“And then they said it could be a parallel universe and started talking all this rubbish about television and silly fiction novels!” Lynda was holding court back at the Magic Box. “I mean, honestly. It just goes to show, stupidity isn’t limited to the human world.”

Giles looked thoughtful.

“Parallel universe. Yes . . .” he started drawing a table up on a piece of paper with two columns. “Buffy, Lynda. Spike, Spike.”

Blond Spike rolled his eyes.

“I see where you’re going,” said Spike Thompson. “For all the people in your world, there is someone similar in our world. In that case, write down Xander next to Kenny.”

Understanding dawned on Lynda. “Why didn’t someone say so in the first place? Giles and Sullivan!”

“Have you got a brainy girl-type?” Buffy asked. “To match Willow?”

“Sarah!” Spike and Lynda replied together.

“Self-centred, money-obsessed . . .”

“Colin!” the pair chorused. Giles wrote “Colin” opposite “Anya”.

“Precocious kid sister?”

Down went “Tiddler” next to “Dawn”.

“What about Tara?” Buffy asked.

“Never mind Tara. What about Frazz?” Lynda asked.

“There can be only one,” replied Spike Thompson, solemnly. “Well, let’s hope anyway.”

“It doesn’t quite fit though,” said Buffy. “If Giles met Lynda in England, and I knew Spike – American Spike – before I came to Sunnydale . . . how can they be parallel?”

“Spoilsport,” said blond Spike. “Haven’t you ever heard of a wormhole? A rent in the fabric of space and time? A breach between universes? Some people can travel between them, you know. Don’t you ever watch television?” He leaned back in his chair and began whistling. “Ooo-weeee-ooooo . . . weeeeee-oooo . . . now that is a good show. Doctor Who. I’ve seen every single episode on original transmission. Even the lost ones that the BBC wiped. Prats.”

“Really? What were they like?” Giles couldn’t help but sound interested. “Can you remember . . .”

“I hate to break up the fan club meeting but where does this all leave us?” Lynda asked. “We go back to Norbridge and I’m punching through walls and sticking pencils in people?”

“Business as usual,” brunette Spike quipped.

“I’d be surprised if you remember any of it, to be honest,” said Giles. “Sunnydale has a way of disappearing from memory . . . and I have a theory that the further Lynda gets away from here, the less her powers will be. It’s probably for the best.”

“But we still haven’t worked it out!” Lynda protested. “We can’t just wrap it up without knowing why we came here and why I wasn’t the Potential and, for that matter, who the real Potential is and . . .”

Lynda was still protesting as she was bundled into the car and Spike turned to say his goodbyes.

“Good to see you again, Buffy. Nice to meet you all. Totally weird and off the planet and frankly, I can’t wait to get out of this place . . . but nice.”

“You too, Spike,” replied Buffy.

“It’s been a pleasure,” added Giles, formally.

“Oh, and good luck with that.” Buffy nodded at the irate Lynda who was glaring out of the passenger side window.

“Thanks. Good luck to you,” Spike replied.

“What for?” Buffy asked.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” He winked at blond Spike who rolled his eyes.

Buffy turned, puzzled. “What is he talking about?”

“Good luck for not dying of boredom at this conversation,” blond Spike drawled before swaggering off into the night.

“Well, I suppose I should . . .” Spike was cut off by a loud horn honking and turned to face Lynda.

“Yeah, yeah!” He turned back. “Anyway, as I was . . .”

This time, the interruption was a sound of shattering glass. He turned to see a guilty-looking Lynda and broken glass where the passenger window used to be.

“I only tapped on it,” she said, meekly.

“Right. That’s it; we’re getting away from here.” Spike jumped into the driver’s side and sped out of Sunnydale.

Giles and Buffy watched as the black SUV disappeared from view and started walking back towards the Magic Box.

“Giles?”

“Mmm?”

“You know how you said Lynda’s powers would diminish the further she got from Sunnydale?”

“Mmm.”

“You were totally lying. She’s got it for life, hasn’t she?”

Giles coughed. “Err, well . . .”

“Shall we just say ‘Mmm’?”

“Mmm!”

*Press Gang theme*

“Grr. Argg.”