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The Butterfly Effect	By : cousinjean Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 27632 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Butterfly Effect

by cousinjean

*

Chapter Three

***

He opened his eyes to the sound of footsteps running away down the alley. With a groan, Spike pulled himself to his feet, slowly. He rubbed the back of his head and winced at the bump that was already forming. "Bitch."

Two Slayers. Buggering hell. He knew there was something off about that bird.

He kicked his way through the empty boxes and started down the alley. He should go home. Get out of the rain, rest his sore noggin, curl up with Dru. Maybe she'd have some insight into this double-bint business.

He'd seen a lot of weird shit in his time - a good portion of it just since coming to Sunnydale. So there were all kinds of possible explanations, really. Shape-shifting demon, clone, robot� that last one would explain why she seemed so much stronger, not to mention faster, anticipating every single one of his moves� but Spike shook his head. Why the bloody hell anybody would build a Slayer-bot was beyond him.

She seemed organic enough, though. He started to sigh, but it turned into a growl. This Slayer was the most exasperating, elusive opponent he'd ever faced. She pissed him off like nothing else on this earth, and now he had to deal with two of the bloody bitches?

No. He didn't. All he had to do was go home, stay out of the way, and let them sort themselves out. Surely the real Slayer would take care of the imposter. Or maybe the other way 'round. Either way was a win for him.

Except she smelled just like the original. Felt like her, when she put her hands on him. And the way she'd looked at him�

He became aware of something on his cheek, like the lingering imprint of a warm touch. Tried to wipe it away with his sleeve. But it was still there.

At the end of the alley, he stopped. Picked up a trail of scent. The same trail, split in two directions. After a brief moment of indecision, he picked one and followed it. He wanted answers, and he'd get them. And then he'd take care of her.

Whichever her she turned out to be.

***

Buffy pounded on Giles's door, wishing she still had a key. She had no idea what time it was. Even if she wore a watch, she figured it would still be set on her own time, which wouldn't do her any good here. But all of his lights were off. He was either in bed asleep or not home. Considering she'd been out here banging and hollering for about five minutes, she was starting to lean toward the latter.

Hugging herself, she huddled against the door and considered breaking in. She was getting really tired of being wet. Not to mention cold.

All the more reason to hurry and get away from here. She could wait for Giles. She could also go look for him. But both options felt like a waste of time. She could do this herself. Just drag Mudge out to the edge of town before she slayed him and took the book, like Willow suggested.

Spike could help. He already knows.

She squelched that train of thought as soon as it started. He didn't know enough. And this version of him wasn't exactly William the Cooperative. Anyway, she didn't think she could take seeing him again. It hurt too much.

The rain finally started to let up. Maybe that was a good sign. After one more half-hearted knock for good measure, Buffy shoved off from the door and headed for the cemetery.

***

He found her in the cemetery, among the mausoleums, fighting a stocky little greenish demon. The thing looked surprisingly strong and wiry, considering its size and build, and it was evading most of the Slayer's attacks. Spike leaned against the side of a crypt and watched the fight, intending to wait till it was done. But it went on longer than he expected and he soon grew tired of waiting.

"Oi, Slayer!" he called, stepping out into the open. "Want to tell me what the hell that was back there?"

She glanced his way, then did a double take. "Spike?"

The demon took full advantage of the distraction and rammed its head into her gut, knocking the wind out of her as he toppled her ass over teakettle. Spike couldn't help but laugh. Greenie wasted no time, making a break for it as she caught her breath, stopping only to grab some kind of satchel before running like hell. Smart demon.

The Slayer jumped to her feet and started to give chase, but Spike grabbed her arm. "Hold up, Pet. I want answers."

She shook him loose and pulled out a stake. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Well, bugger. Wrong Slayer. He could see that once he got a better look at her standing still. She was dressed for dancing, not fighting, and even though she was as soaking wet as the other had been, the hair was different. And there was nothing in her eyes but murderous hate.

That was more like it.

"The warehouse," he lied. "Pulling a stake on Drusilla." No reason to tip her off that she had a potential new enemy running around town, and anyway, he still had a score to settle.

"Well, next time you catch me in a trap, maybe you should leave your date at home." She kicked him. "Not that there'll be a next time."

She lunged with the stake. Spike caught her wrist and punched her in the face. He laughed as she reeled backwards, putting on his game face. It was on, now. This was gonna be fun. He landed a kick to her midsection before she could recover, sending her backwards over a headstone. Bitch did a fucking handspring and kicked him in the chin as she went. He hadn't seen that move before. Back on her feet, she threw a right cross. He evaded it, but she caught him with a left hook, and then a knee to his jollies. He doubled over, howling in pain.

"You fucking-"

"I am so tired of you, Spike." She hit him again and shoved him up against a crypt. "It's time to say goodnight." As she raised her stake, a blonde blur tackled her to the ground. While it had her down, it punched her in the face, hard, knocking her unconscious.

"Hey," said the Slayer - the other Slayer, that is. At least, he was pretty sure. "We didn't implode. Neat!" She got to her feet, and made a little whiney noise as she frowned down at the original. "That's gonna leave a mark." She looked at Spike. "You okay?"

He realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it. "You just saved me," he said.

"Yeah. I do that sometimes."

"What's that all about, then? What're you, the evil, vampire-sympathizing twin?" He thought about that a second. "Guess to me that makes you the good twin, don't it?"

She rolled her eyes, but frowned when one of the little Slayerettes called her name from the distance. She grabbed his coat by the collar. "Come on," she said, dragging him inside the crypt.

"What about your, um� self? Just gonna leave her out there?"

"She'll be fine," the other said absently, looking around at the crypt's interior. "The guys'll take care of her. I think this is it." She squinted at something above his head and pointed. "Can you read that?"

He followed her gaze to a plaque above the door. After squinting at it himself for a moment, he pulled out his lighter and held it up. "Looks like a 'd'� Du�"

"Du Lac."

"Yeh, that's-"

"Shit!"

He turned to see her running over to a smashed panel. She reached inside and poked around, but shook her head. "I'm too late. Fuck!"

Spike stared at her, bemused, as he pocketed his lighter. He didn't remember the other one being prone to that kind of language. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, Slayer?"

She shot him an irritated glance. "Not anymore," she said, folding her arms. Her voice was softened by a sadness that shut him up faster than any threats would have.

"Uh� anyway, that demon you were fighting probably looted the place."

"Demon?"

"Yeh. Li'l green bloke. He was giving the other Slayer a run for her money when I got here."

"Mudge," she said, straightening her hands out and then clenching them into fists. "Where did he go?"

Spike shrugged. "Don't know. He took off."

"Which way?"

"Wasn't paying attention, was I? Bit busy getting my ass kicked."

She advanced on him and backed him up to the door. "It'll get kicked again if you don't try harder to remember."

He shoved her. "Back off, honey. Remember who you're talking to."

She shoved him back, grabbing him by the coat and slamming him against the door. "I know who I�m talking to," she said calmly, tossing her damp hair out of her eyes. "Do you?"

He stared at her, keeping his face hard, his eyes cold. Giving up no hint of the significant intimidation he was feeling. Or of the stirrings in his bruised groin. Bitch.

Her eyes softened. She let go of him and backed up, her mouth going from a hard, angry line to a soft pout. He found himself suddenly transfixed by her bottom lip, held in place by it as surely as if she still had him pinned. "Spike, please." The lip started to tremble.

He sniffed and looked away. With a shrug, he dug out his cigarettes. She folded her arms and waited while he lit up. "He was carrying something," he finally said, blowing out smoke as he spoke. "A bag, it looked like. Probably held whatever he took out of here."

The Slayer nodded. "Thanks."

"So, what's so important about the loot? And by the by, why are there suddenly two of you? And why are we making nicey-nice instead of trying to kill each other?"

He didn't think she was listening. She paced the floor of the crypt, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. Then she stopped and pulled something out of her pocket, some kind of vial. She pondered it a moment before looking up at him. Studying him. He had to fight the urge to squirm under her scrutinizing gaze.

Finally, she pocketed the vial and took a deep breath. "You have to help me."

Spike snorted. "That right? Tell me, Love, what possible incentive could I have to do that?"

She frowned. "I asked you not to call me that."

"And I asked you a question."

She seemed to chew on that for a moment, then let out a frustrated little laugh. "Fine. The thing Mudge took? It's a cross. The Du Lac cross. It's something you're going to need."

"Fine story, L- Slayer. And what would a vampire such as myself be needing a cross for?"

"To cure Drusilla."

Spike straightened and pushed off from the door. "What do you know about that?"

"You know that book that your skanky minion stole out of Giles's library?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yeeaah�"

"It's written in code. That cross is the key."

He stared at her. That� actually made a lot of sense. Still, he tilted his head, his lip curled into a sneer. "How do you know all this? And why should I believe you?"

"Come on, Spike." She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she took a couple of steps for him. Unfolding her arms, she spread her hands and held her arms out, inviting him to look at her. "Haven't those keen vampire senses of yours figured it out yet?"

He took her invitation and took a good, hard look at her. She was the same. Not just her scent, but her heartbeat, her voice, the way she moved� but there was something different, too. Lots of things different, now that he was looking. The hair was longer, for one thing. He circled her, looking her up and down, trying not to notice the way her jeans hugged her perfect little ass. She was thinner� bit taller, not that that was saying much� all of her baby fat was gone. She held herself with a little more confidence and grace. He moved back in front of her and stood close, close enough to breathe her air as he studied her face. She didn't back away, just lifted her chin and held his gaze. She had the eyes of someone who had seen and done - and lost - far too much in such a short life. The barest hint of lines were beginning to form at the corners. Her lip started to flutter again, and God help him, he couldn't help but notice how much more beautiful she'd grown.

He threw back his head and barked out a laugh. "Oh-ho, I see now!" He turned and walked away from her, putting a safe distance between them. "Time travel," he said, shaking his head. "Should've thought of that one."

"You don't seem surprised."

"Not much in this world surprises me anymore, Sweet Pea. So, this Mudge-amacallit demon messed up your precious timeline. That it?"

"He will, if I don't get that cross put back."

"For me to find?" He bit his lip. "Well, that is interesting."

With a sigh, the Slayer dropped her head and slid her hands into her back pockets. "Look, Spike. You're on a need to know basis here."

"Oh, I don't think so, Kitten. We do this, you're gonna tell me whatever I want to know. Or we don't do this."

"What, not even for your Darling Black Beauty?" Her voice held a mocking tone he didn't like one bit.

"If it comes to that, I'll find another way to help Drusilla, and bugger your future. I'll make my own."

She pursed her lips. "Yep, you'd do that, all right," she muttered. "Fine. What the hell. It's not like you'll remember anything I tell you." She started for the door.

"And why's that?"

"Because of the p-" She stopped and glanced back at him. "The principles of time travel, or something. You just won't."

"Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

She opened the door, gingerly at first, and peeked outside. Coast must've been clear, because she threw it open. "You coming?"

"Hold up, Pet. I'm not sure I'm entirely convinced you're on the up and up."

Her eyes went wide. "What, you want more proof?"

He smirked at her. "Gotta be something you can tell me that only a future you would know."

She blew out a long sigh. "Fine. William the Bloody." She looked at him, her face all innocent curiosity. "Written any poems lately?"

His smirk faded. What did she� How the bloody hell could she possibly know about that? He decided he didn't want to know. "Time's a-wasting, Slayer. Let's get a move on." Resisting the urge to knock that smug (affectionate?) smile off her face, he stormed past her out of the crypt.

*

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The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect