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Perfect World

Cousinjean

Summary: A slip of the tongue creates a whole new world of problems for Spike. Picks up about 4 months after "Grave."

Spoilers: Everything through S6 is fair game, with a vague awareness of rumors about S7.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. What happens to them is the product of my own fevered and obsessive imagination.

A/N: I know this looks like another one of those "Spike's back from Africa" fics, but it's not. This is one of those big, epic, plotty stories that has been stewing in my brain for much longer than Spike has had a soul. Although the soul added a whole new layer to the idea that made it too interesting to ignore.

Thanks to Abby, JRS, fenwic and adjrun for letting me think out loud about this story in various chats. It really helped shape the plot. Thanks to them as well as Aurelio Zen and Fiona for the betas, feedback and insights. I {heart} my beta readers.

Part Five: The 'Throw Himself To The Lions' Sort, These Days

He didn't know how long they'd been driving. He suspected Giles was going in circles, drawing out the distance to throw him off. Spike wished he'd bloody just get there already. Giles had pulled the larger objects from the trunk to make room for him, but it was still cluttered with crap, poking his back and sides. Spike dug out his lighter to see the sort of things Evil, Unchipped Spike kept in his trunk. It looked amazingly like the contents of Struggling-To-Be-Good, Chipped Spike's trunk. Rummaging through the assortment of half-empty liquor bottles, books, CDs, tools and trash, he almost hoped to find a body or a severed head -- anything to differentiate this world's Spike from himself. But it was all just ... Spike. Same vampire, different circumstances. He pocketed his lighter and tried to swallow down the bitter taste in his mouth.

The car began to bounce and sway like it was going over rough terrain. After what felt like a small eternity, they stopped. The slam of a car door served as Spike's cue to get his blanket ready. The trunk opened, and Giles aimed the crossbow at Spike's heart.

"Get out."

Spike took a chance and looked up. They were deep in the woods, the trees providing enough cover that -- barring any sudden windgusts -- he could move around in relative safety. He discarded the blanket and clambered out of the trunk. With his free hand, Giles grabbed Spike by the lapel and shoved him up against a tree.

"Oi, no need for --"

"Shut up!" Giles backed up a few steps, keeping the bolt pointed at Spike's heart. "Now. I told you I have questions. You're going to answer them."

"We don't have time for this, Rupert. If you would just bloody listen to-- Guh!" He doubled over as the butt of the crossbow smashed into his gut.

Giles took aim again. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said, I have questions. And you are going to answer them. Now. How much have you learned about the Resistance?"

Clutching his stomach, Spike straightened up and leaned against the tree. "I don't know."

Giles got a nasty grin on his face, and then reared back to strike again. This time, Spike was ready. He grabbed the crossbow and tore it from Giles's grip. "I said I don't know!" he shouted, flinging the weapon away. "Now lay off the Ripper routine and let me talk!"

Giles stood there blinking for a moment; then his eyes narrowed. "Where did you hear that name?"

"What n-- oh. Oh!" Had his attention now, didn't he? "I know all sorts of things about you, Rupes." Affecting his cockiest manner, he leaned sideways against the tree, crossed his ankles, and fished his smokes out of his pocket.

"Such as?"

Spike lit his cigarette and took a nice, long drag before continuing. "Such as ... " He blew out a long column of smoke, then looked at Giles. "When you were a little tyke," he held out his hand, waist high, "you wanted to be a pilot or a grocer or somesuch nonsense before Daddy told you that you were bound for the family business. Guess you had a bit of a rebellious streak, that's how you picked up the name Ripper." He paused for another drag.

"What else?"

"When you first met Buffy, you thought she was an insolent brat who wouldn't last out the year. Didn't take you long to figure out that her attitude and her 'unorthodox methods' made her the best there ever was." Spike smiled. "I happen to agree with both of those assessments, by the way." He stopped. Giles had gone a little pale. "Shall I go on?"

He nodded. "Please do."

"Right. Um ... well, besides owning the most extensive occult library this side of the pond, you also have the best vinyl collection of acid rock I've ever seen."

Giles swallowed, then something seemed to occur to him. "Of course. Willow must have told you all of this."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, right. And Willow must've also told me about the time you got jacked up on magic candy and shagged Joyce. Or that you used to keep a ridiculously overpriced bottle of Laphroiag locked up in your safe 'cause you didn't like sharing it with company. Or that you snore like a bleeding buzzsaw, or that you talk in your sleep when you've had too much to drink, or that--"

"That-- that's quite enough, Spike." He shook his head. "You've got my attention. How do you know all this?"

Spike took another drag, then stubbed his cigarette out on the tree before straightening up to face Giles. Here goes nothing. "You remember how Anyanka came to be part of your Scooby Gang?"

Giles nodded. "A vengeance wish went wrong and she ended up human. Your point?"

"Went wrong how? Work with me here, Rupert. She got Harris's ex-bird to make a wish--"

"Which inadvertently created an alternate reality in which Buffy never came to Sunnydale. My counterpart in that reality destroyed her power center and undid the wish, returning everything to normal and rendering Anya human."

Spike made an "on the nose" gesture, then put his hands back in his pockets. "Yeh, well. Turns out she's got this friend, Halfrek. One of her vengeance 'associates.' Bitch caught me at an especially vulnerable moment, got me nice and liquored up, then got me to shooting my mouth off --"

"And you made a wish."

"Yup."

Giles made a motion as if to remove his glasses, then when he didn't find any, he ran a hand through his hair instead. "So ... you're saying you're from an alternate reality?"

Spike grinned. "Now you're getting it."

Giles stared at him for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just ..." His eyes were tearing up, so he paused to wipe them. "I'm trying to decide whether you're deranged or if you've simply become a better liar."

Oh, he so didn't have time for this. Spike grabbed Giles by the collar, spun him around and pushed him against the tree. "You know, Watcher, there's nothing to stop me from killing you where you stand."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I'm not your enemy!" Spike let go of him and backed away. God, he needed another cigarette. He took one out and lit it, giving his hands something to do besides shake or form fists. "Look, I need you to believe me. I've tried calling Halfrek, she's not answering. I don't know the first thing about how to find her so I can get her to undo this mess." He shook his head, and shrugged helplessly. "I cocked it all up royally, and I don't know how to fix it. I need your help."

They stood for a long time, Spike smoking while Giles studied him. "What did you wish?" Giles finally asked.

"What?"

"What did you wish? Was it Buffy? Did you ... did you wish her dead?"

"No! God, no." Spike took another drag, then scratched his forehead. "A few years back, when the Initiative first showed up and started making noise, they captured me. Cut me open and shoved a chip in my brain."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow," snarked Giles.

Spike gave him a look, then went on. "It kept me from harming humans. Couldn't bite, couldn't even hit. Couldn't defend myself against self-righteous, bullying gits like Harris --"

Giles's eyes widened. "Xander Harris?"

"Yeh." Spike pointed at his eyes, which he presumed were still black. "Boy's got a mean temper, and an even meaner right cross. Halfrek found me after, got me to say I wished I'd never gotten chipped in the first place. Then, poof. Found myself here."

Giles slumped against the tree. "Spike, if all this is true ... you're an idiot, you know that? I mean, of all the bloody stupid --"

"I'm doing a fine job of berating myself, Rupert. Don't need any help from you, thanks."

"It's a good story," Giles said. "Good enough for me not to discount, although I'm not entirely convinced of its veracity. Or yours." He slid down the tree until he was squatting, hands clasped in front of him. "Let's say for the sake of argument that you're telling the truth. Sounds to me like the chip made you miserable. Here, there is no chip, and you rule Sunnydale. You've got everything you always wanted. Why would you want to go back?"

Spike shook his head. "I don't want this. I mean, once upon a time, maybe ... but not now." He waved his hand to indicate the world around him. "I want no part of this."

Giles nodded. "And in your world, you and I are somehow close enough for me to have confided all of this personal information to you?"

"Well ... some of it, yeh. I mean, you get enough of that expensive Scotch in you and you open up like a groupie at a Stones concert." Giles laughed. There's a good sign. Spike shrugged, and looked at him sideways. "Plus, I stayed with you for a bit after I got the chip, and you weren't home a lot, and ... well, I snooped."

"Lovely. That really helps with the trust issues."

"Oh, like you wouldn't go through my personal effects, given half the chance."

Giles raised his eyebrows, then nodded. He stood up. "I managed to salvage about half of my library. I should be able to find something about this Halfrek demon. I'm willing to take you back with me, provided you come along under my terms."

"Hold up, that's just the first order of business. Before I go with you, I have to know you believe me."

Giles scratched the back of his head, then put his hands on his hips. "Spike, you have been a source of untold suffering and torment for me and mine over the last few years."

Spike pursed his lips and flicked away his spent cigarette. "Yeh, I kinda gathered that."

"It's going to take a certain amount of verification before I put an iota of faith in anything that you say, no matter how convincing."

Something Giles had said earlier flickered through Spike's memory. Did you wish her dead? He stared at Giles. "You think she's ... that's why you haven't rescued her."

"Who?"

"Buffy! She's ... Giles, if you believe nothing else I've told you, believe this: Buffy's alive."

Giles snorted. "You are deranged. I saw her die myself. And I've also got you to thank for that."

Spike shook his head. "I don't know what you think you saw, and I don't care. She's alive, and she's in that ... that place, and from what I've seen she'd be better off dead."

"But it's been two years ..." Giles turned ashen, and he shook his head. "No. I don't believe you."

"You'd bloody well better believe me if you want me to go back with you!" Spike started pacing. "She's down there, and she's already been through God knows what. And I'm going to get her out. I'll do it myself if I have to. I can't let you stop me. I won't let you."

Giles took a deep breath. "Fine. Assuming what you say is true, why do you care? Buffy's your enemy --"

"No." Spike whirled to face Giles. "Not in my world, she's not. Not anymore." He ran his hands through his hair. "Even if none of this is real, even if we can find Halfrek and get it all set right ..." He shook his head. "I can't take the thought of her stuck in that hole one minute longer."

Giles nodded, then he came forward and leaned over Spike. "If I find you are lying to me about this, I will not simply kill you. I will cause you incomparable suffering."

Spike deflated a little. "You can do a truth spell, Rupert. Whatever it takes. Just ... please believe me."

Giles moved back. With a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Very well. We have resources, we should be able to determine whether you're lying."

"Right, then." Spike let out a long breath, suddenly feeling tons lighter. This was Giles, here. He wouldn't go back on his word. Whatever happened from here on out, at least Spike was no longer alone. He sniffed, smoothed out his coat, and raised his eyes to meet Giles's. "What are your terms?"

Giles went to the car, pulled Spike's blanket out of the trunk, and tossed it to him. "The car stays here. We can't have your minions tracing it back to us."

"Fine. Not really mine anyway."

"Yes, well. You'll be subject to a full body search upon arrival. We have to know you're not wired or carrying any tracking devices."

Spike grimaced, but shrugged. "Whatever."

Giles rummaged through the trunk, and pulled out some bungee cords. "I think it's best if I tie you up."

"Well in that case, you'll have to hold my blanket for me. Could get awkward, if it's a long hike."

"Point." Giles considered the cords, and shoved them in his pocket. "Perhaps we'll wait until we're closer to our destination."

Spike nodded. "Get the weapons. I'm sure it'll make your people feel better if you're armed to the teeth." He retrieved the crossbow and tossed it to Giles, who already held the battleaxes in his other hand.

"Right. Let's go then." Giles started to lead the way, but something caught Spike's attention.

"Hold up. You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Spike shushed him, and dropped his blanket. He crept towards a small birch, careful not to make any noise. There, on the other side, perched on a low branch ... With supernatural speed he lunged and snagged his prey, snapping the creature's neck with one swift flick of the wrist.

Giles stared at him like he'd gone mad. "What, afraid Adam's employing the squirrels as spies?"

"Wouldn't put it past the bastard," Spike muttered, vamping out and raising the squirrel to his mouth. He stopped when he realized Giles was still staring at him. "Look, I haven't fed since I got to this sodding hell dimension. You don't want me going into the lion's den feeling all peckish, do you?"

Giles grimaced and looked away.

Spike bit into the rodent and drained it, and then chucked it behind the tree. With a grimace of his own, he spit out a mouthful of fur. "God, I can't wait to get back to my own world. Never thought I'd feel so nostalgic for a nice pint of hog's blood."

"Yes, well. If you're ready?" Giles took off, motioning for him to follow. Spike wiped his mouth, grabbed his blanket and did just that.

***

The hike through the woods hadn't taken long, but the walk from there to Rupert's super-secret headquarters proved to be more than the blanket could handle. Giles got to put his bungee cords to use when they stopped in an abandoned garage. Spike sat still like a good willing hostage while Giles tied him to some shelves, even though, as Spike pointed out, he didn't plan on going anywhere, and even if he did he wouldn't get very far, what with the sun beating down and his blanket thoroughly charred and all. Still, Giles insisted. It'd look better to the others. So Spike sat, and pretended like he couldn't easily tear the shelves out of the wall if he wanted, and waited while Giles went to fetch him a ride.

After about an hour (during which he'd sung his way through the Ramones' entire first album and half the A side of Leave Home; anything to keep his mind off what might happen to him if Giles decided not to believe him -- and worse, what would happen to Buffy) a rust-covered pickup truck pulled into the garage. Three men piled out of the cab. Well, two men and a demon, though the last could pass for a human were it not for his bright yellow scales.

One of the humans, a tall black man with a shaven head, approached Spike. He carried a homemade axe that looked like it'd been fashioned out of a hubcap. "You must be Spike." He looked him up and down. "You don't look half as bad as your rep."

"Sorry to disappoint," Spike said. "Maybe if I weren't quite so tied up --"

"Why are you talking to him?" asked the demon, a skittish-looking fellow with a nasally voice. "Giles didn't say to talk to him. He just said to search him and then bring him back to HQ."

"Yo, Kester, chill. I know my orders, all right?"

"Yes, of course, Charles. Don't mind me. I mean, just because this parnach personally delivered my sister to Adam for spare parts --"

"Kester!" The human put a hand on the demon's shoulder. "I know what he did, okay? We all lost people 'cause of him."

What was that Spike had said about the lion's den?

"I just don't see why we're making deals with him," Kester continued. "We should throw him out in the sun and be done with it."

"Giles said he has information we need."

"You ask me," said the other human, a smallish man with brownish-blond hair and a world-weary expression fixed on his young face, "Giles is too trusting." He spoke with a slight southwestern twang as he hauled some equipment out of the back of the truck.

"Yeah, that's what I said when he let your traitor ass on the team. And nobody asked you, Lindsey."

Lindsey set the equipment down with a clunk.

"Hey, careful with that!" said Kester.

"Kiss my ass, Gunn," said Lindsey. "Doesn't it hold any weight with you people that I left my firm at risk to my life?"

"You left your firm after they sold out Angel and Cordelia, and Adam's troops raided your office. That carries a hell of a lot of weight with me."

"Um, guys?" said Kester.

Lindsey shoved him aside and got in the other man's face. "You want to lay down your little toy there and have a go at me, Gunn? Huh?"

"Guys, I really don't think --"

"Ladies!" As amusing as this was, Spike had better things to do. They all looked at him. "You're both pretty. Now I believe Giles said something about a search?"

After one last glare at Gunn, Lindsey turned back to the equipment. Gunn smirked at Spike as he produced a very large knife from his cargo pants. Then he bent down and cut through the bungee cords that bound Spike's wrists. "Stand up," he ordered, pocketing the knife. Spike got to his feet. "Now take off your clothes."

Spike raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat. As he undid his belt, he glanced coyly through his lashes at Gunn. "I hope you're planning on buying me dinner later." He heard the whine of something electronic powering up, and looked over at Lindsey, who held a large metal wand. Spike paused in the middle of unbuttoning his jeans. "Um ... just where are you planning to stick that thing?"

Lindsey sighed. "It's like a metal detector. You got anything on or in you that picks up or puts out any kind of signal, this'll pick it up."

Spike gave a conciliatory nod, and continued to strip. Once his clothes were off, Lindsey waved the wand through the air all around him. Spike didn't mind the nudity so much, but he was relieved at the lack thus far of touching and spreading and poking around in places these fellows had no business putting their hands. The wand passed over his head without so much as a blip. Guess he really was chipless, then. He hadn't been too eager to put that theory to the test.

"He's clean," Lindsey proclaimed at last.

"Great," said Gunn. "You can put your clothes back on."

Kester's nose wrinkled up. "He smells funny."

Gunn sniffed the air, then shrugged. "Smells okay to me, Dude."

"No, it's like ..." He sniffed again. "I think this vampire has a soul."

Gunn and Lindsey exchanged a look, then both turned to Spike. He glanced from one to the other, then shrugged and went back to buttoning his jeans.

"No, man." Gunn shook his head. "You must be smelling fumes from the truck or something. Angel had a soul, and this dude ain't nothing like Angel."

"You can say that again," Spike muttered.

"Somebody talking to you?"

Spike glared at the boy as he shrugged back into his coat. "We done here?"

Gunn looked at Lindsey, who nodded. "Just let me load this up. I'll ride in the back."

"Great." Gunn pointed at the truck. "Hop on in, fellas."

Spike got in the cab between Gunn and Kester. The demon handed him a fresh blanket. "Put this over your head. And no peeking."

With a roll of his eyes, Spike covered up with the blanket. Another minute, and they were on their way.

***

They made him keep the blanket over his head as they led him inside and through a series of corridors. Slow-going, as he kept stumbling over bits of debris. The place smelled charred, and dank, and ... oddly familiar. After a few more turns they brought him into a room full of people. He could smell them, sense their humanity pressing in all around him.

Finally his escorts stopped, and whipped off the blanket. Spike focused on his surroundings, trying not to make eye contact with any of the people. He could feel their hostility, and at the moment he wasn't too keen on seeing it written on their faces. So he took in the fallen beams, the blackened walls and ceiling, and the fissure in the middle of the floor. Familiar was right.

"Oi," he said, jerking his chin at the crevasse, "that's the Hellmouth, innit?"

Gunn's grip on his arm tightened. "Yo, G, I thought you said he'd never been here before."

"I didn't think he had," said Giles as he stepped out from the midst of the small crowd.

"Sure I have," said Spike. "Came here with the Scoobies a while back, helped 'em keep some Vahrall demons from opening it up."

Giles folded his arms. "Is that right?"

Spike nodded. "That was a rough gig. Fun, though." He turned to Kester. "That was how I found I could still kill de--" He stopped under the full force of Kester's glare, and swallowed. "Um. Never mind."

He felt the cold steel of a blade dig into his neck. "If he knows where we are then we'll have to kill him," said a young female. Spike followed the blade and the voice to a petite Asian girl who looked about the same age as Dawn.

"Stand down, Lauren," Giles ordered. The girl sheathed her sword, but her eyes shot stakes at Spike as she backed away.

Spike raised an eyebrow and looked at Giles. "New Slayer?"

Giles nodded.

Of course. He wondered why Slayers always came in such tiny packages. Something about lulling the enemy into a false sense of confidence, he reckoned. At least he'd never had to worry about Dawn ever being chosen. Bit was too damned tall to be a Slayer. Speaking of ... he scanned the crowd, finally taking in their faces. No sign of her. No sign of anyone he knew. Just a bunch of strangers who hated him a whole hell of a lot.

"The Slayer's right," said someone behind him. "He may not be wired, but if he escapes he could lead Adam's army right to us."

That voice, Spike knew. His hackles raised, he tore his arm out of Gunn's grasp and turned around. He slipped into game face at the sight of the bastard and lunged. The boy yelped and jumped against the wall as several pairs of arms wound around Spike and held him back.

"You're willing to work with him?!" he and the boy both shouted.

"Calm down, Warren," Giles said, stepping between them.

"But he just--"

Giles raised a hand to shush him, then looked at Spike. "You're really not helping your case."

"You'd do well to keep your eye on this one, Giles. Not a good idea letting Señor Sociopath here run loose."

"Yeah, like you're one to talk, vampire," said Warren.

"Warren, please." Giles turned back to Spike. "Whatever he did in your reality, here he's done nothing wrong, and has in fact been a great help to our cause."

"I still can't believe you're gonna believe that cockamamie story of his," Warren said.

"Oh yeh, Robot Boy? Tell me, how's the girlfriend? You get her built before Adam screwed up your plans for world domination, or was she still in the planning stages?"

"She -- that -- " Warren glanced around at the others, giggling nervously. "I have no idea what he's talking about. Must be on some kind of vampire crack."

"That's enough!" Giles barked, and everyone came to attention. Spike willed his features to return to human.

"The geek has a point," said Gunn. "Why're we putting any stock in anything this son of a bitch says? Where's Shortstop with that truth spell?"

"Good question." Giles went out into the hall. "Jonathan!" he called. "Is everything ready?"

"Hold on!" replied a nasally voice, and in a moment the short nerd appeared. Spike rolled his eyes. Brilliant. His fate would be determined by Curly and Moe. He scanned the crowd again. No sign of Shemp.

"There's a problem," Jonathan said. "We don't have all the ingredients for the truth spell."

Giles sighed, and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. "Lovely."

"Guess you'll have to let me kill him," said the Slayer.

"Lauren, please. You're not helping."

"I bet it wouldn't have worked anyway," said Warren. "If he's so willing to let us do one, he's probably warded against it."

Spike spared a moment to glare at Warren, then jerked away from Gunn. "Look, you don't need a bloody truth spell. You." He pointed at the short one. "Jonathan. I know you. You used to worship the Scooby gang."

"Did not!" said Jonathan. Spike raised an eyebrow at him, and he shuffled his feet. "Well, I mean, Buffy was all cool with her superpowers, and they saved my life and stuff."

A demon entered behind Jonathan, all floppy ears and baggy skin. Spike grinned. "Clement!"

Clem looked up, startled. "Yeah?"

"How's Petunia?"

His eyes narrowed. "My mother is just fine, no thanks to you. She's safe, and somewhere you won't find her."

Spike sighed, and rubbed his temples. His head hurt. "Where the hell is Harris? I could dish all kinds of dirt on him."

"He's dead."

Spike looked at Giles. His hands fell limp at his sides. "How ..." He swallowed. "Did I ..."

"No." Giles came to stand next to him, and stared at the fissure in the floor. "You say you were there the night the Vahrall demons attempted to sacrifice themselves and open the Hellmouth?"

"Yeh. We were all there. Me, Xander, Willow ... Buffy and G.I. Schmoe ..."

Giles nodded. "Well in this reality, neither you nor Willow were with them." He smiled, but it lacked any mirth. "Willow had already been turned, you see."

Spike closed his eyes. "Yeh."

"Apparently, that made all the difference. While Buffy and Riley were busy fighting two of the demons, the third managed to throw Xander into the Hellmouth."

Spike looked up at the ceiling, and sighed. Figured. Halfrek took away his chip, then stranded him in a world where the one person he wanted to hit more than anything was long dead. Ha bloody ha. He looked back at Giles. "There was no love lost between Xander and me," he said, "but I never wished the boy dead." He considered this and added, "Least, not recently."

"Hm." Giles eyed the Hellmouth for a moment, then met Spike's gaze. "Though it appears your wish accomplished just that." He put his hands in his pockets, and hung his head.

Clem came over then, and sniffed the air around Spike. "Hey! You guys never said he had a soul!"

Giles's head snapped up.

Kester punched Gunn on the arm. "Told you!"

Giles stepped closer to Spike. "Indeed." He studied him, then raised his eyebrows. "You neglected to mention that."

"Yeh, well. You were already laughing hard enough to piss yourself at the other stuff I told you, didn't want to cause an accident."

Giles smiled a little. "How considerate."

Spike shrugged, then glanced at the rest of his captors. They stared at him -- gobsmacked, the lot of them. He rolled his eyes and dug out his cigarettes.

"Please don't," Giles said. Off Spike's raised eyebrow he added, "This place has very poor ventilation."

With a sigh, Spike put the pack away. "Look. What're you gonna do about all this?"

"Oh, yes. Um, I did some initial research while the gentlemen went to fetch you, and found a few brief mentions of Halfrek in conjunction with Anyanka. No details as yet, though."

"You'll keep looking?"

"Of course. About the other matter, if you have any information that could help us verify --"

"Oh! Yeh, I do. Hang on." Spike fished the contents out of his breast pocket, and looked at them for a moment. The cigarette caught him off guard. He'd almost forgotten. He tightened his palm around it, ran his thumb over the lip imprint on the filter.

"Lucky fag?"

Spike glanced at Giles. "Something like that." He put it back in his pocket, and handed over the other things. "When I was there last night, I managed to nick Finn's passkey."

Giles turned the badge over in his hand, then handed it to Warren.

"Excellent," Warren said. "The magnetic strip should hold all kinds of data, it might be just what I need to finally crack their firewall."

"Great," said Spike. He pointed at the napkin that Giles still held. "Also got a map of the place."

Giles unfolded the napkin, and raised an eyebrow at Spike. "Hand drawn on a cocktail napkin?"

Spike snorted. "I'll wager it's more accurate than anything Barry Ween here'll find in the Initiative database. I mean, yeh, it's been a couple years and I drew it from memory, but still." He pointed at a spot on the map. "Buffy's being kept here. There's a secret lab behind it, won't show up on any official maps. And there are passageways leading out from there."

Giles nodded, and handed the map to Warren. "I'm sure it will be useful. Anything else?"

Spike shook his head. "I wasn't there very long. I did see that they've got just about every inch of that place under surveillance, and Adam's got a constant eye on the monitors."

"That's to be expected," said Giles.

"There is one other thing," Spike told him.

"What's that?"

"They've ... they've also got Tara."

Giles stared blankly. "Who's Tara?"

Spike closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "'Course, you never would've met, what with Willow being dead ..." He opened his eyes. "She's a friend. One of the Scoobies ... or, she was, in my world, at least. She's a witch. Not as powerful as Willow, but she could help. We should try to spring her, too."

Giles considered this. "A witch, you say?"

Spike nodded.

"She must've been taken when Adam rounded up all the magic users."

"That's when they got Andrew and Tucker," Jonathan said. "I barely made it out of there. Did a glamor to make myself look like Adam. Stupid vampires bought it." He glanced at Spike. "No offense."

"I remember," Giles said. "I narrowly escaped capture myself." He looked at Spike. "We'll look into what you've told us." He turned to Gunn and Kester. "Take him to the teacher's lounge. That door still has a working lock."

"Still don't trust me, Rupes?"

"In a word, no." He adjusted his glasses. "Although I dare say, I am inclined to believe you."

Spike nodded, and turned to follow Gunn.

"Oh, and Spike? If you are lying ..."

"Yeh, yeh. Unbearable pain and incomparable suffering." He looked hard at Giles. "She's there, Rupert."

Giles held his gaze for a moment, then nodded at Gunn.

"Let's go, Soul Man," Gunn said, and led him down the hall.

***

This room wasn't in as bad a shape as the rest of the school. The door was still intact, for one thing. There were spots on the walls where the paint had liquefied and boiled, then dried that way, but for the most part it looked untouched by the fire. Most of the room's furnishings had obviously been moved out or cannibalized for other things, but a table and a single chair sat off to one side. Spike lay stretched out on the table, counting the holes in the slightly charred ceiling tile.

The door creaked open, and he propped himself up on his elbows. Giles entered, carrying a stack of books, a coffee mug balanced precariously on top. As Giles shut the door behind him, Spike sat up and swung his legs around to dangle off the table.

Giles nodded as he plunked the books down. "Thought you might as well make yourself useful." He pointed at the books. "These all have various mentions of vengeance and justice in demon societies. Might be something about Halfrek in there."

Spike grabbed a book off the top and flipped through it. "Don't suppose there's any chance of getting help from Anya."

"Ah, no. No, she left town shortly after Xander ..." He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we haven't heard from her since." He indicated the mug. "This is for you. It's chicken. Probably not as good as your usual drink, but it's got to be better than squirrel."

Spike picked it up and sniffed the contents, then took a sip. "Thanks."

"Certainly." Giles adjusted his glasses.

"Something on your mind, Rupert?"

Giles looked sideways at Spike, then nodded. "You'll be happy to know that Warren was able to use the data from the passkey you provided to hack into the Initiative's surveillance archives."

"And?"

"We saw her."

"Oh." Spike set his mug down. "What did you see, exactly?"

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them. "Footage of her being led around the place, mostly. Some of ... of the laboratory experiments ... My God, Spike. The things they did to her ..."

"There a camera in her cell?"

Giles's hand shook as he put his glasses back on. "There doesn't appear to be."

Spike closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. 'Course there wasn't. He'd be dust already if Giles had seen the things that went on inside 314.

"You were right," Giles continued. "Getting her out of there is imperative."

"We have a plan, then?"

"We're devising one. The map you drew should prove useful. Warren is working on accessing the main security feed. Once he does he should be able to bugger up the cameras."

"How long?"

"A few hours."

"Then we can go tonight."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Yes, we. Or more accurately, me. I'm the only one who has legitimate reasons to be there, if I get caught. I'm also the only one who knows my way around that place, not to mention the tunnels ... 'Sides, I'm the most expendable person you've got."

"True. Of course, you're also the one who stands to gain the most by betraying us."

Spike hung his head and sighed.
"Though I suppose we ought to be able to come up with some sort of precautionary measures to ensure that you don't."

Spike shrugged. "Whatever makes you feel better, mate."

"Having Buffy here will make me feel better." Giles also sighed. "I can't argue that you're not the most logical choice for the mission. Once Warren is in I'll come back and we can finalize the plan."

"Right. Good."

Giles nodded, and turned to leave.

"Rupert ... something else."

"Yes?"

"Buffy's family. They ... they make it through all this okay?"

Giles put his hands in his pockets as he considered the question. "After the first battle with Adam, I got her mother safely away to Los Angeles. But she took ill and passed away soon after. I have no idea what became of Buffy's father."

Spike nodded. "And Dawn?"

"I don't know of anyone named Dawn."

Spike barked out a disbelieving laugh. "What do you mean you don't know her? She's Buffy's sis--" Suddenly he couldn't speak because an invisible hand plunged past his ribcage and clutched his heart. He slid off the table and staggered to the chair, but he didn't sit down. "Oh, God."

"Are you all right?" Giles took a hesitant step toward him.

"Oh, God, I ... how could I ..." He sunk into the chair as his knees gave out, and he struggled to draw breath before he remembering that he didn't need it. He looked up at Giles. "I made Dawn not exist."

"Spike, who --" He stopped at the sound of shattering porcelain, and stared in irritation at the blood running down the wall. "We slaughtered that chicken special for you, you know."

Spike barely heard him. He paced the room, trying to work it all out. "Buffy couldn't exactly protect the Key if she was all locked up, could she?" He ran a hand through his hair, tugged at a fistful in frustration. "Monks probably turned her into a bleeding toothpick or somesuch. God!" He stopped pacing and looked at Giles. "Well, whatever they did with her, it must've worked, 'cause you're all still here." He looked around the room and shook his head. "'Course, it's not like anyone in this world'd notice if Glory unleashed a little hell on her way back home."

Giles leaned against the table, casting a wary glance at Spike. "I'll just take it on faith that you're carrying on about events from your own timeline and that you're not a bloody raving loony."

Feeling slightly more calm, Spike nodded.

"Who is Dawn?"

"Buffy's kid sis."

"But Buffy never had a sister."

"Yeh." Spike went to lean next to Giles. "Let's just say she was adopted." No sense trying to explain the Key.

"I take it you care for her."

Spike nodded, then frowned at Giles's raised eyebrow. "Not like that, you wanker. Bit's just a kid. Promised Buffy I'd look after her." He shook his head. "Doing a damn fine job of that, ain't I? Wishing her out of existence and all ..."

"Yes, well." Surprisingly, Giles put a hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known."

Spike looked at the hand, then at Giles. Then he sighed. "Yes, I bloody well could have. I should have!" He shrugged off the hand and paced some more. "I have to fix this, Giles. We'll summon D'Hoffryn himself, get me to Arashmahar if you have to." He stopped. "I have to make it right."

Giles regarded him for a moment, then stood up. "We'll keep looking, Spike. I'm afraid that's all I can promise." He pointed at the books. "I'm sure the solution will come."

Spike nodded. "Thanks, Rupert."

"For what?"

He managed a small smile. "For the benefit of the doubt, however slim. S'more than I usually get."

Giles nodded. "Try to get some rest," he said. "If Warren is successful, we'll have a busy night."

As Giles left, Spike turned to the pile of books on the table. He picked up the one he'd been looking at. Lots of reading to do. It would take time, but if the way to Halfrek was in one of these, he'd find it. He had nothing but time. If it took him an eternity, he'd find it.

And meanwhile? Maybe he could make up for some of the damage this world's Spike had done. Rescuing Buffy would be a start. They were close. Had to hand it to Warren, the kid knew his stuff. Tonight, Spike would go get her, and give her back to Giles. He'd make things better for her, somehow. Whatever it took.

At least he could do that much right.

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