Typical.”

“Don’t recall speaking to you, bleach boy. In fact, why are you still here?”

Spike glared disdainfully at the boy, not for the first time wondering whether killing the boy would be worth the pain from his chip firing.

No, the Slayer’ll kill me first.

“Typical bloody self-centered pillock you are. How do you know I don’t do something that helps one of your lot?”

“Yeah, like-”

“He’s right, Xander.”

Xander stared at Buffy in surprise. “Please tell me that’s your funny side doing the talking.”

“I am?” Spike asked, taken aback at the unexpectedness of those words coming from the Slayer.

“Xander, it doesn’t matter who we’re talking about - even Spike. I can’t tell you anything, one way or another. It’s too dangerous.”

“What about you?” YBuffy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re alive. That means I’m alive.”

A troubled frown marred Buffy’s face and she turned a beseeching gaze to her Watcher. “Giles?”

Giles’ contemplative look was quickly replaced by one of concern.

“Buffy, you mustn’t let the knowledge of your future existence make you complacent, especially when you fight,” he told the younger girl. “In fact, you must continue as though it is never certain.”

“Listen to Giles. My being here is not a guarantee that you live,” Buffy said, wishing, again, that she could say more.

YBuffy and Xander wore almost identical expressions of perplexity, although Xander’s turned to disgust when Spike leered at him victoriously.

“Again, I ask, why are you still here?”

“Got some business with the Slayer,” Spike riposted as he turned his attention to YBuffy.

“Got some information about that bint that’s got your panties in a bunch.”

Ok, this is different, Buffy thought. I don’t remember Spike coming to me with information on Glory.

“Well, spit it out, Spike, or do you prefer I beat it out of you?”

“Always spoilin’ for a fight. Or is just that you like getting’ up close and personal with me?”

It was that damn lascivious, curled tongue of his that had always pushed her buttons. Buffy saw the fist moving at the same time Spike did, except the latter was slower to move. YBuffy’s fist was arrested half an inch away from the vampire’s nose.

Spike’s startled eyes narrowed on the slender hand holding YBuffy’s wrist in an ironclad grip. The seething slayer glared at Buffy and wrenched her arm out of her grasp.

“I remember how it felt to vent my frustrations, especially on someone as helpless as Spike, but now’s hardly the time, don’t you think?” Buffy said in as casual a tone as she could muster, considering how conflicted she was really feeling. She remembered only too well the reasons behind her violent actions towards Spike. His existence had threatened her, challenging her perceptions and everything she had been taught by the Council, introducing grays where there had once been only black and white. She had been weak and vulnerable, and had hated herself for that, choosing to take it out on the one person who she believed, deserved it.

“I’m not some soddin’ puppy that needs rescuin’, Slayer. I fight my own battles!” Spike huffed, his demon more than a bit peeved at being reminded of its impotence.

Buffy gave him a saccharine-sweet smile and patted him on the shoulder, her fingers lingering for the briefest moment. “Not a puppy. A kitten.”

Spike’s indignant sputter was cut short by the feel of the slayer’s hand on his shoulder, her feather-light touch searing his cold skin despite the layers of clothing between hand and flesh.

She never touched him, except to hit him.

Her next words, delivered in a sultry whisper audible only to him, sent a delicious shiver up his spine. “Always did have a thing for kittens.”

Spike’s eyes widened in confusion.

What the….?!

He stared at her in astonishment, but she had turned away and refused to meet his eyes. He pursed his lips as he silently appraised her, his mind racing with the implications of her flirtatious behavior towards him. Without even being aware of it, he focused his vampiric senses on the enigmatic slayer. He could smell the fear and excitement emanating from her, and was both puzzled and intrigued by it.

Bad, bad Buffy, she scolded herself. Must not tease the kitty. You know what happens when you do.

Therein, of course, lay the problem. She could no sooner resist ribbing Spike than she could stop breathing, but resist she had to.

Just don’t look at him. Yes, not looking at the yummy vampire should do the trick. She cast a furtive glance at the vampire she had just resolved to ignore and almost moaned. Oh god, lips of Spike! Why must he go all pouty when I’m trying not to look at him?

“Spike, you have exactly ten seconds to speak. After that, no one - not even Joan here - is going to be able to stop me from throwing your worthless, undead ass out into the sunshine,” YBuffy said, the threatening look in her eyes emphasizing her seriousness.

Reluctantly, Spike dragged his attention back to the not-so-pleasant Slayer. Several witty comebacks fought for dominance over his mouth, what with her having mentioned his arse and all. He held them back with obvious difficulty, not wanting to antagonize her any further and be kicked out. There was no way he was going anywhere when there was this other Buffy here – one who seemingly didn’t hate him like her younger counterpart did.

“Right,” he said, sliding his hands into his duster’s pockets and striking an indifferent pose. “I overheard some talk at Willy’s – somethin’ about a demon ritual that’s goin’ down. Don’t know when or what.”

“And this has something to do with Glory how?”

“Well the bloke who was spillin’ his innards mentioned a young, pretty demon-lass being involved. Figured he was talkin’ about the bird that’s got you lot in a right dither.”

Giles cleared his throat, throwing YBuffy a nervous glance before asking Spike. “Are you quite certain he said nothing else of import?”

“Not unless tales of the inner workin’s of tower construction fit that description.”

Buffy let escape the faintest of gasps, discernable only to the vampire’s acute auditory senses. He lifted an eyebrow in question, but she refused to meet his eyes.

Interesting.

He wondered what she was keeping from them. Clearly something he said had….

“This is good news, right?” Willow asked hopefully. “We knew that Glory was after something. Now we know that she’s involved in some sort of ritual. If we can find out what the ritual’s about or what she’s hunting for, we might be able to find a way to stop her.”

“Or, we could just cut to the chase and Joan here can tell us.” YBuffy said, giving her Watcher and Buffy a determined look.

Buffy responded before Giles could launch into another lecture about the dangers of time-travel. “I know this is hard. I would have wanted exactly the same thing if I was in your position -”

“See, that’s just it! You weren’t in my position. Neither you nor Giles can tell me with absolute certainty that our futures haven’t already changed, so I don’t understand why you can’t give something, anything that will help us defeat Glory. If you know me so well, you should know that I will do whatever it takes to protect my sister.”

“Dawn? What does this have to do with the Dawnster?” Xander asked, nonplussed. Willow echoed his sentiments, while Spike and Tara merely looked at YBuffy quizzically.

YBuffy sighed and folded her arms across her chest. She spared Giles look of resignation before bringing the rest of the Scoobies up to speed on Dawn’s existence, or prior non-existence, as it was.

All things considered, they took it rather well. Both Buffys observed with some pride the absolute loyalty and acceptance their friends displayed in the face of such a mind-boggling revelation.

“Any idea why the bint’s gunnin’ for the Bit?” Spike asked, voicing the most obvious question.

“Not exactly. The monk wasn’t exactly a fountain of information, since he was a little busy taking his last breaths,” YBuffy said, frustration evident in her tone. “All he said was, she’s a portal – some sort of Key – one which Glory must not get her perfectly manicured fingers on.”

“Giles?” Buffy interrupted, her quiet, controlled demeanor a striking contrast to the young slayer’s agitated figure.

Giles turned his attention towards her, frowning. “Let me guess – none of this happened in your past?”

Buffy shook her head, worry written across her features. “Giles, I think Buffy’s right. So many things are happening differently. What if by me keeping quiet something else happens – something worse?”

“Worse than what?” YBuffy asked fearfully.

Buffy considered her words carefully. “Worse than what happened in my past. We’re slayers. Can you remember a time when you were a slayer and things didn’t go to hell on a regular basis?”

YBuffy subjected her to a long, hard look. “Are you going to help us, or not?”

The knowledge that her Spike had promised to come for her gave Buffy pause.

Won’t Spike’s appearance make things more complicated? Since he still exists and we’re still mated, that means that our future’s unchanged, doesn’t it? Of course, she acknowledged, there’s no guarantee that it won’t change.

She was hopeful that Spike would come armed with knowledge about the implications of their interference in the past. He had Willow to help him, after all. So, until Spike’s arrival, she decided she would play it by ear and only venture information when she thought it absolutely necessary.

“I’m making no promises. For now, I will tell you this much – you should explore the lead Spike’s given you.” She figured that since Spike had never approached them with this information in her past, she wasn’t technically deviating from script by confirming their suspicions.

She just prayed that universe agreed with her.





 
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