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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.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
The Butterfly Effect

by cousinjean

*

Chapter Five

***

The rain stopped by the time their clothes finished drying. Spike had stopped asking questions and was being fairly cooperative. Buffy couldn't be sure whether that was a good sign. It meant he was either too busy plotting against her, or trying to puzzle her out. Probably both. Grateful as she was for the respite from fighting, she had to keep reminding herself to be wary of him. Funny. It had taken her so long, but now trusting him was second nature. Remembering not to was hard.

They had checked every bar between the Laundromat and Willy's, which pretty much amounted to the Fish Tank and a college pub. Both human hangouts, so of course they found nothing. Spike had found a couple of vamp nests to rough up along the way, but if any of them had seen or heard of Mudge, they weren't talking. Now he was inside roughing up Willy and anybody else who might know anything while she waited for him in the parking lot. She felt sorry for Willy. Spike had a lot of frustration to work out, and she was pretty sure beating up those vamps hadn't done it for him.

But mostly she was feeling sorry for herself. The way he'd looked at her back in that alley�. This Spike really hated her. She was a little surprised by how much that hurt. Not that she'd expected anything else, really. But she had hoped. For some kind of connection, a spark of recognition� some kind of sixth sense telling him he'd met his destiny. It was silly, she knew. Neither of them had felt anything like that the first time around, no reason to think he would now. Still. Somebody says she's the big love of his life - it was hard to remember that he didn't always love her. Harder still to have that fact stare her in the face with cold, hard eyes that wanted her dead.

God, she missed his smile. The one he saved just for her, all full of delight and amazement and tenderness. She missed his sweetness most of all. It was the one thing about him that nobody else ever got or knew - how amazingly sweet he could be. Even before the soul.

Drusilla probably knew. Wow. It had never even occurred to Buffy before to be jealous of Drusilla. But now, knowing that he would eventually go home to Dru and give her the smile, the one that at the end had belonged just to Buffy� that he would look at that skeevy psycho with all of the love and tenderness that had been lacking back in that alley�

Realizing her hands had clenched into fists, Buffy scanned the parking lot. Demon bar, right? Killing something might be too risky but there had to be something around here that she could whale on. Nothing in the lot, though. "You're supposed to be creatures of the night," she muttered. "That means being out in the night. Don't tell me you're all inside getting hammered." Something tugged at her senses from behind the building. Vampire. Not Spike� she could still pick him out in a lineup while blindfolded. This was different. Still familiar, though.

She headed around front to investigate, but bumped into the source as she rounded the corner.

"Buffy?"

She blinked. "A� Angel?" She was instantly ashamed of the way her heart still habitually skipped whenever she saw him. It felt like a betrayal, somehow. But she got over it fast as the badness of his being there started to sink in. "What are you doing here?"

"Tracking that demon you said attacked you."

"Demon? What demon?"

Angel's turn to blink. "The one that cold-cocked you and saved Spike?" He touched her face. "You okay? How's your head?"

"I'm fine," she said, batting his hand away. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. She had to get rid of him before Spike came outside.

"You said you were gonna go home and go to bed," Angel accused.

"I did?" Buffy nodded. "And I did. But I� couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to come to Willy's?"

"I decided to look for the demon. And� and I found it!"

Angel narrowed his eyes and looked around the lot behind her. "Where�"

"It's dead. I slayed it. Turns out it wasn't so tough."

"Right. So now what-"

"I was looking for you," she lied. "To� tell you that you could stop looking. Because it's dead. The demon, I mean."

Angel nodded. "What about Spike?"

"What what about Spike?"

"We should find him. If he's working with this demon, it can't be good."

"Oh, right. Yeah. That would be bad." She shrugged. "Haven't seen him. He's probably tucked away safe at home by now."

Angel squinted in confusion. "But� haven't you been fighting him?"

"Not� um, well, maybe." God, was this that smell thing? She hated when he did that. "Look, Angel, you're right. My head does hurt, and I have school tomorrow� I think."

He nodded understanding. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

"No!"

He froze, hand halfway to her back. "Why not?"

Shit. "It's just� maybe you should go look for Spike, like you said."

"Sure, but I want to get you home safe first."

Buffy didn't even have to pretend indignance. "Hello, Slayer? I think I can make it from here to my house without a bodyguard."

"Slayer with a possible concussion," said Angel. "Not to mention my girlfriend, who usually likes me to walk�" He seemed to realize something, and blew out a sigh. "Buffy, are you still upset with me over Ford?"

"What? No."

"Then why are you acting so� is it Drusilla?"

She stiffened. "What about Drusilla?"

"Just� the stuff I told you. And, well, everything. I mean, I can understand if you're still weirded out-"

"I'm not."

"And you have no reason to be jealous of her."

She folded her arms, and shrugged. "Why on earth would I be jealous of Drusilla?" Just because she's the only woman who's had both my vampires�She looked back at the bar's entrance, willing Spike not to come outside yet.

"So� we're good?"

She turned back to Angel. "What? Oh. Yeah." She really looked at him then, and the hope and trepidation on his face touched her. She smiled. "Yes, Angel. We're good." On impulse, she hugged him. Right now, we're the best we're ever going to be, she wanted to tell him. Instead she just squeezed more tightly.

Behind her, the door opened, and heavy boots crunched on gravel. Heeere we go. Buffy let go of Angel and turned around.

"Spike," Angel growled.

"Spike!" said Buffy. "Look, honey, there he is. Imagine that."

"Well, well," said Spike, looking back and forth between them. "Don't let's interrupt the snog session."

Buffy frowned. "We weren't-"

But Angel shoved past her and grabbed Spike by the collar. "Start talking, boy."

Spike just looked at Buffy, completely nonplussed.

"Yeah," she said. "Tell us why you were working with that demon who knocked me out in the cemetery."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Demon�" Comprehension dawned, and he faced Angel. "Funny you should ask. But y'know, I bet the Slayer's got some good theories about that. What of it, Slayer?"

He turned toward Buffy. So did Angel. As soon as he did, Spike transformed and reared back his head. Angel looked at him and got a face full of bumpy forehead. He let Spike go and staggered back, clutching his nose.

Buffy checked on Angel as Spike ran. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." He motioned after Spike. "Go. Get him!"

"Right," she said. "Stay here."

Spike was already out of sight, but she ran in the direction he'd gone. After about four blocks she started to wonder if he'd ditched her. She stopped to get her bearings and see if she could sense him nearby.

"You know," he said from behind her, "I could wait if you want to go back and finish cuddling with your honey."

She turned to see him leaning against a wall, one boot propped against it, lighting a cigarette. She folded her arms. "We were not cuddling. Anyway, I sorta had a role to play."

"Sure you did."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "You know," she said, moving toward him, "for somebody who can't wait to be rid of me, you sound awfully jealous."

He made a scoffing noise. "Don't flatter yourself, Kitten. It's the principle of the thing. You're supposed to be my future."

"Coming around to that notion, are you?"

He shrugged. "Is what it is, I s'pose."

She sighed. "What did Willy have to say?"

"Willy had nothing." Spike took a drag, then grinned as a plume of smoke wafted around his head. "Now Willy has a broken face."

"Lovely."

"Wasn't my best work, but it'll do."

Buffy decided to ignore that. "So, now what?"

"You're asking me? Thought I was just a ghost. You're the one calling the shots, Slayer."

Lacing her fingers behind her neck and stretching the muscles, Buffy blew out a long breath. "I need a drink." She pouted. "And a neck rub."

"Yeh, well, I can help with one of those." Buffy perked up, but to her disappointment, he pulled out his flask and held it out. "I'm sure if we stick around Se�or Seraphim will be by any minute to take care of the latter."

Still pouting, she took his flask and took a sip. She shuddered as the liquor burned down her throat, and caught his amused smirk before he could suppress it. "You're right," she said, handing back the flask. "We should get moving."

"Where to?" he asked, tucking it away in his coat.

Buffy mulled it over for a minute. "Oh! There's still that demon bar out on Grand Terrace."

"What demon bar on Grand Terrace?"

"The one where you took me to watch you play kitten poker."

Both his eyebrows shot up. "Kitten poker?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I always said it was stupid currency."

Spike took his flask back out and drained the contents. "So, tell me, Pet," he said, putting it away again, "just how low do I sink in this future of yours?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

He only glared at her as he shoved off from the wall and started down the street. "Come on. Car's this way."

***

Fortunately, the bar accepted the regular kind of currency. Less fortunate was that it wouldn't accept bills dated several years in the future, nor credit cards from accounts that didn't yet exist. Which meant that Spike was buying.

"This one's a bust, too, eh?" he asked as he met her back at their table, bottle of tequila and shot glasses in hand.

The Slayer slumped forward, elbows folded on the table, one hand resting on the back of her neck in a way that Spike had always found appealing. She straightened as he set his things down. "Nobody's heard of Mudge or the Du Lac Cross OR Arkham's Appendix. Although this one s'klar demon wanted to chat me up about Arkham Asylum."

Spike took his seat. "That's a good book. Fun pictures."

She slumped again, whimpering a little. Not exactly a sound he'd imagined her making under these circumstances. Not that he'd ever imagined these circumstances.

"What if I lost him for good?" she asked. "He's temporal, right? He could've taken the cross and my portkey and vanished to a whole 'nother year."

"Yup," said Spike, pouring himself a shot. "On the bright side, I hear Mexico's really nice this time of year." He saluted her with his glass, then downed the shot.

The Slayer grimaced. "As nice as a long beach vacation sounds, I really don't love the idea of waiting out the next several years."

"Relax, Slayer," he said, refilling his glass and filling hers. "If Mudge didn't have plans in this time, he probably would've just beamed out or whatever soon as he had the cross. He'll show up."

"I hope you're right."

Spike grinned. "So what d'you s'pose is gonna happen when Angel and Retro-Slayer compare notes tomorrow?"

She shrugged. "He can always blame my forgetfulness on the head injury." She tossed back her tequila straight. Spike was impressed, for the two seconds it looked like she could handle it, before she choked and started pounding the table.

He chuckled as he waved at a waitress. "Plate o' limes," he said, pointing at the Slayer. "And some water." Then he turned serious. "Say, you know what just occurred to me?"

"What?" she gasped.

"You know when you chased off my dinner earlier?"

"You mean when I stopped you from killing that girl?"

"You say 'po-tah-to'�"

She wrinkled up that cute little nose of hers. "No I don't. Neither do you and you're British."

"Uh, yeh," he said, staring at her and feeling a little bemused. "Got me there. Anyway, not the point."

The both paused as the waitress brought their order. When she was gone, the Slayer asked, "What about her?" before draining her water.

Spike refilled her shot glass. "Oh, I just wondered. Y'know. If I was meant to kill her."

"What? No. You wouldn't even have run into her if it weren't for me."

He sniffed and poured for himself. "Yeh, you're probably right. I mean, how can you know, really?"

"Stop it."

His eyebrows lifted innocently. "Stop what?"

"Stop trying to screw with my head. It's not working."

"It's a legitimate question, Pet." He plucked up one of her limes. "Take, for instance, anybody else I might've killed tonight if I wasn't otherwise occupied helping you. What happens with them now?"

Her eyes widened in horror as he sucked on the lime. "Mmoh yeah," he said, taking it out of his mouth and pointing the rind at her, "and what about all the people your alter ego probably would've saved tonight if you hadn't taken her out of commission? Not to mention Angel, who's now busy running 'round looking for a cute little blonde demon instead of� well, I'm guessing he's generally pretty useless anyway."

"No he's not," she squeaked in a tiny voice.

"Still. For all you know you've already gone and buggered your timeline all to hell."

Her voice grew stronger as she said, "Oh, God." She gulped down her shot and slammed the glass on the table. She handled it better that time, closing her eyes and white-knuckling the table as it went down. Spike smiled a satisfied smile. This situation wasn't entirely without entertainment value.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and the fear on her face made his mouth go dry and his smile fade. He averted his gaze and reached for his drink. Somehow it wasn't quite so satisfying if it wasn't him she was afraid of.

"Do you really think�?"

"No," he said quickly, not understanding why he suddenly felt a need to reassure her. He shrugged. "If I hadn't run into you tonight, most likely I'd've skulked home to lick my wounds after the other you kicked my ass. Anyway, I leave most of the hunting to my minions these days. Frees up more time for plotting against you."

She relaxed a little - but only a little. "But me and Angel�"

"Will live to be heroes another day. Really, Slayer, I'm sure nothing about tonight's big enough to reach you where you live."

"Maybe."

"Huh. Guess it did work."

She frowned. "What?"

"My little mindfuck." He grinned. "You are easy to rile up, you know that?"

With a groan, she rolled her eyes and leaned against the table to bury her hands in her face. "Spike, I don't suppose you could maybe not be annoying and evil for just five minutes?"

"Sure I can. Just soon's you stop being the Slayer."

Her hands parted, and she stared at him. "Hello? Hanging out in a demon bar, drinking tequila shots with a vampire? In case you haven't noticed, I have stopped."

"Oh, right." Spike nodded. "In that case�" He scanned the room, chewing his bottom lip. "Bartender's human," he said at last. "Think I'm feeling like a little B neg straight from the tap. Be right back, Pet."

He started to rise, but her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Spike�"

He looked down at her hand, and she slowly moved it away. He settled back in his chair with a smirk. "Rest my case."

"Just because I�m not gonna let you kill a guy�"

"Oh, give it a rest, sweetheart! You can't stop being the Slayer any more'n I can stop being English."

"Okay, fine. I'm the Slayer. And you're a pain in the ass." She took a proper shot, with salt and lime, then banged her glass down. "Why do you have to do that?"

This time his eyebrows shot up in genuine confusion. "Do what?"

"Be such a jerk. Make this so difficult." She shifted in her chair and folded her arms. "Is it really so terrible for you, being stuck with me?"

He stared at her, a little surprised that he was getting to her so much. Not that he hadn't been trying, but even so. Clearly, this Slayer cared a lot more about what he thought than her counterpart did. "I'll admit," he said at last, "I've had worse company. Obviously at some point in the future you get that stake surgically removed from your ass. That's a big improvement."

She threw a rind at him, and he chuckled.

"You really are a pig, Spike."

He smiled. "Well, what can I tell you, baby?"

"Not that you were always bad." She returned his smile. "I know better, remember?"

He stopped smiling. "Says you. For all I know, Angel told you about the poetry."

"Right. And Angel also told me where you got the coat, and how Billy Idol stole your look, and about that time you got drunk with Joey Ramone. I suppose Angel also told me how you got that scar. Or how much you like to read, anything you can get your hands on, although classical lit and speculative fiction are your favorites, besides poetry. And how you still like to eat spicy food, and that when you're not listening to old punk rock you prefer jazz, because that was the first kind of music that blew your mind the same way the first time you ever heard it. And Angel's the one who told me about your mom-"

"What about my mom?" He'd sat transfixed until she got to that, not a little blown away by how much she knew about him. But this-it was too much. Everything else she could have found out elsewhere, somehow. But she couldn't know this. She had to be bluffing.

She straightened in her chair. Her face became sympathetic. "You know."

"I want to know what you know."

"Spike, I know you don't like to-"

"Tell me!"

She stared at her empty glass, then reached out and started to turn it in slow circles as she went on. "Just� what happened with her, after you got turned." Her voice was gentle. Her eyes flicked to his, then settled back on her glass. "How you tried to take her with you, but then you had to stake her. The things she� the way she goaded you into it."

Slowly, he shook his head. "I have never�" He shot to his feet, wanting to take off, to run from this strange apparition who knew his deepest secrets. Instead he loomed over her. "Not even Dru knows what really happened with my mother."

"I'm sorry, Spike. I shouldn't have-"

"No, you bloody well shouldn't have! You shouldn't even know that!" The other bar patrons were beginning to stare. He looked around at them, silently challenging them, and they all looked away. He turned back to the Slayer. "Why would I tell you that?"

"Because you could," she said softly. "Because you needed to tell somebody."

He just stood there a while, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stared at the floor. Then he looked at her, really looked, past the Slayer to the woman she had become. She held his gaze, unwavering, her eyes full of concern and� and tenderness, and possibly some other things that he couldn't bring himself to think about just yet.

His anger melted into mystification as he asked, "You and me are really that close?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile painting her face in wistfulness. "We were."

"Well." His voice came out heavier than he'd have liked, so he swallowed. "Imagine that."

"Don't have to," she said. "Already lived it."

He smiled at that, and shook his head as he returned to his seat. But as he poured himself another drink, something that had been niggling at the back of his mind all night finally braved its way to the forefront. "What do you mean, 'were'?"

"Huh?"

"You keep talking about me in the past tense."

"I do?" That "Oh shit" passed over her face again, but only for an instant. Then she shrugged it off. "I guess it's just easier than having to remember to speak in future tense."

"Bollocks. You're a terrible liar, Slayer. 'S more to it than that."

"Maybe," she said, looking around. "Where's the bathroom?" She got up, but stumbled on her first step and had to brace herself on the table. "I shouldn't've had that third one," she moaned, rubbing her head.

"Sit back down, then, and tell me what happens."

She shook her head and tried a couple more unsteady steps. He jumped up and grabbed her shoulders. "Don't think you're in any condition to fight me just now, Pet. It's not a good idea to piss me off right now."

She snickered. "Yeah, right. Like you'll do anything to me. That'll make a good story. 'And my third Slayer, I couldn't take her in a fair fight so I had to get her liquored up.'" She gave him a shove. "Not your style, Spike."

"No, but I can make an exception." He shoved her back, making her fall into her chair. Then he bent down and penned her in with his arms. "What happens?"

She made a face and turned her head. "You have, like, the worst breath right now."

"Like yours is any better." He took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. "What. Happens?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled it away. "There's nothing to tell!"

"You're lying."

"Spike�"

"And why bother? It's not like I'm not gonna remember anything. You've got your special potion, remember?"

"No, but how much damage are you gonna run out and do first if I tell you?"

"Oh, so there is something to tell?"

With a sigh, she looked at his hand, still clutched in hers. She seemed lost in thought as she stroked her thumb across his fingers. Finally she said, "You left."

Spike jerked his hand out of hers and straightened. "That's it?"

She folded her arms and hugged herself. "Isn't that enough?"

"Sorry, Pet, not buying it. You mean to tell me that I went to so much trouble and got so close only to turn around and leave you? Pfft." He shook his head. "I don't bloody think so."

"No, it wasn't like that."

"Then how was it?"

As she stared up at him, her eyes filled with sadness. "You didn't exactly have a choice."

"There's always a choice. Always."

"Yeah, well, you chose to be noble. And that meant you couldn't be with me anymore." Her voice almost broke on the last word. She stood up, but he blocked her. "Get out of my way, Spike."

"Why'd I leave?"

"No. That's all you get."

She pushed past him, but he grabbed her arm. "You promised to be straight with me. We have a deal, Slayer."

She tore her arm away and rounded on him. "No, Spike! We had a deal, but you blew it when I told you about the soul!"

"But I want to know-"

"Tough! You don't get to know! You're not ready. I've told you all that I'm going to. If you want to know more, Spike, you're going to have to earn it." They had an audience, he realized, but she seemed oblivious to the fact that every eye in the bar was on them as she shook her head. "Do you think this is easy for me? Being here with you, having to work with you, knowing how much you hate me? Knowing that this is the last time I'm ever going to see you?" She shook her head and backed up a step. "The only reason I'm even bothering with you is�"

"Is what?"

"Is because I know that he's in there!"

His jaw stiffened as he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Got news for you, honey. Ain't nothing but evil in here. If you think you can talk me into having a soul-"

"Not the soul!" She rubbed her face. "It's not about the soul, Spike," she said wearily.

"What's it about, then?"

"It's about whatever was in you that let you love me enough to get the soul!"

He stared at her in disbelief, the wind going out of his sails. 'Get' the soul? Her words reverberated through his head. He got the soul. As in, chose it. For her.

That couldn't be right. But before he could question it, a big, burly demon in a bouncer's tee-shirt came over to them. "Is there a problem here?"

"No," said Spike. "No problem."

"Yeah, well, maybe you better take it outside." He grabbed Buffy by the shoulder. She grabbed his taloned hand and bent his fingers back, dropping the blighter to his knees.

"Touch me again and you'll lose this hand," she said, letting him go.

The demon jumped to his feet with a roar, but Spike got between them. "Here now," he said, holding up his hands to placate the bouncer. "You don't want to make the Slayer angry enough to shut this place down, do you?"

"The Slayer?" Big 'n' Burly pointed behind Spike with the horn jutting out of his chin. "Her?"

"Yes, her," said Spike, turning around. "I know she doesn't look like much, but-"

He realized she wasn't behind him anymore. He scanned the room and saw her running toward the back. The bouncer forgotten, Spike trailed after her. She was heading toward the back exit, but turned and disappeared through another door instead. He started to follow until he realized it was the ladies' room. Rolling his eyes at his own latent sense of propriety, he shoved the door open anyway and went in.

A couple other females were inside, looking shocked to see him there.

"Hey!" one of them said. "You can't-"

"Get out," he growled, and they both hurried to comply.

The Slayer had her back to him, leaning over the sink. His first impulse was to grab her, turn her around and make her tell him everything; but her shoulders were shaking, and the realization that she was crying froze him to the spot. Great, heaving sobs ripped out of her. She didn't even seem aware that he'd come in. Not like she could see him behind her in the mirror.

He watched her face as she cried, studied the grief there and knew that it was for him� for what she'd had with him. What he would someday have with her.

It was overwhelming. Not to mention unbelievable.

The most disturbing part was that he didn't even have to try that hard to imagine himself with her. He had to admit, much as he was loathe to, that even before tonight - hell, from the first time he'd laid eyes on her - that when he imagined her in his arms, his mouth on her neck, it wasn't always about biting her.

But that didn't prove anything, other than that he was still male and prone to thinking with his dick, and what did it know? Besides the fact that the Slayer was gorgeous and lithe and utterly fuckable, that is. Not to mention a brilliant force of nature. His dick didn't remember nor care that said force was one to be reckoned with. The enemy. Human. Something to kill, lest he be killed. It was up to the rest of him to remember that.

And yet, this woman before him stirred more than just his groin. Much more. He found himself wanting to reach out to her, to comfort her...

To be the man she so desperately wanted to remember him as.

He stood, riveted, wondering if it was really inevitable, and if it would do him any good to keep fighting it. Trying to decide if he still wanted to fight it. If she was truly his future...

He could definitely think of worse fates.

Not bothering with stealth, he moved toward her and raised a tentative hand to hover above her shoulder. "Slay-" He swallowed. "Buffy."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't pretend. Please? Just leave me alone, Spike."

"I'm not pretending, Love. I-"

He didn't know what. All he knew was that he had to show her. He grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and crushed his mouth against hers. Surprisingly, she yielded as if by instinct, her lips parting for him, her tongue drawing his in. Her fingers dug into his chest as she gripped his lapels and pulled him closer. He'd expected her to resist, to shove him away and deck him, or at least to hesitate; but she drank him in like his kiss was her life's blood. Until her hands flattened against his chest and pushed him away. She ran out of the restroom. He followed, catching up to her as she went out the back door and into the alley.

"Buffy, wait!"

She turned and stared at him, chest and shoulders heaving as she caught her breath. She took a good, long look into his eyes, searching for something. He held his ground, but swallowed. He'd never felt so naked.

Finally, her mouth twisted into a sad little smile, and she shook her head. "You're not him."

"No," he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes and wiping her tears from her cheek. Her eyes closed as she buried her face against his palm. Then her eyes met his again, and he smiled. "But I'm the closest you're gonna get."

Understanding passed between them then, and she reached for him, closing the gap.

***

She never thought she'd taste him again. She'd thought she remembered how his kisses felt, but she had only really remembered the idea of them. But the reality� oh, God, the things he could do with his tongue� the way he used his teeth�

His hands began to wander, slowly, exploring and acquainting themselves with her body. But her hands moved more frantically. They were all too familiar and remembered too many places they wanted to touch again. She ran them over his chest, then down and under his shirt where her fingers raked the muscles of his stomach; then around and up to clutch his shoulders, to feel the satiny skin of his back, relishing the strength there before sliding them down to cup his ass. Then his arms, feeling his biceps flex as he embraced her, lacing her fingers through his as he caressed her breast. Back up to pet the smooth down on the back of his neck, to tangle her fingers in the soft curls there. Finally, they rested on his face, holding him to her, stroking her thumbs along his cheekbones.

Air. God, she needed to breathe. But she needed him more. Eventually her lungs won out; though as she broke off the kiss with a gasp his lips found her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life as they tumbled across the alley and into a wall. Both of them leaned into it for support. His hips ground against hers, and her knee instinctively came up to wrap around his thigh, pulling him closer. He made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that complimented the soft sighs coming out of her own mouth. She closed her eyes, and suddenly he was her Spike, and they weren't in an alley but in her basement, and they were finally getting it right, would have a whole future together, getting it right.

"Spike," she moaned, hugging him to her. "I love you."

"I lov-"

He froze, going rigid in her arms. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at her, horror dawning on his face.

"Drusilla."

Okay, ow.

He shook his head. "She's gonna know what I-" Suddenly he jerked away from Buffy as if she'd turned to holy water.

Automatically, she reached for him. "Spike�"

But he staggered away. "No. She� Dru needs me."

Buffy's hand fell to her side. "So do I."

He shook his head. "Not like she�" Then he laughed. "You don't need me, Slayer. You need him. And you said it yourself. He doesn't exist yet." He straightened his coat and smoothed out his clothes. "I have to go," he said, and started down the alley.

"Spike, wait!"

He kept going, his coat blowing behind him as he walked away. "I have to check on her!" Then he was gone.

Buffy just stood there, still leaning against the wall, too stunned to move. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should go after him, either to refocus him on the mission or to give him the potion. But the Band-Aid she'd tried to slap over the gaping hole in her gut had just been ripped off, making the damage even worse than before, and she was too busy trying to keep her insides from spilling out.

When she heard his car start and drive away, she lost the battle. She slid to the ground, buried her face against her knees, and fell apart.

*

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The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect