Author: Keren and Meredith

E-mail: avssp@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: B/S

Distribution: Sure, just let us know

Spoilers: Our Season Two: “Necessary Evil, being the account of an unlikely alliance and all that came after.” Begins approximately one month after the end of the Strange Bedfellows series.

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t ours. We just like to play with them. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox TV, WB, UPN and any other copyright holders.

Feedback: Yes, please!

Dislocation

Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Strange Bedfellows style):

Buffy: Angel called this morning.

Willow waits for Buffy to continue.

Buffy: He heard from those lawyers.

Willow: The ones who grabbed him and Spike?

Buffy nods.

Willow: Did they really take out Spike's liver?

Buffy: (chokes out the words through her tears) His chip.

Willow: (aghast) Oh.

***

Xander: I still think this waiting thing is a bad idea. If you're wrong, two weeks, that's what? Fourteen dead bodies, assuming he's on a diet. Plus why wait until the super powerful backup is safely out of the country before you take on the Big Bad?

Willow: We can watch him. I mean it doesn't have to be wait two weeks and count the corpses. Wait 'til he does something.

Xander: Oh, so one corpse is ok?

Willow: That's not what I'm saying! We can make sure it doesn't happen.

Buffy: So you're gonna spy on us, only Spike instead of me this time. No thank you.

Willow: No! We can do a spell that will let us know if he's hurting anybody.

Buffy: I just can't go along with that without his consent. What the Watchers did invaded my privacy; I will not do that to somebody else.

***

Wallace: (condescending tone) Miss Summers, being a Slayer is a sacred destiny, not a holiday job. You can't just quit and go gallivanting off to find yourself.

Buffy: Who said anything about quitting? I can go off and kill vampires in any state or country I choose. I can be a Slayer on wheels, and worldwide organization or not, you won't be able to find me and you won't be able to control me. You can send your own people to deal with the Hellmouth.

Travers: (gives a sharp laugh) You're bluffing. You've always been far too attached to the trappings of a mundane life. You wouldn't leave your friends to die.

Buffy: (glances at Spike) I won't stay for them to die either.

Travers: And if we cooperate?

Buffy: You still have a non-incarcerated Slayer patrolling the Hellmouth.

***

Buffy: (takes a step back and puts her hands on her hips) Don't push me Spike, it's been a long day.

Spike: (gives her a shove on the shoulder) You're not the one who's wanted dead or dead by the Watcher's Council. I wouldn't have to push you (shoves her back a few steps) except the only time you'll answer a bloody question (shove) is when you're backed (shove) into (shove) a corner. (Buffy's shoulder blades bounce off of the stone wall, and Spike leans in once more) Tell me why. (He pulls back, and musters up the cockiest look possible) Because you're afraid I'll take off and you'll never find another bloke who can give as good as he gets?

Buffy: (pulls her arm back and punches Spike full force in the face. He goes sailing across the crypt, hitting the far wall, making a large crack in it, and then slides to the floor) No! Because I love you, you jerk!

***

Spike: I love you Buffy.

Buffy's mouth curls into a smile so wide and genuine, Spike is too stunned to continue. Buffy quickly remedies that by pulling his mouth back down to hers.

And now...Season 2!

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

Nighttime in the Sunnydale cemetery. A scrawny vampire decked out in skater-type duds goes flying across a series of graves before slamming into the side of a crypt. He slowly slides to the ground, but explodes in a pile of dust before reaching the dirt. Buffy twirls her stake and spins, ready for more attackers. The bushes rustle, and out runs another vamp. Buffy throws her stake, hitting him square in the heart. As his dust dissipates, Spike bursts out from behind him, face falling when he notices his quarry has been dispatched for him.

Spike: Here now Slayer that was mine!

Before Buffy can answer, another rustling comes from the bushes, and Spike spins, catching the figure emerging behind him in the jaw. The young man he hits falls to the ground, clutching his cheek, and stares at Spike wide-eyed for a moment before running off.

Buffy: (catching Spike’s arm before he can pursue) Smooth move there, you just pummeled the would-have-been victim.

Before Spike can answer, Buffy’s cell phone rings.

Buffy: (answering phone, gets a vaguely exasperated look on her face, but speaks cheerfully) Oh, hi Will! No, he’s right here. False alarm again, our vamp victim got in the way by accident... No, no, not me this time (whispering) I though we fixed that...Ok great...bye!

Spike: (Saunters up, cigarette dangling from his lower lip) Red thought we were havin’ a bit of fun again, eh?

Buffy: (blushing) No, actually she thought you were murdering somebody. Apparently she fixed that little problem.

Spike: (tosses the cigarette to the ground and grinds it out) ‘Bout damn time.

Buffy: (begins walking, and Spike falls into step beside her) Uh and furthermore huh. Those frantic phone calls really take the heat out of the moment. (Looks at him sideways from beneath her lashes)

Spike: Especially that one time it was Harris. (Comically shudders and puts an arm around her waist) So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?

Buffy: Yup, all boxed and ready.

Spike: Movin’ crew on call?

Buffy: Mmmhmm. Except for shirking boyfriends who have inane excuses like “I burst into flames during the day so I can’t possibly help you carry the couch.”

Spike: (chuckles) You’re stronger than me, pet.

Buffy: Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. It’s your job, like opening jars and killing bugs. Ooh! And changing light bulbs.

Spike: (gives her a charmed smile) Yes, and your job is to stay at home and cook for your man.

Buffy: Great! Ninety seconds to microwave a cup of blood and my whole day is free. (Pats his arm) You’re very low maintenance.

Spike: You know it’s not true. (Stops walking and spins her to face him.)

Buffy: (coyly) Do I?

Spike: Do I have to remind you again?

Buffy: (smiles) I think you might have to. (He leans down and kisses her)

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

At the Summers’ home next morning, Buffy, Joyce and Dawn are in Buffy’s room, packing the last of her possessions. Boxes and duffel bags are piled around the room.

Buffy: (rolling up some clothes and placing them in a suitcase) Who would’ve thought I had so much stuff in one room?

Joyce: (smiles) Me, whenever I tried to clean it. (Gestures to the robe Buffy is packing) Maybe you should leave that here?

Buffy: (looks at her askance) You need my fluffy pink bathrobe?

Joyce: No, it’s just...you might want to use it here, if you come back to spend the night.

Dawn: (rolls eyes) Mom, she’s only moving fifteen minutes away.

Joyce: I know. (Pause) Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be in the dorms?

Buffy: (shakes her head) Too many questions with the random roommate selection. Not to mention the demons coming in and out at all hours.

Joyce: I knew we should have found you a doorman building.

Buffy: What, to provide snacks for the undead?

Dawn: Speaking of snacks for the undead... (Gives Buffy an eyebrow wiggle that looks uncannily like Spike’s) How’s Spike?

Buffy: (grumps) Got out of moving duty. What good’s a boyfriend who can’t lug the old couch out of storage for ya?

Joyce: You know he offered, but I just don’t trust the weatherman when he says it’s going to be overcast. And that cotton batting is very flammable.

Buffy: (raises one eyebrow) Are you worried about him or the couch?

Joyce: (smiles) Both.

Dawn: (unable to contain herself any longer) So, can I have your room?

Buffy: God! I’m not even gone yet!

Dawn: Uh-huh. And I’m doing the polite asking thing. So, can I have it?

Buffy: Knock yourself out.

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

Later that evening, Buffy and the scoobies are gathered at her new apartment amongst various unpacked boxes and bags. Xander is lounging on the couch; his feet propped up on the coffee table, while Anya is attempting to masterfully arrange Buffy’s knick-knacks on a shelf. Tara is busy unpacking videotapes and CD’s while Willow is hooking up the stereo system. Buffy is standing in the kitchenette, holding a vase, unsure of where to put it, when the door bursts open, and in saunters Spike carrying a stack of pizzas and two six packs of beer. He deposits them on the coffee table, narrowly missing Xander’s feet.

Xander: Hey! That’s my job!

Spike: (quirks an eyebrow) Seems you’ve been replaced mate. Guess that leaves you with proppin’ up walls and carbon dioxide production.

Xander: (takes a minute to work this out and frowns) Hey now! What took you so long anyway? Did ya eat the delivery guy?

Willow: (barely looking up from her tangle of wires) No, the alarm would’ve sounded.

Spike, obviously peeved, stalks over to Buffy in the kitchen and deposits a loud, wet smooch on her mouth.

Buffy: (after returning the kiss) I’m so glad you’re back! (Spike grins) I need you to move the couch.

Spike’s face falls, but dutifully goes over and lifts a corner of the couch, depositing Xander on the floor, and moves it to Buffy’s specifications. After the furniture is settled, the gang sits down and tucks into the food. Spike cracks open a beer, and perches on the arm of the recliner Buffy is sitting on. She unconsciously begins to lightly rub his back.

Spike: So, what’s for fun tonight kiddies? Parcheesi? Tiddly Winks?

Tara: I was thinking we could do that spell, you know the protection one?

Buffy: (wrinkles nose) Are you gonna stink my house up already? ‘Cause it smells like fresh baked bread, and I’d kinda like to keep it that way.

Tara: (small smile) Actually, the original Celtic version required you to drive livestock through the house first. But I think we can skip that.

Willow: I could go get Miss Kitty.

Spike: We can use Harris.

Xander rolls his eyes.

Willow: We can use very subtle herbs, it’ll smell like focaccia.

Buffy: (smiles) I can live with that.

Willow and Tara begin walking the perimeter of the apartment clockwise, gesturing and chanting at each door and window. Each circuit accompanied by a different ingredient: with burning herbs, with bells, with a sprinkle of holy water, causing Spike to duck and curse, and finally with a small silver ritual knife Tara rather sheepishly pulled from her backpack.

Willow: (making a very cute and full of accomplishment face) All done. It wouldn’t hurt to hang a broom on the door, but in the meantime, no worries. Your threshold is a big bar against all hostile forces.

Xander: What about him? (Motions to Spike with his head)

Spike: Guess I’ll have to stay then. (Xander glares as Buffy turns nine shades of red.)

Willow: (Attempting to ignore the uncomfortability) Oh no, Spike can go in and out, it’s specifically tuned as hostile to Buffy.

Spike: (after a pregnant pause) So...guess you’ll all be headin’ out now.

Anya: No way! This is our last chance to burn the olive oil before they have to go back to school.

Willow: (grins) You mean midnight oil. This isn’t Chanukah.

Anya: Well, it’s not midnight either. (Large enthusiastic smile) How about a rousing game of charades?

Xander: (getting up) I’m gonna go hit the can before all the excitement starts.

He heads down the narrow hallway to the bathroom, and opens up the door to a room paved with tiny black and white tiles in a simple geometric pattern. It is illuminated with art deco light fixtures, and boasts both a clawfoot tub, sans showerhead, in a surprisingly pristine condition, and a vintage toilet, complete with a wooden seat and a tank mounted high on the wall above. He looks quizzically at the room, but turns when he hears footsteps behind him.

Buffy: (proffering toilet paper and a bottle of soft soap) Wait! You might need these!

Xander: Very quaint Buff.

Buffy: Huh?

Xander: (turns around to indicate the bathroom, but finds a regular modern day bathroom before him) Huh. Indoor plumbing still a novelty for me.

Buffy shrugs and rejoins her friends in the living room.

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

Even later that night, the scoobies have departed, and Spike is helping Buffy put the sheets on her bed. They make eye contact through the billowing sheets, Buffy looking a bit self-conscious, but seemingly ok with it.

Buffy: So, d’you like it?

Spike: Yes luv, I still like it. Not sure I understand the pink shag carpeting...

Buffy: That was not my choice. Besides, for the price of this place, I can live with pink. And shag. (Looks coyly at him)

Spike: (smiles snarkily at her, and continues) What, did somebody die here?

Buffy: No, we checked on that. Ghost free. Sunnydale rent, gotta love it.

Spike: Still think I’m gettin’ a better deal than you.

Buffy: (snort) Yes, but you have a share. I prefer no dead people sleeping in my apartment.

Spike: (looks slightly hurt for a moment, but plays it off) Guess I’ll just be goin’ then.

Buffy: Pfft! (Throws a pillow across the bed at him, hitting him squarely in the face) You’re undead sweetheart.

Spike: (brightens up) That mean I’m sleepin’ here?

Buffy: D’you want it to?

Spike: Well, not yet. (Edges around the bed) I was hopin’ we could break in the new shower first. (Nuzzles her neck.)

Buffy: Mmmmm. As long as break isn’t the operative word.

Spike: (into her neck) Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.

Buffy: (Grabs him roughly by the collar, forcing him to look directly into her eyes) I won’t.

Spike smiles, growls, and pounces.

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

The next morning, Buffy wakes up earlier than anticipated, only to realize that this is because Spike has grabbed all the covers and rolled himself up like a cocoon. She shakes her head, gets up, and after a shower, commences to get dressed, with a little difficulty, being that all her clothing is still packed. Eventually she finishes, and looks at the still slumbering Spike, a loving smile on her face. Her grin widens, as she adorns his feet with her bunny slippers, and places Mr. Gordo on his chest, directly in front of his face.

Satisfied, she leaves the room, and heads towards the kitchen. On her walk through the living room, Buffy glances out the window, and sees two ladies in long dresses and bonnets, strolling down a dirt road. She blinks, shakes her head, and the scene outside her window is nothing more than palm trees and the bright California sun.

Buffy: Weird. Need coffee.

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

A little later, Buffy arrives at Willow and Tara’s dorm room, holding a small spider plant in a pot.

Buffy: Happy house-still-warm!

Willow: (extremely pleased) Oh Buffy! You didn’t have to!

Buffy: Sure I did! This poor little plant looked so lonely all by itself.

Tara: (taking the plant from her and looking at it fondly) We can name her Charlotte.

Willow: (grinning) That’s some fern!

Buffy: (perplexed) Ooo-kay...Glad you like it. (She plops down on the bed next to Willow)

Willow: So, did you get all the classes that you wanted, Buffy?

Buffy: Mostly. (Speaks in the computerized phone voice) Class V89.0041 was full.

Tara: What’s that?

Buffy: 19th Century poetry.

Willow: (surprised) Really?

Buffy: (sounds like she’s waffling, though no one really knows why) Yeah, you know, the authors are all dead, so who can say whether you’re right or wrong? (Abruptly) Anyway, it’s full, so instead, I’m gonna take Class Structure and Social Mobility in the Victorian Novel.

Willow: Ok, now I’m even more confused.

Buffy: Hey, I’m mobile, and social! Besides, (sheepishly) my boyfriend lived through that, much less cramming on my part.

Willow: (a bit uncomfortable) Oh, yeah...boyfriend. I forgot...I mean...no I didn’t, how could I? So...since when are you so interested in English Lit?

Buffy: Since my Psych. Professor went psycho. Besides, my being fluent in it gives me a head start.

Tara: S-so how are things with you and Spike?

Buffy: Good. Weird. Good and weird.

Willow: Tell? C’mon, best friends deserve more than two words.

Buffy: There was an “and” in there! (Pauses) I dunno, it’s good and...

Tara: Weird?

Buffy: Exactly! (Points to Tara with one hand and touches her finger to the tip of her nose with the other.) You know...we hang out and do stuff, he’s not eating anyone...

Tara: We’ve noticed. No wind chimes in my head of late.

Willow: Wind chimes?

Tara: Wind chimes are pretty. Klaxons, not so much so.

Buffy: Does anyone else have conversations like this?

Tara: Oh yeah. All the time.

Willow: Actually, (looks sideways at Tara, a bit unsure about treading Oz ground around her) Heh. Never mind.

Tara: (Gives Willow a reassuring pat on the arm, and says jokingly to Buffy) I gave that up.

Buffy: (eager to change the subject) So...you guys get all the classes you wanted?

Willow: Yeah. So nice not to have to take all those core classes anymore.

Buffy: (playfully) You’re double majoring in something ridiculous and something completely incomprehensible, right?

Willow: Yeah well, they had a lot of the same requirements. And that’s Comp Sci. and Chemistry in layman’s terms.

Buffy: Great. When your computer doesn’t work you can blow it up. What about you Tara?

Tara: (proudly) Anthropology and Religious Studies.

Buffy: Ah. Giles junior in the making. (Smiles at the both of them) So, what are you guys gonna do with your last two days of summer freedom?

Willow: Get a head start on my recommended reading.

Tara: Distract Willow.

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

Later that evening, Buffy is propped up on her elbows in bed, looking through all her new course books as Spike is hefting the dresser around the room.

Buffy: (looks up at him) A bit to the left. (She holds up a book, Anthony Trollope’s “Can You Forgive Her”) What’s this? A choose-your-own-adventure?

Spike: (putting the dresser down and looking at the book) No, more like as the poncy political world turns. There’s more of them you know.

Buffy: So you’ve read it? Good. (Nods her head and checks off something on a piece of paper next to her.)

Spike: (leaning on the dresser) If we’re done here, I’m off to have a fag.

Buffy: (head jerks up, eyes wide) What!?

Spike chuckles and holds up a pack of Marlboros.

Buffy: Oh yeah. Of course. (As he’s walking out of the room) Open the window! And no ashing in the house!

Spike: I know luv.

Spike smokes his cigarette out of the kitchen window, and on his way back to the bedroom. He hears a noise in the kitchen and spins around. To his surprise there is a woman holding a casserole dish next to the oven, wearing an apron over her polka-dot dress, her hair done up in a chignon. He spots what appears to be a ration coupon book on the counter, an eagle and several stern warnings never to buy rationed goods without stamps or pay more than the legal price plastered across the back cover. She turns, and upon seeing him, drops the dish.

Woman: Who are you? How did you get in here? (The scene then morphs back into Buffy’s modern kitchen, taking the woman with it, and Spike calls to Buffy in the bedroom.)

Spike: Um, Slayer?

Buffy: (not looking up from her books) Hmm?

Spike: Does this place come with a really out of date housekeeper? Who disappears? Along with her kitchen?

Buffy: (coming out of her room) What are you talking about?

Spike: Saw this bint in the kitchen, but it wasn’t your kitchen, cookin’ up a bloody casserole. Saw me, nearly jumped out a’ her skin. (Chuckles) Then all was right with the world.

Buffy: (eyes him askance) Ok, is this some kinda flashback thingy you got from sucking on all those hippies?

Spike: No, I wasn’t even here.

Buffy: Weren’t here when? Can’t flashbacks happen anywhere?

Spike: No pet, she was dressed all 1940s. There was a radio, meatless meal, an’ American ration coupons. I was in Europe durin’ the war.

Buffy: Ok, this is just getting odd. When I woke up this morning, it was Little House on the Prairie out the front window, and now we’re being haunted by Rosie the Riveter. Did she do anything?

Spike: Dropped the plate she was holdin’. Then she winked out. Oh for fuck’s sake, can’t we have one night without a bloody Scooby gatherin’?

Buffy: (Gives him a mock-sympathetic look) I know. And I always vowed I’d never take my work home with me.

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

A short time later, Buffy has gathered the gang at the Magic Box. She sits on the counter, swinging her legs as the scoobies settle themselves around the research table. Giles has already begun to accumulate a pile of books, and Spike is sitting on the ladder to the upper portion of the shop, looking none too pleased at being there.

Buffy: So I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here this evening.

Xander: (hopefully) Co-ed naked volleyball?

Giles: (repressively) Well, perhaps research into uncanny temporal phenomena.

Xander: That was gonna be my next guess.

Giles: (turning to Buffy) Buffy, you say you observed what appeared to be your own home in an earlier time period? Perhaps there’s a sort of temporal...wormhole connecting the two points?

Xander: Like on Farscape, except in time. (Nods knowingly)

Buffy: I guess, but it’s not so much like a point A to point B train, (she hops off the counter) it’s more like a freeway, with more than one exit. Spike saw a completely different hemline than I did.

Willow: That’s timeline.

Buffy: No...I saw skirts sweeping the ground, Spike saw tea-length.

Anya: Oh yes, that was very flattering. It accentuated my waistline.

Giles: (even he can’t help but give Anya’s waist an appreciative glance, before continuing) Be that as it may, (turns to Spike and asks begrudgingly) what precisely did you see?

Spike: (sighs and lights up a cigarette) Kitchen. ’40s bird. Ration book. Casserole, screech, crash. Can we get on with it?

Willow: There’s this...thing. Where one end is fixed, that would be the end in Buffy’s apartment and the other end kinda...wiggles all over like a big garden hose of space-time.

Buffy: Ok, so how do we fix the fixed part? (She plops down on the ladder, a few rungs down from Spike, and leans against his leg).

Xander: I know this one! We collapse it!

Giles: (with considerable surprise) That’s absolutely correct.

Buffy: So where’s the thing we pull down to collapse the...collapsy thing? (Obviously at a loss for a metaphor) What things collapse?

Spike: Buildings, old people...

Buffy gives him a look.

Tara: A house of cards?

Spike: (seeing Buffy smile at Tara’s suggestion) Hey! Why didn’t she get the hairy eyeball?

Buffy: You have to ask?

Spike: What? Old people fall down. (Devilish grin) ’Specially if you take their canes.

Buffy gives him a playful swat on the leg, and he leans over and gives her a peck on the top of her head. There are a few seconds of everyone trying not to look at the two of them.

Buffy: So yeah, collapsing. Let’s work on that.

Giles: (clearing his throat and addressing Tara, trying not to focus on Buffy and Spike) Actually, yours is an excellent analogy. The key should be to discover the point of origin for this particular disturbance. Resolving that anomaly should bring the whole house down, as it were.

Buffy: But not literally, right? I just put down a security deposit.

Giles: You should have nothing to worry about. Thus far it hasn’t caused any discernable harm.

Spike: Except to casserole dishes.

Buffy: Not too worried about the bake ware.

Willow: It’s not about endangering Corningware. Spike proved that this is not just time TV. The people on the other side can react to us, and vice-versa. We could change history.

Xander: (Obviously a few steps behind) But we know the point of origin. That’s the only thing we do know.

Everyone stares blankly at him for a few moments before their brains latch back on to the bit of conversation he was referring to.

Willow: It’s not just where, it’s when. I’ll get crackin’ on the City Hall records. (Pulls out her laptop and begins to type.)

Xander: Even in Sunnydale Will, I don’t think City Hall keeps track of births, deaths and squirmy time portals.

Willow: I’m gonna start the research at Buffy’s building and its history. We can narrow down from there.

Buffy: Well, this sounds like our cue to go on patrol. (Pats Spike’s thigh and gets up)

Spike: Right then. (He gets up, puts his finished cigarette in Xander’s unfinished Coke can, and follows her out.)

As soon as the door shuts behind the two, Xander and Willow face each other and immediately begin mouthing a slow count to ten, as everyone else looks perplexed. As they reach ten, they say simultaneously...

Willow & Xander: What was that?

Anya: Yes, why were you two counting to ten like that?

Xander: (to Anya) It’s a thing. That we do.

Giles: Thank you. That was immensely helpful.

Willow: (catches Tara’s look of feeling left out and squeezes her hand reassuringly) Since we were kids. After the door closed to make sure Mom or whomever was really gone and couldn’t hear us talking.

Anya: Vampires have extra strong hearing, maybe you should bump it up to twenty?

Willow: Well, we spent all this time explaining, so I’m guessin’ we’re safe.

Xander: And hence...whaaaa?

Giles: They’ve been together for quite some time now. I can’t say that I’m any more thrilled with their relationship than you are, but it has ceased to be a surprise.

Willow: It’s not that that. I mean, I’m ok with the date-y kinda thing, or not so much ok as desensitized, but they’re all...Honey, did you take the garbage out? And did you see where I left my stake?

Xander: And the pizza bringing!

Tara: (gives a small smile) Sinister. I think its romantic. You know, in a homey way.

Willow: That’s the thing. You know, we’ve been through a lot with the school and apocalypses and...the school. (Gestures to the group) We were always home.

Xander: I mean yeah, home is where the mom is, but for that whole “they won’t kick you out even when you turn into a hyena” thing; it was here, this. The library, the Magic Box, the whole gang. Not Buffy and Spike’s cozy little pink love nest.

Giles: Do you really think this conversation is appropriate? Perhaps you should be discussing your concerns with Buffy?

Willow: She kinda stopped listening after “what if he kills someone.”

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

Meanwhile, Buffy and Spike are on a patrol of the deserted Sunnydale campus.

Spike: And we are patrolling the campus why?

Buffy: Because not all vampires are homegrown. Some of them are transfer students. (Spike quirks an eyebrow) And some of them are bound to go off looking for prime drunk frat boy meat. Besides, I feel better makin’ a sweep knowing that Will and Tara still live here.

Spike: (lights up a cigarette) Fair enough. (They walk for a bit before he continues) So...you wanna get some beer on the way home? (Gives her a sideways look, not knowing how she’ll take the “home” bit)

Buffy: (false primness) You know I’m not old enough to drink.

Spike: Could lend you a couple a years luv, I won’t miss ‘em.

Buffy: No thanks. I’d like to retain my girlish figure as long as possible. (Spike gives her an appreciative look) Tequila.

Spike: (confused for a second, but then grins widely) Still think you can beat me?

Buffy: Still got a couple of tricks up my sleeve. (She grabs his butt and gives him a Slayer-strength squeeze)

Spike gives a low growl, tosses his cigarette and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Buffy quickly twists his arm, and flips him onto his back on the ground. She then leaps, flips, and lands straddling him, her knees pinning his arms to the grass. Spike smiles, knees her sharply in the spine, throws her over his head, and she lands face down in the dirt. He rolls forward and spins, then sits on her, straddling her backside.

Spike: (grinding his hips in) Now this has possibilities.

Buffy: (quickly spinning herself over to face him) I like it better when I can see your face.

Spike is derailed for a moment, and Buffy takes the opportunity to snake out from under him, and go running off towards one of the campus buildings. Spike leaps up, changes to vamp face and goes haring off after her. He reaches her, and scoops her up from behind, and pins her face first against the brick wall of a dorm.

Spike: (growling) You can’t get away from me.

Buffy: (turns to face him and shows no sign of alarm at his face) Don’t want to. (She kisses him.)

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

The next morning at Buffy’s apartment, the scoobies and Giles have gathered. They are sitting around the room, having finished Buffy’s attempt at brunch, and Buffy is walking about aimlessly, arms outstretched.

Buffy: I feel like I’m playing blind man’s bluff. Without the blindfold, or anyone else but me.

Xander: It could be the latest zombie dance craze.

Buffy: That’s so much better.

Giles: It’s necessary. If we’re going to attempt to close the rift, we must first pinpoint its location.

Buffy: But it moves. I was out here; Spike was in the kitchen.

Xander: The bathroom!

Willow: Is another room, yes.

Xander: No! I just remembered! I was in your bathroom, but it wasn’t your bathroom, then it was your bathroom.

Anya: (narrowing her eyes) Was anyone else in there?

Xander: Thankfully no. There was a pull chain on the toilet though.

Giles: (nods) That’s valuable information, certainly.

Buffy: Well then, shouldn’t we wait to find it until we know what we’re gonna do to it? Besides, my arms are getting ti...

There is a brief flash and Buffy is looking at the same view of her apartment, only the people have changed.

Buffy: ...red.

Xander, Anya and Tara are sitting at her breakfast bar, their backs to her, apparently gathered around a large tome. Buffy also sees herself, head in the fridge, searching for something.

Buffy by the fridge: Where did she say she’d be?

Xander: The library.

Tara: I’ll check the dorm.

The light flashes again, and Buffy is returned to the present.

Buffy: Zuh?

Willow; Your arms are ti-zuh?

Buffy: It happened! And you were there. (Points to Xander) And you (to Anya) and you (to Tara.) But not you or you. (Points to Giles and Willow) Or him. (Points to Spike as he comes wandering out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and shirtless.)

Spike: Or me. (He wanders into the kitchen, gets a packet of blood out of the fridge and starts pouring it into a mug.)

The conversation dies down as the group watches Spike prepare his meal, mouths attempting not to gape.

Giles: (cleaning his glasses) Yes, well, what have we learned?

Anya: That Spike slept... (She is cut off by Xander elbowing her.)

Tara: But we were only here for the move...Oh! Maybe it works both ways.

Buffy: Really? I thought I didn’t recognize that shirt I was wearing. I guess white will be coming back in a big way.

Willow: (in fake fortuneteller voice) I see shopping in your future...

Xander: You saw yourself in the future! Ohhh, that’s bad!

Buffy: No, I like seeing myself in the future. It means I’m gonna have one.

Xander: (not catching her drift) No no, the universe is probably collapsing around us right now!

Willow: Suddenly claustrophobic.

Buffy: Why?

Xander: Space time continuums. Forks and paradoxes...

Buffy: Ok, calm down, I only saw my future back. And the future me didn’t see the past me...present me? Me.

Xander: Phew.

Spike: (comes into the living room, sipping from his mug) No worries mate, the forks are safe.

Giles: This wasn’t an accident.

Tara: How can you tell? We haven’t even done a spell yet.

Giles: What could have happened in this apartment to cause such a rift by accident? We’ve detected no ghosts or poltergeists; you’ve performed a protection spell...

Xander: Hello? We’re on a Hellmouth. Haven’t we learned not to ask what could possibly happen?

Giles: Yes, but the building is still standing and is in reasonably good condition. Very few paranormal activities come and go without so much as staining the rug.

Buffy eyes her rug.

Willow: (sounding preoccupied as she scrolls down the screen on her laptop) I’m thinking it was before wall-to-wall carpeting.

Buffy: What ya got Will?

Willow: A Mr. Silus Johnson. He rented these rooms in 1853.

Xander: That’s a really old apartment complex.

Willow: No, it’s only been apartments since the depression. For the preceding forty years, it was a private residence. But before that it was a boarding house.

Tara: So how do you know that’s our guy? I mean, tons of people must have lived here.

Willow: True. But only one of them rented a room from himself. Look.

Everyone gathers around to look at the screen, with the exception of Spike who is sipping from his mug, blissfully unconcerned.

Giles: It is odd, certainly. But perhaps he merely occupied one suite of rooms and rented out the others?

Willow: No, look. He arrived on April 19th, 1853 and rented a room for $2. But he already owned the whole place since 1849.

Tara: Honey, maybe it’s two different Silus Johnson’s. I mean, it is a common name. Johnson, not Silus.

Willow: Look at the signatures.

Xander: (squinting at the screen) Weird.

Buffy: So, he rented a room from himself. Shouldn’t the forks have been paradoxed?

Spike: And you call yourself an English speaking country. (Giles tries to hide a smile and a snort behind his hand) Besides pet, I’m thinkin’ maybe that’s what we got right here. (He throws a wadded up napkin, attempting to hit the portal, but it just sails across the room.)

Buffy: You’re gonna pick that up, right? (Mock severity) And there will be no attempts at terrorizing the past with paper goods in this house!

Xander: Your evil’s really sliding downhill, isn’t it?

Spike: (shrugs) It’s early.

Buffy: So how do we close it?

Giles: I believe if we can discern the precise moment it was opened, we can go back and ensure that they have no opportunity to do so.

Willow: But won’t that change things? What if we do it and this isn’t Buffy’s apartment. Or there’s no Buffy? Or me? Or...

Giles: I sincerely doubt either of you is a direct descendant of Mr. Johnson.

Buffy: (sighs) Ok, so who’s the lucky one who gets stuck back in time?

Xander: I nominate Spike.

Spike: No bloody way! It was dull enough the first time!

Willow: I’ll do it.

Tara: No! (Grabs Willow’s arm.)

Willow: It makes sense.

Tara: (firmly) No!

Willow: I can get back. I mean I think I can, provided I have the time travel spell correct, but I’m the strongest magic user here.

Tara: And if you’re wrong?

Giles: Then we open another portal, bring her back, and we’re no worse off than we are now.

Tara: But what if we can’t? I don’t know how to open a portal.

Xander: It’s time travel. Even if we took two weeks to figure it out, it would only be an instant for Willow.

Tara: (quietly) But it would still be two weeks for me. (Willow takes her hand)

Anya: And besides, I know where we can find this spell.

Spike: You do?

Anya: Sure! Vengeancing was kind of on-the-job training. When you’re still learning, you have to know how to go back and fix your mistakes.

Buffy: Handy.

Willow: So what do we need?

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

A few hours later, or years earlier... Willow poofs into the interior of Silus’ room, which is bright and clean, with daguerreotypes pinned up on whitewashed walls and sparsely furnished with dark wood. A small table with stools, a bed covered with a quilt, and a brass-bound trunk are shoved hard against the walls to make room for Silus, who is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. He is surrounded by a ring of sand, clutching a small, carved bone and a stained eagle feather in his hands.

Willow: Hi there.

Silus: Jeezus! (He leaps up.) Where’d you come from?

Willow: Ummm...here. More or less. Look, you don’t wanna do this. Put the bone and the feather down.

Silus: (squinting at her) You some kind a witch or somethin’?

Willow: Actually, yes, but that’s not the point right now. Mr. Johnson, I’m from the future, the 21st century, and so I know that you absolutely cannot do this spell.

Silus: Heh. (Spits a wad of tobacco at the spittoon, making Willow wince) Don’t see why. Looks t’me like it works just fine.

Willow: Repercussions, bad repercussions.

Silus: Like what? Plague, famine, death?

Willow: Well...no. Not as such. It’s just really not a good idea.

Silus: Seems a fine idea t’me. That Maidu shaman told me it’d work just fine. ‘Sides, it’s not like those varmints that got here first are doin’ such kindly deeds with their gold.

Willow: Probably true, but you can’t just mess with space and time like that! You never know what kind of effect its going to have.

Silus: Well maybe I don’t, but you sure do missy. I reckon if I was gonna make anything so bad happen, by the time the womenfolk are wearin’ pants (indicates her jeans) it woulda happened already.

Willow: (sighs and takes a seat in a chair) You’re probably right, but my friend has an open portal in the middle of her living room. It’s irresponsible to mess with forces whose consequences you don’t understand.

Silus: (chuckles, and sends another wad at the spittoon) Seems to me that’s what you’re doin’.

Willow: Huh?

Silus: If I pull this off, and that’s the world you come from, how d’you suppose stoppin’ me’s not gonna make it worse?

Willow: You know, I made that point myself.

Silus: So, what’re our choices young lady?

Willow: Well, I could let you do your thing, and leave things as they are. Or, convince you to stop, leaving me a possible unknown future, or...

Silus: Or?

Willow: Or, you can go through your portal, and I can close the door behind you.

Silus: Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?

Willow: ‘Cause I just thought of it.

Silus: Oh. So we have a deal? (He sticks out his hand for her to shake, and she grasps it.)

Willow: But you won’t make a habit of this, right?

Silus: Honest Injun.

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

Later that night, the gang, along with Joyce and Dawn, are gathered for Buffy’s official housewarming party. Chips, dip and half-filled drinks are distributed around the house. There is also a pile of presents on the coffee table: a lava lamp, electric teakettle, some candles, and an envelope saying “a gift to you from the Magic Box.” A new painting now hangs over Buffy’s couch, care of Joyce’s collection.

Xander: It’s good to be back to normal. Though normal’s not as different as I thought it’d be.

Buffy: What were you expecting?

Xander: (perfectly serious tone) Six-legged ant creatures roaming the streets.

Buffy: We have those, they’re called ants. (Looks at him sideways) You really do walk to the beat of a different drummer, don’t you?

Xander: Sometimes I skip.

Spike muffles a laugh.

Tara: So how come the world’s not all different sweetie?

Willow: (looks a bit wary, but shrugs it off) Dunno. Guess he was just one small person in a very large world. But I did get these neat trinkets. (Fingers the bone and feather that she has attached to a leather thong around her neck) They’re antiques.

Spike: Did you sell him an island for that?

Willow: No! He gave me his spell components so we don’t have to worry about him...trying again. (Again, looks furtive)

Giles: Good thinking.

Tara: (teasingly to Willow) So does that mean you’re gonna go gallivanting off to the good ol’ days?

Willow: (kisses her cheek) I like it right here. (Glances at her watch) Well maybe not right here. It’s a school night.

Everyone begins gathering their belongings and shuffling towards the door murmuring their good-byes. After the scoobies depart, Giles gives Buffy a big hug.

Giles: Congratulations on your new home.

Buffy: I assume you’ll be dropping by often.

Giles: You can count on it. (Indicates the present he’s given her) Electric teakettle, how can I resist?

Buffy: (Hugs her mom) Thanks for coming.

Joyce: It’s going to be quiet at home without you.

Buffy: (looking behind her at Dawn and Spike playing with her new lava lamp) No it won’t.

Joyce: Come on Dawn, home! Bye Spike!

They depart, leaving Buffy and Spike to themselves.

Spike: (coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle) Alone at last! You know what happens now.

Buffy: Yeah, you clean up.

Spike: Nooo...First we’re gonna pile this crap up and pretend it isn’t there. Second, you’re going to slip into my present. Third, I’m going to slip you out of my present...

Buffy: (smiles) I think I see where this is going.

Spike: And when all is said and done, I’m gonna try out the new ashtray the Niblet made for me.

Buffy: (turns to face him, and wraps her arms around his neck) Sounds like a plan.

Human Interest