Title: Doing The Time Warp 1/5
Author: Gileswench
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Date: 3/6/02
Spoilers: Through As You Were
Summary:Riley makes a wish...and accidentally sets a lot of things right.
Rating: NC17 for graphic naughtiness of het, slash, and femslash varieties
Pairing: Buffy/Giles...and a lot of others.
Category: Sillyfic, smut with a lashing of romace and angst to fill things out
Distribution: If you've had my permission in the past, you have it now. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Notes: This comes to you courtesy of Kat's Gloveslap #109, which reads as follows:
Nothing better than a celebratory orgy for the return of the Wench.
Your participants: season three Buffy, season one (of Buffy) Angel (no curse need apply), season two Angelus, season two Spike *and* season six Spike (like he could keep his hands off himself if he came across his twin), season five Willow, season three (of Buffy) Cordelia, and whatever season Giles (preferably semi-Ripper), in any pairings/sharings you like.
Must haves: SMUT!, food products, tweed hanky, awareness by the characters that they're from different times, and season six Spike and season two Angelus having a conversation about Buffy's abilities in bed. Have fun!"

Notes2: Dialogue has been borrowed from the following episodes: Angel, Halloween, I Only Have Eyes For You, The Prom, Graduation 2, Tough Love, As You Were, and Bargaining 1.

Notes 3: WARNING: this fic contains references to bondage and sub/dom relationships. The references are fairly mild, but if it bothers you, don't say I didn't warn you.

Dedication: To Kat, who is very, very sick, indeed, and to Rari Coss who has encouraged this madness every step of the way. Last, but certainly not least, to Fabrisse who gave me the idea that Riley's Wife-O-Matic 5000 might be a demon...and another term that really needed to be used.

Riley sat staring into the fire, his mind miles away from his body. He barely looked up when Sam came to join him.

"Here," she said, handing him a tin plate of rations. "Soup's on, Finn. Eat up."

"Not really hungry," he said.

"Come on," she cajoled, "tell me what's bugging you. It's that whole Sunnydale thing, isn't it? Seeing Buffy again really hurt, didn't it?"

"More than I can say. And it's not even...I mean, I don't want...I'm happy with you, Sam. That part of my life is over. I just...I don't even know what it is."

He poked the fire with a stick and sighed in frustration at his inability to put his feelings into words.

"Then let me take a guess," Sam said as she put the two plates down out of harm's way on the ground. "You're upset at how unhappy they all seem. You don't want her back, but you want her to find someone who makes her happy."

"Yeah, but not just Buffy. I want them all to...I dunno. It's crazy of me but..."

"But...?" she prompted.

"I just...I wish all the people I knew then would just go back and make some different decisions so they all get who they deserve to be with."

"Granted."

Riley looked up in shock at his wife. Her voice had turned guttural and her face was covered with ropey veins.

"Uh oh."

******

April, 1997. Buffy's bedroom.

Buffy handed Angel the plastic bag of food a bit awkwardly. She never quite knew how to behave with him. At least he seemed as awkward taking it as she was giving it to him.

"It's a little plateless. Sorry," she babbled. "So, what did you do all day?"

"Uh, I read a little. And just thought about a lot of things. Buffy, I..."

Her eyes went wide. She grabbed up a book and stuffed it hurriedly in a drawer.

"My diary?! You read my diary? That is not okay! A diary is like a person's most private place! I...you don't even know what I was writing about! 'Hunk' can mean a lot of things, bad things. And, and when it says that your eyes are 'penetrating', I meant to write 'bulging'."

"Buffy..."

"And 'A' doesn't even stand for 'Angel' for that matter, it stands for...'Achmed', a charming foreign exchange student, so that whole fantasy part has nothing to even do with you at all..."

"Your mother moved your diary when she came in to straighten up. I watched from the closet. I didn't read it, I swear."

"Oh," Buffy said. "Oh."

Angel hesitated before he spoke again.

"I did a lot of thinking today. I really can't be around you. Because when I am..."

"Hey, no big," Buffy stammered to cover her hurt. "Water...over the bridge, under the bridge..."

"When I am all I can ever think about is how badly I want to kiss you."

"...over the dam...Kiss me?"

*****

October 31, 1997. An abandoned warehouse.

Angel watched helplessly from the sidelines as Spike stalked his prey. Buffy whimpered and retreated. If only she could remember who she was, this would be over. As long as she was convinced she really was an Eighteenth century lady, she was helpless against their captors, and without a Slayer, so were the rest of them.

Spike smiled cruelly as he neared the terrified girl.

"Look at you. Shaking. Terrified. Alone. Lost little lamb," he gloated.

Buffy had retreated as far as she could. Another step and Spike had her in range. He slapped her hard across the face. Buffy cringed and began to cry.

"I love it," Spike smirked.

Angel struggled uselessly against his captors.

"Buffy!" he cried.

Spike closed his hand around Buffy's throat. He grinned as he bent her back over the crate. He bared his fangs.

*****

April 1998. Sunnydale High.

Buffy stared in shock at the crumpled figure of Angelus on the ground below the balcony. She still held the gun in her nerveless fingers. As if in a daze, she went to the band room. She knew the record player was there, and she knew exactly what record was on the turntable. She turned it on and set the needle down.

As the room filled with the mellow, melancholy strains of I Only Have Eyes For You, she steadied her nerves. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought of what she needed to do. Raise the pistol, squeeze the trigger. A nice even pressure would do the job.

She raised her hand. Another hand covered hers and pushed it down. She looked up in shock to see Angelus, her Angel, and yet Grace Stanley there.

She had no power to determine her next words. They didn't matter. She saw the one she loved.

"Grace," she breathed.

"Don't do this."

"But - but I killed you."

"It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"Oh, it is my fault. How could I..."

"Shhh," He soothed her, "I'm the one who should be sorry, James. You thought I stopped loving you. But I never did. I loved you with my last breath."

All Buffy could do was shed the tears James had held in his heart for so many years. Tears of regret, of guilt, of love. Angelus tenderly wiped them away.

"Shhh...No more tears."

He bent his head and kissed her, just as Grace willed. James kissed her back with all the passion and all the love a teenager could give. Even as both felt the spell lift, the kiss continued another moment. Suddenly Angelus stiffened and pulled away. Buffy opened her eyes and stared at him, slightly dazed.

"Angel?"

*****

May, 1999. Sunnydale High Gym.

Buffy looked around herself, pleased with her accomplishment if not exactly happy for herself. Sure she had a great dress and the hellhounds were all gone. She'd even gotten some completely unexpected recognition for her efforts as Slayer. She knew it was shallow of her to keep wishing Angel would somehow appear and at least dance with her, if not change his mind and stay, but sometimes hearts are shallow.

Still, her heart was definitely lifted when Giles came over to her. He looked good in his tux. What's more, he looked so proud and happy when he saw her walk in. He was still smiling. She decided happy was a good look for her favorite Watcher.

"You did good work tonight, Buffy," he told her.

"And I got a little toy surprise," she quipped twirling the gaudy little parasol.

Giles smiled shyly at her.

"I had no idea that children en masse could be gracious."

"Every now and then, people surprise you," she reminded him.

"Every now and then," he agreed.

*****

June, 1999. Sunnydale High Library.

Cordelia and Wesley packed boxes of books in a half hearted way. Each kept stealing glances at the other when they thought the other wasn't looking. At last, Wesley steeled himself to speak. He stood and turned to the girl.

"Cordelia?"

She spun around just a little too eagerly to appear as nonchalant as she wanted to.

"Yes?"

"You know that…when this is over…"

"Yes?"

"Uhm, well, should we prevail…I'll be going back to England."

Cordelia turned away to hide the hurt she felt. Great. Another rejection. When had that become a way of life for Cordelia Chase? She plucked another book from the shelf and stowed it safely in a box.

"I know."

Wesley shifted awkwardly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous in his life.

"With Buffy no longer working for the Council, there really is…no place for me here."

He prayed that Cordelia would tell him he was wrong. He'd never wanted so badly to be wrong in all his life.

"I guess not."

Still, something in her tone gave him more hope than the blunt words could ever have done. He clasped his hands and advanced a step.

"No…reason to stay."

Cordelia turned and inched toward him.

"No."

He inched another step closer. He pulled off his glasses.

"No. No…cause to hope that…I might be needed?"

She looked up at him, glassy eyed.

"Needed?"

"Or wanted?"

"Wanted?"

They both leaned in.

*****

May, 2001. Willow's dorm room.

"D-don't you trust me?" Willow asked in a hurt tone.

"With my life," Tara replied simply.

"That's not what I mean."

Tara was tired of arguing. Everything she'd said had turned out to be the wrong thing.

"Can't we just go to the fair?" she pleaded.

"I don't feel real multicultural right now." Willow stood and confronted her lover. "W...what is it about me that you don't trust?"

"It's not that. I worry, sometimes. You're, you're changing so much, so fast. I don't know where you're heading."

"Where I'm heading?"

Tara blew out a frustrated breath at herself.

"I'm saying everything wrong."

"No, I think you're being pretty clear. This isn't about the witchcraft. It's about the other changes in my life."

"I trust you. I just...I don't know where I'm gonna fit in...in your life when..."

"When...I change back? Yeah, this is a college thing, just a, a little experimentation before I get over the thrill and head back to boys' town. You think that?"

"Should I?"

"I'm really sorry that I didn't establish my lesbo street cred before I got into this relationship. You're the only woman I've ever fallen in love with, so...how on earth could you ever take me seriously?"

*****

February, 2002. Spike's crypt.

Spike poked with his boot in the bombed out mess that had been his home for almost two years. It was all gone. Not that it had been much, but it was his until Buffy and Captain Cardboard exploded it to Kingdom Come. Just when he thought unlife couldn't get any worse, Buffy appeared.

"So she's back," he said bitterly. "Thought you'd be off snogging with Soldier Boy."

"He's gone."

Spike raised his head hopefully.

"So you've come for a bit of cold comfort?" He looked away, then back at her. "The bed's a bit blown up, but then that was never our..."

"I'm not here to...and I'm not here to bust your chops about your stupid scheme either. That's just you. I should have remembered."

"Oh this is worse, then isn't it? This is you telling me..."

"It's over."

He smirked slightly.

"I've memorized this tune, luv. Think I have the sheet music. Doesn't change what you want."

"I know that. I do want you. Being with you...makes things...simpler. For a little while."

"Now I don't call five hours straight a little while."

Every nerve in him screamed. She couldn't mean it this time. She couldn't do this to him.

"I'm using you," she told him simply. "I can't love you. I'm just being weak and selfish."

He moved closer. Maybe if he got right in her space...it'd always worked before.

"Really not complaining here."

"And it's killing me."

Spike stared in confusion, but she was still talking.

"I have to be strong about this. I'm sorry...William."

She looked hard at him one more moment as he tried to will her not to turn around, to come back to his arms and break what few possessions he had left, and what little heart was still in his chest as well. She was all he had left. She couldn't walk away.

And then she turned to do just that.

*****

October, 2001. Magic Box. Training Room.

Giles sighed.

"Perhaps Anya's right. Perhaps I am trying to teach you as if you were..."

"Human?" the Buffybot supplied brightly.

"Yes," he responded uncomfortably.

"I like your teachings. Every Slayer needs her Watcher."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you mean?" the bot asked with a confused frown.

"Nothing," he lied as he wiped his face with a towel. Lord, but he was tired! And the wretched thing looked so like Buffy, talked in Buffy's voice. He couldn't help confiding in it almost the way he had with his Slayer, except that he would never have dared say this to the real Buffy. "I just can't help but wonder if...she would have been better off without me. Buffy."

"I don't think that's true," the machine consoled him. "You were very helpful to her."

Giles laughed bitterly.

"Right. Yes, I was a perfect Watcher. I did what any good Watcher would do. Got my Slayer killed in the line of duty."

"Oh, that wasn't your fault."

"Of course not. That's how all Slayer/Watcher relationships end, isn't it?" He put his glasses back on, signifying that all emotional sharing was at an end. "She's gone. I did my job."

"Well, then why are you still here?"

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