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He was supposed to meet Dru in the graveyard to complete the final transfer from the actor to himself, but at this rate his chances were slim to none of making it work. Spike had wanted to cut out his own tongue when, out of nowhere, he'd started to explain to every stinking human in the room exactly what he had planned. Dru claimed to be able to transfer his life force from James Marsters to himself, and since she had been able to do basically anything she wanted since the "cure" succeeded, Spike obeyed. He was doing that a lot lately, a truth that was not pleasing. "And the guy's not even British!" he muttered, amusing himself by plucking tufts of grass from the soil with his foot.
What could possibly have made him do such a thing? Perhaps more accurately, who? Most of the actors who "played" did just that: play at it. No one could have been able to match him in the whole lot, especially not the prima donna Slayer girl. Then again, Spike had just had his whole world turned upside down. It was hard to admit, but a *movie actress* had soundly whipped him in a fight. And the episode with the falling down! He was lucky that all the flunkies inside the library were staked; if the news of the master's inadequacy got back to the rest of the minions, Spike could have been preparing for a coup rather than trying to return himself to full strength.
He was contemplating how embarrassing it was to lose total control over one's body in front of a bunch of mere mortals when she came up behind him, dragging the limp body of the target like a rag doll. Drusilla was directly over his unsuspecting ear as Spike pondered his fate in front of the headstone.
"Spike!" she whispered loudly, sending him sailing twenty feet in the air. All Dru did was giggle, letting the unconscious Marsters rest on the ground.
"Don't DO that, darling," he admonished, turning around to see her. "Really, you scared me."
"What did you think I was?" Dru asked sweetly. "A ghost? Did I go 'boo' for Spikey? Did I scare my sweetheart deadly darling with my veil of white?"
Alternately confused and disgusted with this kind of behavior, Spike looked her up and down. Drusilla was wearing a black dress, not white, and there was no time for jokes. This nuttiness had never bothered him before, but now that Spike was out of the position of power he found that it pissed him off royally.
"Uh, no," he answered, walking around the side of the stone block and inspecting the body. It was unharmed and ready for the spell-casting. All that remained to be seen was if Dru knew what she was doing or was just bluffing. "Well, time to go, then."
"Yes, time to go!" she screeched, clapping her hands. Then, with her head on Spike's chest, gripping her catch by his collar: "Where are we going?"
"Dru!" He pushed her off and caught her by the shoulders, shoving his angry face into hers, determined to sink this one piece of information into her space-cadet brain. Sometimes she even reminded him of a human, she was so simple-minded. And yet so powerful. It wasn't fair! He had done it all for her, why did *he* have to be the weak one? "We're going back to the house, baby, remember? *Remember*? To make all the life go out of Mr. Marsters. To make me twice the man I used to be. Remember, kitten? We're going to waste a mind." He grinned at his own awful humor. "It's a terrible thing. But we like that."
She shook her head like an over-eager puppy and grinned at him. "Yes. Waste a mind. Terrible thing. Mr. Marsters."
"That's the weirdest," Buffy said to herself, picking up a magazine from the wooden coffee table. "Um, Josh? Can I have this?"
He craned his neck from the laptop on his desk to where the Slayer was. "Yeah, sure. Why not, it'll confuse the hell out of your friends." And, watching the teen brighten up at the unique privilege of owning a real magazine with "her" picture on it, he added, "It's *Joss*, actually, Buffy. Even the people at 'YM' couldn't get that right. But it's a good article anyway."
"Thanks," Buffy replied, and parked herself on the sofa, flipping through it, remarking to herself on how good "she" looked.
"You're right, Buffy," Willow said as she sat behind her friend. "Not only is it the weirdest, it's total proof of the existence of these alternate dimension things. Remember who was on the cover of this month's 'YM' in Sunnydale?"
"Yeah!" the blonde teen cried, proud of herself for putting two and two together. "The girl who played the murdering nanny in that soap opera 'Au Pair'. You're saying that she's real here?"
"Look." Willow put a newspaper blaring the headline NANNY CONVICTION OVERTURNED next to the two magazine covers. Sure enough, they were identical, right down to the last letter of the teasers and the font colors. Even the cover story said: "Mary Jones spills on being Louise Woodward, facing the death penalty, and her most embarrassing moments."
"That," Aly said dryly, reading over the two girls' shoulders, "is exactly why I hate teen magazines."
"Joss, this isn't a game," Sarah burst out. "A man's life is at stake!" She started to pace around the room histrionically, only to see Angel staring at her with a not-too-well-hidden smile on his face. "What are you looking at?" she cried. "You - you - VAMP-BOY!" As the soul-cursed stud erupted into laughter, she turned to Joss.
"Make him stop, Joss!" Sarah stomped her foot for emphasis. "He's being mean."
Feeling the need to be diplomatic, Joss Whedon tried to explain to his star. "I gotta back him up, S. You look like a big ninny." He chuckled at his own quote-spouting prowess, but found the Emmy winner unenthused. "No, seriously. Your name is Gellar, not Bernhardt, remember? We've got the situation fully under control."
"And besides," Buffy quipped, "you're not the one with super powers. I can still kick your butt."
A fight was about to break out when Juliet gasped audibly. "Look at the screen!" Her long fingernail, still in Dru-color, pointed at the string of sentences flying like ghost words onto Whedon's laptop. "This is *amazing*."
"Uh-oh," he replied ominously. "It's okay. This can be fixed." Everyone, on cue, rushed to see what the worry was about. Willow, just because she was Willow, read aloud.
"Drusilla laid the body of James Marsters on the immaculate bed, smoothing out his black tee-shirt. 'Not a speck,' she said to herself in a demented whisper. 'Not a speck. Mommy's going to make it all right in just a minute.' 'You're telling me it won't hurt a bit?' Spike asked his paramour. 'That he's just going to stay asleep and all his energy is going to flow into me?' Dru nodded briskly. 'Excellent!' He started rejoicing. 'Soon I'll be above the television show!'" Willow stopped before it got too awful. "They're going to kill him. Now."
"We just better hope there's no tape delay between universes," Buffy said softly.
"Can't you do something, Joss? Get him OUT!" Aly looked on the verge of tears.
"It may be too la ---"
The force of the blast threw them all to the floor. It wasn't a bomb, nor a spell, just the neat sound of two universes colliding. And those assembled in Joss Whedon's trailer could have sworn they heard, almost like a whisper, the mocking voice of Jenny Calendar.
"Happy now, Rupert?"