Author's Note: NC-17 kiddies. Flee, flee! And in case you haven't noticed, I decided to eliminate some of the woe-thy-name-is-Buffy pointless angst from this. It was bad enough that I had to put up with it all S6. I don't need to write about it as well... Also, thanks to everyone who's managed to review despite the fact that ff.net's reviewing system is currently completely fucked up. You people made my day!

Previously: Trio tries to summon Buffy's worst enemy to kill her. They end up bringing S2 Spike into S6. He catches Buffy giving his future self a blowjob in the middle of the cemetery and gets very confused. He confronts S6 Spike. They begin to figure out what's going on. Meanwhile, Buffy can no longer keep her hands off of Spike's sexy body and heads over to his crypt under the pretenses of breaking up with him. And walks in on two Spikes. "Anyone in the mood for a threesome?" that sane, normal part of her brain asks. "Oh shit..." replies the obnoxious, bitchy prude. ~_^

“Well?” Warren demanded as he looked at the screen over Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Um…I think,” Jonathan hastily read the text over again, “that I might have pulled a Spike from the past into the present.”

“That would make more sense,” Andrew nodded, pulling back the top layer of bread on his peanut butter and salami sandwich, sniffing it, wrinkling his nose, and then eating it anyway. “Since we don’t really have to summon Spike since he’s…well, here.”

“A Spike from the past,” Warren said thoughtfully. “This might actually work out after all. Didn’t they used to try to kill each other or something?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? I heard from Ryan who heard from Sandy who heard from Evan who heard from Harmony who heard from Cordelia that Spike was the one to trashed the school to get at her junior year.”

Warren smiled wickedly. “Then maybe this actually was a good idea…”

“Well, well, well… Lookit the tasty morsel that’s decided to visit,” the black t-shirt clad Spike licked his lips suggestively.

“Watch it, mate!” The violet-shirted Spike quickly stepped between Buffy and his past counterpart.

Buffy was still standing in the doorway, a ‘huh?’ look frozen on her face.

“Rushin’ to the lady’s rescue now?” 1997-Spike smiled evilly. “She must be an even better cock-sucker than she looked.”

2002-Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You never talk ‘bout her that way…”

“Or you’ll what? Kill me? Wipe out your entire existence?” his opponent retorted.

“If that’s what it takes…”

Both their eyes flashed yellow simultaneously, and twin low growls rumbled through the room.

Oh, they’re going to fight! That oh-so-unhelpful part of Buffy’s mind was still in control. It conjured up the rather arousing image of the two of them going at it with fists and fangs…while naked…with her in the middle…

The first few blows had already been exchanged when she finally managed to pull herself back from that very happy place. She shook her head dazedly and quickly realized that this fight was going to get out of hand if she didn’t do something about it – and not in the good, Buffy-fulfilling way.

“Spike!”

It was a bit disconcerting to see two platinum heads turn in her direction.

“Um…” she found herself a bit bewildered again. “Stop that,” she gestured to their continued circling of each other. “And what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t take orders from you, Slayer,” the black-shirted Spike flashed her an evil leer and took a swaggering step toward her.

“Watch out, pet,” the other Spike called out. “He’s not me.”

“You know, that’s really funny,” Buffy held her ground, her body tensed, as the black-shirted Spike moved right into her personal space, “because he looks exactly like you.” Her eyes fluttered lightly shut as his hand reached out to brush a lock of her silken blond hair behind her ear.

She heard a snarl and opened her eyes at the loss of contact to discover that the purple-shirted Spike had the black-shirted one pinned to the crypt wall, fangs flashing.

“Mine!” the violet-shirted Spike hissed. “Keep your filthy hands off!”

“They’re your hands too,” the past-Spike remained completely cool at his situation. “If they’re so filthy, maybe you should keep ‘em off.”

“Mine would never hurt her!” the present-Spike insisted.

Buffy was starting to figure things out. The violet-clad vampire was pretty obviously ‘her’ Spike, while the other one was…something different. He did seem strangely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Anyway, she would never get to the bottom of this if she didn’t keep ‘her’ Spike from ripping his throat out.

“Let him go, Spike,” she demanded, resting her hand on her not-quite-lover’s shoulder.

His icy gaze melted as he turned to look at her, and he nodded sheepishly before releasing his quarry.

“Oh, whipped!” the black-clad Spike snorted. “ ‘m ashamed to be you—”

His insult was quickly cut off as Buffy grabbed hold of him where his future-self had let off and shoved him hard into the wall.

“Who. Are. You?” she demanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

“ ‘m Spike,” he shrugged, a delectably evil smirk spreading over his lips at her obvious confusion.

“He’s come from the past,” the more helpful Spike explained. “Near ‘s I can tell, he’s me from right after we first met.”

The past-Spike growled at his future counterpart. Apparently, the wanker had lost all sense of how much fun it was to make the Slayer squirm.

“A time-traveler?” Buffy said incredulously. “Are you sure?”

‘Her’ Spike leaned up against the wall next to his twin so that she could look into his eyes as well. “Knows everything I know,” he shrugged, “up till right after our first fight, that is. ‘e’s got my scent, too. Don’t think there’s any other explanation.”

Buffy nodded and turned to the captive vampire. “Is this true?”

1997-Spike sighed. There was no point in hedging around the truth since his look-alike had already spilled it. “Yeah, near as I can figure it.”

Buffy felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. “Why did you come to this time?” she demanded.

“Oy, now! I had nothin’ ta do with that!” the past-Spike insisted. “Was just mindin’ my own business and then wham! I’m stuck in the middle of this freak show.”

Far too many years of having to try to decipher his mercurial moods led Buffy to the instant conclusion that he was telling the truth.

“Then someone else brought you here…” she said thoughtfully.

“No, really?” 1997-Spike’s voice was dripping sarcasm. “And here I always thought time was spontaneously and randomly whipping me around.”

“I’ll whip you around,” she muttered under her breath.

Unfortunately, vampiric hearing meant that everyone present in the crypt had heard exactly what she had said. ‘Her’ Spike had a rather glazed look in his eyes and was obviously imagining the more pleasant side effects such a situation could bring about. His past self was giving her an I-dare-you-to-try sneer.

Buffy sighed in exasperation. One Spike was difficult enough to deal with at any given time. But two? “We’ll just have to get you back home then,” she decided out loud.

“That was what we’d decided,” ‘her’ Spike added.

“If I let you go, will you behave yourself?” she demanded of the vamp from her past.

“Define ‘behave’,” he leered at her suggestively.

Buffy groaned. Two hormone-addled vampires for the price of one…just great! “Will you refrain from trying to kill me until we can figure out how to take you back?” she said in a patronizingly slow voice, as if he were a child.

His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly, but then he shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, why not? Anything to get back to Dru…”

Buffy saw ‘her’ vampire flinch out of the corner of her eye at the mention of his ex’s name. She released the Spike in front of her and turned to the other. He gave her the dreaded we-need-to-talk look, but for once she wasn’t worried that the topic would be some detail of their relationship that she didn’t want to discuss.

“You wait here,” she told the past-Spike. “Spike and I need to talk first, and then we’ll try to sort this all out.”

“Right then,” the past-Spike looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously. “I’ll just run out and grab a bite to eat then.”

It took Buffy and Spike a few seconds for his words to pierce their lust-filled brains.

“No!” they both shouted out comically at the same time when they realized what ‘grabbing a bite to eat’ actually meant.

1997-Spike paused at the door. “ ‘m hungry,” he insisted.

“No biting people!” Buffy ordered.

“There’s blood in the fridge,” Spike suggested.

“ ‘m not drinking some old, stale blood from your fridge!” past-Spike exclaimed.

“Oh yes, you are,” Buffy took a threatening step toward him. “No Happy Meals on Legs for you.”

“And you’re going to stop me?” past-Spike scoffed incredulously. “Just remember, you kill me, lover boy over there goes poof too.”

“Who said I was going to kill you?” Buffy gave him a little smile and took a hesitant step toward him.

1997-Spike felt an unneeded breath catch in his chest. He could still smell his future self’s cum on her lips, and he was having a very difficult time trying not to get turned on by this fact. His body was stubbornly protesting, its instincts immediately classifying her as ‘mate’.

She took another step toward him, her hips swaying slightly.

He found his lips suddenly very dry, and subconsciously he moistened them.

As it was, he was so distracted that he had completely forgotten about his twin until he found himself suddenly tackled to the ground.

The Slayer’s demeanor instantly changed. “You still have those chains around here?” she demanded.

“Lower level, in the bottom drawer of the dresser,” Spike informed her, struggling to keep his past self from escaping. “Hurry!” he added to her retreating form as he got a rather nasty elbow in the face.

Buffy practically fell down the ladder and quickly scrambled over to the dresser. She found what she was looking for almost immediately and ran back to the sounds of struggle overhead.

She paused briefly at the sight of the two all-too-gorgeous male bodies grappling with each other, muscles rippling… Shaking her head, she snapped one of the cuffs around evil-Spike’s right wrist.

He seemed to realize the futility of his struggles at this point and slumped sullenly in less-evil-Spike’s arms.

They got him chained up to the wall without much protest other than his constantly dragging feet. Only when he was safely secure did Buffy let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Who knew that manhandling Spike could be so much work? She was far too used to him wanting to be manhandled.

“He needs to eat,” Spike informed her from his perch atop the stone sarcophagus.

“You have extra blood?” Buffy asked.

“Not too much. I need to go to Willie’s to get more.”

She nodded. “You do that. I’ll feed him.”

“Right then,” Spike headed for the door. “Feeding time,” he informed his past self. “It’s a right fun time, that. You get lucky and you’ll get a good look down her blouse.”

“What?!” Buffy spun around to find that he had already wisely fled.

She turned back to look at the once again leering vampire tied up before her. Self-consciously she crossed her arms over her chest as her face turned bright red.

“I’ll…um…go get blood,” she hastily fled from that lustful gaze.

“Oh boy, feeding time,” her enemy’s voice called out after her.

“Oh no!” With an abrupt start, Jonathan’s eyes shot open.

“What now?” Warren sighed in exasperation. He’d quickly discovered that the most unfortunate side effect to his ever asking his co-conspirators to do anything was that they kept second-guessing it hours and even days later.

“ ‘Back to the Future’!” Jonathan exclaimed.

“It’s on now?” Andrew suddenly looked alarmed. “And we’re missing it?!”

“No,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “We’ve created our own version of ‘Back to the Future’!”

“Huh?” Andrew and Warren looked at him with identical confused looks.

“Time-travel! Spike! Bad temporal paradoxes!” he clarified.

“So…you’re saying that Spike’s mother is going to fall in love with him?” Andrew asked hesitantly.

“Of course he isn’t, you idiot!” Warren rolled his eyes. “We brought Spike forward in time, not back! So, er…what is the problem?”

“Last year when those vampires attacked the local sci-fi convention,” Jonathan said.

“Yeah?”

“Well, Spike sort of saved my life that night.”

“And?”

“If I brought him forward in time, then he won’t be there to save me,” Jonathan explained.

“Which means you’ll die,” Warren nodded.

“Which means you won’t be able to cast the spell,” Andrew began, “which means Spike won’t come forward in time, which means you’ll live, which means you’ll cast the spell, which means—”

“Shut up!” Warren and Jonathan cried out in unison.

“Wow, I’ve got a headache,” Andrew pressed his fingers to his temples.

“What we seem to have here is the ultimate temporal paradox, my friends,” Warren began.

“You said it,” Jonathan agreed.

“Which means we must consult the ultimate source on such matters,” Warren continued.

“Uh-huh,” his two companions nodded.

“To the Star Trek Encyclopedia!” they cried out in unison.

“Drink.”

“No.”

“C’mon Spike, this is getting old!”

“You can’t make me.”

“Argh!” Buffy’s hands flew up in the air in exasperation.

The past-Spike sat back against the wall, a far too cocky smile on his face.

“You are the most obnoxious, infuriating, conceded, obnoxious vampire on the planet!” she exclaimed.

“You said ‘obnoxious’ twice there, pet,” he pointed out.

“I hate you.” She gave him the Evil Glare Of Death.

“The feeling’s more than mutual, Slayer,” he gave her a lopsided smirk.

“I can just let you starve, you know,” she pointed out, trying as hard as she could not to be turned on by his deep, sensual voice. Must resist evil undead! Her mind insisted. Can have fun with not-so-evil undead when all this is over.

“You’d let me starve?” a sound of mock-hurt made its way into his tone. “After all we’ve been through together?”

“We’ve fought once,” Buffy retorted matter-of-factly.

“That and I got a good look at you and me in the cemetery earlier this evening,” he said slyly. “Got to admit I didn’t think you had it in you, Slayer.”

Buffy’s face turned a dark maroon. “You…you…saw…”

“Best wank I’ve had in a long time, too, luv,” he practically purred. “Wouldn’t mind a repeat…”

His face stung with the force of her slap.

“You…you pig!” she exclaimed, cursing herself for her lack of ingenuity. Then she remembered that this Spike hadn’t heard five years of ‘you, pig’s yet. “You complete and utter pig!” she stuck by her earlier assessment.

“Oink, oink,” he smiled, completely unperturbed by her rage. “C’mon, Slayer. Take it off.” He indicated one of the twin dusters that she’d wrapped tightly around herself to keep him from enjoying feeding time a bit too much.

She wound up to explode at him again, but then decided she was too weary. “If I take it off, will you eat?” she said tiredly.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, luv,” he nodded.

Buffy sighed and threw the duster back over onto the chair with its twin. She held up the mug of warmed blood before him.

“Just a bit more,” he pressed her.

Without thinking, she unfastened the top two buttons of her low-cut pale blue sweater, giving him a good look at her cleavage.

“That’s as much as you’re getting,” she informed him, thrusting the mug into his face.

He nodded and began to drink, his eyes never leaving her newly exposed flesh. Buffy noticed an all-too-familiar bulge growing at the front of his jeans. She knew she should be disgusted. After all, this wasn’t even the somewhat-decent Spike who loved her. This Spike was pure, unashamed vampire. She really should be revolted.

So why wasn’t she feeling anything much beyond her own arousal and intense feminine satisfaction at the fact that she could affect him so even before he loved her?

She was a sick, sick person. It was the only explanation.

Well, if you’re already that warped, the bad, Spike-lusting part of her brain set in, you might as well have fun while you’re at it…

She pulled the mug from his lips as he finished. His crystal blue gaze moved upward to meet hers. Their eyes locked. And then Buffy noticed a small trickle of blood escaping down the side of his mouth. That blood just needed to be cleaned off…

Her head moved of its own accord until her lips were right over the small trail. His eyes shut tight, and he breathed in her heady scent. Her tongue traced her own lips before reaching out…

And the door of the crypt flung open.

Buffy leapt backward as if burned, her skin turning bright red from her forehead right down to her heaving breasts.

“Get him to eat?” Spike said as he headed over to the refrigerator to store the blood he had just bought.

“Uh…yeah,” she gulped when she realized what had almost happened. This is getting ridiculous! Her brain tsked at her. Now you’re worried about Spike catching you with himself!

Unfortunately, Spike knew her far too well to miss the desperate tone in her voice. One look at her rapid breathing and the dazed look on his twin’s face was enough for him to piece together what he’d just broken up.

“We need to talk,” he repeated his sentiments from earlier, a slight growl entering his voice at the thought of his woman with anyone else…even another version of himself.

“Er…um…” She didn’t have time to get out much more than that before he caught her firmly by the wrist and practically dragged her down to the lower level of his crypt.

“Oh sure!” 1997-Spike called out after them. “Let me get her all worked up so that you can reap the benefits!”

I apologize for the lamentable PG-13 qualities of that chapter. I don't know what got into me. The next one is hardcore NC-17, I assure you. Go read now! And review! Pretty please? (If it's at all physically possible, that is...)