Disclaimer: All the characters and any familiar dialog belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I don't make any money off of this.

Author's note: I had written myself a bit of a challenge: What would it be like if the Buffy we saw in the alley in Bargaining didn't get better so quickly? What would happen if that confusion and those feral qualities had remained? And what if she had found Spike in the meantime? This was the story that resulted.

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Fallen Angels by BuffyMeetsSpike


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Prologue
 
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Endless warmth and light. This was what her time consisted of now. A mother’s love, never ending, never leaving. Peace, stretching out in all directions like a blanket. Rest, at long last.
 
Then a voice. Familiar, but unwelcome. Jarring, like someone shattering a glass in a silent church. “Here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!” Then a horrible fall, like the last one, only worse because she was falling away from the light this time. Her mother’s presence unwinding from around her, stretching, then snapping like an overloaded rope. She fell, and fell, the light receding from her as she cried out and struggled. The horrible voice, calling her out of her bliss, echoing in her ears painfully. No! she screamed silently. I’m sorry! Whatever I did I’m sorry! Please, don’t take me away! Please!
 
Her fall ended in a gasp, and she woke to darkness and suffocation. Instinctively she ripped and tore, clawing and digging, collapsing gasping on grass slick with blood. An earsplitting roar came next, as a hot, loud, ghastly machine ripped through the night. She huddled behind a stone in terror as the machine flashed past, controlled by a twisted, deformed figure who laughed and shouted to other such creatures. She curled herself into a ball, willing herself into invisibility as they rocketed past. They flashed by without seeing her, but she stayed curled up for a long time. It was cold, and the blood from the grass had gotten on her hands, and she was coughing dirt out of her lungs. The place she was in was surrounded by carved stones and sinister looking trees.
 
She was in hell, she concluded. Someone had punished her and pulled her out of the warm place, and she had no idea why. Coherent thoughts seemed to come in broken bits and snatches. A lucid moment would be followed by dark confusion in which she could form no words in her mind. She stayed in a fetal position, shuddering and weeping for a long time until the cold got too much for her. She got shakily to her feet, walking nervously in a random direction with her arms wrapped around herself. Soon the trees gave way to pavement, but there was fire and destruction everywhere. More demons, and a dismembered manikin that seemed to look familiar, with its blonde hair and pink sweater. It mocked her, as if to say, “This is your fate.” She whimpered and shied away from it, retreating into the shadows.
 
She wandered on, then suddenly came around a corner to find herself face to face with three of the large demons. As they advanced on her some unknown instinct took over and she fought and kicked and struck them until they fell at her feet. But the second the rush of battle was over the fear and confusion set in again and she ran, blindly, through streets and alleys, trying to somehow flee the chaos.
 
She had run down an alley, looking for a space to hide when suddenly she came upon four figures. They didn’t seem like demons, although they all held weapons, but she was wary, poised to flee as they advanced on her. Then the one with red hair had said, “Buffy?” and her eyes had grown wide with terror. The voice. That had been the voice that had ripped her from the warm place. She shrieked and turned, sprinting off into the night with the four of them calling after her. She still didn’t know what they were, but if they were in league with the one who was punishing her she wanted nothing to do with them.
 
After a while the fires and the broken glass and the hard pavement gave way to more grass and stones and trees, which seemed less completely terrifying to her. Shivering, she made her way deeper into this green space, instinctively seeking shelter. A stone building ahead seemed familiar somehow, like something from a forgotten dream. Letters were carved over the door which meant nothing to her. She slowly, fearfully opened the door listening for any signs of occupation before scampering in and closing the door behind her. The room was dark, lit only by moonlight, but a faint glow came from a small square opening in the corner of the room. Safe place, her mind echoed, although why she thought it was safe, and from whom she thought it was safe she could not say. Warily creeping across the dark room, with its coffins and ironwork throwing weird shadows, she saw a ladder leading down. She crept down the ladder and was astonished to find a room, lit by candles. There was something off about the room. The bed was ornate and luxurious, but the walls were rough stone and dirt. The floor was covered with carpets, but there were weapons and containers that seemed covered in blood. Still, this was the least frightening place she had found since she had been sent to this hell, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes for a while. She found a dark corner, a little ways into a tunnel that led off the room, where she felt she would be sheltered. With her back to the wall she curled up on the floor and fell asleep with tears drying on her face.
 
Chapter 1
 
Spike was more exhausted than he ever remembered being.
 
The usual Dawn minding gig had turned into a battle royal with the biker demons who had figured out that Sunnydale had no Slayer. He had gotten Dawn away from the house, only to lose track of her once they found the Buffybot. She had screamed and run for cover as more bikers had converged on the scene of the robot’s demise. Spike had vamped and roared, fighting more demons than he could count. When he finished, Dawn was nowhere to be found, and he had panicked, combing the streets on his motorcycle. For reasons he couldn’t understand, the bikers seemed to have decided to give up after a while. Doubt it was my fighting skills scaring them off, but I’ll take it, he had mused. When he finally circled back to the Summers house to find that she had made her way back there, the relief had hit him like a wave. The Scoobies had come running in saying, “Is she here?” just as Spike had finished his threat to kill her for giving him the fright of his unlife.
 
What was up with that lot anyhow? Spike wondered idly to himself as he continued making his way to his crypt. When they had run in, they had seemed relieved to see Dawn, but also somewhat… disappointed, as if they had been expecting something else. They had seemed more interested than usual in getting Spike to go home, practically shoving him out the door. They’re hiding something, but damned if I know what, he mused. As his crypt appeared in the distance, he decided that whatever it was would have to wait until he had some blood, some whiskey, and some sleep, in that order.
 
He entered his crypt, pausing to light a few candles before he took off his duster. As he did he noticed a faint scent that distinctly and heartbreakingly reminded him of the Slayer. Must be from Dawn clinging to me on the bike, he guessed. Dawn’s scent reminded him constantly of her sister, which was both comforting and painful by turns. He tossed the duster on his one armchair and examined his t-shirt. A demon had raked him good with his claws, shredding both his shirt and his chest. Great. Must be the tenth shirt I’ve destroyed this month. Grumbling he pulled off the shirt and tossed it in the corner to deal with later. His chest didn’t look as bad as it felt, just scratched a bit, so he decided to forgo bandaging it and just go straight for his blood supply. In between sips he cleaned the dirt off his face with water and a handkerchief, which did a lot toward improving his mood. He downed a pint of blood, followed it with about half a pint of whiskey in one go, and decided it was time to crash for a few hours. He kicked off his boots and socks and made his way, barefoot and bare-chested, to the trapdoor leading to his lower level.
 
At the top of the stairs he stopped. He could hear a heartbeat. Someone sleeping in my bed? he wondered. He turned and grabbed a knife off a nearby sarcophagus and slowly crept down the stairs, all senses on full alert. The scent of Slayer was there again, stronger this time. Puzzled, Spike continued stalking around the room, following the scent and the heartbeat until he reached the far corner of the room and spied a small figure, curled up in a ball. As he approached she startled awake with a gasp and cringed back away from him, eyes wide and terrified. Spike’s jaw dropped and his blue eyes grew enormous as he tried to get his brain around what he was seeing. “Buffy?” he breathed. He took in the green eyes, the deceptively delicate limbs, and the long blonde hair of the woman he had loved and lost. How..? All at once he became aware that she was frightened and put the knife down on a nearby dresser, opening his hands and slowly kneeling down to her level. “Buffy? Is that really you, love?”
 
She had wakened and instantly went on the alert for whatever new torment was going to be thrown at her. Then this new creature said Buffy. That was the second time she had heard that word tonight, so she assumed it meant her somehow. But where the red haired woman frightened her, this voice was warm and soothing. The blue eyes of the figure in front of her were concerned, awestruck, and worshipful. Her racing heart slowed a little as she took in his white skin and hair glowing in the candlelight.
 
Spike had no idea how she came to be here, but it was her, and he could swear that his dead heart had started beating again for a moment. But along with his elation was a rapid realization that something was very, very wrong with her. She looked terrified, feral, and seemed unaware of what was going on. Still speaking soft and low he said, “It’s me. Spike. Not gonna hurt you, pet. I’m a… a friend.” He wasn’t sure that word actually fit their previous working relationship, but it was close enough for now. He looked her over, noting her filthy hair and her bleeding, ragged hands, and his stomach turned over as he realized what it meant. Moving slowly so as not to scare her, he gently took her hands in his. “Had to dig your way out of your coffin, didn’t you. Did it myself once.”
 
Buffy’s breathing slowed a bit more and she tilted her head slightly to look at him more closely. He knows, she thought. He knows what happened. She still didn’t really recognize this quiet, gentle man, but she felt she was safe with him. Gradually she calmed down, not entirely sure what was coming next, but not trying to burrow into the wall to get away from him either.
 
Spike was at a loss for how to help her. Someone had clearly brought her back to life, but she wasn’t anything like herself. Still, she was Buffy, or a very close facsimile, and she definitely needed help. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he said. He stood and guided her first to her feet and then to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sit here a moment while I get some bandages. Do you understand?” His accent softened somewhat as he tried to sound nonthreatening. She stared at him blankly, but made no effort to move when he released her hands and moved slowly away. He dashed upstairs to grab his first aid kit and set it down on the bed next to her. Then he grabbed a pitcher and filled it from a leaky pipe in the tunnel that he was in the habit of using for wash water.
 
While Spike got the supplies, Buffy sat very still, trying to get her bearings. Soft, she thought. This thing she was sitting on was the first soft thing she had encountered in this hell. Bed. It’s called a bed, she remembered, but words were still few and far between in her mind. Spike returned and knelt in front of her. He gently cleaned her bleeding, torn knuckles, applied some ointment, and bandaged them tenderly. He winced at her torn fingernails and trimmed and bandaged them where needed. Then he got a washcloth and gently cleaned her face and her arms, and brushed the dirt out of her hair. All the while, Buffy was watching him as he smiled reassuringly, murmuring soothing words and tending her. She realized that he reminded her of the luminous beings she had sometimes been aware of in that other place, the good place. Angel, she decided. That’s what he is. His beautiful white chest was scratched – perhaps he has also had to fight the demons here. She felt certain that he was an ally in this terrifying place. He’s an angel, and he came to find me and help me get back.
 
Unaware of the impression he was making, Spike continued his ministrations. He wondered if he should try to get her out of the filthy black dress she was wearing, but wasn’t sure how she would react to him undressing her. Last thing I need is for her to come to her senses and stake me for taking liberties. In the end he decided she would have to live in the dress for a little while until she understood more of what was happening. If that ever happens, he thought sadly. He had seen Dru like this before, after particularly savage treatment by her ‘Daddy’. It had taken a few solid months to get her to her usual level of functional madness after that. Spike had no idea what coming back from the grave did to a human, but it didn’t look good.
 
Spike knelt to take off her shoes and stockings and wipe the dust off her legs. “Should be a little more comfortable now,” he said. “Are you thirsty?” She didn’t respond, but Spike could see her lips were dry. He found a semi-clean glass, rinsed it out, and filled it with fresh water. She looked at the proffered glass with a blank expression until he wrapped her hands around it and held it to her lips. Something seemed to click then and she drank deeply. She held out the glass with a question in her eyes and he refilled it, watching as she guzzled that down as well. He took it from her and then coaxed her to lie down on the satin sheets. “You should rest, pet,” he urged her. “Had a long trip, yeah?” She didn’t resist as he covered her up and tucked her in, stroking her hair like a parent soothing a child after a bad dream. “You’re safe here. You can rest.” The sheets felt cool and soft, and Buffy understood that the angel would protect her. She gave him a tentative half-smile before closing her eyes and drifting off, relieved to shut out this loud, confusing world for a while.
 
Spike threw himself into a chair and watched her for a while, tears flowing down his face. She’s alive. Oh God. He was content to watch her chest rise and fall, to memorize every golden strand of hair as it splayed out across the red satin pillow. He was still shaking his head at the idea that this could be possible when a thought occurred to him in a flash of understanding. Willow. That’s what she and the others were so agitated about tonight. They did this somehow. His expression hardened as he thought of her having to dig her way out of her own grave after already being traumatized by wherever she had been. Stupid bastards. What the hell were they thinking? And how much of what’s wrong with her is because of whatever spell they used? Meddling fools. He watched the sleeping Slayer, fuming, while he waited to be sure she was really asleep. He was clearly going to need to have a few choice words with her friends. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, not me.

Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews so far!


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Chapter 2
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It was nearly morning when Xander, Anya, and Willow dragged themselves into Buffy’s living room, utterly spent. They threw themselves onto the sofa, falling about like rag dolls. “I give up. I don’t know where on earth she could be,” Willow said mournfully.
 
“Are we sure that was her?” Anya asked for the eleventh time in two hours. “Because it was dark and…”
 
“Ahn, it was her,” Xander said, his patience clearly waning. “Nobody else fights like that. Besides, she was wearing what we… what we last saw her in.”
 
“Then why did she run away?” Anya asked.
 
“I don’t know,” Willow replied with closed eyes. They had tried to follow the fleeing Slayer, but between her speed and the pockets of demons they ran into, they were unable to catch up with her. They had rushed home, hoping she had headed there. They were relieved to see Dawn, as well as a little guilty – they had almost forgotten about her and Spike in the excitement. But it had been hard to hide their disappointment that Buffy hadn’t come home. After Spike left, Tara offered to stay with Dawn while they ‘went to check on the Magic Box’. In reality, they had spent the night combing the streets, fighting a few straggler demons, and trying to find Buffy. By the time they had the idea to use a locator spell, Willow was so drained from constantly using magic to fight the demons that she just couldn’t make it work. They had reluctantly made her way back to Buffy’s house, hoping against hope that she had finally shown up, but it was clear that she hadn’t.
 
“Do you think she’s… damaged somehow?” Xander asked quietly.
 
“We don’t know where she was, or what happened to her there,” Willow answered. “We don’t know how long she was there either. Angel came back all feral when Buffy sent him to hell. Maybe this is the same sort of deal.” Willow’s conscience piped up with the thought that maybe the spell had gone wrong, but she buried that thought as quickly as it came. I did everything right. It all went as planned, she told herself.
 
“So what do we do now?” Anya asked.
 
“Sleep,” Xander answered. He stood up. “Come on, Anya. I need to crash. Wills, we’ll come by this afternoon after we’ve had time to recuperate.”
 
“Yeah,” said Willow. They said their goodbyes and Willow made her way upstairs to crawl in next to Tara.
 
“Hey, baby, what time is it?” Tara mumbled sleepily.
 
“About five in the morning,” Willow replied.
 
“No luck I take it?”
 
“None,” Willow said. Then tears started falling as she said, “Oh Tara, what happened to her? She was so… different. Like she didn’t know us at all. Like she barely knew her own name.”
 
“Shhh,” Tara soothed, taking Willow into her arms and stroking her hair. “Whatever she went through was probably pretty horrific. It may take her a while to come back to us.”
 
“What if she doesn’t?” Willow asked, softly voicing the fear she had had all evening. “What if she’s this feral Slayer creature who can’t be controlled? What do we do then?” The tears came harder as Willow clung to Tara, burying her face in Tara’s shoulder.
 
“Hey, calm down,” Tara said. “You’re exhausted. Get some sleep. We’ll sort this out later, okay?” Willow nodded and succumbed to her tiredness, curled up with her head on Tara’s shoulder.
 
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Spike watched Buffy for a long time, searching for signs of her waking up, but after two hours he judged she was down for the count. He quietly picked up an unshredded t-shirt from the floor and put it on before creeping upstairs. There he put on his socks and shoes and coat, went to the door and looked out at the sky. Shit. Sunrise is awfully fucking near. He had originally thought to go to Buffy’s house to confront them, but now he didn’t want to leave her for that long, and he felt too tired for one of his usual dashes through the sunlight. Weighing his options, he dashed out to his bike and made a short ride to the nearest convenience store. There he grabbed some snacks and drinks for Buffy and availed himself of their payphone, dialing her number from memory.
 
The phone rang and rang. Where the hell are they? he wondered with impatience. The answering machine finally clicked on, and he said, “This is Spike. There is someone in my crypt who looks a fuck of a lot like the Slayer. If you know anything about this I’d appreciate if you got your asses over to my crypt as soon as you get this.” He hung up the phone in a state of annoyance, got back on his bike with his purchases, and raced the sun back to his crypt. He dashed inside with moments to spare, shedding his coat once more. He made his way downstairs to check on the sleeping girl and found she was still flat out. The exhaustion finally caught up with him, and Spike stretched out in his stolen lounge chair, closed his eyes, and joined her in slumber.
 
Buffy was falling past a long line of demons, clawed arms reaching for her, tearing at her as she fell. Then she landed hard on her back and that voice boomed out, “Osiris! Let her cross over!” The voice shook the pit she was in and dirt started raining down on her from above, smothering her as she struggled…
 
With a cry Buffy sat up, flinging the covers away desperately in terror. She scrambled back until she hit the headboard, panting like a marathoner and staring around her wildly. After a few moments her gaze landed on the still sleeping vampire and she realized where she was. Dream. I’m with the angel. Safe place, she told herself. She wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering while her heart raced. It took several long minutes for her to slow her breathing and stop shaking. When she did she looked around the room, puzzled by all the objects. For some a word seemed to float up in her mind –candle… book…cup - but there were so many holes in her mind that she couldn’t connect anything together very well. It unnerved her, so she decided instead to focus on the sleeping figure across the room from her. His blond hair had relaxed into a riot of curls that made him look young and boyish. His skin had healed, smooth and white and perfect. But as she stared, she sensed that something was wrong. She cocked her head and looked hard, trying to grasp what it was. Too still, she thought with alarm. His chest didn’t seem to be moving. Did something hurt him? Suddenly frightened for her protector, she got slowly out of bed and walked over to him. She stretched out her hand nervously and touched his arm.
 
Spike jumped at her touch. “Who’s there?” he said, momentarily forgetting his visitor. His sudden jolt into consciousness startled Buffy in turn and she jumped away with a cry, backing toward the wall. Instantly Spike remembered himself and got up saying, “It’s okay, Buffy. It’s alright. Sorry I scared you. Just woke me up, that’s all.” A look of relief crossed Buffy’s face and she suddenly moved to fling her arms around him, weeping into his shirt. Spike was stunned for a moment, but then tentatively put his arms around her, patting her back and trying to calm her sudden weeping. “I’ve got you, love. Gonna be okay.” He lost track of how long he held her, but at last her sobbing slowed and he gently unwound her arms from around his waist. Tipping her chin up with his fingers he said, “Are you hungry? Don’t think you’ve eaten in a few months.” She showed no sign of comprehension, so he led her to the chair and sat her down. He rummaged around in the bag from the convenience store until he found a protein bar. He unwrapped it and handed it to her, but she looked at it, and him, with a confused face.
 
“Need to eat, Buffy,” he said. He bit off a small corner to show her the idea, and motioned for her to do the same. She did so, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. Then a look of understanding came across her face as the sweet taste hit her tongue. It was as if she had forgotten what eating was, forgotten that it was something that felt good. She took another bite, and another, until she had wolfed down the whole bar. She looked at her empty hands, and at Spike, and he smiled and handed her another, watching as she inhaled it as well. He handed her a bottle of water to wash it down, which she did greedily. She belched softly then looked at Spike as if wondering what to do next.
 
“I called your mates, pet,” he said by way of making conversation. “I don’t know if they had anything to do with this, but we’ll soon get it sorted.” She showed no sign of understanding him, and instead pulled her knees up to her chest again and rocked herself back and forth. Spike wanted to scream and destroy things at the unfairness of it all. She was the Slayer. Savior of the universe twelve times over, and she had been reduced to this traumatized husk who seemed incapable of speech or understanding. Not bloody fair. Oh, Slayer… Tentatively, he took her into his arms. When she made no move to escape he sat down on the chair and cradled her close, willing her to come back to him.
 
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Tara was awakened by the sound of the telephone. She had dozed on and off since Willow had crawled in to bed with her, but the telephone now jarred her awake. She looked at the clock and saw with some alarm that it was seven o’clock. Shit. Dawn’s going to be late. Willow was so tired she didn’t even stir, so Tara ran downstairs to get the phone. “Hello?” she gasped as she grabbed it on the sixth ring. It turned out to be an automated message from Dawn’s school, saying there would be a two hour delayed opening due to the ‘large fire on main street’ caused by a ‘ruptured gas main’. Tara shook her head as she hung up, amazed as always at how good Sunnydale was at self-deception. As she was about to go upstairs, relieved that Dawn would have a little extra time to get ready, she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. Odd. I don’t remember there being any messages when we got home last night. She pressed the button, and the electronic voice of the machine said, “Call received today at 4:47 am.” Tara’s eyes widened as she heard the message from Spike, and it was barely done before she was running up the stairs to tell Willow.
 
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Willow was drinking some very strong coffee while she waited for Xander to come pick her up. Dawn had gotten off to school for her late start, after a little nudging from Tara. Willow and Tara had debated for a short while, but ultimately decided not to tell her Buffy was back until they had assessed the situation. The current plan was for Willow and Xander to go to Spike’s and see what was going on with Buffy. Since Willow and Xander had known her the longest, Willow had reasoned, it might be better if they approached her first, rather than overwhelming her with too many people at once. “I still wonder how she ended up at Spike’s place,” she said to Tara, who was finishing her own coffee across the table.
 
Tara shrugged. “No idea. Maybe she remembered it somehow. She took her mom and Dawn there for safekeeping a couple of times. Maybe it felt safe to her.”
 
“I just hope she’s recovered more,” Willow said worriedly. “She wasn’t herself yesterday.”
 
“Willow,” Tara began. “You’ve got to prepare yourself for the possibility that she’s going to take a very long time to come back from this. You’re going to need to exercise a lot of patience.”
 
“I know,” Willow sighed. “Maybe once we see her we’ll be able to figure out how to help her.” Just then the kitchen door opened and a still tired looking Xander came in.
 
“Morning, ladies,” he said. “Coffee? Please?” Tara handed him a cup and he drank it gratefully. “So how did Buffy end up at deadboy’s house?”
 
“No idea,” said Tara. “His message just said she showed up there and that if you knew how she got there to come over.” She left out the four letter words that had been sprinkled throughout the message. “I must have slept through the phone ringing – he called shortly before you all got home.”
 
“I guess we’d better get over there then,” Xander said as he tossed back the rest of the coffee. “Last thing we need is for the bleached wonder to start warping her mind.”
 
“We’ll be back soon,” Willow said to Tara, giving her a quick kiss. She followed Xander out to the car and soon they were on their way to Restfield.
 
“Hope she’s in less of a feral cave person mood today,” Xander muttered. “Why would she run from us like that?”
 
“She must have been disoriented, confused,” Willow said. “Things were pretty crazy last night.”
 
“It wasn’t…” Xander paused, wondering how to put this delicately. “It didn’t have anything to do with the spell, did it?”
 
“No!” Willow said, instantly wishing she sounded less defensive. “The spell worked exactly as I thought it was going to!”
 
“Yeah, but the demons smashed the urn of Cirrhosis…”
 
“Osiris.”
 
“Whoever,” Xander continued. “Couldn’t that have done something?”
 
“I doubt it,” Willow replied, sounding more confident than she felt. “But anyhow, we just need to see how she is and bring her home so she can recover.” They drove on, both nervous about what they would find. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and dialog that I borrowed is Joss Whedon's creation, not mine.

Thanks so much, oh great BSV reviewers, for all your encouraging words!

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Chapter 3
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Spike held Buffy for what felt like hours, until she unwound herself from him and got up, looking around her uncomfortably. She circled the room aimlessly, sometimes making a low sound in her throat. Spike watched her, trying to figure out what she needed, when it suddenly occurred to him that she probably needed to use the loo. Which was a problem, since his crypt lacked that particular feature. He looked around and found an old bucket in a corner, which he put in the opening of the tunnel, out of sight behind a wall hanging. Buffy looked at him helplessly, and he took her hand and led her over to his improvised bathroom. “Here, um… you can do… that is.” God, this is fucking awkward. “You can use this to relieve yourself in. Do you understand?” She stared at him for a moment, then at the bucket, then understanding dawned on her face. He quickly turned and fled back to the other room as she started lifting her dress, heedless of the audience. He paced nervously, running his hand through his hair and dying for a cigarette. He heard a small sound and turned to see that she had come back into the main room looking less uncomfortable, but still lost. She went back to the chair and sat down, pulling up her knees and rocking again. Spike’s nose told him that she had availed herself of his facilities, meager though they were, but now he was back to wondering what to do with her.
 
Just then he heard his crypt door open and Xander’s voice call out, “Spike? Where are you?” Buffy jumped and clutched her knees tighter, her eyes wide with fear.
 
“Stay there! Be right up!” Spike called. To Buffy he said, “Your mates are here, love. Just sit tight. I’ll go bring them down, yeah?” Buffy showed no sign of understanding and continued her frightened quivering. Reluctantly Spike left her and dashed up the ladder.
 
“Where is she?” Willow asked frantically, peering around the dim crypt.
 
“Red, Harris, listen a moment,” Spike said, moving over to them. “She’s downstairs in my bedroom, but…”
 
“Then let us by already,” Xander said impatiently, trying to push Spike out of the way.
 
“Listen!” Spike snarled, grabbing him by the shirt to stop him. “She’s not herself. She hasn’t spoken a word, she doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on, and she’s terrified. If you go rushing down there like a goddamn bull in a china shop you’re going to scare the girl even more.”
 
“Fine, we’ll be quiet,” Willow said. “But we need to see her!”
 
“First, do you want to tell me why a woman who’s been dead for five months showed up in my crypt?” Spike nearly growled.
 
“We did a resurrection spell,” Willow said, unable to completely conceal her pride. “We couldn’t bear the idea of her being trapped in some hell dimension. So I did a spell, and we got her out.”
 
Spike’s mouth dropped open as he shook his head. “And you didn’t tell me. I worked beside you, all summer, and you didn’t tell me.” His eyes registered his feelings of disbelief and betrayal.
 
“Well now you know,” snapped Xander. “Can we save this discussion for later?”
 
“This sort of shit always has consequences,” Spike muttered. Turning, he led them to the stairs. “Down here. Just please, don’t overwhelm her, okay?”
 
“Spike, we’re her friends,” Willow said. “She’s got to know we mean her no harm.”
 
At the first sound of Willow’s voice, Buffy had scrambled off the chair into a far corner of the room, covering her head with her arms and trying to make herself into a small ball. It’s the bad one, the one who pulled me out, and the angel is talking to her. Why is the angel talking to her? Did I make him mad? She whimpered and shook, hoping the voice would go away.
 
Spike came down the stairs as quietly as he could, although the anxious Scoobies made a noise like a herd of buffalo. “Buffy?” he said, scanning the room for her. His heart broke as he saw that she was once again petrified. He walked slowly over to her and knelt at her side. “Some visitors to see you, love.” He gently stroked her hair, trying to get her to look up.
 
“Buffy?” Willow said, kneeling down in front of her. “It’s me, Willow. Me and Xander are here. Do you remember us?” Buffy cringed back away from her, toward Spike, her eyes wild in her pale face. “Buffy, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” Willow reached out and put her hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
 
At the touch Buffy screeched and lashed out, kicking Willow in the gut and sending her flying into Xander and sending them both tumbling to the ground. She jumped up and leaped on top of Willow, trying to strangle her as Xander called, “Buffy! Stop!” Buffy let go to draw her arm back for a blow. Willow’s eyes briefly went dark and she said, “Avert!” in a low voice. Buffy’s punch hit an invisible barrier and she screamed in pain as the bandages ripped off her knuckles and they started bleeding again.
 
Spike finally managed to catch her from behind and pull her away from the startled witch. “Buffy, stop, it’s alright,” he soothed. He turned her to face him. “Listen to me. You mustn’t hurt them, alright? You’re safe here, but you can’t hurt them. Do you understand?” Buffy stared at his stern face and started crying. I did make the angel mad. He’s going to leave me here. I’m sorry, I’m sorry… But where she expected the angel to cast her away, instead he drew her close and rocked her. He turned to Xander and said, “Go upstairs, now. Get away from her.”
 
“Who do you think you are?” Xander asked indignantly.
 
Spike’s eyes flashed yellow in anger. “I’m the one she’s clinging to right now. Clearly, she’s afraid of you. Just go upstairs, alright? I’ll come up and discuss this with you when she calms down, which will happen faster if you two get the fuck out of her face. Now.” Frowning, Xander helped the shaken Willow to her feet and up the stairs, shooting dirty looks at Spike the whole time. Spike, however, was completely focused on the weeping, hysterical Slayer. She was holding him so tight he thought his ribs might crack and she was sobbing as if her heart would break. He scooped her up from the floor and placed her gently on the bed. “Be right back, love. I promise.” She didn’t respond except to continue her heart wrenching sobs, curled up under the quilt.
 
Upstairs, Willow was gasping for breath through a painfully bruised windpipe. “Wills, are you alright?” Xander asked, alarmed.
 
“Think so,” she rasped. “What the heck was that about?”
 
Xander’s reply was cut short by the appearance of one highly angry vampire. “What the fuck did you do?”
 
“What did we do?” Xander sputtered. “We rescued her from hell. What did you do to her?”
 
“I cleaned her up and bandaged her hands after she dug her way out of her fucking coffin!” Spike exploded. “Having been there, I can tell you, it’s not something you shake off in five minutes!”
 
Willow gasped in horror and Xander shook his head in disbelief. “Oh no,” he breathed. “No. Jesus, how could we have been so stupid.”
 
“But why would she attack me?” Willow wondered. “We saw her last night. She was in total Slayer mode. How come she ripped those demons to shreds but didn’t attack you?”
 
“I don’t know,” Spike admitted. “But she’s completely lost, Red. Doesn’t seem to recognize her name, doesn’t know who I am, hasn’t spoken a bloody word. She’s petrified. Whatever she’s gone through, it’s driven her completely out of her mind.”
 
“Do we… do we know that it’s her? I mean, really her?” Xander asked quietly. “Maybe… maybe the spell didn’t work right.”
 
Willow opened her mouth to protest but Spike spoke up first. “It’s her. I’d know her anywhere. She’s as human as she ever was. Physically, she’s fine. Mentally…”
 
“She’s not so fine,” Willow concluded. “Maybe there’s a spell that would...”
 
“No,” Spike said fiercely. “I’ll not have you tinkering with the girl like she’s some sort of broken machine. We need to give her a chance to get her bearings, see if she remembers anything before we muck things up worse.”
 
“She’s our friend!” Xander cried. “Where do you get off ordering us around?”
 
Spike rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Look, I’m not kidnapping the bint, alright? But so far, when she was with me she was quiet. I got her to eat something, got her bandaged up. You walked in, and she freaked, for whatever reason. All I’m asking is that you just leave her here for another day or two, see if she comes to herself a bit more. Safer all around.”
 
“You don’t seriously think we’re going to trust you alone with her?” Xander spat at him.
 
“You want to take her home like this? What happens if she goes after you again? Or Dawn?” Willow started guiltily at that. “Nibblet doesn’t know her big sis is back, does she?”
 
“We… she didn’t know. She wasn’t in on this, and we haven’t told her yet. We wanted to know if it worked,” Willow admitted.
 
“Please,” Spike said. “Just… give her another day or two. She needs to recover. I promise you, I’ll guard her with my life. Unlife,” he corrected.
 
Xander opened his mouth to protest further but Willow stopped him. “Xander, let’s just go,” Willow said. “We’ll come back tomorrow. But so help me, if you hurt her I’ll…”
 
“Turn me into a newt. Got it,” Spike said. “I’ll get in touch if anything changes. And you might want to consider letting Bit in on all this. Girl’s got a right to know her sister’s back.”
 
“We’ll see you later,” Willow said, tugging on Xander’s arm. Xander was still clearly not on board with leaving Buffy with Spike, but Willow persisted until Xander reluctantly followed.
 
“Willow, we can’t just leave her here!” Xander insisted as they got outside.
 
“She won’t be here for long,” Willow said. “I’ve got some ideas.” They headed home in Xander’s car, with Xander wondering the whole way whether this whole resurrection deal had been the right thing to do.
 
************************
 
As soon as the others left Spike headed back downstairs to find Buffy where he had left her, still curled up and crying as if she would never stop. He hesitated a moment, then got in bed beside her, pulling her close and holding her, desperately wishing there was something more he could do.
 
Buffy was lost in a sea of despair and confusion. When her angel had come downstairs leading her tormentor and some unknown person who seemed loud and angry, she had felt betrayed. Why would he bring them here? He said he would protect me. She saw no choice but to defend herself, but then the red haired one had said something and suddenly her hand was hurting again and the angel was pulling her back. She had done something wrong, and the angel was in league with them, and she thought she would surely be punished further. But then he had cradled her again, put her back on the soft place, and left her. She didn’t know what to make of it. The angel was yelling at the others, and although she didn’t understand all the words she knew that the angel was angry at them, not at her. But why did he bring them here in the first place? Her clouded mind couldn’t make any sense of the situation. She finally broke down, weeping because she didn’t understand, and she was lost, and didn’t know what anyone wanted of her, and why she was here. The weight of the whole situation crashed upon her and she sobbed so hard that she at first didn’t even notice Spike climbing into bed next to her. But when she felt his strong arms around her, enfolding her and stroking her back, she finally started to calm down. The tears tapered off gradually to gasps and hiccups as she clung to Spike’s chest.
 
“What are we to do with you, love?” he wondered aloud. “Don’t know how to reach you.” When she finally stopped completely, she looked up at Spike with a mixture of gratitude and continued confusion. Spike looked at her carefully, stroking her face. “Buffy. Your name is Buffy. Buffy Summers. You’re the Slayer. Your sister is Dawn. Do you understand me love?” She wrinkled her brow, trying to grasp his meaning. Spike tried again, putting a hand on her chest. “Buffy. That’s you. Buffy.”
 
Buffy frowned, concentrating. The angel clearly wanted something from her. That sound that meant her, somehow. “B..Buffy,” she said in the barest of whispers.
 
And oh, the angel’s face lit up and his blue eyes glowed with pleasure at the sound. “That’s right. That’s my girl. You’re Buffy.” He took her hand and put it on his chest. “Spike. I’m Spike. Can you say that?” But just as suddenly as the understanding had come upon her it left, leaving her lost and confused again. Spike sighed, but tried to keep the smile on his face. “’S alright love. You’ll get it.” He sat up and helped her up as well. “Maybe we should try to get you out of those dusty clothes, yeah?” He had the thought that maybe getting her into something more like her usual garb might help her relax a bit.
 
He got up and gestured to her to stay on the bed. He went to a large chest of drawers he had scavenged some time ago and rummaged around in the very bottom. Paydirt. I knew some of her stuff was still in there. Harmony had been a major clothes horse, and some of her things had gotten left behind. Spike picked out a pair of gray sweatpants that were unique among Harmony’s clothing in that they didn’t have a sodding unicorn on them. He paired that with a black t-shirt from his own steadily dwindling pile. Moving back to where Buffy was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him curiously, he put the clothes down and helped her up.
 
“Hope you won’t stake me for this later,” he muttered as he unzipped the back of her dress. He eased it off of her, helping her step out of it, trying with all his might to look anywhere but at her body. She was pale as he was, and skinny to the point of unhealthiness, but he still found himself battling a raging hard-on. Steady, William. Girl’s traumatized, remember? With a deep breath, he helped her step into the sweats and pulled them up, then helped her into the t-shirt. Her expression during all this was one of puzzlement, but she ran her hands over the soft sweats with what seemed like a pleased look. “Thought you might be more comfortable in that than in your dress,” he said, folding up the severe black number. “Makes you look more like I remember you.”
 
He sat her down in his chair and fed her a cup of instant noodle soup with water heated in his electric teakettle. “Don’t tell the others that I still like a spot of tea sometimes, alright love?” he said with a smirk. “Got a reputation to maintain. Don’t want them to think I’m like Rupert, even if I am English.” Buffy looked at him with a half smile, even though she had no idea what he was getting at. The sound of his voice soothed her, assured her that she would be cared for until she could get back to where she had been. While she was finishing, Spike went upstairs and grabbed a container of blood for himself, drinking it off quickly before he dashed back downstairs. Don’t know how she’ll react to my diet, he reasoned. Best keep it under wraps for now.
 
Buffy was downing the last of the soup when he returned. “All done?” he asked. She cocked her head, then handed him the cup, smiling when he did. “Let’s see those hands now,” he said after he dealt with the dishes. The hand that had hit Willow’s magical force field was still oozing a bit, so he rebandaged it, putting more ointment on and wrapping it gently. The other hand was halfway healed, he was pleased to see. “Your Slayer healing seems to have made the journey alright,” he commented. When he was finished he arranged her on the bed again and sat behind her to brush out her long hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation as he brushed and talked. “Used to do this for Dru when she was upset,” he said softly. “Could plait and unplait her hair for hours. Soothed us both sometimes.” He kept brushing her hair for a long time, talking in a low voice the whole time. He rambled from one topic to another, talking about Dawn’s new school, their battles over the summer, Giles’ return to England. Buffy showed no sign of comprehension, although she clearly was enjoying the sensation of the brush running through her hair.
 
Finally, Spike skillfully braided her hair in a single plait down her back, securing it with a stray rubber band from his collection of odds and ends. “There, love. Pretty as a picture.” She turned at his gentle words to stare at him. She reached out and touched his face, tentatively at first. She ran her fingers through his blond curls, drew her fingers down his cheek, traced the lines of his eyebrows, while Spike closed his eyes and reveled in it. Her soft hands, touching him tenderly, fulfilled about a dozen of his whiskey fueled fantasies. When her fluttering fingers touched his lips he sighed gently, opening his eyes to focus on her face. So fucking gorgeous. Give my fangs to have you doing this for real. Taking her hand in his he planted a gentle kiss to her fingertips, then reluctantly moved her hand down to her lap. When she looked confused and hurt he smiled and said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just need to get up for a moment, okay?” She smiled back, understanding that the angel wasn’t upset with her. Spike got up, needing to move a bit to settle his own nerves. Buffy wrapped her arms around her knees and watched as Spike moved around, tidying the room. He chatted about this and that while he picked up his clothes, tossed empty whiskey bottles in the trash, and otherwise cleaned up the wreck that was his bachelor pad.
 
Buffy tried with all her might to concentrate on what the pale, beautiful man was doing. Flashes of memory flitted across her mind. A tall woman and a brown haired girl. The angel. The angel was keeping the woman and the girl safe. Mother. He protected my mother. She winced as she remembered being ripped from her mother’s presence. She had known with perfect clarity the depth and perfection of her mother’s love while she was in that realm of light, and to lose that had been excruciating. She didn’t remember who the girl was, but she knew that the angel had helped her protect them. Was that before I went to the good place? What happened before that? She shook her head, tears of frustration starting to form in the corners of her eyes. Where is this place? Why don’t I remember? She squeezed her knees tighter, trying to keep from bursting into tears again.
 
Spike closed his drawers and turned to notice her tears. He sat down beside her and once more gathered her in. “Ah, love, don’t cry. We’ll get you back. I swear we’ll get you back.” Buffy took this to mean that he was going to return her to her reward, and took comfort in that and in his arms.
 
********************
 
“Did you find her? Is she really back?” Anya asked as Willow, Xander, and Tara trooped into the Magic Box. After leaving Spike’s crypt, the two Scoobies had picked up Tara, called Anya to meet them at the Magic Box, and hurried over for a conference on the whole situation.
 
“She’s alive, but I’m not sure she’s back, exactly,” Willow began.
 
“What do you mean?” Tara asked.
 
“She’s… not herself. At all,” Willow explained. “She doesn’t seem to know who she is or where she is. She attacked me, actually.”
 
“Oh goddess, are you okay?” Tara said, noticing the bruises on Willow’s neck for the first time.
 
“Yeah, although I had to use a shielding spell. Spike got her off me at that point and she just… broke down.”
 
“But why did she go to Spike’s place?” Anya wondered. “I mean, you’d think the last thing she’d want after being in hell would be to be in a crypt with a vampire.”
 
“That’s what I would have thought,” Xander put in. “But she attacked us, and grabbed onto him like a life ring. Spike was of the opinion that was because he understood what she went through.”
 
“You mean being dead?” Anya asked.
 
“Well, more like, um…” Xander paused, still feeling sick about the circumstances of her resurrection. “More like when she had to dig herself out of her coffin.”
 
Anya and Tara both gasped. “Oh no,” Tara said. “How could we… Willow, did you know that would happen?”
 
“I… I guess I overlooked that aspect,” Willow admitted reluctantly. “I was so concerned with getting all the details of the spell right, I just didn’t think about the mechanics of the… reanimation.”
 
“Do you think she’ll get over it?” Anya asked. “I mean, I remember a couple of vengeance jobs with being buried alive, and they didn’t end so well.”
 
Willow shook her head. “I really don’t know. It’s like she’s… feral. She has the Slayer instincts, which really helped out with those demons and all, but she doesn’t know her name, or us, and she hasn’t spoken. At least according to Spike.”
 
“Who I so do not think is the person who should be looking after her!” Xander protested. “He could be trying to keep her like that for all we know, or telling her we’re evil or something.”
 
“Xander, I really don’t think Spike would do that,” Tara objected.
 
“Why not? Perfect opportunity to create a real live Buffybot of his own. If she’s not in touch with reality, what’s to stop him from creating a reality for her where he’s her main man?” Xander snapped.
 
“Do you think she’s safe?” Willow asked. “If we bring her home, what if she hurts Dawn or someone else? It might be better just to…”
 
Tara’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t seriously be thinking about killing her again. Tell me you’re not even considering that.”
 
“No!” Willow exclaimed. “No. I just worry. What do we do if she’s insane forever? How can we even send her to a hospital if she’s out of control, homicidal, and super strong?”
 
“Look, we don’t know that she’s going to be permanently insane,” Tara reasoned. “She’s been alive again for less than twenty four hours. I think we need to give it some more time.”
 
“Could you do some kind of healing spell on her?” Anya asked.
 
“We could try,” Willow said. “There are spells meant to calm the distressed. It wouldn’t hurt.”
 
“I really think she’d be better off in her own house,” Xander insisted. “Living in a crypt isn’t exactly the recipe for mental well-being.”
 
“Why don’t we try the healing spell on her first?” Tara said. “If it calms her down, then maybe we can bring her home. And when are we going to tell Dawn about all this?” she added.
 
“We’ll tell Dawn when we know we’re bringing her home,” Willow decided. “We don’t need her dashing off to Spike’s crypt as well.”
 
“Then let’s get the healing spell stuff together and go over there this evening,” Tara said. “Hopefully she’ll have improved a bit and will let us get near enough to do the spell.” The witches and Anya moved to the bookshelves to start looking up spells and ingredients, while Xander paced and frowned some more.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and recognizable dialog belong to Joss Wheedon and Mutant Enemy, not me.

Thanks ever so to all my awesome reviewers!

*****************
Chapter 4
*****************
 
After cleaning up his bedroom, Spike had been at a loss for what to do with Buffy, who sat there watching him curiously the whole time. For lack of any other ideas, he rummaged through his book collection and found the collected works of Shakespeare, and started reading sonnets to her. The sound soothed her, and she sat next to him, leaning against the headboard of the bed with her head on his shoulder. After a while he asked, “Are you enjoying this, Buffy?”
 
“Buffy,” she whispered in response. That must be my name or something. . The angel’s voice was rich and pleasant, and the rhythm of the words was like a heartbeat, relaxing her.
 
Spike smiled, trying to encourage her. He put his hand on the book. “Want to hear more?”
 
“Yes,” she replied, still in a whisper, as if she wasn’t quite sure that ‘yes’ was the correct word.
 
“No problem, love,” he said. He flipped to a likely verse and began to read:
 
“Those lips that Love's own hand did make,
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate',
To me that languished for her sake:
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom;
And taught it thus anew to greet;
'I hate' she altered with an end,
That followed it as gentle day,
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away.
'I hate', from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying 'not you'.”
 
“Hell,” Buffy said suddenly.
 
Spike cocked his head and looked at her. “What was that, love?”
 
“H… hell,” she repeated uncertainly. She shivered a bit and looked around, trying to somehow indicate their surroundings. That must be the word for this place.
 
Spike’s heart broke, although he mistook her meaning. “So sorry you had to go through that, pet,” he said, pulling her close once more. “Wish I could make it so that all never happened.” Not bloody fair, he thought for the hundredth time. She’s been a force for good since she was fifteen for fuck’s sake. Never should have had to experience hell. He stroked her hair until the shivering stopped, then sat up a bit. “Shall we…” he began, but then he heard the sound of his crypt door opening. “Be right back,” he said. Buffy grabbed at his arm, making a low whining sound in her throat, like a frightened animal. “It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. Safe place, remember?” She nodded, but still looked worried as he turned and made his way upstairs.
 
Willow, Tara, Anya, and Xander were gathered in his upper room when he got upstairs. “How is she?” Xander asked.
 
“She’s fairly calm right now,” Spike said. “I got her into some clean clothes, got her to eat a little more.”
 
“You… you undressed her?” Xander shouted. “What gives you the right to…”
 
“Will you shut your bloody trap?” Spike growled. “I don’t need you frightening the girl again. I took no liberties with the girl, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just got her into some of Harmony’s old things so she could be comfortable.”
 
“Has she said anything?” Tara asked, trying to diffuse things a bit. She found that she had no trouble believing that Spike had been a perfect gentleman. She had seen him in action with Dawn, and never once feared for Dawn’s well being.
 
“Said her name a couple of times, though I’m not sure if that means much. Said yes to hearing more Shakespeare,” he said with a shrug.
 
“Shakespeare?” Xander guffawed. “Since when do you read Shakespeare?”
 
“Since about 1865, you ignorant git,” Spike retorted. “Enough of this. Why are you lot here?”
 
“We wanted to try a healing spell,” Willow said. “It’s meant to calm someone in distress.”
 
Spike looked doubtful. “Are you sure? Are you certain of the consequences? Not sure the last spell went so well.”
 
Willow bristled. “For the last time, my spell was fine. I just want to help her get over whatever she went through in hell, okay?”
 
Reluctantly, Spike consented. “Come downstairs. But for the love of God, don’t go rushing up to her en masse. She’s hanging on the edge, and I’ll not have her worried in any way. Understand?”
 
“Fine. Just let us help her, alright?” Xander snapped. With serious reservations, Spike led them downstairs.
 
Buffy was on the bed where he left her, curled up apprehensively. “Listen love,” he said, sitting next to her and taking her hand. “No one’s going to hurt you. And you can’t hurt anyone else, yeah?” Buffy looked into his blue eyes as he willed her to understand him. He got up and stepped to the side as the others slowly filed downstairs.
 
“Buffy?” said Tara. “We’re going to help you, okay?” Buffy inched away from her, still making that low, feral whine.
 
“Buffy? It’s Anya, remember?” Anya said, a little too loud and bright for Spike’s taste. “As soon as you’re not crazy anymore we have some news for you…”
 
“Anya!” Xander cried. “Not now!” But the loud voice had already frightened the Slayer, who inched away further, looking wildly from the assembled Scoobies to Spike and back.
 
Willow stepped forward slowly. “We just need to lay our hands on you, okay? To help you.” She reached her hand toward Buffy as she began chanting, “Healing flame, burning bright, let mine will be done this night…”
 
Buffy screeched and leaped backward off the bed, hands outstretched to ward off whatever evil was coming from the red-haired one. “No!” she screamed as the others watched in astonishment. “No, no, no!” She retreated to the farthest corner of the room, screaming her refusal over and over hysterically. Her back hit the wall and she collapsed down onto the floor, still screaming as if all the demons in hell were after her.
 
Spike vaulted the bed and rushed to her side. “Buffy, love, it’s alright.” But she turned her back and kept screaming, clutching her hair and rocking back and forth uncontrollably.
 
“Dear God, what happened to her?” Tara breathed, completely floored by the display.
 
“Get out,” Spike said, standing to face them. “That’s twice she freaked when she saw you, Red. You need to get away from her.”
 
“But we just want to help,” Willow said.
 
“Then leave, for God’s sake, and let me calm her back down.” Spike snarled.
 
“Come on,” Tara said, tugging at Willow’s sleeve. “Spike’s right. We can’t do anything for her in this state. We’ll have to think of something else.” Willow hesitated, tears forming in her eyes. “Come on, Willow,” Tara repeated, and the others obeyed, glancing back at Buffy, whose screaming had subsided into pitiful sobbing. The sound of the crypt door opening and closing once more echoed in the distance.
 
Spike sat down next to Buffy, rubbing her back soothingly. “They’re gone, Buffy,” he said. “Don’t quite know why they frighten you so, but they’re gone. Just me here. You’re okay.” He continued murmuring soothing words as her sobs quieted. He picked her up then and brought her back to the bed. She looked at him with something like gratitude when he settled her onto the pillow and smoothed her hair. “Might be good to rest for a while. You’ve had quite a day.” He stood up, intending to get some blood and then go find something to kill once the sun went down. Buffy, however, had other ideas and clung to his arm. “No,” she whispered with a desperate note to her voice. Spike understood – she didn’t want to be alone. He climbed in next to her and took her once more in his arms, holding her until she fell asleep.
 
**********************
 
“I’m starting to think that resurrecting her was a bad idea,” Anya commented on the way home. “She came back all wrong.”
 
“How can you say that?” Willow cried. “She’s Buffy! She’s our friend! We couldn’t just leave her in torment forever!”
 
“But if she was in hell it’s not like we would really know what was happening,” Anya reasoned. “We could speculate, but it’s not like we’d have to experience it.”
 
“Anya, so not helping right now,” Xander snapped. “She’s here, it’s done, now what?”
 
“I really think we’re expecting too much too soon,” Tara said. “There may not be an instant fix for this.”
 
“She needs to be in familiar surroundings,” Willow said firmly. “If she’s in her own space, she’d be more likely to remember. We’ve got to get her home somehow.”
 
“How do we manage that, if she freaks whenever we get near her?” Xander asked.
 
Willow considered for a moment. “What if we magically knocked her out? Like a binding spell of some kind. Then we could bring her home and wake her up. Maybe if she sees her room and Dawn she’d remember.”
 
“Spike isn’t going to like that,” Anya observed. “He seems pretty protective of her.”
 
“We’ll do it when he’s out or something,” Willow decided. “Everyone agree?”
 
Xander voiced his support, and Anya shrugged and agreed as well. But Tara still looked skeptical. “I’m really not sure about this, Willow. We might just traumatize her even more.”
 
“Tara, I can do this,” Willow insisted. “If she’s at home, we can get a better sense of what she needs, and create some sort of normal atmosphere for her.”
 
Tara bit her lip. “Just make sure you’re doing it for her, not for you, okay?” she said. “Make sure you’re doing it because you really think it’s best for Buffy, not because you feel guilty.”
 
Willow swallowed, keeping her face impassive, even as Tara’s comments pricked at her conscience. “I truly think it would be best for her. And I think that if we get her on a more even keel, Spike will probably agree as well.” Tara nodded her reluctant assent, even as she coped with the bad taste this left in her mouth.
 
***************
 
Spike woke up next to Buffy, who still slept like the fallen angel he saw her as. He carefully got up, relieved as she stayed asleep, and went upstairs to feed. He guzzled two containers of blood one after the other. Sorry about the delay, lad, he silently told his demon. Got bigger problems than you. He grabbed his duster, put on his boots, and went outside for a smoke and a patrol. Restfield was usually fairly quiet. Word got out among the demon population that this was Spike’s territory, and no one in particular wanted to mess with him. The occasional stupid fledge or demon with a grudge showed up to challenge him, but he rarely had any major challenges this close to home. Still, he patrolled the place, more out of restlessness than anything else, chain smoking the entire time.
 
Why the hell is she after Willow? Spike wondered as he walked. Does she remind Buffy of something she saw wherever she was? Afraid of the magic? He just couldn’t figure it out. He could understand wanting to strangle Xander. He found himself wanting to strangle Xander at least twice a week. But all of Willow’s annoying power tripping had been after Buffy had died. Makes no sense, he thought again.
 
As he continued to walk around, he wondered how long he’d be able to take care of her. She should be at her house, he mused. Maybe little sis would help snap her out of it. But with the witches there… Caring for Buffy was no particular problem for him. Drusilla had more than prepared him to deal with any variety of madwoman that crossed his path. He just hoped that what he was doing was actually helping. Whatever it is, William, it’s probably better than throwing more magic at the girl, he reasoned. Really wish I knew what that spell resurrection spell was.
 
He finished his circuit, having found no activity, and looped back to the door of his crypt. Just as he reached the door he heard Buffy screaming. In a panic he bolted through the door and down the stairs. He skidded to a halt to see her in bed, thrashing around in the throes of a nightmare. Relieved that it was nothing more, he rushed to the side of the bed, shaking her gently. “Buffy! Wake up! You’re dreaming. Buffy!”
 
Buffy sat up suddenly, breathing hard, and her screaming shut off as she woke. She looked around wildly, scrambling backward to cower once more against the headboard. In her dream she had been in the good place, but the four people who had been there earlier were there. They had each grabbed one of her limbs and pulled, like the demons had dismembered the Buffybot, tugging horribly until she had shattered and fallen, their voices echoing in her ears. When her eyes finally focused on Spike she moved with lightning speed to wrap her arms around him. Spike nearly fell on his ass from the force of her assault, but he regained his balance and sat down next to her, once more letting her cry out her terror.
 
When she finished Spike unwound himself from her and silently got up to get her a drink of water. He watched her as she drank thinking, she’s like a child. She eats, she sleeps, she cries. How long can she exist like this? And how are the others going to deal? He was nothing if not stubborn, and would care for the woman he loved as long as it took. But what was going to happen when Willow got tired of waiting? Bint thinks she can fix everything with magic. Shaking himself, he took a deep breath. One day at a time, William.
 
He made some instant oatmeal for Buffy, and gave her an apple as well. She munched quietly and contentedly, seeming to relax more than she had yet. “Need something more, love?” he asked.
 
“More,” she said, nodding. Spike handed her another apple, happy to see her eating, and communicating. She still seemed to not completely understand what was going on, but words were returning slowly, which could only be a good sign.
 
When she finished she got up and made her way to the makeshift bathroom Spike had set up. He was certain that if vampires could blush he would be at this point – vampire hearing made certain that he couldn’t avoid knowing what she was doing. When she snaps out of this she’ll probably never be able to look me in the eye again. Buffy wandered back in, looking around vaguely. She spotted the book of sonnets and picked it up. “More,” she said again, handing it to Spike.
 
“Even with a vocabulary of four words you’re a bossy bint,” he chuckled. “Come on over, love. Story time.” He patted the bed next to him and she scrambled up, curling up at his side eagerly. He began reading as she sat, leaning on him and just drinking in the sound. Never would have thought this stuff was your style, Slayer. It saddened him a bit to think that a fully functional Buffy would never sit like this, listening to Shakespeare and enjoying his company. Still, rather have her back to normal and hating me than stuck like this. Slayer deserves better than that.
 
Buffy found that the repetitive rhythm of the sonnets tended to drown out her fear and sadness. She wasn’t sure what all the words meant, although some trickled through. Love. I knew love there. I think the angel loves me. He looks at me like he loves me. He keeps me safe like he loves me. She looked sideways at him, studying his blue eyes and long lashes as he read. Are all angels so cool, like he is? It made sense to her. Hell was fire and ice and painful sounds. This creature was all soothing, lyrical words and felt neither hot nor cold. She wished he could take her back right now, but if she had to stay in… whatever this place was, she was content if she could stay with him.
 
After a good hour and a half of reading, Spike put the book down. “Throat’s getting a little sore, pet. Mind if I take a break?”
 
 Buffy looked confused, and pointed to the book. “More?” she asked.
 
“In a little while,” he said. He turned to look at her, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Who are you? Do you remember?”
 
“Buffy,” she said, eager to please him.
 
“Good girl,” he said with a smile. “Don’t suppose you remember my name, do you?” But Buffy frowned, not comprehending the question. Noting her distress Spike said, “No worries. Just don’t call me late to dinner, whatever you call me. Speaking of which, I’ll be right back, okay?” His stomach was growling, and he couldn’t quite remember when he had fed last. Buffy’s eyes got wide as he got up, but he smiled and pointed up the stairs. “Just going up there for a tick. You’re safe, remember?”
 
“Safe,” she repeated uncertainly.
 
“That’s right, pet.” Spike turned and went upstairs. He opened his fridge and found that he was down to his last pint of blood. Have to make a run to the store soon. He looked outside, but sunrise was too near for a store run, so he sighed, drank his meager breakfast, and went back downstairs. “See, I’m back,” he said to Buffy. Her face lit up with relief at his approach – it seemed like bad things happened every time he went upstairs.
 
Spike found himself rather tired. He had slept little in the past couple days, and what sleep he had managed had been broken with worry. “Mind if I take a little nap?” he said. When Buffy looked at him blankly, he lay down on the bed next to her and closed his eyes to demonstrate. She poked him a little and he opened one eye. “Just going to rest a while, that’s all. I’m right here, okay?” Buffy seemed reassured by his words and watched as he quieted and slept.
 
She sat for a long time and just watched him, statue-white and immobile, cheekbones carved by a master. She still couldn’t figure out why he didn’t move when he slept. Maybe angels never move, she thought. After a while she got up, used the ‘bathroom’ again, then wandered aimlessly around the room. She picked up the book of sonnets, but the words made no sense to her, so she put it back. She found a stake in the pile of detritus on his dresser and picked it up curiously. Something about this smooth piece of wood felt right and comfortable in her hand, but she wasn’t sure why. I fought with one of these, didn’t I? A weapon, for fighting… something bad. The angel must also fight bad things, like demons. She saw his knife lying there as well, and picked it up, turning the shining blade over and over. She ran her finger over it and gasped as she cut herself. She dropped the knife in alarm, sucking on her cut finger. Her interest in the weapons waned quickly, and she moved on. She fingered the silver rings in a small wooden bowl, other books that she didn’t understand, frustrated by her lack of ability to remember anything. It seemed like understanding was dancing on the edge of her brain, nearly within reach. Sometimes when the angel spoke she would get small flashes, like someone turning on a light in a dark room for an instant. But then the fear would return, and the confusion, and she would mentally curl in on herself, waiting for the next blow.
 
After completing her circuit of Spike’s basement room, she stopped at the foot of the staircase. The others with their painful voices who reeked of magic had come from up there. But curiosity won out in the end and she slowly, cautiously made her way to the upper level. It was much less pleasant here, dusty and filled with coffins. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She stepped timidly around the coffins, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She opened Spike’s fridge, startled by the wave of cold air, but otherwise finding it empty. When she saw the battered armchair and the television she paused. I was here. I brought my mother, and the dark-haired girl here. They were safe here. I knew the angel would watch over them. She wondered who the dark girl was. Her mother had been with her in the good place, she was sure of it. But the dark girl? Buffy nearly wept in her frustration. She’s someone important. I needed to protect her. But from what?
 
Just then Spike’s voice, sounding a little frantic, came from downstairs. “Buffy?” he called. His white-blond head came shooting up from the basement, his eyes wide and concerned. He had woken up and found her missing. Images of her wandering unprotected had floated through his brain, and given the midday sun he would have been unable to go look for her. Now that he saw her he breathed a sigh of relief. “Had me worried there for a moment.” Buffy thought for a moment that he was angry at her, but soon realized he was happy to have found her. She sat down in the armchair and drew up her knees, looking at him expectantly. “Fancy a bit of telly time?” he asked. When Buffy looked at him blankly, he went over and turned on the TV. The sudden noise made her jump, whimpering with fear as she huddled away from it. Spike flipped channels until he found some classic cartoons, and Buffy forgot her fear as she became fascinated by the bright colors. Spike tuned the sound to a moderate level and picked her up, sitting down on the chair so she could curl up in his lap. She was soon smiling at the antics of Bugs Bunny, leaning her head on Spike. Spike buried his nose in her golden hair, still glorious even without a recent shower. Love you, Buffy, he thought to himself. Gonna do whatever it takes to bring you back. If I have to take care of you for the rest of your life, I will. His arms tightened around her protectively as he made his silent vow.

TBC

** The Sonnet is Shakespeare's #CXLV http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/all.php

Disclaimer: All the characters are borrowed from Joss Whedon. 

Thank you for all the encouraging reviews! Sorry it took so long to update!


****************
Chapter 5
****************
 
By the time evening fell, Spike’s stomach was growling with hunger. They had watched TV all day, first cartoons, then some nature shows that Buffy seemed to find soothing. Now they unwound themselves and Spike led her back downstairs, making her some more soup for her dinner. “I need to go out to get more food,” he explained.
 
“More?” she said, trying to understand.
 
He pointed at the soup and nodded. “More. I need to go. Can you stay here?” he asked, gesturing to the room. Buffy concentrated, then nodded. She patted the bed and said, “Here.”
 
“That’s the ticket. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He smiled reassuringly at her before dashing up the stairs.
 
Buffy listened as the crypt door opened and closed, leaving her in silence. She curled up against the headboard, nervous about being alone. She understood that he was coming back, and that she had to stay here. Safe place, she repeated silently to herself. This is a safe place.
 
Outside, Spike looked around, sniffing the air to see if any vamps or demons were around. The breeze ruffled his hair and flared his coat, and he had a bit of a struggle to light his cigarette. Checking once more for threats, he made his way out of the cemetery to his motorcycle, kicking it to life and heading for the butcher’s. I’ll have to grab some more supplies for Buffy as well, he thought. Maybe try to sneak in a quick patrol. He was so preoccupied with his shopping list that he didn’t notice the car parked in the nearby alley.
 
“Ok, he’s gone,” Xander said as they watched Spike roar by. “Let’s go.” Xander, Willow, and Anya piled out of the car and headed for the crypt. Tara had been left at home to explain the situation to Dawn, since she had the best rapport with the teen. The three remaining Scoobies made their way quickly through the cemetery and were soon standing before Spike’s door. They cautiously stepped in and crossed to the stairs.
 
Buffy sat up when she heard the door open. She looked with anticipation at the stairs, hoping her angel had returned. When she heard Xander’s voice say, “Buffy? It’s just us. We’re friends, okay?” she scrambled off the bed and backed away from the stairs slowly. Xander came into view first, holding his hands out. “No one’s going to hurt you. We just want to take you home, that’s all.”
 
Buffy made a frightened sound and shook her head violently. “Here,” she said shakily. The angel told me to stay here. Then she looked up and saw Willow and Anya and backed away even more. “No no no,” she repeated, clearly terrified.
 
Xander continued approaching, like someone trying to catch a wounded animal. “Easy, Buffy. Just come with us. We’ll get you out of this hole, okay?” When he reached for her she skittered away with a screech. She saw the stake on the dresser and grabbed it, holding it in front of her for protection.
 
Xander stopped. “Uh, Willow, this isn’t working. I think it’s time for plan B.”
 
Willow held out her arms and muttered an incantation. “Still,” she proclaimed at the end. Buffy froze in place, her eyes wide and frightened, her heart beating a mile a minute. Xander gently took the stake and put it down. He tried to pick her up, but she was stiff as a statue. Willow closed her eyes and spoke again. “Sleep.” Buffy suddenly crumpled, and Xander barely managed to catch her before she hit the floor.
 
“Jeez, Willow, a little warning would be good,” he complained. He hefted the now unconscious Buffy in his arms. “Ok, let’s get her home before Deadboy returns.” He followed the girls upstairs and out to the car. They arranged Buffy in the back seat next to Willow and drove home. “It’s okay, Buffster,” Xander said to the sleeping girl. “You’ll be back where you belong soon.”
 
**************************
 
“Why didn’t any of you tell me any of this?” Dawn cried. Tara had just finished explaining the whole tale of Willow’s resurrection spell. At first Dawn was overwhelmed by a mixture of astonishment and joy at the news that her sister had been returned to her. But as Tara had continued her description of how Buffy had run from them, and how she was now at Spike’s crypt in a very fragile state, Dawn’s happiness was being overshadowed by suspicion and distrust.
 
“We didn’t want to get your hopes up, Dawnie,” Tara soothed. “We didn’t know if it was going to work at all. Then when she came back and ran from us, we didn’t know what had happened. We didn’t want to worry you or cause you more stress.”
 
Dawn was slightly mollified by this explanation, but questioned further. “So she’s alright now? That’s why you’re bringing her home?”
 
Tara took a deep breath and faced the agitated teen. “Dawn, we’re… we’re not sure how alright she is. Last time we saw her, she wouldn’t let us get near her. She’s frightened; she doesn’t seem to remember who she is and where she is. She attacked Willow at one point. It may… it may take a while before she recovers from wherever she was.”
 
“Do… do you think she’ll remember me?” Dawn asked in a sad little voice.
 
“We’re hoping that when she sees you and gets into familiar surroundings that she’ll come back to herself,” Tara explained. “But you just need to be prepared for the fact that she may not be herself right away.”
 
Dawn chewed her lip thoughtfully. “What did Spike have to say about all this?” she asked.
 
“Spike wasn’t involved in the spell,” Tara said. “Buffy just showed up at his crypt, and he’s been taking care of her. He called here early in the morning when we were all exhausted after fighting those biker guys. He says that she hasn’t been talking or understanding him much.”
 
“Is she… is she safe?” Dawn asked. “She’s the Slayer. What if she decides to Slay us or something?”
 
“Willow can restrain her with magic if necessary,” Tara said, sounding more confident than she felt. Truth was that this constant use of magic worried Tara more than she could say. The resurrection spell had been much closer to black magic than Tara had thought it would be, and Willow’s casual casting of spells with hardly a thought was starting to turn Willow into something Tara didn’t like. I’m really going to have to talk to her when this all settles down. Turning back to the matter at hand she said to Dawn, “I think it would be a good idea to get all the weapons out of her room, just in case. Can you come give me a hand with that?”  Dawn followed her upstairs to help prepare for Buffy’s homecoming.
 
******************
 
When the car pulled up, Dawn was waiting impatiently in the living room, hugging her long thin arms to herself and pacing with anticipation. The door opened and Xander came in, carrying Buffy’s sleeping form, and Dawn rushed up to greet them. “Buffy?” she said, hardly daring to believe. “What happened?”
 
“I had to knock her out to get her to come with us,” Willow explained as they all followed Xander up to Buffy’s room. Xander laid her gently on her bed and was nearly run over by Dawn who came up to stroke her sister’s face, reassuring herself that Buffy was truly alive again.
 
“When will she wake up?” Dawn asked.
 
“I need to lift the spell,” Willow said. “Dawn, you might want to, um, stand back a bit. She’s been a bit violent at times.” Nervously, Dawn stepped back a foot or two. After a short incantation, Willow said, “Arise” in a firm voice. They all waited, hearts in their throats, to see what would happen.
 
Buffy stirred, her eyes still closed. Soft, she thought. She must still be with the angel. She thought the others, the bad ones had come, but she must be mistaken. She slowly opened her eyes. When she saw her surroundings she bolted upright, practically hyperventilating in panic. This wasn’t the same place. This room was bright – too bright. Instead of the piercing blue eyes of the angel who protected her she found the four who had come before with their loud voices and the stink of their magic. There was another too, but she was too terrified to look closely at her. She jumped out of the bed, looking wildly around for something to defend herself with. Mustn’t hurt them the angel said, she thought. But what are they going to do to me?
 
“Buffy?” said the unfamiliar one. Dawn walked slowly toward her, trying not to frighten her. “It’s me, Dawn. Do you remember? Your sister?”
 
Buffy backed away, but looked searchingly at the newcomer. The dark haired girl. I needed to keep her safe. I brought her to the angel to keep her safe. They must have gotten her too. She suddenly grabbed Dawn’s arm and pulled the teen behind her, guarding her with her body to protect her from the others.
 
Dawn yelped a bit with surprise and a little pain from her sister’s strong grip. “Buffy, what are you doing?” she cried. “This is home. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”
 
Buffy’s eyes darted from the Scoobies to Dawn and back. The dark haired girl wasn’t frightened of the bad ones. Could it be that she didn’t know what they were capable of? Dawn tried to get out from behind her and rejoin the group but Buffy grabbed her again. “No! N…not s… s… safe,” she stammered, struggling to get the words to form.
 
Tara saw that Dawn was becoming frightened, and that Buffy’s panicked grasp was hurting the girl. “Buffy, let her go. You’re hurting her,” Tara said in a gentle yet firm voice.
 
Willow on the other hand immediately muttered another incantation, and Buffy froze in place. Dawn pulled out of her grasp and stepped back. Tara quickly drew the teen to her side, comforting her. “Willow, let her go,” Tara insisted. “She needs to know we’re not trying to hurt her.”
 
Willow muttered again, and Buffy was free to move. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, completely bewildered. The dark haired girl was siding with the bad ones. She used to be someone important, but somehow she had gone against her. Why is she joining them? Did they force her, like they forced me to leave the good place? She shook her head again and again, tears of confusion and fear running down her face.
 
“Buffy, it’s okay,” Willow said. “You’re home. We got you out. We want to help. Just tell us what you need and we’ll help you.”
 
Buffy had no idea what the red-haired woman was saying. She wanted to be back with her protector, the one with love in his eyes. “A.. angel,” she whispered, slowly sinking down to the floor.
 
The others looked at each other in confusion. “What did she say?” Anya asked.
 
Buffy curled up in the fetal position, weeping. “Angel,” she sobbed. “Angel…” Her words dissolved into continuous pitiful sobs.
 
The Scoobies all looked at each other, floored. “She wants Angel?” Xander said. “Where did that come from?”
 
“He was her first love,” Willow ventured. “He’s been to hell too. Maybe she’s locked on to that somehow.”
 
“Well then we should call him and get him here as fast as possible!” Dawn exclaimed. “Someone’s got to be able to help her.” Her voice broke as she looked at her sister, curled up on the floor, more miserable than anyone Dawn had ever seen.
 
“Dawn’s right,” Tara said. “Let’s go call him, and let her calm down a bit.”
 
“Should someone stay with her?” Willow said.
 
“I’ll stay,” Dawn said. “She doesn’t seem to be afraid of me for some reason.”
 
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Dawn,” Xander began.
 
“She’ll be okay, Xander,” Tara broke in. To Dawn she said, “Leave the door open, and if anything goes wrong, we’ll be right there, okay?” Dawn nodded, and the others filed out, looking back uncertainly. Dawn walked slowly up to the small huddled figure and knelt down beside her. “Buffy? They’re gone now. It’s just you and me. They’re going to get Angel for you, okay?”
 
Buffy looked up at Dawn, sniffling. “Angel?” she whispered.
 
“He’ll be here soon, I promise,” Dawn reassured her.
 
Buffy didn’t know what to make of things. This girl was saying the angel would come, but she was friends with the bad ones. What if they hurt him? Something in this dark girl was familiar, but Buffy was too afraid of the ones with the magic to trust her. She turned to face the wall, squeezing her eyes shut to block out this bright, loud, unfriendly place.
 
Dawn sat next to her, stroking her hair silently with tears running down her own face as well. “I need you, Buffy,” she said quietly. “Please come back. Please.” But Dawn got no answer from the whimpering wreck that was her sister. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters are Joss Whedon's, not mine

A little something for my faithful readers before I take off on yet another business trip!


******************
Chapter 6
******************
 
Spike used a couple of bungee cords to attach his groceries to the back of the bike. He drove home from the butcher’s in a somewhat circuitous route, stopping at the entrance to each of the town’s cemeteries and listening for any activity. Twice he got off his bike and took out a gathering of vampires in some large tomb or another, and once he needed to free a coed from the clutches of some desperate fledge. Figuring that he had knocked down the vampire population enough for the night, he hurried home, not wanting to leave Buffy alone any longer.
 
He parked the bike and grabbed the bag of blood and the bag of human food off the back, shoving the door open with his shoulder. “Buffy? Just me, love,” he called. His greeting was answered with utter silence. Dropping the bags he flew downstairs to find the bed empty. “Buffy?” he called again. He looked all around the room, just to see if she was hiding or something. Then he recognized a familiar scent. Fucking Scoobies. They were here. But did they take her with them, or did they just frighten the hell out the poor girl so she ran away? He sped back up the stairs and out his front door, pausing to see if he could catch Buffy’s scent. It was very faint, and mixed with the scents of Xander and the others. He followed it to a side street, but then the scent vanished. Must have put her in a car, then, he guessed. So she’s at home most likely. He made his way with rapid strides back to his bike and kicked it to life with more force than necessary. If they’ve hurt her or worried her I’ll fucking strangle them, chip or no chip, he vowed as he roared off toward Revello Drive.
 
*************
 
Cordelia was sorting through some of the mounds of paperwork that tended to collect on Angel’s desk when the phone rang. Sighing at the lateness of the hour and praying it wasn’t some big, messy demon, she reached for the handset. “Angel Investigations, we help the helpless!” she chirped into the phone.
 
“Cordelia? It’s Willow Rosenberg,” came the voice on the other end. “Is Angel there?”
 
“Willow?” Cordelia exclaimed. She hadn’t heard anything from Sunnydale since Willow had shown up to tell them about Buffy’s death. Now Angel was returning to normal, helping Fred back into the world, and their work was starting to pick up again. Cordelia was a little apprehensive about getting involved with the Sunnydale bunch again. “We, um, haven’t heard from you in a while. How are things in Sunnydale?”
 
“We’ve got some news for Angel,” Willow explained. “We did a resurrection spell and, well, Buffy’s alive again.”
 
“You’re serious?” Cordelia cried. “She’s… just hang on, let me get Angel!” Cordelia put down the phone and hurried out to the courtyard where Angel and Fred were talking. “Angel! It’s Willow! Buffy’s alive!” Angel’s jaw dropped in astonishment for a moment before he leaped to his feet and dashed inside.
 
He grabbed the phone from Cordelia and said, “Willow? What’s going on?” He fought hard to keep his hands from shaking. Alive? Could it really be possible?
 
“H… hello Angel,” Willow said, suddenly a little nervous. On the one hand, she really wanted to help Buffy get back to normal. On the other hand, she wasn’t thrilled about having Angel back in Sunnydale, getting in the way.
 
“What happened? Cordelia said that she… Buffy’s alive?” Angel said, hardly daring to hope.
 
“She’s alive,” Willow said. “We did a resurrection spell and brought her back. But Angel she’s… she’s not herself.”
 
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
 
“She doesn’t seem to know what’s going on,” Willow explained. “She barely talks, she seems terrified of us, she spends a lot of time curled up in a ball crying. We can’t seem to reach her, and we were hoping you’d help.”
 
“Are you sure it’s Buffy you brought back?” he wondered.
 
“Spike swears it’s her, and nothing else seems to suggest anything demonic or anything,” said Willow.
 
“Spike?” Angel snapped. “What the hell is he doing with her?”
 
“She showed up in his crypt after she was, um, reanimated,” Willow said, not wanting to go into the details about Buffy digging herself out of her grave right then. “She was all feral and wild, and somehow ended up hiding in Spike’s crypt. He called us and we brought her home.”
 
“And what did Spike say about all this?”
 
Evading Angel’s question she replied, “She seemed to be clinging to Spike a lot. We’re not sure why, but we figured it would be better if she was in her own surroundings. We had to knock her out with magic to get her home, but since she’s been there the only thing she’s done is ask for you.”
 
Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? She was asking for me?” After all she’s been through, I’m what she remembers? How is that possible?
 
“She freaked out when she came to, and tried to protect Dawn from the rest of us. Then she ended up on the ground, crying and calling your name over and over,” Willow said. “We were hoping you could come. Maybe you can reach her since you’ve, um…”
 
“Spent time in hell?” Angel finished.
 
“Yeah, that,” Willow said. “So will you come?”
 
“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Angel promised. He hung up and sat down heavily. He rubbed his face as tears glittered in the corners of his eyes. She’s back, and she’s calling for me. After months of adjusting to living without her, it was almost more than he could bear. He gathered himself and rose to make arrangements.
 
In the Summers’ kitchen, Willow hung up the phone. “Well, he’s on his way,” she said to the others.
 
“I just peeked in on her,” Tara said. “She seems to be letting Dawn be near her, but not much else.”
 
“Do you think Spike’s going to show up here?” Anya wondered. “I mean, he seemed to be taking care of her pretty intensely. He’s going to want to know what’s going on.”
 
“And he and Angel aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Xander observed.
 
Willow thought for a moment. “I think I’ll do a disinvite spell for Spike, just for the time being. I don’t think the two of them getting into a big knock-down battle is going to help Buffy’s mental state.”
 
Tara frowned. “Is it really necessary to disinvite him? He’s not going to hurt her.”
 
“Personally, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ll trust the vampire with the soul first,” Xander said. He had never been a huge fan of Angel, but Spike’s cockiness had long since gotten on his nerves.
 
Turning to Tara, Willow said, “It’s as much for Spike’s own protection as anything else. Both of them have a ‘fangs first, questions later’ policy when it comes to each other.”
 
Still frowning, Tara acquiesced. “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” she said before turning to go back upstairs.
 
Willow wrinkled her brows a bit at Tara’s obvious lack of enthusiasm for her ideas. What’s wrong with her? Can’t she see I just want to make everything better? This would all go so much smoother if they’d just let me use my talents without all these questions and restraints. Willow turned her back on Tara’s retreating figure and made her way to the front door. She worked the disinvite spell, tuning it to keep out Spike, and not Angel. When she had finished, she joined Xander and Anya at the kitchen island.
 
“Do you think Buffy might be hungry or anything?” Anya asked. “I would think she’d be up for some real food after whatever you get in hell.”
 
“Doubt that they’re serving up five course dinners in Hades, Ahn,” Xander said.
 
“Some hell dimensions have pretty good food,” Anya protested. “Well, if you’re a demon that is. If you’re a human you’re more likely to be dinner than get dinner.”
 
“Anyhow, that’s a good idea Anya,” Willow said. She got up and bustled about making a turkey sandwich and put it on a tray with a tall glass of water. “I’ll see if this will tempt her.” Willow left, balancing the tray as she went up to Buffy’s room.
 
Xander and Anya chatted quietly for a few minutes, but their conversation was interrupted by a frantic pounding at the back door. Xander got up and opened the door to find Spike there, looking panicked. “Is she here?” he asked.
 
“She’s upstairs in her room with Dawn,” Xander said. “Where she belongs.”
 
“Is she okay? Let me see her!” Spike cried. He tried to push his way into the house but bounced painfully off the invisible barrier instead. “You disinvited me?” he roared in disbelief. “What the fuck?”
 
“We were afraid you’d get in a fight with Angel,” Anya piped up.
 
“What the hell does the great poof have to do with it?” Spike growled.
 
“Buffy’s been calling for him,” Xander replied with more than a trace of smugness. “She’s been calling his name over and over since she got here. Angel is who she wants, not you.”
 
Spike’s mouth wobbled, the words stuck in his throat. Finally he turned to Anya and said, “Is it true? She’s asking for Angel?” The former demon was many things, but a liar was not one of them.
 
“It’s true,” Anya said. “She tried to protect Dawn from us, and when we made her let go of Dawn’s arm, she started crying for Angel.”
 
The look of hurt on Spike’s face gave even Xander a mild twinge of conscience. He slowly shook his head, trying to find words, but in the end he spun on his heel and stalked off into the night like a shadow.
 
Angel. Always bloody Angel. I fucking bleed for the girl, fought for her every night since she died, protected her sister, and the first name she remembers is Angel. He stomped into the first cemetery he came to and started hunting for things to kill. An hour later, bruised and covered with dust and demon blood, he stormed into a liquor store, bought three bottles of Jack Daniels from the nervous clerk, and stomped home. I can’t believe they fucking disinvited me. All summer I kept their sorry asses alive, and this is the thanks I get? He was well into the second bottle before the tears of hurt and rage and rejection started to flow.
 
******************
 
Angel sped toward Sunnydale in silence. He had left less than an hour after hanging up the phone, explaining quickly to the others what the situation was, and asking Wesley to do some research on the side effects of resurrection spells. His mind raced as he drove. She wants me. It’s me she’s asking for. Although their relationship had faded, he still felt a connection to her that would probably never go away. He thought about Spike caring for her with a combination of irritation and smug triumph. As if he could ever reach her like I could. He knew that his annoying former companion had been helping Buffy for a while. Most likely a desperate bid to get into her pants, he thought. He couldn’t conceive of Spike working on the side of the White Hats without an ulterior motive. Although he had no idea of why Spike hung around after Buffy’s death, he was certain it was for some selfish reason.
 
The exit for Sunnydale loomed ahead and he took it, barely slowing down. His desire to see her again had caused him to risk speeding tickets to get there the same night. Burying Buffy had been the most painful thing in his entire existence. The idea of seeing her alive again was indescribably wonderful. Still, Willow’s reports sounded somewhat discouraging. He remembered his own return from hell. The painful confusion and the uncontrollable ferocity of his demon were etched on his memory. But he also remembered that moment when he recognized Buffy. That moment of perfect clarity, when he realized that he knew this girl, and it meant he was safe, and he was home, and no one was going to torment him like that ever again. She had been like an oasis in the desert. He hoped that he could be that touchstone for her and guide her back to the world. I owe her that.
 
He turned at last into Revello Drive and was soon parked in front of the familiar door. He sat there a moment, collecting himself, then with an unneeded deep breath he stepped out of the car and strode up to the door. The lights were on, despite the late hour, and Willow soon responded to his knock.
 
“Angel, hey, um… come in,” Willow said, stepping aside to let him in.
 
“Hi,” he said. Xander and Anya, who had been dozing on the couch, now woke up and stood to greet the vampire as well. “How’s Buffy doing?”
 
“Last we checked she was just sitting there,” Willow said. It had been a long and trying evening. Willow had tried to bring Buffy some food, but Buffy had curled into an even tighter ball and refused to even look at Willow, shaking like a leaf the whole time. Dawn had sat with her, trying to coax her to eat, or to at least curl up on the bed, but eventually she had to give up. Dawn had fallen asleep, weeping in Tara’s arms at the unfairness of it all. They had all tried, individually and in groups, to engage the Slayer, but her tears had given way to a stony-faced silence that could not be penetrated. “She was crying for ages, but now she seems almost… catatonic or something. We really hope you can help.”
 
I hope so too, Angel thought, deeply concerned about what he was hearing. “Take me to her,” he said, and Willow led the way to Buffy’s room.
 
“Buffy?” Willow called as she opened the door. “Angel’s here.”
 
Buffy sat up suddenly. “Angel?” she whispered.
 
Willow stepped back and let Angel enter the room, remaining outside so as not to freak Buffy out. Angel walked in slowly. “Hello, Buffy.”
 
Buffy’s expression of hope fell to be replaced by confusion. She got to her feet quickly so she could get away from this stranger who was most definitely not her angel. A low moan escaped from her throat. Why does she keep tormenting me? She pulled me out of the good place, and then she took me away from the angel, and now she’s mocking me, telling me that the angel is here. What did I do to her? Why? She kept backing up, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the newcomer.
 
Angel held his hands in front of him, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. “Hey, it’s just me. Look.” He showed her his hands. “No weapons… no friends…”
 
Buffy’s eyes widened as his unfortunate choice of words triggered a memory of him standing over her, sword pointed at her throat. No weapons… no friends… no hope. That’s what he said. He wanted to kill me. He wanted to drag me down into hell. Her breathing sped up as she tensed and narrowed her eyes at him.
 
Angel heard her heart rate speed up and stopped, wondering what had her so spooked. “Buffy?” he said. “Do you…?”
 
Angel got no further. With an inarticulate roar Buffy launched herself at Angel, sending him reeling backward with a kick to the sternum. She followed it up with a flurry of blows to his face. Angel tried to defend himself without hurting her, but her attack was relentless. Willow looked on in utter shock, unable to process what was happening. Finally Xander cried, “Willow! Do something!” and Willow shook herself and muttered the incantation to freeze Buffy in her tracks.
 
Buffy stopped in mid punch, looking like someone playing at statues. Angel lost no time getting away from her, blood trickling from the side of his mouth and one eye beginning to swell. “Sleep,” Willow said, and Buffy once more crumpled to the ground unconscious. Xander went in and scooped her up, laying her on the bed and covering her up.
 
“What happened?” Dawn came stumbling out of her room, having been woken from a sound sleep by the noise. “Angel? When did you get here?” Her eyes grew round at the sight of his battered face.
 
“Someone want to tell me what the hell that was all about?” Angel exploded. “You said she was calling for me!”
 
“She was,” Dawn explained. “Over and over, she kept saying ‘Angel’”
 
“Then why did she just try to kill me?” the vampire snarled.
 
“I don’t know,” Willow said hopelessly. “But we all heard it. She kept crying and saying ‘Angel’. Maybe she just doesn’t recognize you or something.”
 
“She’s insane,” Angel said, shaking his head. “She’s completely gone.” He turned to stagger down the stairs to collapse onto the living room sofa, wincing as he realized that she might have cracked a rib or two.
 
“No shit, Sherlock,” Xander said in exasperation as they all followed him into the living room. “We told you that. We were hoping that since you’ve been to hell before you might have some idea of how to help her!”
 
“It was different for me, I guess,” Angel muttered. “I… maybe because of my demon? I don’t know. When I came back I was confused. I had no idea what was going on, just like her. But once I realized who she was I sort of… snapped out of it I guess.” It was apparent from their long faces that the Scoobies had expected just that.
 
“So what do we do now?” Anya asked. “Do we find a mental hospital with really strong doors or what?”
 
“Anya!” Xander and Willow cried together. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that!” Willow continued. “She’s our friend! She sacrificed herself to save all of us!”
 
“But if she’s going to be attacking us all the time, then maybe we’d all be safer if she was locked up somewhere until she gets her memories back,” Anya said in a practical tone.
 
Dawn lost it at that point. “I just want her back!” she cried hysterically. “It’s not fair! She’s got to come back! She’s just got to!” She sank down into a chair and covered her face with her hands.
 
“Shh, Dawnie,” Tara said, once more taking on the mothering role. Addressing the others she said, “We need to just slow down. This may just take time.”
 
“I could make her forget,” Willow said slowly. “I could do a spell that makes her forget all about hell.”
 
“But what if that leaves her with nothing?” Angel said. “She may forget about hell, sure, but that doesn’t mean she’ll remember who she is or where she is.”
 
“I suppose we could try it and see what happens,” Xander offered.
 
“No!” yelled Dawn, standing up and stamping her foot. “She’s not a… a guinea pig to experiment on! You can’t just try this and that on her without knowing what you’re doing! You could kill her again and then…” Dawn couldn’t continue. She ran out of the room and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door.
 
“She’s right,” Tara said firmly. “We can’t do any more spells on her until we know exactly what happened to her and what effects the past spells had on her. We need to do a lot more research before we do anything else.”
 
“I’ve got one of my guys looking up the effects of resurrection spells,” Angel said, wincing again as he touched his bruised head. “But I agree that we should do a little more background work before we try anything else. We don’t want to make it worse.” Angel stood up. “It’s getting close to sunrise. I’m going to go find a hotel room and ice my face. I’ll call later for an update.”
 
Willow followed him to the door. “I’m sorry, Angel. I really don’t know why she attacked you.”
 
“Not your fault, Willow,” Angel said. “Let’s just hope that she’ll remember soon. I’ll see you later.” He got into his car and drove off, heart and body aching. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the vampires and other folks belong to Joss Whedon.

Thanks for your patience! I should be done traveling for a while - more time to write!

***************
Chapter 7
***************
 
All the Scoobies slept late the next day. Xander and Anya went home soon after Angel and crashed like rocks, thanking all the gods that it was a Saturday. Tara had tried to talk to Dawn, but the teen had locked her bedroom door and refused to come out. She and Willow had decided that leaving Buffy in her magically induced sleep was probably a good idea and they were soon dropping off as well. The house dropped rapidly into a silence punctuated only by breathing and ticking clocks.
 
Dawn woke feeling miserable at almost one in the afternoon. She went to the bathroom and got a drink of water. Her face looked awful, her eyes red from crying and broken sleep. Curious, she went across the hall and checked in on Buffy. She took one look and with an expression of horror turned to flee the room and bang on Willow and Tara’s door, calling for help.
 
The others rushed in to see what Dawn was upset about. Buffy was thrashing about on the bed, sweating bullets and grinding her teeth. Her hands clawed the air wildly, and although the spell seemed to prevent her from making any sound, she was clearly in the silent throes of a nightmare.
 
The demons were chasing her, through flaming streets and down dark alleyways, and they caught her and tore her over and over. She kept feeling like she was dying, but then that voice would call out again and it would start all over. After a while she knew at some level that it must be a dream – no one could die that many times. But if it was a dream, why couldn’t she wake up? It went on, and on and she wanted to scream, and cry, and beg for mercy but she couldn’t and it wouldn’t stop and why why why oh God…
 
“Shit,” Willow said. Hurriedly she said the words to end the spell as she ran over to shake Buffy’s arm. “Buffy wake up! You were dreaming!” she said.
 
Buffy erupted into an ear piercing scream as she woke. When she saw Willow she screamed again, rolling away so quickly that she fell to the floor. She crab-crawled backward into the corner, screaming over and over. When she could go no farther she covered her head with her arms and repeated, “No… no… please… no…” again and again.
 
“Buffy, it’s okay,” Willow began, circling the bed to get nearer to Buffy.
 
“Leave her alone!” Dawn cried. “You’re scaring her!” She ran over to Willow and pulled her arm as hard as she could away from the bed and Buffy.
 
Willow’s eyes flashed dark for a moment. Tara noticed and yelled, “Willow what are you doing?” She stepped between Willow and Dawn. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Dawn backed away from Willow, suddenly frightened.
 
Willow shook herself, instantly abashed. “I’m so sorry, Dawnie. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just… really upset. Just like you are.”
 
“She was trapped in some nightmare and she couldn’t wake up!” Dawn cried. “Just leave her alone! Stop… magicking her for five minutes and get OUT!”
 
Willow started to speak but Tara stepped in. “Willow, let’s go. Come on.” She started to protest, but stern looks from Tara and Dawn, coupled with Buffy’s frantic protestations caused the words to stick in her throat. She reluctantly turned and followed Tara out, chewing her lip the whole way.
 
Dawn knelt down next to Buffy, who was still curled up and begging pitifully, “No… please… s..stop… Angel… please…” Dawn reached out to stroke her sister’s hair, but Buffy jumped as if scalded and shied away. Dawn tried to reach out to her, talk to her, anything to calm her down, but in the end she got up and left, fighting her own tears.
 
Downstairs, Willow and Tara were having a heated discussion about the whole situation. “I don’t see why you won’t let me do a memory spell on her,” Willow was saying. “If she forgets about hell, it can’t possibly do her anything but good.”
 
“We have no idea what her mental state is, Willow,” Tara insisted. “We can’t know what a memory spell would do.” Tara broke off as Dawn came into the kitchen. “Has she calmed down at all?” Tara asked.
 
Dawn shook her head. “No. She’s crying for Angel again, and keeps saying ‘stop’.”
 
“Stop what?” Willow wondered.
 
“I dunno, maybe knocking her out over and over?” Dawn snapped. Frustrated, Dawn grabbed her coat. “I need to take a walk. I’ll be back later.” Before the witches could protest she had slammed the door behind her and was making a beeline for Restfield. Spike will know what to do. I don’t know why he isn’t here right now, but he’s got to come help her. As she walked across town Dawn hoped with all her heart that Spike would come through for her again.
 
A short while later, Dawn was pushing open the door to Spike’s crypt. “Spike? Are you home?” She walked in to behold Spike passed out in his armchair. Two empty whiskey bottles lay on the floor, with a third resting in his lap. His hair was a mess, he had bruises healing on his face, and his clothes were filthy. “Spike?” Dawn repeated. The vampire slept on, oblivious. Exasperated, Dawn yelled, “SPIKE!” at the top of her lungs.
 
“Bloody hell, Nibblet, what are you trying to do, kill me?” he growled as he jerked awake. He sat up, wincing at the raging headache this induced.
 
“You’re already dead,” Dawn observed. “Where have you been?”
 
“Killing things and drinking, if you must know,” he grumbled. He tried to do more of the latter, but found that the bottle in his lap was also empty, and he dropped it clattering to the floor.
 
“Where did you go?” Dawn asked. “The others said you were taking care of Buffy, but then when they brought her home you disappeared.”
 
“My presence is clearly not required,” he said sullenly.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“I was disinvited from the house and told your sis was calling for Angel,” he growled. “Clearly, my services are no longer desired by the Scoobies or the Slayer.”
 
“They disinvited you?” Dawn asked, astonished. “When were you there?”
 
Spike looked at her curiously. “You didn’t know?”
 
Dawn shook her head. “After they brought her home, I was in there trying to talk to her. She was so scared, and then she started calling for Angel. I didn’t know what the others were doing.”
 
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair. “The great poof will come and wake sleeping beauty and they’ll bloody live happily ever after.”
 
“But that’s just it,” Dawn said, fighting the tears. “Angel came last night and she attacked him!”
 
Spike opened his eyes again and sat up. “Come again, Bit?”
 
“She just went berserk and pounded his face until Willow froze her with a spell and then knocked her out. If we hadn’t taken all the weapons out of the room she might have killed him,” Dawn explained.
 
“That’s my girl,” Spike said with a smirk. But then he frowned. “I don’t get it. If she wanted Angel, why would she go after him?”
 
“We can’t figure it out. Spike, I’m so worried,” she wailed. “Willow keeps knocking her out with magic, and the last time she was having a nightmare and she couldn’t wake up! And now she won’t let any of us near her, and she won’t stop screaming.”
 
Sobering rapidly, Spike got up and pulled Dawn into a hug. “Shh, Bit. Don’t take on so,” he soothed.
 
Dawn clutched at him while she sobbed. “Willow says she wants to erase her memories of hell, but I’m scared that it’s just going to make things w..worse.”
 
Rage built inside Spike at the idea of Willow indiscriminately throwing spells at Buffy without any thought to the consequences, but he kept the lid on his temper for the time being. “Here now, listen to me,” he said, pulling back to take Dawn by the shoulders and look into her eyes. “You need to go home and get on the phone to the Watcher in England. Tell him what’s going on and tell him to get his ass back to Sunnydale right away. I’ll come by the second the sun goes down. I’ll need you to invite me in.”
 
Sniffling, Dawn said, “But what if Angel’s there?”
 
“I can handle my grandsire, Nibblet. Don’t worry about that. You just go get a hold of Rupert. We’re going to need him to help figure out what’s up with your sister, and to keep Willow in check. I’ll be there as soon as I can, understand?”
 
Dawn nodded. “Thanks, Spike,” she said, giving the vampire another quick hug. “I don’t know why she was calling for Angel, but it’s pretty clear that he’s not what she needs. Don’t let the others drive you away. Please?”
 
“Always got your back, Bit,” Spike replied. “Now get going. I’ll be there later.” With a last sniffle, Dawn turned to go. Spike waited until she was out of earshot before he picked up a bottle and threw it with a roar across the crypt. I will fucking rip Willow’s throat out if she casts one more spell on Buffy. He raged at the thought of his Slayer trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up, because her friends couldn’t leave her be. He grabbed some blood out of his fridge and drank it while he stared out the crypt window, waiting for the sun to go down.
 
****************
 
When Dawn came back into the house it was eerily quiet. “Hello?” she called.
 
“In here Dawn,” Tara called from the living room. Dawn went in to find Willow and Tara surrounded by piles of books, deep in research mode.
 
“Where did you go?” Willow asked.
 
“Like I said, for a walk,” Dawn said shortly. She looked up toward the stairs. “Why is it so quiet? You didn’t knock her out again, did you?”
 
“No,” said Willow, a trifle defensively. “We just left her alone and she quieted down after a while.”
 
Dawn frowned a bit, unsure if she believed the witch. She hung up her coat and grabbed the portable phone from the kitchen before going upstairs to check on her sister. She opened Buffy’s door slowly, poking her head in. Buffy was where she had left her, curled up in the little corner between the bed and the wall. Her eyes were open and staring into nothing and she sat, still as a statue. Dawn went over to her quietly. “Buffy?” There was no answer. Dawn knelt down and hesitatingly touched Buffy’s shoulder. Buffy shivered a bit, but otherwise didn’t respond. Buffy’s catatonic state alarmed Dawn more than any of her previous behavior, and she left the room quickly, dashing across to her own bedroom and locking the door. With slightly shaking hands she found Giles’ number in the phone’s memory and pressed ‘dial’.
 
*********************
 
“I just wish you would have let us know that you were calling him,” Willow said to Dawn.
 
“Why? So you could make it seem like none of this is your fault?” Dawn shouted back. She had been finishing up a long, tense discussion with Giles, punctuated by a number of ‘Good Lord’s when Willow had picked up the extension, intending to call Xander and see what his plans were. Willow had been surprised to hear Giles’ voice, and hadn’t been able to hide her gasp. When Dawn realized someone was on the other line, she had stomped downstairs to find out who it was. When she realized it was Willow, she said as much to Giles, who asked to speak to the witch. The conversation had led to some furious blushing on Willow’s part, in between protestations about her motivations in all this. The call had ended with Giles promising to be on the very next flight to Sunnydale.
 
Willow looked at Dawn with irritation. It’s not that she didn’t want Giles to know what happened. But she was hoping to have Buffy all fixed up and back to normal before Giles was informed. Now she had Angel on her hands and Giles on the way. I suppose I could turn them all into rats like Amy for a while, she thought half-jokingly.
 
While Willow fumed, Tara spoke up. “I think you did the right thing, Dawnie. We should have told Giles she was back already. We just sort of forgot in all the commotion.”
 
Dawn was grateful for Tara’s support. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission before using, like, my own phone, but I thought we needed Giles’ help,” she said crossly. She turned to go upstairs without another word.
 
“Great,” muttered Willow. “Someone else to put in their two cents.”
 
Tara looked at Willow in astonishment. “I can’t believe you. I mean, who cares who helps? You can’t fix this yourself, Willow.”
 
“How do you know?” Willow shot back. “No one will get out of my way and let me actually use my powers! None of you believe I can do it!” Willow turned her back on Tara, looking angrily out the window at the setting sun.
 
Tara went up behind Willow and wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist, resting her cheek on Willow’s shoulder. “Willow, I love you. And I’m proud of you, and completely amazed by some of the things you can do. I’m not saying you’re incapable of doing it. I just think you shouldn’t do more spells on Buffy right now.”
 
Somewhat mollified, Willow turned and wrapped her arms around Tara in return. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said. “I just really, really want to make things better.”
 
“We all do,” Tara said. “But it’s okay if it doesn’t get better this very second, alright?”
 
“Alright,” Willow agreed. She pulled Tara into a kiss that was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
 
“I’ll get it!” Dawn called, running down the stairs. The witches became aware of loud voices on the porch as Dawn ran to open the door. “Spike! Come in! Quick!” she said as she noticed the vampire smoking slightly under the fading rays of the sun.
 
“What did you invite him in for?” said Xander, coming in behind Spike looking irritated. “We didn’t want him here adding to the aggravation!”
 
“I invited him over,” Dawn said defiantly. “So far he’s the only one of us who seems to be able to get near her, and if he can help, then he needs to be here.”
 
“Why the hell did you disinvite me?” Spike demanded of the Scoobies. He threw off the blanket he had been using to protect himself and glared at them, furious.
 
“We thought you and Angel would start fighting,” said Anya, who had followed Xander in.
 
“This is the bloody thanks I get?” he said angrily. “I save your asses night after night, take care of Nibblet, do your patrols and dirty work, and the second Buffy’s back you kick me out?”
 
“Buffy’s screwed up enough,” said Xander. “She doesn’t need your bad influence.”
 
“Oh, and you lot are doing such a bang up job helping her,” Spike scoffed. He turned to Willow. “How long was she suffering through a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from while you had her under your spell, Red? Did you even think of that when you knocked her out?”
 
“How was I supposed to know that…” Willow’s protest was interrupted by another ring at the doorbell. Rolling her eyes, Dawn stomped over to open the door.
 
“Great. Come in, Angel. We don’t have nearly enough stress here yet,” Dawn said sarcastically as she stepped aside to let the vampire through.
 
“What the hell is he doing here?” Angel snarled when he saw Spike.
 
“Same as you, trying to help the Slayer,” Spike retorted. “From what I hear, she wasn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet for you, Peaches.”
 
“Why are you even here, Spike?” Angel asked, moving menacingly toward the other vampire. “What the hell are you playing at?”
 
“Not playing at anything,” said Spike. “Care about the girl, same as you, and I don’t intend to…”
 
“Angel?”
 
Spike turned at the soft voice that came from the stairs. Buffy stood there, looking small and lost, her face pale with huge circles under her eyes. “Buffy?” he said. “You alright love?”
 
“She called me, William,” Angel said contemptuously as he moved toward the stairs. “It’s okay, Buffy. Angel’s here.”
 
Buffy moved tentatively down the stairs, then her face lit up and she cried, “Angel! Angel Angel Angel…” She flew down the stairs past Angel’s outstretched arms and buried herself in Spike’s black-clad chest. “Angel… stay… please… stay…” she said over and over as she practically climbed his body.
 
Spike was bewildered, but he put his arms around her and murmured, “Shh, love. I’m here. Not going anywhere. You’re safe.”
 
“Stay… please… angel,” she whispered. Angel was completely flabbergasted as he watched Buffy cling to Spike, who held her and soothed her, stroking her hair while he tried to work out what she was getting at.
 
“Buffy, this is Angel,” Xander said, pointing to the confused and increasingly irritated vampire. “Don’t you remember?”
 
Without letting go of Spike she shook her head. “No… b..bad. Hurt… not a..angel.”
 
“Well he certainly isn’t an angel,” Angel scoffed. Buffy didn’t respond to Angel, but just kept clinging to Spike and saying over and over, “Angel… don’t go… stay…”
 
Why would she think I was an angel? Spike wondered. A thought occurred to him. He gently took her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Buffy. Listen to me, okay? Where do you think we are right now? Can you tell me?”
 
Buffy looked around, frightened. “H..hell,” she whispered.
 
The others exchanged looks of complete confusion. “Why would she think this was hell?” Willow asked, which caused Buffy to whimper and clutch Spike more tightly.
 
Spike tried again to figure out what was frightening Buffy. “Why are you so afraid, love?”
 
Buffy looked at Willow, then up at Spike. “V..voice. Hurt. P...punish.”
 
“Whose voice? Who is punishing you?” Spike asked, leaning down to catch her eye.
 
With a shaking hand Buffy pointed at Willow. “Bad. Hurt. P..p..pulled m..me out.” Every word sounded like she was dragging it out of the deepest recesses of her mind.
 
“But why should it hurt to be pulled out of hell?” Anya wondered.
 
And then Spike got it. Oh fucking hell. He once more looked down into her tear stained face. “Buffy, who do you think I am?”
 
“Angel. F..found me. H..help me go b..back.”
 
“Back where?” Willow asked.
 
“Warm place,” she said, trying to burrow into Spike once more.
 
“What the heck is she talking about?” Xander asked, completely exasperated. Anya, Willow and Dawn were confused, but realization started to dawn on Tara and she shook her head back and forth in dismay.
 
“Heaven,” Spike said softly. “You pulled her out of heaven.” He looked down at the terrified girl. “Isn’t that right, love?”
 
Buffy looked up at him and nodded, Spike having supplied the word for the warm place that had been eluding her. “Heaven. Mother. Warm place. Please…”
 
“Oh no,” Dawn whimpered. “She was…” Dawn covered her mouth in horror at the implications. She was with Mommy and she had to leave. Oh no…
 
“She was in heaven,” Spike repeated, fixing cold, accusing eyes on Willow. “And you pulled her out, so she could wake up in her own bloody coffin. Then you hex her fifteen times so she’s trapped in nightmares and pull her away from me when she thinks I’m here to save her. Small wonder she’s fucking terrified of you. You put her in this hell. Your voice. Your spell.” His voice was growing more and more angry, and only a small nervous sound from Buffy kept him from losing it completely.
 
“I didn’t know,” Willow said in a shaky voice. “I thought… I was sure she was…”
 
“You didn’t even think,” Spike spat out. “You decided you wanted her back and you were going to make it so, and to hell with the consequences.”
 
“But why you?” Angel said. “Why does she think you’re here to save her and I’m evil?”
 
“All I know is that I found her in my crypt, and cleaned her up, and bandaged her hands, and took care of her. I fed her, made her comfortable, read to her, all that stuff. You remember, when I used to take care of Dru? After you drove her to nearly the same state time and time again?” Spike’s eyes flashed slightly yellow as he glared accusingly at Angel.
 
Angel bristled at Spike’s words. “So you’re just a regular Florence Nightingale, aren’t you William? What are you going to do when she wakes up and finds out who you really are?”
 
“I’ll keep loving her,” Spike said, pulling the shuddering girl closer. “I made a promise to take care of Dawn. That means I need to watch over Dawn’s sister. If she throws me out when she comes to, then so be it. But until that happens, I’ll not leave the girl again. Understood?” He put his arm around Buffy’s shoulders and led her upstairs without another word. The others stood shell shocked, staring at the pair’s retreating backs until they heard Buffy’s door close.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon and all those folks. Alas.

Sorry for any delay. Thanks to my readers who encourage me to blow off housework for writing. 

*****************
Chapter 8
*****************
 
Tara found her tongue first. “What have we done?” Her eyes were full of shame and sadness as she fixed them on each of her friends in turn. “We’re supposed to be her friends and we’re the ones tormenting her.”
 
“We couldn’t have known,” Xander said. His face had drained of color as he tried to take in all the implications.
 
“We could have done a séance first,” Anya said with her usual bluntness. “Do it with a true medium and they’re pretty effective at finding out where someone is.”
 
Willow sat down on the sofa and buried her face in her hands. “This is all my fault. I didn’t think to check. I just assumed she must be in hell.”
 
“So what’s the plan now?” Angel asked. “Are we just going to leave her up there with him?” Buffy’s rejection of him cut deeper than he wished to admit, and his concern for the Slayer was rapidly being swallowed up by his irritation at the whole situation.
 
“For now, yes,” Dawn said, suddenly stepping forward. “Before Spike came here tonight she was curled up in a ball staring into space. Now she’s talking a little. Explain to me why this is wrong.” She folded her arms defiantly, daring the assembled Scoobies to cross her.
 
“Dawn, you don’t know him like I do,” Angel said with barely concealed impatience. “He can’t be trusted.”
 
“Hmm. Then why did you trust me and the rest of us to him all summer? You couldn’t be bothered to come up here and help or anything. Spike did. So why is he suddenly so dangerous? Jealous much?” Dawn retorted.
 
Angel sputtered. “Jealous? Of him? Please.”
 
“This isn’t helping,” Tara said suddenly. She stood up next to Dawn. “So far, Buffy is most calm when Spike’s near. Do we want to help Buffy, or do we want to fight about who helps her?” The others had no immediate answer. “Willow, Angel, I’m sorry, but both of you freak Buffy out right now. I don’t see how surrounding a traumatized person with people who frighten her is going to make things better.”
 
Angel’s brow clouded with anger. “Fine. I’ll leave. But I’m not going far. I’ve still got a few things to discuss with Florence Nightingale.” He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the pictures in the hallway rocked a bit.
 
“But… Tara, you don’t mean I should leave too?” Willow said. “I sorta live here, don’t I?”
 
“I think that we should all leave, at least for the night,” Tara said firmly. “Dawn and Buffy will be safe with Spike, and when Giles comes tomorrow we can get some more advice.”
 
“Absolutely not!” Xander stormed. “Are you insane? You’re going to leave them with him? He could be up there telling her anything at all!”
 
“Get OUT!” Dawn screamed. “You’re making everything worse! You haven’t listened to anything! You’re being stupid and… and… stubborn and…” The teen was too furious to even get her thoughts out. “Don’t you get it? She was with my m…mom and you p..pulled her away from that and hurt her!” Tears of rage began flowing down Dawn’s reddened face.
 
The others were shamed into silence. “Xander, we need to go,” Anya said quietly, tugging on his arm. Xander stared around at the others for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but in the end he couldn’t think of anything to say. He picked up his coat, looked once more at the stricken faces of his friends, then silently turned to follow Anya.
 
When the door closed behind them, Dawn turned to Willow and Tara. “Please. Just stop scaring her. I can’t take it. Please,” she begged.
 
Tara gathered Dawn close. “We’ll go find a hotel room for the night. We’ll call tomorrow and see how things are going, alright?” Dawn managed a nod as she sniffled. Tara went upstairs with Willow trailing reluctantly behind her.
 
As they packed some clothes, Willow tried one last time to reason with Tara. “Tara, baby, are you sure this is necessary? I mean, what if we just… stayed out of her room for a couple days or something?”
 
“God, Willow, listen to yourself!” Tara exclaimed. She rounded on Willow, who took a slight step backward in the face of Tara’s intensity. “We hurt her, okay? We need to own that.”
 
“I do, I get it!” Willow said. “I only want…”
 
“To help,” Tara finished. “I know. Willow, I’m only going to say this once. I am not going to stand by and watch you throw spells at Buffy any more. I won’t stand for it. You’ve got to stop or I don’t know if I can stay.”
 
Willow’s mouth dropped open. “You.. you’re going to leave me?”
 
“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop and just… just stop,” Tara said, fixing Willow with eyes both determined and sad. The whole exchange was breaking Tara’s heart, but she had let Willow go too far without saying anything, and she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t speak now.
 
Willow fought back tears. “Tara… baby… I’m sorry. I need you. Please don’t go I’ll… I’ll stop. I promise, I’ll stop.”
 
But can you stop? Tara wondered, searching Willow’s eyes. Or are you just fooling us both? Still doubtful, Tara turned back to the duffle bag and put the last of her clothes in it. “We need to leave. Are you coming?”
 
“Yeah,” Willow whispered. She picked up her own bag and walked slowly out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Tara followed her, looking back at Buffy’s closed bedroom door for a moment. Dawn was in the living room, curled up on the couch. Willow started to say something to her but Dawn turned away, shunning her. Frowning, Willow made her way out to the car.
 
Tara stopped at the doorway to the living room. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
 
“I’ll be fine,” Dawn said. Then she added, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
 
Tara came over and gave Dawn a kiss on the forehead. “Let us know when Giles gets here.”
 
“I will,” Dawn said, giving Tara a quick hug. Tara walked out, taking one last quick look up the stairs. Dawn followed her gaze, wondering what to do next.
 
****************
 
Spike had taken Buffy to her room, closing the door and leading her over to sit on the bed. The sound of angry voices from downstairs startled Buffy into covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block everything out. Spike looked at her with pity, as he took off his coat and draped it over a nearby chair. He moved over to her and knelt before her, looking up into her face. “Buffy. Look at me, love.” With her hands still over her ears Buffy opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the brightness of the overhead light. “That’s it, pet. I’m here, yeah?”
 
“Angel,” she whispered, still shaking and trying to block out sensations.
 
Spike noticed her squinting and got up. Spying a candle on her nightstand he lit it with his ever present lighter, then turned off the overhead light. “Expect you’ll like that better.” Buffy nodded, still covering her ears. “They’ll be gone soon as well,” he said, kneeling back down in front of her and running his hands up and down her arms. “Know you still like it quiet.” His low, smooth accent did its work, and she gradually started to relax. “Gonna take care of you. I promise. Just like I promised to take care of Dawn. I keep my promises.”
 
“D..Dawn?” Buffy asked uncertainly. The word seemed to trigger something in her mind.
 
“Dawn, your sister. Little slip of a thing with dark hair who was in here earlier.” Spike looked around the room and spied a picture of Joyce, Buffy, and Dawn on the dresser. He fetched it and brought it to her. “Here are my Summers girls. You, Dawn, and your mum,” he explained as he pointed out the faces.
 
Buffy took her hands off her ears and took the picture frame from him, wrinkling her brows. “Mom,” she whispered, running her fingers across the image. “Warm place.”
 
Spike winced involuntarily at the hopeless tone in her voice. “You were with her there, huh? Your mother was a good woman. Can’t imagine her anywhere else.”
 
“T..take me b..back?” she managed to say, her eyes pleading with him.
 
Shit. Spike’s heart shattered at the sound of her begging to return to her reward. I couldn’t watch her die again. I’m a selfish bastard at heart and I couldn’t watch her die again, even to save her. Forgive me Slayer. The irony was not lost on him. He had always wanted to kill this Slayer, and now when she would welcome it, when it would in some twisted way be the right thing to do, he couldn’t. “Buffy, I can’t take you back. I don’t… I…” His voice broke and he found he couldn’t go on.
 
“Angel?” she asked, confused. Her savior seemed as sad and unsure as she was, and she didn’t understand why.
 
Spike smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Let’s get one thing straight here,” he said. He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Name’s Spike, yeah? ‘S what I like to be called. Do you understand? I’m Spike.”
 
“Sp…Spike,” she said as she furrowed her brow. Spike seemed a funny name for an angel, but if calling him Spike meant he would stay around, she would call him whatever he wanted.
 
“That’s it,” he said with a smile. “I’m Spike, and I’m going to take care of you. I swear on all that I am, I’ll not leave you until you ask me to go.”
 
Buffy smiled tentatively, understanding that he meant to stay. “Spike,” she repeated.
 
Spike noticed that her lips were dry, and observed the enormous dark circles under her eyes. He spied the glass of water Willow had brought on the dresser, although she had taken away the uneaten sandwich. Fetching it, he wrapped her hands around it, and she drank it all in one long gulp. Get the impression she hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since they brought her home, he mused. “I should go get you something to eat,” he said aloud.
 
“Stay. Please?” Buffy said plaintively. She could hear the voices of the witches coming up the stairs to their room and it frightened her. If he leaves they’ll come back and they’ll hurt me again…
 
Figuring she wouldn’t starve if she waited a few more minutes, Spike sat down next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “I know you’re afraid of Red… Willow, rather,” he began. “But she isn’t actually trying to hurt you deliberately. In her own messed up way she’s only trying to help you.”
 
Buffy shook her head. “No… not help. Hurt,” she insisted. She tried desperately to put her fears into words. “Tra… trapped. Dark.”
 
“I know, love,” he said as he stroked her hair and once more fought the urge to kill Willow. “Woke up in your coffin in the dark, then couldn’t get out of your nightmares. Wish I could have spared you all that. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
 
He knows, she thought gratefully, moving even closer to him. He understands. She didn’t understand why he called himself Spike, and she didn’t understand why he couldn’t take her back to heaven, but she felt some deep connection with this lean, pale creature, and it was her only anchor in this chaotic world. Another question formed slowly in her whirling mind and she said, “Not hell? Where…?”
 
“You’re in Sunnydale, love. Although I could understand how you might mistake it for hell,” he quipped. “California. You were born here, well, in California that is. For better or worse, this is home for you.”
 
“Home,” she said, trying to wrestle her brain around what that meant. Home is where Mother was. Where love is. Home is where people love you. She looked up into the searching blue eyes of her angel, and once more saw the love that burned there. Is he home too? “Y.. your home?”
 
Spike half smiled. “I wish it was sometimes. But my home, such as it is, was where you first found me.”
 
Buffy wrinkled her brow in dismay. There was so much she didn’t understand. This angel named Spike said she was home, but it was all so unfamiliar right now that she wanted to curl up and cry again. At that moment there was a knock on the bedroom door and she nearly jumped out of her skin in terror. She clutched Spike’s arm so hard he was sure he would find finger marks later and let out a low moan of distress.
 
“Shh, it’s all right,” Spike said. He gently pried her hand off of his arm and went to the door. When he opened it, there was Dawn, looking nervous. “Hello, Nibblet.”
 
“The others are gone,” she said uncertainly. “Angel and Xander and Anya went back to their apartments and hotels, and Willow and Tara went to find a room for the night too.”
 
Spike breathed a sigh of relief. “At last, someone shows some sense around here. Come in, Dawn,” he said, stepping back out of the way.
 
“Are… are you sure it’s okay?” Dawn wondered.
 
In response he took her hand and led her over to the bed. Buffy scooted away, ending up against the pillows hugging her knees and looking at Dawn warily. “Sit down here, Bit,” Spike said, and Dawn perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed. Spike sat down between the two girls and coaxed Buffy over to sit next to him. “Buffy, this is Dawn. She’s your sister. You asked me to protect her, remember?”
 
Buffy bit her lip as she contemplated this information. Tentatively she reached out a hand to touch Dawn’s hair. Dawn sat absolutely still, instinctively knowing that she had to let Buffy get used to her. “Dawn,” she whispered.
 
“That’s me,” Dawn said quietly. “I missed you, Buffy.”
 
Buffy kept searching Dawn’s face. A memory flashed into her mind. She was crying. She was wearing a long dress and she was crying and there was blood. I turned away from her and then… The memory faded as quickly as it came, and Buffy shook her head lightly, trying to hold onto it. Something had happened, but the girl had survived somehow. She turned to Spike. “Safe?” she asked.
 
“Yes, love,” Spike replied. “You’re safe here, and Dawn won’t hurt you.”
 
“Dawn...safe?” she asked, tensing with the effort of trying to express herself.
 
“We all kept her safe while you were… while you were in heaven,” Spike said, not sure if it was the right thing to say.
 
A cloud passed across Buffy’s face. “Heaven,” she said sadly. “Warm. Love th.. there.”
 
“Was… was mom there with you?” Dawn asked in a small voice.
 
Buffy nodded. “Mo… mom. Loved me. Want to… g..go back.” This time the tears slipped down her cheeks, and Dawn’s as well.
 
“I want her back too,” Dawn said. “But I really need you here. I need you to take care of me.” Dawn got up and moved slowly over to kneel in front of Buffy. “I love you too. Just like Mom. Please come back.” Dawn reached over to wrap her arms around Buffy, burying her face in Buffy’s midsection. Buffy was startled at the intrusion, but awkwardly stroked Dawn’s hair as she tried to figure out what was going on. She said she loves me, and the angel protected her, so she must be good, but why can’t I remember?
 
The display of love and loss nearly broke Spike. The poet in him conjured up a dozen mournful verses about lost souls and fallen angels as he watched the two sisters, one seeking family, and the other seeking her own identity. The tableau could have continued indefinitely if Buffy’s stomach hadn’t growled. Dawn sat up with a quirky half smile on her tear stained face. “Guess you’re hungry, huh?” Dawn noted.
 
“Yes,” Buffy replied with a sniffle. Dawn got to her feet and offered Buffy her hand. Buffy hesitated, then timidly grasped Dawn’s hand and allowed herself to be led downstairs, followed closely by Spike. Spike rummaged around in the fridge and freezer and found a frozen pizza. Twenty minutes later the pizza was being served, accompanied by a salad Dawn had made. After a hesitant sniff at the new food, Buffy started eating, first slowly and then with gusto. Spike was pleased to see her appetite was still very much in Slayer mode. After the pizza was gone, Spike said, “Bit, I think your sis could really use a bath, but I don’t think I’m the best person to help out with that. Think you can walk her through it?”
 
“Of course,” Dawn said. She got up and offered Buffy her hand again. “Come with me, ok? We’ll get you cleaned up.”
 
Buffy looked questioningly at Spike who nodded and said, “Go with Dawn, love. She’ll take care of you.” Buffy followed Dawn, looking back at Spike twice for reassurance as she followed her sister upstairs. Dawn led Buffy to the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet seat while she filled the tub with hot water and fragrant bubble bath. “You need to, um, get undressed,” Dawn said awkwardly. Buffy seemed confused until Dawn started to lift the edge of her shirt, when understanding dawned. Buffy slowly took the rest of her clothes off. Dawn was dismayed at how pale and skinny her sister was – not at all like the tanned, toned Slayer she had been. “Here, get in,” Dawn said, guiding Buffy to step in and sit down. A smile broke over Buffy’s face as she sank into the warm, lilac scented bubbles closed her eyes in utter contentment. Dawn chatted about school and teachers as she washed and rinsed Buffy’s hair, and showed her how to use a loofah to scrub off the remaining dust. Buffy had no idea what the dark haired girl was talking about, but this experience was closer to the warm place than anything she had yet encountered. When the bath grew cold Dawn helped her get out and get dry, wrapping her in a warm robe and sitting behind her on the bed to brush out her hair.
 
“That looks more like the Slayer I remember,” Spike remarked as he joined them in the bedroom.
 
“Spike,” Buffy said with a smile.
 
“Feeling better?” he asked. Buffy nodded, still smiling. Still not all there, but I think she’ll come round if we give her time. She was more relaxed than she had been since she had arrived at Revello Drive, and seemed perfectly content to have Dawn brush her hair and stay close to her. Buffy yawned as Dawn finished causing Spike to remark, “Been a long day for all of us. We should all probably get some rest.”
 
“Good idea,” Dawn said. She got up and came around to sit next to Buffy. “Would you like me to stay here with you?” she asked.
 
Buffy shook her head. “Spike? Stay?” she pleaded. “Safe… w..with a..angel.”
 
“I’m no angel, pet, but if it makes you feel safe, I’ll stay here.” He turned to look at Dawn. “Are you okay with that? You know I won’t…”
 
“I trust you, Spike,” Dawn said. She gave Buffy a quick hug, then got up and gave Spike one as well. “Let me know if I can help.”
 
“You’ve already helped plenty, Nibblet. Now get some sleep, yeah?” Dawn nodded and left, closing the door. Spike kicked off his shoes and walked over to the bed. He tucked Buffy in tenderly before climbing in beside her. She rested her head on his chest and fell asleep almost at once, leaving Spike once more to revel in her touch. 

TBC

All the characters are Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thanks again everyone for all the encouragement. Really makes my day!


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Chapter 9
************************
 
Someone was trying to hurt Dawn. She was struggling to get up to her but hands were grabbing her and pulling her back as she fought and kicked. The angel fell past her, a look of grief and regret on his face as he disappeared from sight. She tugged and snarled, trying to free herself but the hands held fast and a river of blood started flowing down the stairs, threatening to engulf her completely as she screamed her sister’s name…
 
“Wake up, Buffy. You’re dreaming again. Buffy!” Spike’s voice cut through the mental chaos and her eyes snapped open, wide with terror once more. When she saw her angel’s concerned face looking down at her she clung to him, her breathing still wild and her heart still pounding. “There, there, love,” Spike crooned. “Just a dream. ‘S alright. Just a dream.”
 
The sun was starting to peek over the horizon outside. Disentangling himself gently from the grasping arms of the Slayer he went over to the window and pulled down the shades. Don’t think dusting in her bed will help matters much, he reasoned. Buffy looked at him, perplexed, but made no sound, contenting herself with clutching at him again when he returned to the bed. He lay back and let her rest on his chest, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nothings to her until she quieted. His demon was howling inside him to feed, his dinner having been forgotten in the shuffle. Down boy, he thought. Nothing for you here. To Buffy he said, “Why don’t we get up and find some breakfast, yeah?” Buffy looked at him uncomprehending, so he got up and took her hand, coaxing her to follow. She stopped as they passed the bathroom, and Spike understood. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen,” he said, pointing the way. “Understand?” Buffy nodded, so he left her to attend to her needs while he went down to the kitchen.
 
He rummaged in the fridge and was rewarded with a small leftover container of blood in the back, a relic from one of his nights of babysitting. He chugged it quickly, curling his lip at the foul taste, but he didn’t want to have to explain his eating habits to Buffy just yet. He supposed there was something dishonest about hiding his nature from her, but he found it hard to get very upset about it. Once she’s back with us they’ll be time enough for a discussion of the nature of vampires. Nothing good can come of vamping out on her in her current state. He heard her coming down the stairs and stuffed the empty container hurriedly into the trash can.
 
Buffy came down the stairs slowly, hugging her arms to herself. She had a hard time believing that this place was safe. So far it had been a place of spells and nightmares and voices shouting. But the angel had found her and the girl, Dawn, had been kind to her and the others were gone, so she tried her best to stay calm. She heard noises coming from the first floor and followed them to find her angel fussing around with a black and silver machine. A lovely fragrance came from it, and she closed her eyes and just sniffed, trying to find the word for that scent.
 
Spike turned and smiled when he saw her. “Coffee, love?” Buffy opened her eyes and sat down, accepting a cup of the fragrant liquid. She sipped it, startled herself by burning her lips, but then smiled back at the taste. “Remember that, do you?” Spike asked with amusement. “Not sure what you’ve got around here for breakfast,” he continued, rummaging through the cabinets. He opened the freezer and found a box of frozen waffles. Thank God, it has directions. Would never have survived as a human male having to cook for myself in the days before directions. He popped two of the waffles into the toaster and rummaged around until he came up with butter and syrup. Buffy watched him curiously as he bustled about, until at last he put the plate in front of her. “Bon appétit, Slayer,” he said. She sniffed experimentally and tasted one corner delicately before deciding it was good and digging in. Spike got himself a cup of coffee and sat down to watch her eat.
 
“Hey guys.” Buffy jumped, nearly spilling her coffee as Dawn came in.
 
“It’s just Dawn, love. You’re safe,” Spike said, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “Morning, Nibblet.”
 
“Morning. Can you throw two of those waffles in for me? Please?” Dawn asked as she poured herself a glass of juice and sat down.
 
“Alright, but don’t be getting any ideas,” Spike growled good naturedly. “Not your bloody maid.”
 
“Don’t worry, I got it,” Dawn said. “How… how was she last night?” Buffy kept eating, looking at Spike and Dawn from time to time, but otherwise unaware that she was the topic of conversation.
 
“Had a nightmare early this morning,” Spike said. “Poor girl just can’t get a decent bit of kip.”
 
Dawn bit her lip as she looked with pity on her sister. “Do you think… will she get better?”
 
“Dunno, Bit. She does seem to be more aware every day, but she’s still pretty lost most of the time.”
 
Buffy looked hard at both of them, trying to follow what was being said. She finally gave up and held her cup out to Spike. “More?” she asked softly.
 
“Coming right up,” Spike said, pouring another cup of coffee. Buffy had just taken it back when the doorbell rang. With a shriek she jumped at the sound, then shrieked again as the hot coffee landed on her lap, scalding her. She scrambled away and ended up knocking over her chair with a clatter. The noise and the pain sent her into a panic and she cowered on the floor, against the wall, shielding herself with her arms. Shit, Spike thought. “Dawn, go find out who that is,” he said, and Dawn scampered off. Spike grabbed a dishtowel and knelt beside her. “Shh. It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you love.” He started drying the coffee off her shaking form, murmuring in his low, gentle voice the whole time. After a minute or two she calmed down enough to cling to Spike, clutching him so tightly that he was glad he didn’t need to breathe. He sat down and pulled her into his lap, cradling her close as she rode out the fear.
 
Dawn had opened the door to find Giles standing on the doorstep with a suitcase and an anxious expression. “Giles!” Dawn cried, flinging her arms around him. “Thanks so much for coming.”
 
“What is going on?” he asked. He had heard the noises and the screaming as he rang the doorbell, and it had filled him with dread. “What happened?”
 
“She freaked out when the doorbell rang,” Dawn explained. She stepped back so Giles could enter, leading him into the living room. “She… she’s really jumpy. Everything scares her.”
 
“Where are the others?” Giles asked. The house seemed unusually quiet, except for the gradually receding wails from the kitchen accompanied by a low voice that he couldn’t quite make out.
 
“Some other stuff happened after we talked,” Dawn began. “It’s kind of a long story, but we decided that the others needed to leave so that Buffy could calm down.”
 
“We?” Giles inquired.
 
“Me and Spike,” Dawn replied.
 
“Spike?” Giles said, clearly surprised. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer he strode off to the kitchen.
 
Alarmed, Dawn tried to warn him. “Giles, please, just don’t scare her…” She ran into his back as he stopped dead inside the kitchen door.
 
“My God,” he breathed as he took in the scene in front of him. An overturned chair, a broken coffee cup, and a puddle of coffee drew his eye along the floor to the wall. There sat Spike, back to the wall, with Buffy curled up on his lap. She was wrapped in her coffee stained bathrobe, her skin as pale as the vampire’s. Her arms were wrapped around Spike’s chest, desperately holding on with all her might as she shook and wept. Spike’s head rested on her blonde hair as his muscular arms cradled her protectively. Spike looked up at Giles when he heard him enter, and the sorrow and pity in those blue eyes was heartbreaking. “Buffy?” Giles said softly.
 
Buffy jerked, looked at him with wide eyes and whimpered. “Shh, Buffy,” Spike said. “That’s Giles. Your Watcher, remember?” It was clear from her continued shuddering that she didn’t. “He won’t hurt you, love. He came to help.”
 
“Help?” Buffy asked in a shaky voice, looking up at Spike imploringly. “N..not hurt?”
 
“No, he’d never hurt you love,” Spike replied. He wasn’t exactly sure if that was a lie or not. The Watcher had put her into some pretty precarious situations in the past. Nature of the job I guess.
 
Giles watched the exchange with dread. He had seen Buffy at her best and worst, had even seen her lapse into catatonia when Glory had taken Dawn. But this quivering, childlike creature bore no resemblance whatsoever to the Buffy in his memory, the one who had taken on a hellgod and triumphed, the one who had unhesitatingly thrown herself into oblivion to save the world. “How… how long has she been like this?” he asked.
 
“She came to my crypt a few days ago,” Spike said. “This is actually an improvement from where she was when she first came back. Wasn’t talking then.” He gently set her to the side and stood up, helping her up in turn. She clung to his side, still wary of Giles. “Buffy, you should go get dressed, love,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders and turning her gently to look in her eyes. “Do you understand?”
 
Dawn stepped up. “Come with me, Buffy. I’ll help you find something.”
 
Buffy looked at Giles, then back at Spike who smiled and nodded. “You go with Dawn. She’ll help you. You’re safe, remember?”
 
“Safe,” Buffy said, sounding a little doubtful. But she consented to taking Dawn’s hand and following her upstairs.
 
Letting out a deep, unnecessary breath, Spike picked up the fallen chair and sat down. “Hello, Rupert. Welcome back. Help yourself to some coffee.”
 
Still stunned, Giles sat down at the table, shaking his head. “What the devil could have happened to her to… to break her like that?”
 
“It’s worse than you know, Rupert,” Spike said. “She was in heaven.”
 
Giles’ jaw dropped as he tried to wrap his brain around what he had just heard. “Come again?”
 
“She was in heaven. She keeps calling it the ‘warm place’. She was at rest, with her mum. And Willow’s spell pulled her out of it, so she could wake up in her own coffin.” Spike’s voice hardened with anger. “She thinks she’s in hell, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t really know who she is, doesn’t remember anything or anyone. She thinks that Willow is trying to punish her for something and she doesn’t know what it is.”
 
“Oh my God,” Giles said, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s… “ He had no words to describe the grief and guilt that filled him. He had been so secretly pleased to have her back, despite his misgivings about Willow’s magic. But now the cost of that return seemed far too high, and Buffy was paying the price.
 
“For some reason she decided I was an angel, sent to bring her back,” Spike continued. “Don’t know where she got that notion. But the Scoobies had Willow knock her out and bring her back here, and it just made things worse. She won’t let Willow within five feet of her. Then they brought Angel down from LA, thought that was who she wanted. She must’ve remembered Angelus, or God knows what, because she attacked him.”
 
Giles was shaking his head constantly as he listened to Spike’s tale. “Willow knocked her out you say?” he asked, numb with horror.
 
“Yeah. She’s been using magic left, right, and center since you left. No thought at all to the consequences. At one point she had Buffy knocked out and Buffy had a nightmare. Lord knows how long the poor girl was suffering through a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.”
 
“Good lord,” Giles said. He began automatically polishing his glasses, completely unable to think of what to say.
 
“She’s slowly getting a little better,” Spike said. “At least when the others aren’t fucking with her. When I first found her she was totally nonverbal, terrified out of her wits. Took about twenty four hours to get a word out of her. Sometimes she almost seems on the edge of remembering something, but then she just… goes blank again. She trusts me. She’s starting to trust Dawn. But she’s still convinced the rest are trying to punish her or hurt her or something. Every time Willow casts a spell her way or someone starts yelling she goes back into her shell. You saw her just now – that was her reacting to the doorbell and an unfamiliar voice.”
 
“All that, from the doorbell?” Giles asked incredulously.
 
“Yeah,” Spike said softly. He stared at his coffee cup, addressing his next remarks to it in a quieter voice. “She’s lost, Rupert. She’s mad, and I don’t know how to reach her.”
 
The sadness and deep concern in the vampire’s voice startled Giles. “Do you have a plan?”
 
Spike took a deep breath and blew it out again. “We should probably check to see if this… madness is a side effect of whatever Willow did to bring her back. If it’s not that, it may just take time. It’s like she has that… that condition that soldiers get.”
 
“Post traumatic stress?” Giles supplied.
 
“Yeah, that,” Spike replied. “That sort of thing doesn’t disappear overnight, and I’m not sure the others get that.”
 
Giles cocked his head and stared at Spike. “You’re worried about them.” It was a statement, not a question.
 
“Red wants to ‘fix’ her. Nibblet says that Red was talking about doing a memory spell, make her forget about hell. Don’t know if she’s changed her tune now that we know she was in heaven, but she seems to think magic can cure anything.” Spike took a sip of coffee, shaking his head.
 
“I can’t believe Willow would do something like that,” Giles protested.
 
“She’s a loose cannon, Rupert,” Spike said, fixing him with a steely gaze. “You let her get in our minds this summer, and solve all sorts of problems with magic, but you didn’t force her to consider the consequences. Now she’s on a power trip, and she thinks magically tinkering with Buffy’s mind is just the natural thing to do. Snap her fingers and poof, Buffy will be back to the way she was.”
 
Giles sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Spike was right – Willow had been allowed to run free with no discipline, and it was probably his fault. It had been so much easier in the wake of his overwhelming grief for Buffy to just step aside and let her make things simpler with magic. “I shall have to have a talk with her. I’ll need to go over this spell she did in detail to see if there is anything that could have caused this reaction.”
 
“For what it’s worth, Angel’s got one of his folks looking into it as well, not that the great poof would share any of that info with yours truly,” Spike grumbled.
 
“He went back to LA then?” Giles asked.
 
“No. He’s still hanging around, all offended because the Slayer’s clinging to me and not him.”
 
“And why exactly is that?” Giles asked pointedly.
 
“Fuck if I know,” Spike said with irritation. “Like I told the others, I found her. Cleaned her up. Bandaged her hands where they were all ripped to shreds from clawing her way out of her grave.” Giles winced at the thought. “She apparently assumed that because I was caring for her that I was some sort of angel. No idea how her mind is working. But for good or ill, she needs me, and I won’t leave her until I dust or she comes to and throws me out on my arse. Understand?” His voice hadn’t gotten much louder, but the determination was unmistakable. Giles had no doubt that this creature would fight him and anyone else to the death before he would abandon Buffy.
 
“I can see from the way she was acting earlier that taking you away from her would not be in her best interest,” Giles said finally. “Let’s agree that we’re both trying to help her, alright?” He held out his hand, and after a moment, Spike shook it firmly. “That’s settled then.”
 
At that moment Dawn came back into the kitchen, leading Buffy, now dressed in jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Buffy hesitated when she saw Giles, and gave him a wide berth to come over to stand next to Spike, clutching nervously at his arm. “She didn’t really say anything upstairs,” Dawn said. “I tried to explain who Giles was, but she didn’t seem to get it.”
 
“Don’t worry about it, Bit,” Spike reassured her. He turned to Buffy and took her hand. “Buffy, this is Rupert Giles. Taught you a lot of stuff in the past. He’s going to see if he can help.”
 
“Take… take me back?” Buffy asked hopefully.
 
“Back?” Giles asked, confused.
 
“T..t..to h..heaven,” Buffy said. “Please.”
 
Giles’ eyes threatened tears as that pleading note in her voice dug at his heart. “We’ll try to… make it better for you, Buffy,” he answered lamely. Does she understand that she has to die to go back there? Is she asking for death? Dear God, Buffy, where did you go?
 
Buffy still wasn’t sure about this newcomer, but something in his face pricked at her memory. He sent me out to fight… monsters? Demons? He always sent me out. She suddenly had a clear memory of a house, and… her mother. Her mother had been in danger, and somehow this man had been involved. She frowned and stayed at Spike’s side, trying with all her might to remember, but getting nowhere.
 
Dawn spoke up. “I told Tara I’d call her when you got here. Should I do that?”
 
“Yes, I believe it is time for a discussion with Willow and the others,” Giles said.
 
“Don’t know if it’s such a good idea having them over here,” Spike said. “She’s not Willow’s biggest fan at present.”
 
“Arrange a meeting at the Magic Box later,” Giles suggested. “I’ll need some of the resources there anyway. And do we know where Angel’s staying?”
 
“I think the others probably know,” Dawn said.
 
“I’d like to call him and find out if his associate found out any additional information on this spell.” Giles explained.
 
Spike bristled at the thought of having to deal with his grandsire, but held his tongue. The goal is to help the Slayer. Remember that. Even if you want to put Angel’s head through a wall. Help the Slayer. He got up and started clearing away dishes as Dawn made the call.
 
Giles watched Buffy as she drifted nervously around the kitchen, keeping her distance from Giles, looking curiously at various objects as if she was trying to put a name to them. She was so painfully thin, and seemed leached of all color. Her expressions flitted from blank to perplexed to frightened to blank again like a slide show. Every time a dish clattered she seemed to flinch slightly, as if the sharp sound was painful. Whenever she was startled Spike would look at her and smile, perhaps murmur some soothing words, and she would relax again. Giles had to admit, however much it pained him, that the vampire was helping her. Why would she cling to him, and not her sister or her friends? What did he tell her? Aloud he said, “Does she know what you are?”
 
Spike turned off the water and shook his head. “Subject hasn’t exactly come up. Don’t like keeping things from her, but can’t see how vamping out on her is going to help the situation much.”
 
Giles knew he was right, but the whole idea of a Slayer being looked after by a vampire still rankled. “Have you given any thought to the idea that perhaps her calling might be the key to reaching her?”
 
Spike leaned his back against the counter and folded his arms, staring thoughtfully at the floor. “It might at that. But as long as she sees me as her protector, I’ll not frighten her further out of her wits by letting her see me as a monster.” He glanced over at Buffy, who was clearly trying to follow the conversation, and also clearly failing to do so. “Maybe later on I could spar with her a bit. Might jog some memory.”
 
Dawn came back into the kitchen. “I called Tara and I called Xander. They’ll be at the Magic Box at one o’clock.”
 
“Did you get Angel’s number?” Giles asked.
 
“Yeah, I wrote it down,” Dawn said, handing Giles a piece of paper.
 
“I believe I’ll give him a ring,” Giles said. “May I use your phone?”
 
“Of course,” Dawn said.
 
“Come with me, love,” Spike said to Buffy. “See what we can see in the other room, yeah?” He led Buffy into the living room as Giles picked up the phone and dialed.
 
**************
 
The phone woke Angel out of a deep sleep that had finally come after hours of tossing and turning. He groaned as he reached for the receiver. Doesn’t anybody remember that I’m a vampire and we’re nocturnal? “Hello?” he said in a gravelly voice.
 
“Angel, this is Rupert Giles,” the Watcher said stiffly. “Sorry to wake you, but I would like to see if your man learned anything about the resurrection spell.” Despite Angel’s assistance since Jenny Calendar’s death, a part of him would never, ever forgive Angel for taking her from him, and her murdered corpse blazed fresh in his memory every time he heard her killer’s voice.
 
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Wes yet,” Angel said, sitting up and rubbing his face. After leaving Buffy’s house the night before he had been sore, both physically and emotionally. He had wandered the town, wallowing in old memories and occasionally staking fledglings that crossed his path. He had further pondered the situation over a few beers, trying to determine exactly why he was so bothered by the whole thing. Part of it was pure emotional roller coaster. He had lost her, grieved her, somehow gotten over her, then regained her, only to find that she wasn’t really back after all. When he was Angelus, when he was fighting and tormenting her, she had been dismayed, betrayed, afraid for her friends, but never really terrified of him. To have her look at him and cower in fear was unthinkable. Then to have her run into Spike’s arms, of all people. Why would any of them trust Spike? Why did he stay around after Buffy had left? If he was honest, he was cut deeply by Dawn calling him out for not helping out over the summer. I was so lost without her. I couldn’t even function. Couldn’t talk to anyone for weeks. What good could I have been to them? And if Spike was really so devoted to her, why was he able to function when I couldn’t? No way could he love her like I do. These thoughts and questions had kept him at the bar until closing time, and had haunted his sleep for most of the night.
 
“Wes?” Giles asked. “Do you mean Wesley Wyndham-Price?”
 
“Yes. You can call him yourself if you’d like,” Angel offered.
 
“I believe I will,” Giles said.
 
“How… how is she? Have you seen her?” Angel asked.
 
“I’m at her house now. She reacted rather… strongly to my arrival. She’s calm enough as long as Spike’s in the room, and she seems to be reacting well to Dawn overall. But she still seems unaware of reality.” Giles explained.
 
“What’s the plan then?”
 
“I’m getting together with the others at the Magic Box at one o’clock,” said Giles. “I plan to discuss the spell and its consequences with them in detail.”
 
“If I can get there, I will,” Angel said.
 
Giles frowned, not entirely sure if Angel’s presence would help the situation or not. But in the end he said, “Yes, if you’re able, I’m sure you’ll be able to contribute something. Can you give me Wesley’s number?”
 
Angel rattled it off then said, “Keep an eye on Spike, Giles. I don’t trust him.”
 
“Duly noted,” Giles answered. Although it is rather a case of the pot calling the kettle black in your case. “We’ll discuss more later.” He hung up, grateful to end the conversation. He picked up the phone again and dialed Angel Investigations.
 
“Hello, Angel Investigations,” came an unfamiliar voice with a southern drawl.
 
“Yes, hello. I’m looking for Wesley Wyndham-Price. Is he in?”
 
“Can I ask who’s calling?”
 
“Rupert Giles.”
 
After a few moments Wesley was on the line. “Rupert. Good to hear from you. Are you still in England?”
 
“No, I’m in Sunnydale,” he answered. “I believe we’re both working on the same problem.”
 
“Ah yes, the resurrection spell,” Wesley said. He sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair. “I really don’t have much to go on, other than the fact that Buffy is reportedly alive again.”
 
“I can attest to the fact that she’s alive, but she is severely… damaged by the experience,” Giles explained.
 
“Yes, I see,” Wesley sighed. “Willow had alluded to as much when she called.”
 
“I’m going to be meeting with the others this afternoon to try to determine what happened and what is to be done. But I was wondering if you had found any information on your end.”
 
“Well, the good news is that there are a limited number of resurrection spells in existence. I spent the better part of yesterday looking through all of my sources and found only a half dozen, give or take. The bad news is that they can all have serious repercussions, either to the spell caster or the intended target.”
 
“What sort of consequences?” Giles asked with trepidation.
 
“One or two of the spells can kill the spell caster outright if interrupted, or can leave him or her completely drained of magical ability,” Wesley began, reading from notes on his desk.
 
“That doesn’t appear to have happened,” Giles observed. “Apparently Willow is still casting spells. Rather wantonly, I’m afraid.”
 
“That is unfortunate,” Wesley said. “To continue, the other spells I found tend to affect the person being raised. One claims to bring the person back without their soul if done incorrectly, and another can resurrect the person carrying the soul of any nearby restless spirit who has a stronger will to return.”
 
“Good Lord,” Giles said. “Anything else?”
 
“Those are the most dire consequences,” said Wesley. “Although there can be lesser effects such as amnesia, severe personality changes, and ‘melancholia and hysteria’, according to one old source.”
 
“I wonder if you could fax your notes to the Magic Box,” Giles said. “I think that I will need this information when I talk to Willow.”
 
“I’d be glad to,” Wesley replied. Giles gave him the number, exchanged a few more polite words with his fellow countryman, and rang off. He was deeply troubled. Based on the information he had just heard, almost any of these things could be going on. Could she really have lost her soul? Is that why she’s so drawn to Spike? The possibility shook him to the core. How does one remedy that? With a sigh, he made his way to the living room.
 
Buffy was seated on the couch, between Spike and Dawn, an open photo album on her lap. “This was when you got second place at the regional figure skating championship,” Dawn was explaining, pointing to a picture of a much younger Buffy, hair up in a bun, holding a trophy and grinning ear to ear. The photo album had been Dawn’s idea. Buffy looked intently at the pictures, running her fingers over them longingly. She understood at some level that this girl and herself and her mother were all connected. The three of them, and in some pictures a man that Dawn said was her father, all smiling and enjoying themselves, celebrating milestones and ordinary days. Why don’t I really remember? Buffy thought sadly. Is this me? Is this really home? How could home be so painful? Were the bad ones with the spells always here? The holes in her memory troubled and frightened her, but the pictures were comforting all the same. I was happy here, wherever here is. At one point, I was happy. That means maybe I’ll be happy again. Maybe. It was so hard to trust that she’d be safe here, although Spike’s presence at her side helped. She kept glancing at him, touching his arm, as if reassuring herself that he was still there.
 
“What did he have to say?” Spike asked as Giles entered the room.
 
“There are a number of spells, with a number of possible effects. Everything from causing amnesia to bringing her back without her soul,” Giles replied.
 
“You don’t really think she lost her soul, do you?” Dawn said worriedly.
 
“I don’t know what to think until I get more particulars on Willow’s spell,” Giles replied.
 
“I’d like to be there for that meeting,” Spike said. He turned and stroked Buffy’s hair. “Not sure how she’s going to feel about me leaving though.”
 
“I can go and report back,” Dawn said.
 
Giles looked curiously at Spike and Dawn. “You really distrust them that much?”
 
“Giles, you didn’t see what it was like,” Dawn said. “She was nearly catatonic. That nightmare of hers is going to give me nightmares remembering it.”
 
“Trapped,” Buffy said softly. The others looked at her as she struggled to continue. “Afraid… demons fighting. C..couldn’t d..d..die.”
 
“You were dreaming that you couldn’t die?” Spike asked by way of clarification. Buffy nodded, grateful for his understanding. Giles looked distressed at the thought, but Spike pressed on. “Buffy, can you remember anything? Before heaven?”
 
Buffy’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Dawn n..not safe. Blood a..and f..fighting. Pain.” She looked up at Spike as another memory surfaced, clear as a bell for a moment. “You p..promised. End of the w..w..world.”
 
Spike swallowed. “That’s right, pet. Promised you I would protect Dawn to the end of the world. You were fighting Glory, remember? Hell god, horrendous fashion sense. She wanted to hurt Dawn, but you saved her and stopped Glory. You’re the Slayer. You’re a force for good.”
 
“Slayer?” Buffy asked. The word seemed to echo in her mind, but she couldn’t remember what it meant. Something I did, or something?
 
“You were chosen,” Giles tried to explain. “To fight demons and vampires, to do battle against the forces of darkness.”
 
Spike got up and went over to the weapons chest. He opened it and carefully avoiding the stash of crosses fished out a stake. He put it in Buffy’s hands almost reverently. “This was one of your weapons. It’s a stake. You used it to slay vampires and other things.”
 
Buffy turned it over and over in her hands, recognizing it as the same sort of weapon that had been in Spike’s crypt. “You kill demons? You have st..stakes too?”
 
“Yes, love. I try to help you however I can. Killed vampires and demons all summer while you were in heaven,” he explained.
 
“We all did,” Giles added. “Me, and Spike, Willow and Tara, and Xander and Anya. We all fight evil.”
 
“No,” Buffy said shaking her head. “W..willow hurt. Punished me. Not good.”
 
“Shh, it’s okay,” Spike said. To Giles he said, “I think bringing her along to the Magic Box is going to be out of the question, agreed?”
 
“Most definitely,” Giles conceded. The slightest mention of Willow seemed to put Buffy completely into defensive mode. Buffy’s gaze wandered back to the photo album, and Giles fell silent, watching her and hoping that they would be able to work through this somehow. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters, and any borrowed dialog from 'Flooded' belong to Joss Whedon, and I am grateful to him for letting me play.

Thanks again reviewers! You make my day!


*****************
Chapter 10
*****************
 
Anya was puttering nervously about the Magic Box, opening the cash register, closing it, straightening things on the shelves, opening the cash register again. It was making Xander crazy as he watched from his seat at the table. After the fifth time she opened the cash register in about ten minutes he snapped. “Ahn? Is that really, really necessary?”
 
“Sorry,” said Anya sheepishly, quickly closing the register and coming over to sit next to Xander.
 
“What’s wrong?” Xander asked. “You’re jumping around like a r.. kangaroo.” He breathed a silent sigh of relief that he had remembered not to mention rabbits.
 
Anya wrung her hands together. “It’s just… it’s not that I don’t want to see Giles, but what if he wants the store back? I mean, I’m making lots of profits, and we need the money for the wedding, and I just don’t think I could take it if he took the store back again!”
 
“Anya, Giles is here because of Buffy,” Xander soothed. “I’m sure he’s not even going to be thinking about the store.”
 
“I hope you’re right,” Anya sighed. “This tension is just killing me! If Willow hadn’t done that spell then Giles wouldn’t be here and I’d still be in charge of the store!”
 
“Anya,” Xander said sternly. “If Willow hadn’t done her spell, Buffy would still be gone. The store, while admittedly very important to you, is sort of secondary here, okay?”
 
“Fine,” Anya said. “But just in case, I am going to make sure the papers he signed are handy.” She bustled off back into the office while Xander rolled his eyes and shook his head.
 
The bell over the shop door rang at that point to signal the arrival of Willow and Tara. “Good afternoon, ladies. How were things last night?”
 
“Very quiet and hotel-y,” Willow responded. “But hey, at least someone else will make the bed.”
 
“So you really left Buffy and Dawn alone all night with the Bleached Wonder?” Xander said.
 
“It was necessary,” Tara said simply, and the look in her eyes indicated that the subject wasn’t one she wished to discuss.
 
Xander caught the warning look from Tara and took a different tack. “So then, um, time for the big research powwow again?” Xander said. “I should have brought donuts in advance.”
 
“I just hope we can find a way to help her,” Tara said. “I never… I didn’t think Buffy could ever be like that. She was so…”
 
“Broken?” said Anya, returning with ownership papers in hand.
 
“I really don’t think she’s permanently broken,” Willow insisted. “She’s just got to be disoriented and… and really upset and…”
 
“Willow, she was in heaven, not stuck in traffic in New Jersey or something. Might be a little bit more to it than that,” Xander said.
 
Willow opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the arrival of Dawn and Giles. “Giles!” she said, glad for the distraction. She ran up and hugged him in greeting. “We’re so glad to see you!”
 
“It’s good to see you all as well,” Giles replied. He returned the hug in an almost perfunctory manner.
 
Tara noticed his reserved manner and it filled her with apprehension. “Did Spike stay behind with Buffy?”
 
“Yes. I believe they were watching TV when we left. It seems to soothe her.” Giles turned to the others. “Xander, Anya, good to see you both. I trust things are going well?”
 
Xander also noticed that Giles was even more stiff-upper-lip and British than usual, but Anya piped up with, “Things are going very well. Very profitable. And you signed the papers, remember?”
 
“Anya!” Xander admonished, but Giles looked as if he had hardly heard her.
 
“How’s Buffy this morning?” Willow said, oblivious to Giles’ unsmiling demeanor. “It’s just so good to have her back, and I’m sure that when we figure out how to..”
 
“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” Giles asked quietly.
 
“I’m sorry?” Willow said. Isn’t he happy she’s back? How could he not be? I know she’s got some problems right now, but I’m sure once he gives me the okay I can fix things.
 
Giles motioned to the table and everyone sat down, just like old times. “Tell me about this spell you performed,” he said, watching her closely
 
“Well, it was really scary. Like, I don’t think the Blair Witch could have watched it,” Willow babbled nervously. “And then this giant snake came out of my mouth, and there was a lot of energy crackling everywhere. This huge pack of demons interrupted, and it looked really dicey for a minute, but I totally kept it together.”
 
“You’re a very stupid girl.” Giles’ flat, angry tone stopped Willow cold. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The forces you’ve harnessed? The lines you’ve crossed? I trusted you to respect magic.”
 
“Giles, I brought her back!” Willow cried. “I mean, I know she’s still a bit shaken by the experience but…”
 
“Shaken!” Giles thundered. “She’s destroyed, Willow. She barely knows her own name! You took an incredible risk that has Lord knows what repercussions!”
 
“I did what needed to be done,” Willow shot back. “No one else could have done what I did!”
 
“Oh there are others who could have done it, make no mistake,” Giles snapped. “But they’re not the type of people you want to meet.”
 
“So what, you’re saying I should have left her dead? That you’d be happier if she was still rotting in her grave?” Willow shouted angrily.
 
Giles took a deep breath, attempting to get a hold of himself. “Seeing her again is… a blessing. But you were lucky you didn’t kill yourself, or the others.”
 
“I wasn’t lucky,” said Willow defiantly. “I was amazing. You weren’t even there, so how could you know what I did? What forces I harnessed?”
 
“If I had been there I would have bloody well stopped you,” Giles shouted. “The magic you channeled is more primal than anything you can hope to understand. You have brought back a shattered wreck of a human being who might never recover, you rank, arrogant amateur! And while she sits there terrified of her own shadow and convinced that she’s in hell, you just stand there patting yourself on the back!” The two of them were standing by now, eyeball to eyeball, both radiating emotion and fury while the others watched, dumbstruck.
 
“You’re right,” said Willow in a cold voice. “The magic was powerful. I’m very powerful. So maybe it’s not such a good idea to piss me off!” Her eyes flashed alarmingly dark for a moment.
 
“Willow! Giles! Enough!” Tara said, stepping in between them and shoving them apart. “Y..you’ve got to stop f..fighting or we’re n..never going to help her!” Tara’s stutter returned as was typical when she was extremely distressed but she still stood her ground and fixed them one after the other with a fierce glare.
 
“Look, let’s just everyone take a step back, okay?” Xander added, also trying to diffuse the situation. “Everyone just sit down, and let’s discuss this rationally, alright?”
 
After a long moment of staring each other down, both Giles and Willow looked away and moved back to their seats. The others sat down as well, carefully, as if the table was a bomb waiting to go off.
 
Giles began again. “This morning I spoke to Wesley Wyndham-Price in LA. He has, per Angel’s request, been researching the possible side effects of resurrection spells. I had asked him to fax his notes here. Have they arrived?”
 
“Let me check,” said Anya. She hustled off to the back room and came back with a small sheaf of papers. “These were on the machine.”
 
Giles took them, put on his glasses, and studied them for a moment before passing them to Willow. “As you see, there are several possibilities which could explain Buffy’s current condition, which is why the particulars of the spell are extremely important.”
 
“What possibilities?” Dawn asked nervously. The argument had unnerved her, and she found herself still shaky as she sat slightly outside the circle, perched on a high stool with her arms wrapped around herself.
 
“According to Wesley, sometimes the intended target of the spell comes back without a soul, or with the wrong soul,” Giles explained, fixing his gaze on Willow as he spoke. “It can also cause amnesia, profound personality changes, depression, and a host of other mental side effects.”
 
“She could have come back without a soul?” Xander cried. “Um, Wills? How come you never mentioned that little detail?”
 
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Willow said, her cheeks burning slightly. “Besides, as it says here, it is an extremely rare side effect.”
 
“Yes, but the spell was interrupted,” Anya put in. “The urn of Osiris got smashed. That can’t be good for the spell.”
 
“You used an urn of Osiris?” Giles said, horrified. “My God…”
 
“Giles, please, let’s stay focused on now, okay?” Tara pleaded. She was also disturbed at the revelation that the spell’s consequences were indeed much more dangerous than Willow had let on. She was ashamed of herself for not questioning Willow more deeply at the time. At the same time, they needed to be concerned about Buffy and hash out the past another day.
 
“How do we know if her soul is there or not?” Dawn asked. She shivered a little at the thought. “Does that mean she’s some sort of… zombie or something else unnatural?”
 
“Guys, this isn’t rocket science,” Willow said. “There are some fairly simple spells meant to reveal someone’s soul. You do the spell, and they glow or something. No problem.”
 
“I don’t know,” Dawn said. “She’s really, really scared of you, Willow. I mean, someone mentioned your name and she started getting shaky.”
 
“But this spell is completely benign,” Willow protested. “She’ll see that I’m not trying to hurt her.”
 
“I rather think that someone else needs to do this spell,” Giles said. “She calmed down and started speaking a bit more as the day wore on, but she is still extremely fragile. I agree with Spike on this point – she is not ready to be around you yet. I am sure I am more than capable of performing this spell myself.”
 
Why is everyone ganging up on me? Hello? Brought her back from the dead here! I think I can handle a simple soul revealing spell. Aloud Willow said, “Fine. But what do we do once we find out?”
 
Giles blew out his breath between pursed lips. “I don’t know. If she has no soul, or someone else’s soul, there are ways to restore it. But if she has her own soul…”
 
“She could be insane,” Angel finished. The others turned, startled, as Angel emerged from the shop’s basement. “Sorry I’m late. Tunnels took long than I remembered.”
 
The others shifted uncomfortably, not exactly sure what the vampire would be bringing to the table. Giles finally broke the silence by saying, “I was just filling everyone in on what Wesley had found.”
 
“Yeah, I talked to him a little while ago,” Angel replied. “I personally don’t believe there’s anything wrong with her soul.”
 
“But how could she be Buffy and not remember us at all?” Xander wondered. “We were friends for years.”
 
Angel leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “I saw similar things with Drusilla. The things she went through, the things I put her through, completely drove her out of her mind. It took her quite a while to remember her name after she was turned, and she was never really sane again. She had been, for lack of a better word, a holy person. She was devout, a convent girl, believed deeply in saints and the power of God to save her. When all that was ripped away, there was nothing left.”
 
“So what are you saying then?” Dawn asked, concern etched on her young face.
 
“I’m saying that there may be nothing you can do, and you need to be prepared for that,” Angel said. “There may be no way to fix her. And she may not be able to… live in society.”
 
“What do you mean by that?” Xander said sharply.
 
“I mean the best thing would be to put her in an institution,” Angel replied. “She’s docile now, but she’s a slayer. A slayer who is insane is a danger to everyone around her. If something sets her off and she flips out, who’s going to stop her?”
 
“But she’s Buffy!” Willow cried. “We can’t just lock her away and pretend she doesn’t exist! We can’t give up on her like that!”
 
Giles spoke up as well. “I, for one, think we’re all rushing to conclusions without completely understanding what is going on. We don’t know exactly what she is thinking or what she experienced. I still don’t even know enough about this spell to make any judgment about what could be causing her symptoms. I don’t think that pulling her away from her home and Spike is going to improve things at all, and it could very well trigger that violent episode you are worried about!”
 
“Spike. I really don’t understand how you could work with him, Giles,” Angel said, shaking his head. “He’s a monster. I know. I made him what he is. He’s got no soul, no moral compass whatsoever.”
 
“That’s bullshit!” cried Dawn, leaping to her feet fast enough to knock over her stool.
 
“Dawn!” Tara exclaimed, shocked at the teen’s sudden outburst.
 
“I don’t care!” she yelled. She walked up to Angel and got in his face, looking absurd since she barely came up to mid-chest. “Spike helps! He kept me safe all summer! He got tortured by a hell god rather than tell her about me being the Key. He got stabbed and thrown off a tower! He’s been the only one who’s been quiet and gentle with her and she only talks when he’s around. I don’t care if he doesn’t have a soul. You just leave him alone!”
 
“He helped for one summer. So what?” Angel retorted. “He was a vicious killer for a century! We’re supposed to overlook that because he managed to behave himself for six months?”
 
“Oh, and you never killed anyone?” Dawn shot back, defiant.
 
Angel’s face clouded further. “I’ve been working for years to…”
 
“Enough!” Giles thundered, standing up. “This bickering is pointless. Dawn, we know how you feel about Spike. Angel, your opinions of Spike are equally well known. This is neither the time nor place for this stupid argument. Both of you hold your tongues unless you are helping solve the problem. Either that, or leave.” The anger and frustration poured off Giles in waves and stunned the assembly into silence. Dawn spun around and stomped back to her stool, picked it up, and sat on it with folded arms and a scowl. Angel looked about to protest, but another glare from Giles convinced him to keep his mouth shut for the time being. “Fine. If we could actually get back to the problem at hand – Willow, I need you to tell me, in detail, exactly how you cast that spell. What ingredients you used, what books you got the information from, everything.” Giles sat down and pulled out a pen and a notebook. “Begin.” Willow took a deep breath, looked around at the ring of staring eyes, and began her tale.
 
******************
 
“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…”
 
Spike and Buffy were curled up together on the couch, with Spike once more reading Shakespeare to her. They had watched Casablanca on a classic movie channel, but Buffy had seemed restless and confused by the end. Spike had located the sonnets in Joyce’s collection, and the iambic rhythms once more did their trick. Halfway through the current choice the door opened and Buffy jumped, clutching his arm. “It’s just us!” Dawn called. She and Giles came into the room, and Buffy loosened her grip slightly as she recognized the dark haired girl. “What are you reading?” Dawn asked curiously as she took off her jacket.
 
“Shakespeare’s sonnets. She really likes them for whatever reason,” Spike replied.
 
“How extraordinary,” Giles commented. The thought of Buffy, who couldn’t be induced to read a Slayer related tome even in the face of an apocalypse, actively enjoying Shakespeare was hard to fathom. Dawn curled up on the floor close to Buffy, while Giles sat down heavily in an armchair and took off his glasses, leaning his head back and rubbing his eyes.
 
“You were gone a long time,” Spike observed. “Scoobies giving you trouble?”
 
“It was, shall we say, a heated discussion.” Giles had drawn the details out of Willow after much hemming and hawing on her part. He had nearly blown his stack entirely when he heard that she had called a deer and slit its throat, and Angel had had a sharp comment or two about some of the blacker elements of the spell. Tara had been completely shocked as the details came rolling out, and it was clear to Giles that Tara would not have gone along with the whole scheme if she had known all the details. Xander was still having a hard time seeing Buffy’s return as a bad thing, but Anya was clearly aware of all the possible bad things that could come from such a spell. More angry words had been exchanged on all sides, but in the end a plan of action was developed.
 
“So what happens now?” Spike said. Buffy was sitting next to him, her knees pulled up to her chest, looking anxiously at him and Giles in turn. Spike noticed her tensing up and put an arm around her, pulling her close.
 
Giles found his insides clenching a bit at the sight of Buffy snuggling up to the Slayer of Slayers, but he kept his objections to himself. “I would like to do a spell to reveal if she still has her soul. If her soul is missing, there are ways to re-ensoul her.”
 
“And if her soul is present and accounted for?” Spike asked.
 
“Then we’ll have to think of something else,” Dawn admitted.
 
“This spell. Is there any chance it could hurt her?”
 
Giles shook his head. “No. It should make her glow with a white light if her soul is there, that’s all.”
 
Spike looked at the woman in his arms for a long moment. He was loathe to inflict more magic on the poor thing, but he also knew that the others would never relent until they had an answer. Taking a deep breath he said, “Let’s try it then. Can I stay near her?”
 
“She can stay right where she is if that suits her,” Giles said. He got up and went over to his shoulder bag, pulled out a notebook and a bag of herbs, and returned to the living room. Buffy watched with wide, nervous eyes as he cast a circle of herbs around himself and began chanting. Dawn dared to reach up and pat Buffy’s knee reassuringly, but Buffy was too intent on Giles to notice.
 
“Shh, love. Nothing’s going to hurt you,” Spike murmured, holding her tight as he watched Giles perform the spell.
 
“I seek the soul of Buffy Summers, wherever it may be found,” Giles proclaimed. “Let it be shown to me, who seeks it without malice and with no ill intent. Reveliare.”
 
Buffy closed her eyes as a warm sensation passed through her. Heaven. It feels like heaven. Is he finally sending me back? Oh thank you…
 
Spike nearly let go of her in surprise as her body relaxed and began to glow, first faintly, then with ever increasing intensity until Dawn had to turn her head away from the blinding glare. The light turned Spike’s wide eyes electric blue and made every curl on his head stand out in sharp relief. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the light vanished, and Buffy was once more an ordinary girl, curled up on a couch.
 
“Heaven?” Buffy asked, opening her eyes. She looked all around, but her face fell when she realized she was still in the same place. “No… please, no…” she put her hands over her face and began to weep piteously.
 
“Oh Buffy, don’t cry,” Dawn pleaded. She moved up onto the couch next to Buffy, stroking her sister’s hair over and over. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
 
Spike raised his eyes to Giles. “She seems to have her soul, Rupert.”
 
“Yes, that would appear to be the case,” Giles answered. He sat down once more, his own eyes getting moist as he watched Buffy mourn anew for the paradise she had lost. She has her soul. That’s really Buffy in there. He wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or not. If her soul had been missing, they could pretend that all this behavior was due to it not really being her. But now they knew – it was really her, and she had really been destroyed by the actions of Willow’s spell. He could do nothing but watch as Dawn and Spike began once more to patiently pick up the pieces.

TBC

Disclaimer: None of the characters or the dialog are mine. I just play with them to keep myself from sleeping past my stop on the commuter train.

Huge thank you to Sanity Fair, who graciously betaed this chapter for me and hunted down all my comma mistakes. Any that still remain are mine, not hers. Thanks again to my reviewers as well - you rock. 

****************
Chapter 11
***************
 
“What’s the verdict?” Willow asked as Tara hung up the phone.
 
“I guess the spell worked, and she clearly has her own soul,” Tara answered. After waiting until after nightfall to hear from Giles, Tara had broken down and called him from their hotel room. She had been dismayed to hear the spell caused Buffy to lapse into tears again.
 
“Well, that’s good!” Willow said brightly. “If we know Buffy’s really here, then we just have to find the right spell to get rid of the amnesia, and she should be fine!”
 
“But what about the information Wesley found?” Tara asked pointedly. “Permanent personality changes? Psychosis? Profound, sometimes suicidal depression? What if the amnesia is the only thing protecting her from all that?”
 
“Are you saying that we should just… leave her as she is?” Willow replied.
 
“I’m only saying it might not be so simple. I mean, if someone has a bullet in their leg, you can’t just close up the hole on the outside, right?” Tara was desperate to get Willow to back off and see reason, but a small corner of her brain feared Willow was too deep into the magic to listen. “When Giles did the spell, Buffy thought it was taking her back to heaven. When it didn’t, she just broke down again. She cried for an hour, non-stop.”
 
“But that spell was harmless!” Willow protested. “It is literally impossible to hurt someone with that spell!”
 
“She wasn’t hurt physically,” Tara said. “But she clearly perceives things differently than we do.”
 
Willow paced, biting her lip, and thinking. “There have got to be some spells that can help. If we just treat the symptoms systematically. So first, get rid of the amnesia. Then we see how she is. If she’s depressed we can just…”
 
“Willow,” Tara said in a warning tone. Willow stopped pacing and looked at Tara curiously. “You’re doing it again.”
 
“Doing what?”
 
“You’re jumping straight to magic without considering any alternatives or any consequences!” Tara elaborated. “I know you mean well. Buffy’s your friend, and you want to help. But you can’t do this without consulting the others and without thinking about all the ‘what if’s.”
 
“But I am thinking of those!” Willow insisted. “If the anti-amnesia spell doesn’t work, what’s going to happen? She’s not going to get more amnesia!”
 
“Are you sure?” Tara said. “What if it leaves her completely unable to function? Or what if it works, and she’s immediately psychotic? Or suicidal? What if suddenly remembering everything just… overwhelms her completely that she has a breakdown?”
 
“What if it works, and she’s back to the way she was?” Willow retorted. “Everyone seems to assume all my spells are going to go wrong! Okay, a few have, but that was ages ago! I brought her back from the dead for Pete’s sake! What more do you all want before you trust me?”
 
“I’m just saying that even if it is done perfectly and works exactly as you intend, there can be unintended consequences,” Tara said wearily. “I don’t know why you have to fix it right now. I don’t see any harm in letting her alone for a week or two and just seeing what happens.”
 
“If someone was choking, and you knew the Heimlich maneuver you wouldn’t wait a week to see what happens!” Willow said angrily. “I know I can make things better right away, so why won’t people just let me do it?”
 
“Because it’s not your call to make!” Tara cried. “You can’t just go and… alter someone’s mind without their permission!”
 
“But Tara…” Willow began.
 
“Stop,” Tara said, turning away. “I can’t talk with you any more about this. You’re not listening to me. I need some time to myself.” Tara turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She ran a bath and got in, closing her eyes and trying to slow her breathing and focus her mind. She hated fighting with Willow more than anything. It hurt her somewhere deep inside to have any disconnect, any discord between her and the woman she loved. But she could not back down this time. Willow was headed for a very bad place, and Tara was not going to let her go there. I’d rather lose her as a girlfriend than lose her forever. Her thoughts raced and raced as she pondered what she could do to get through to Willow.
 
In the other room, Willow was furious. They all act like I just started doing magic yesterday! I know what I’m doing. If Tara was backing her up, she knew the others would go along. Willow rummaged in her bag until she found a bag full of dried herbs in the bottom. She pulled out a delicate sprig of dried flowers. Concentrating on Tara, she closed her eyes, waved her hand over the plant, and said, “Forget.” She took the flower and placed it under Tara’s pillow before getting undressed and climbing into bed.
 
In the hot bath, Tara suddenly found herself much more relaxed. Mmm. Feels nice. That was just what I needed. She got out of the tub and went to snuggle up to Willow. “Hey, baby,” she said to Willow, as she slid in beside her.
 
“Hey,” Willow replied with a smile. They sank into the pillows, kissing passionately while Willow thought, See? No one got hurt, everyone’s happy. No problem. She and Tara twined around each other with the argument magically forgotten.
 
******************
 
Buffy was finally asleep.
 
The evening had been long and wearing for everyone. She had cried for an hour, then lapsed into an odd sort of stillness. She radiated sadness and sat curled up next to Spike on the sofa. Once she got up and wandered as in a daze up to the bathroom, coming back to resume her place on the end of the couch. Spike got her to drink some water, but she wasn’t interested in food, other than to nibble a few crackers.
 
When Giles tried to speak to her, she turned away and hid her face – he clearly couldn’t help her, and although his spell hadn’t hurt she didn’t trust the magic. She wondered if this was all some sort of trick. I know they said this was home, but what if they’re only saying that to make me put my guard down? Why make me feel like the warm place and then stop? She was even starting to doubt her angel a bit. He couldn’t help her get back it seemed. She was tempted to run away, to find somewhere to hide. But when she looked at the angel all she could see was concern, pity, and love. When he looked at the others there was contempt, irritation, and anger, but when he looked at her it was always love. She didn’t want to leave that love, the only thing here that reminded her of where she had been. But the pain of trying to remember, trying to make sense of it all was too much, and she found it easier just to shut down, not think, and just drift for a while.
 
Spike had sensibly let her be after a while, sitting next to her and stroking her hair gently while talking with Giles about England or with Dawn about school. The conversation had no meaning for Buffy, but the murmur of voices soothed her until eventually she started dozing off. Spike had carried her up to bed, although it was only an hour after nightfall, and had stayed with her until she was well and truly out. Now he was coming down the stairs, rather drained by the whole effort.
 
“Is she asleep then?” Giles inquired.
 
“Yes, finally,” Spike answered, throwing himself into a chair. “Bloody exhausting that is. ‘M out of practice.”
 
“What do you mean?” Giles asked.
 
“I mean all this stuff was second nature when I was with Dru. Hundred years with a madwoman and you pick up some skills in soothing distressed females.”
 
“Do you really think Buffy’s crazy?” Dawn asked. “Like lock her up crazy? Like Angel said?”
 
Spike spat out a derisive laugh. “Angel doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, pardon my French. Look, I think Buffy clearly has lost some fundamental grip on reality. I mean she thinks I’m an angel for God’s sake. But I’ve seen madness, up close and personal. I’ve lived with a woman who would make jewelry out of body parts, have long conversations with dolls and invisible people, and spouted every bit of random blather you could ever think of. Buffy’s nothing like that.”
 
“So in your opinion, she isn’t really mad?” Giles asked.
 
“Mad is relative, mate,” Spike explained. “She doesn’t understand what happened or where she is. But I think a lot of that must be some form of amnesia or what have you. I also wonder how much of it is her own resistance to coming back.”
 
“Do you mean that she’s somehow keeping herself blocked off from us?” Dawn wondered.
 
“Think about it,” Spike said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “What does she have to come back for? Okay, there’s you in the plus column, Bit. But there’s also slaying, no mother, no money far as I can tell, no job, no education, no prospects. If the last thing you remember clearly was heaven, why the hell would you want to come back to all that?”
 
Dawn’s face fell a bit, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I know this is hard for her. But I need her, Spike! I don’t have anyone else!” She put her hands over her face and started crying, the stress of the day finally coming out in a flood of tears.
 
After a moment of gathering his mental strength, Spike forced himself to get up and once more console a hysterical Summers girl. “We’ll get her back, Bit. We’ll find some way of making this world somewhere she wants to be. I promise you.”
 
Dawn sniffled and sat up. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just been such a long day, and it’s just so scary to see her like that…”
 
“You’ve been doing an amazing job, Nibblet, make no mistake,” Spike said encouragingly. As Dawn got control of herself, Spike released her and stood up. “Listen, I need to go get some blood before you start looking like dinner, alright? Can you stay near your sister? Wake her up if she starts having another nightmare?”
 
Dawn nodded. “I have some homework to do. I’ll leave our bedroom doors open, so I’ll hear her.”
 
“Good girl,” Spike said. “Rupert, I trust you can keep them safe while I patrol and get something to eat?”
 
“I’ve nowhere else to be at present,” Giles responded.
 
“Right then, I’m off,” Spike said. He grabbed his coat and left in a swirl of black leather.
 
“I’m going to go do my homework,” Dawn said. Giles nodded his understanding with a tired smile and Dawn turned to go upstairs.
 
Giles stared at the closed front door for a second or two. He was torn. His watcher training had hammered into him the idea that vampires were unable to experience emotions such as love, concern, or pity. They were remorseless killers, seeking sustenance and cruel pleasures. They wanted food and sex and to terrorize; they were barely more than animals. They would cooperate with each other when it suited them and slaughter each other when it didn’t. They were strong and intelligent, and some had odd mystical talents. But stories of vampires being merciful were few and far between in the Watcher’s diaries. There was nothing in his training or his experience that allowed him to make sense of Spike. He had no soul; he was notorious for killing Slayers and part of the infamous Scourge of Europe – nothing in his history seemed to point to any good qualities whatsoever. Yet here he was, caring for the Slayer and her sister, in a way that none of her friends seemed able to. He was patient and seemed to know exactly how to calm and soothe the troubled girl. Giles shook his head over and over. It made no sense, but there it was. Spike cared deeply about Buffy and Dawn. What could all this possibly mean? He had no answer. He got up and went over to investigate Joyce’s liquor cabinet, intending to see if the answer lay in the bottom of a much-needed glass of brandy.
 
******************
 
Spike made his way down the street, pausing only to light a cigarette. He took a deep drag, grateful for the nicotine fix. Living in a house full of humans who objected to cigarette smoke was trying, especially when he was under a lot of stress. He needed to be out and moving, and he strode purposefully to the first of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries ready for some action. The night was quiet, and the first two cemeteries yielded no fledges or other creatures of the night in need of being eliminated. The lack of activity allowed his mind to wander back to the day Buffy died – the day the world had turned inside out for him.
 
After Buffy’s death, he had been ready to just give up. His immediate plans had been to drink himself into a stupor, and perhaps take a nap in the sun, not in any particular order. Dawn had begged him to take cover as he sat there, weeping helplessly at the sight of Buffy’s broken body. Her plaintive voice, so similar to her sister’s in some ways, had stirred him to at least crawl off into the darkness of a nearby sewer. He had lain on the floor of the pipe, not caring what filth he was resting in, for an unknown number of hours. When a rat had climbed onto him, intending on seeing if he was edible, he had roused himself enough to drag himself down the tunnels to his crypt, where he had passed out on his bed. He would probably still be there, wasting away to a skeleton, if it had not been for Giles. The watcher had come after a few days, bearing blood, cigarettes, and marching orders. “We need your help, and I am willing to pay you for it,” he had said in a voice that had held little of its former air of authority. “Sunnydale needs protection. Dawn does too. We can’t do it alone.”
 
“Keep your bloody money,” Spike had snarled with closed eyes. “Not your servant.”
 
“Whether you accept my money or not,” Giles had continued, “You cannot sit here alone and wallow.”
 
“Says who?” Spike had looked at the watcher with red eyes and hollow cheeks, daring him to answer.
 
Giles had taken off his glasses and rubbed tired eyes, also red from weeping. He had seemed like an old man as he said, “Buffy trusted you to protect Dawn and to be her ally. I didn’t share her trust at first, but I also know that the battle might have gone even worse without your assistance. I would be dishonoring her memory if I allowed one of her trusted allies to drop into a pile of bones.”
 
Spike had closed his eyes, once more fighting tears of rage and despair while he wrestled with his decision. To the end of the world, I promised her. Well the world didn’t bloody end, did it William? So I guess you still have a vow to keep. In the end he had struggled painfully to a sitting position, looked Giles in the eye and said, “What do you need me to do?”
 
Now as he entered the third cemetery on his mental list, he felt that he actually knew what his job was for once. Protect the Slayer, take care of her, help her find a way back to us. Seems like a good enough mission statement. The only problem with this mission was that it might actually be impossible, and that worried him. Every time she seemed to be making progress, the others would do some sort of spell, and it would knock her back ten paces. He wondered if at some point she would just retreat into her shell and refuse to come out at all. Just wish they would fucking lay off the girl for a week. Might be able to get somewhere.
 
He suddenly got that curious prickling sensation at the back of his neck that meant there was a vampire in the vicinity. Now we’re talking, he thought gleefully. A spot of random violence is just what the doctor ordered. Some distance ahead he saw a grave begin to erupt, hands clawing for purchase on the surface, just like he had so long ago, and like Buffy had so recently. Unlike Buffy, I didn’t have to breathe though. The vampire was soon tottering erect, dirt falling off his burial suit, looking around confused with his back to Spike. Spike sauntered up behind him, casually pulling out a stake when suddenly a large dark figure appeared from behind some bushes ahead of the new vampire. With a flash the figure was on the fledge, and in seconds a rain of dust was falling to Angel’s feet.
 
“Godammit, Angel, he was mine!” Spike growled angrily as he strode up to meet his grandsire. “Go find your own bloody fledges to dust.”
 
“Spike?” Angel asked, noticing the blond vampire for the first time. “What the hell are you doing here?”
 
“Patrolling,” Spike said. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get back to it and stay the hell out of my way.”
 
“It’s a free country,” Angel snapped. “Besides, I thought you were Buffy’s “angel.” Why aren’t you with her?”
 
“She’s asleep, and I need to hit the butcher’s,” Spike explained. He sighed and lit another cigarette, figuring rightly that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge some sort of discussion with his grandsire. Might as well get it over with. “So go ahead, Angel. Get the threatening and name-calling over with, so I can get some dinner and get back to the Slayer before she wakes and panics.”
 
Angel was taken aback for a moment. He had, truth be told, been headed over to Buffy’s in order to see what was going on and make sure Spike knew that he was being watched. It irritated him to no end that Spike had taken the wind out of his sails, and all he could come up with was, “Are you telling me I need to threaten you?”
 
“No, just figured it was what you do,” Spike sighed, sitting down on a tombstone. “Let me guess, you’re going to disembowel and dust me if I hurt her, and I’m evil and soulless and shouldn’t even be around her because I am unworthy to be in the same universe as her. Does that about cover it?”
 
Angel frowned. “This isn’t like you, William,” he said, trying to regain the upper hand somewhat. “You’re supposed to be the Slayer of Slayers, I thought. What made you decide to start playing nursemaid to them instead?” He too perched on a tombstone, staring Spike down as if over a field of war.
 
“I love her, Angel,” Spike said, He ground out his cigarette on the recently risen fledge’s headstone and looked back up at his grandsire. “I know none of you will believe it or anything, but I love her. Promised I would look after Dawn. That’s why I couldn’t leave when she died. That’s why I’m here now.”
 
Angel made a derisive noise. “Love. What do you know about love?”
 
“Know more than you do, you pompous ass,” Spike snarled. “I took care of Drusilla for a hundred years. I stayed all summer to keep my word to a dead girl. Where the hell were you when we were guarding the Hellmouth every night? Hell, where were you when we were fighting Glory?” His voice rose to an angry shout that echoed through the darkness.
 
“I was doing my job,” Angel barked back. “I was actually in another freaking dimension fighting demons. It’s not like I was sitting on my ass doing nothing.”
 
“Well then where were you all summer?” Spike demanded. “If you loved her so much, why the hell did you vanish after the funeral?”
 
“Because I couldn’t deal, alright?” Angel exploded. He got up and paced away, returning to lean against the tombstone again, crossing his arms and directing his next remarks to the ground. “I went off to a monastery in Tibet for a few months to get my head on straight. I loved… love her more than anything I ever have in my whole existence, and when she died it took me a long time to come to grips with it.”
 
Spike shook his head in disbelief. “You weren’t there, Angel,” he said quietly. “You didn’t fight tooth and nail to protect someone, only to get thrown off a tower for your pains. Broke damn near every bone in my body trying to protect Dawn. Then I finally came to and found her…” Spike’s voice broke a bit, but he swallowed and continued. “You got to see her at the funeral, when she was all dressed up and looking all peaceful. You didn’t have to see her lying there, broken. Nearly greeted the sunrise right then and there.” His voice trailed off into nothing as he fished out another cigarette and lit it, trying to keep a lid on his emotions.
 
Angel stared at this creature, whom he had helped create. He had taught Spike to feed, to torture, to take pleasure in the artistry of death. He had picked up a shy, awkward poet and shook him until he turned into a bloodthirsty killer. Somehow Spike had never entirely lost his humanity, despite Angel’s best efforts. What would I have done, had I been there? Angel found he couldn’t entirely answer that question, and it bothered him. Eventually, the silence stretched out too far, and for lack of anything else to say he asked, “How is she?”
 
“Hard to say,” Spike said, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “She freaked out when Giles first got there, calmed down a bit later. Seems to like looking at pictures of herself and her family. I read to her, and she always asks for more when I stop, so I assume she likes that too. Then Giles came back from the big powwow and did that soul revealing thing on her.”
 
“And does she have her soul?” Angel asked, more than a little apprehensive.
 
“Yeah, for what it’s worth,” Spike said. “Spell freaked her out again though. She thought Giles was sending her back to heaven, and she spent a hell of a long time weeping her eyes out when she found out he wasn’t.”
 
“As I was telling the others, I really wonder if she shouldn’t be in some sort of institution somewhere,” Angel commented. “A Slayer who’s not in her right mind is a danger to everyone around her.”
 
Spike looked up at Angel sharply. “I swear to you, I will take her and vanish if you even try it. She’s not an animal you can lock up when she gets inconvenient.”
 
“Are you threatening me, Spike?” Angel asked menacingly.
 
“No. Promising you,” Spike responded in kind. “The person who is most in danger from the girl is probably me. If her Slayer mode kicks in while she’s still out of it, I’m probably not long for this earth. But the more time I spend with her, the more I think she’s not so much mad as terrified and traumatized. She was yanked out of heaven to wake up in a coffin. That would fuck with anyone’s head.”
 
“And you think that reading to her is going to snap her out of it?” Angel said. “She needs professional help, Spike. Not you.”
 
“Oh, and what are we going to tell the doctor? ‘Yeah, mate, she’s been dead for nearly five months and misses heaven. Other than that she’s fine.’ They’ll lock us up right next to her.”
 
“So you’re just going to hang around forever until she decides to wake up?” Angel snapped.
 
“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Spike said, standing up and looking Angel in the eye. “You may not like me, and you may not trust me. But you know that if I say I’ll do something, then I will bloody well do it. I said I would stay with Dru, and I did until she dumped me. For the record, I don’t think it will take Buffy that long, but everyone’s got to stop yanking her around for a while if she’s ever to get her bearings.”
 
Angel looked into those blue eyes, full of pain and determination, and he had to admit defeat. Spike meant every word. I could stake him. Right here, right now. Be done with him forever. But even as he thought those words, he knew he couldn’t. Buffy had been desperately afraid, like a beaten animal until Spike had shown up. As much as he hated and distrusted Spike, couldn’t risk hurting Buffy, even after all the water under the bridge. If I kill him, it might kill her, and I couldn’t do that to her. “You really love her, don’t you?” he stated flatly.
 
“Yes. Same as you,” Spike replied.
 
“I doubt that,” Angel said with his usual arrogance. “But if you say you love her, then so help me you’d better live up to that. I’m never going to trust you, Spike. I never liked you, and you were always a pain in my ass. But I can’t dust your sorry self if there’s even half a chance you could help her. So help her, or I’ll be back up here to finish the job so fast your head will spin.”
 
“May I go then, grandsire? Or do you have more threats to issue?” Spike said, tiring of the whole conversation.
 
“Get out of here, and do what you need to do,” Angel muttered. He turned to stalk away.
 
“Where will you be?” Spike called after him.
 
“LA,” Angel responded. “If anyone needs me, they know my number.” With that Angel vanished into the night.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and any dialog I borrowed are Joss Whedon’s, not mine.
 
Thanks once again to Sanity Fair for being an incredibly diligent hunter of punctuation mistakes. Any remaining mistakes are due to my lack of coffee, not her lack of effort.
 
*******************
Chapter 12
*******************
 
Giles was on his third glass of brandy when Spike returned. Spike came in through the kitchen door and filled the fridge with several containers of blood. He heated himself a large mug full and went through to the living room where Giles sat, staring into space. “Anything to report?” Spike asked as he sat down.
 
“No. She seems to be sleeping soundly for now,” Giles responded. “Run into anything unusual on patrol?”
 
“Just my grandsire,” Spike said, taking a long drink of his dinner. “He’s off back to LA, if you need his broodiness for any reason.”
 
Giles was surprised. “I didn’t think he’d leave so soon,” he remarked.
 
“Yeah, well, Angel was always one for bailing when things got tough,” Spike said with a shrug. “Even when he was evil he’d decide he was irritated with me or Dru and bug off to parts unknown, only to come back and mess with us when it suited him. Tonight he did his standard ‘threaten Spike if he hurts Buffy’ routine, with a healthy dose of ‘I’m too messed up to deal’ before scuttling away.”
 
“Truth be told, I’m a bit relieved,” Giles said. “His presence opens up a lot of old wounds.”
 
Spike looked up at the watcher. “I forget sometimes that he took your girl from you,” he said quietly. “Surprised you haven’t staked the bastard yet. I would have.”
 
“You probably would have at that,” Giles commented. “But there were other things to consider besides my desire for revenge.”
 
“Oh yeah, the soul.” Spike rolled his eyes. “I forget that makes it all better.” He shook his head as he finished off his blood before getting up and refilling the cup with brandy.
 
“I wouldn’t expect a creature such as yourself to put any store in the soul,” Giles said. “But it is one of the main things that separates man from beast or demon.”
 
“Just don’t see it,” Spike said, sitting back down with his brandy. “You’ve got human serial killers with souls, rapists and dictators and whatnot with souls. And you’ve got benign demons that do no harm to anyone without souls. What the hell does the soul have to do with it? It guarantees nothing.” Spike shook his head and took another sip of brandy.
 
Giles stared at Spike, trying to find a good argument against what the vampire had said, but between the brandy, the jet lag, and the emotional exhaustion, nothing rose to the surface of his brain. With a sigh he said, “As much as I would love to debate metaphysics with you at this time, I am in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.”
 
Spike finished his whiskey and stood up. “You should probably take the witches’ room,” he said, taking Giles’ glass and his own to the kitchen. Giles wearily retrieved his suitcase and headed upstairs. Dawn had finally dozed off, her history book splayed on the bed beside her, and Giles reached in and turned off the light, shutting the door quietly. Giles turned to see Spike coming up the stairs as well.
 
“Where will you be sleeping then?” Giles asked.
 
“I’ll stay in Buffy’s room,” Spike answered. “She panics if she wakes up alone.”
 
“You don’t honestly believe I’m going to let you sleep in her room do you?” Giles said sternly.
 
“Rupert, she’s slept with me every night since she returned, with the exception of the night Willow had her all spelled up,” Spike explained with a touch of irritation. “Her choice, not mine. Wouldn’t bloody let go of me last night. I assure you, her virtue or whatever else you’re worried about is safe. Just a body for her to cling to, nothing more.”
 
Giles knew he should protest. This was wrong, patently wrong, and he knew he should be objecting more strenuously. But he was tired, and something in the vampire’s eyes told him that Spike was telling the truth. “Then go and take care of her, but if you even think…”
 
“Bloody hell, you folks are a broken record,” Spike growled. “I get it. Hurt Buffy, wake up a pile of dust. Got the fucking memo already. Good night, Rupert.”
 
“Yes, well, good night then,” Giles responded awkwardly, and they both headed into their respective rooms, each looking back to eye the other doubtfully.
 
Spike saw that Dawn had had the good sense to leave a small desk lamp on as a night light. Buffy lay huddled in a ball, looking tiny in the double bed. Spike removed his shoes and silently slipped in beside her. She didn’t wake, but she rolled over and curled up next to him, nestling her head close to his shoulder. Her body seemed to relax the slightest bit, and he couldn’t help but smile. So beautiful, Slayer. No force on earth is going to move me from here until you’re whole again. He leaned over and kissed her forehead and whispered, “Love you, Buffy. Remember that.” Then he too closed his eyes.
 
******************
 
Buffy woke up screaming in a nightmare at three in the morning, and no one had managed much sleep after that. After a couple hours of everyone trying to get back to sleep, they had by some mutual accord decided to give up and have breakfast around five. Dawn had made pancakes and a mess, but Buffy had eaten heartily and seemed reasonably calm. After breakfast, Spike had settled down with her in the living room and had read to her – Wuthering Heights this time. She had relaxed visibly over the next few hours, as Dawn had finished up some last minute homework and gotten herself ready for school. Dawn had been about to leave when the bell rang. “I’ll get it!” the teen cried, grabbing her backpack on the way.
 
Next to Spike, Buffy jumped and tensed up, burrowing back into the couch cushions to shield herself from whatever was at the door. “Shh, don’t fret,” Spike said automatically. He looked across the room to Giles, who was doing some research, surrounded by books and notebooks. “Rupert, can you please tell whoever it is to go away? I’d like to see what progress we can make if she goes a whole day without someone scaring her half to death.”
 
Dawn had opened the door to find Xander on the doorstep. “Xander, hey, what’s up?” she greeted him.
 
“I just came by to see how you and Buffy were doing,” he explained. “Can I come in?”
 
“Umm, I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Dawn said hesitantly. “She had a rough night with the nightmares and all that.”
 
“I just thought that maybe if we spent some more time around her she’d get used to us again,” Xander persisted. “How can she know we’re not going to hurt her if she never gets to be around us to see that?”
 
At this point, Giles came up behind Dawn. “I’m afraid Dawn has a point, Xander. A day of peace and quiet and no new people would do her a world of good.”
 
“But I’m not new people! I’m old people!” Xander said. “Or at least, formerly known to her people, if not particularly old.”
 
“I know that,” Giles said. “But I have to insist that you leave her be for at least today. We will call you when Spike and Dawn think she’s ready for more visitors.”
 
Xander’s face grew dark. “So now the Evil Undead gets to dictate who’s allowed around? Is that it?”
 
“I can assure you we’re all just looking out for Buffy’s well being,” Giles began.
 
“Yeah, you are. I’m not sure about him.” Xander muttered. When he saw that Giles wasn’t going to relent and Dawn was apparently ready to stand in the doorway with her arms folded until the next apocalypse, he backed down. “Fine. I’ll… call later or something.” He turned around and stalked back to his car, pulling away from the curb with an irritated squeal of tires.
 
“Good lord,” Giles said, shaking his head. “That didn’t go over well.” He glanced at his watch. “You should be on your way to school.”
 
“I’m on my way,” Dawn replied. She looked worriedly toward the living room. “Can you…”
 
“I’ll try everything I can to keep her on an even keel,” Giles said. “Now be on your way before you’re in trouble with the headmaster.”
 
Dawn rolled her eyes. “We don’t have headmasters here, Giles, remember? Sheesh, get with the program.” She shouldered her bag and was out the door in another minute.
 
Shaking his head in bemusement, Giles returned to the living room where Buffy was still curled up wide-eyed in the corner of the couch. “It was Xander,” Giles explained as he sat back down. “I sent him away.”
 
“Hear that, love?” Spike said, stroking her hair. “He’s gone. Just you, me, and the watcher here.”
 
“Safe?” Buffy asked as if daring to hope.
 
“Safe,” Spike agreed. It had been the first word she had spoken all day. Encouraged he said, “Examination time, pet. What’s your name?” He laid a hand on her shoulder for emphasis.
 
“Buffy,” she replied, relieved that for once she understood exactly what was being asked.
 
“And who am I?” he asked, placing his hand on his chest.
 
“A… Spike. Y-you’re Spike.” She smiled shyly at her angel with the funny name.
 
“And your watcher?” Spike asked, indicating Giles. “What’s he called?”
 
Buffy wrinkled her brow in concentration. “G-G-Giles,” she forced out at last.
 
Giles nodded approvingly. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m Rupert Giles.”
 
Buffy looked at both of them in turn, trying to voice what she was thinking. “Voice… d-different. N-not like D-Dawn.”
 
They looked at her uncomprehending for a moment, then Giles had an idea. “Does she mean our accents? Our voices sound different than the others? Is that it?”
 
Buffy nodded, happy to be understood. “Voices… sound different,” she agreed, her words a little more confident.
 
“That’s true, pet,” Spike explained. “Giles and I were both born in England, quite a ways from here. Most everyone there talks like us.”
 
Once more Buffy appeared deep in thought. “Giles… is a-an angel too?”
 
“No, no more than I am,” Spike said. “We’re both just people who care about you, that’s all.”
 
Buffy chewed her lip and lapsed into silence as she tried to figure things out. They come from far away, but they say they’re not angels. They care about me, but they can’t send me back. They seem to know me so well, but why can’t I remember? Aloud she said, “Can’t… re-remember.”
 
Spike sighed as he continued stroking her hair, “I understand. Frustrating for you to not be able to remember things.”
 
“How… how d-did I get… here?” Buffy asked. Why was I dragged out of Heaven? Why, when I was so happy there?
 
Spike and Giles exchanged a look. Then Spike met her puzzled green eyes and said, “You died, Buffy. You died and left us, and everyone missed you. Willow and the others thought you were trapped in hell, so they did a spell to bring you back to life.”
 
Buffy looked troubled. “Back to life?” she repeated.
 
Spike wracked his brain trying to figure out how to break through her confusion. “Yes. You were dead, at peace, in Heaven, and now you’re alive again, on… on Earth.”
 
“Not… hell,” Buffy said slowly. “Alive.”
 
“Yes, that’s right,” Giles encouraged.
 
“Why?” Buffy said. “Heaven is g-good. Not l-loud. No pain or f-f-fear.”
 
“They didn’t know you were in Heaven, love,” Spike explained. “They thought they were helping you.”
 
Buffy shook her head violently. “No! Didn’t help!” she said, with more volume than she had yet managed. “Can’t remember! Afraid! M-mother gone. H-hurts…” Her words broke off with a sob, and Spike gathered her to his chest while she covered her face. Why? Why bring me here where I can’t remember? I don’t know what to do!
 
After a few long minutes, Spike spoke again. “Buffy, I know that you’re suffering. I can’t… I can’t send you back. But I swear I’ll help you remember again. I won’t leave you until you remember again. I promise, sweetheart.”
 
Buffy sat up and looked at him with her green eyes still full of tears. “End of the w-world?”
 
“Until the end of the world,” Spike agreed. They lapsed into silence then and clung to each other while Giles watched with an aching heart.
 
**********************
 
“I can’t believe Giles would kick me out!” Xander complained. Xander, Anya, Willow, and Tara had converged on the Magic Box at roughly the same time that morning to discuss the current state of affairs. Xander had come in puffing and blowing about being denied entrance to Buffy’s house, and Willow had been instantly sympathetic.
 
“I don’t know what is wrong with him!” Willow exclaimed. “He just totally tore me apart yesterday, like I’m a complete incompetent!”
 
“If Buffy is going to get back to normal, shouldn’t she, I don’t know, be surrounded by her normal group of friends?” Xander went on.
 
“I don’t think she recognizes you as friends,” Anya pointed out. “I mean she sort of thinks were the bad guys, given that we dragged her out of heaven and all that. I’d be pretty pissed off if I was all happy and “poof,” now I’m on earth. Actually, that was pretty much what I went through when I stopped being a vengeance demon,” she finished philosophically.
 
“But it was an honest mistake!” Willow insisted. “I mean a hell god opened a big portal. Wouldn’t you think it led to a hell dimension?”
 
Tara listened to the discussion, feeling a bit confused. Didn’t we have this whole argument yesterday with Giles? Aloud, she said, “Why is it so bad to leave her alone for just a couple of days? Don’t you trust Giles?”
 
“Giles, yes,” said Xander. “Spike, not so much.”
 
“But why not? He can’t hurt her because of the chip, and he really cares about her,” Tara persisted.
 
Xander couldn’t contain his irritation. “He’s a vampire with no soul. He could be manipulating her for some evil purpose! Telling her that we’re evil. We only have his word that she thought he was an angel – how do we know he didn’t feed her that line?”
 
“I don’t think it’s so farfetched,” Anya said. “I mean, you come out of your grave with no memory and this white haired, white skinned guy takes care of you. Seems like a reasonable assumption that he’s some sort of good guy.”
 
“Besides, he helped us all summer, and Buffy trusted him before... all that,” Tara said. “Why can’t we trust him now?”
 
“Um, hello? Slayer of slayers, ring a bell?” Xander said.
 
“Okay, for what it’s worth, I don’t think Buffy’s in any particular danger,” Willow conceded. “But I really don’t see why Giles won’t let me help her.”
 
“But we don’t know what she’s thinking, or what’s really wrong!” Tara exclaimed. I feel like I said all this already for heaven’s sake. Why is Willow being so stubborn about this?
 
“How about that spell I did when she was catatonic before?” Willow suggested. “I could go into her mind and see what she’s thinking!”
 
“And she could leap across the room and throttle you again or scream her head off,” Anya pointed out.
 
“So then I just knock her out first. It would be…”
 
“NO!” Tara shouted, leaping to her feet. “No more! I won’t stand here and let you… magic Buffy into some worse state! You’re jumping into magic solutions left and r-right without even c-considering anything else.”
 
“Tara, baby, don’t get so upset,” Willow soothed, alarmed at the intensity of Tara’s anger.
 
“Promise me you won’t do any more spells on her,” Tara insisted. “Promise me or I am walking right out that door. I can’t sit around and watch this anymore. Not after what we did. What I allowed you to do.”
 
The others were taken aback by this sudden outburst from the normally quiet witch. Coming to Willow’s defense, Xander said, “We all agreed to this. Willow didn’t do it alone. We all helped.”
 
“And we were all wrong,” Tara said, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “If I had known the details… the fawn, the possible side effects…” She choked up and had trouble speaking for a moment. “You could have died Willow. We all could have. You led me to believe that she would just somehow reappear good as new, and instead she woke up in her c-c-coffin.” She turned away, arms wrapped around body, as she tried to get herself under control.
 
The others looked around at each other in awkward silence. Finally Anya spoke up, “I think giving her a couple more days wouldn’t hurt. I mean she was dead for five months just fine without us.”
 
Xander frowned. “I don’t like it. But as long as Giles is there I guess things will be alright for a couple days,” he conceded reluctantly.
 
Willow seethed silently. I could fix this. I could fix this, and then make it so no one remembers the fight. They need never know. She looked at Tara, her love for her partner mixed with irritation at Tara’s failure to back her up. I don’t want to lose her. Finally, feeling Xander and Anya’s eyes on her, she said, “Fine. We’ll wait a couple days, do a little more research.”
 
Tara turned around to look straight into Willow’s eyes. “Do you mean it?”
 
Willow willed herself to meet Tara’s stare head on. “I mean it. No magic for… for the next week.”
 
Tara searched Willow’s eyes. I want to believe you. But do I? “Alright. But I’m going to hold you to that.” She came and sat back down at the table, still feeling vaguely uneasy.
 
Xander got called in to work a short while after their “discussion” leaving the three girls to tend shop and do research for the day. Tara spent the day reading about resurrection spells, much to Willow’s annoyance. Why can’t she just trust me? I thought she loved me, Willow thought as she watched Tara turning page after page and growing more and more pale. Willow was looking up every possible amnesia cure she could, making a list of all the possible side effects, hoping the information would sway the others. Tara was also eyeing her lover’s choice of research topic with despair, wondering what Willow was planning now. After nearly an hour of this uncomfortable situation Willow finally decided to speak. “Tara?”
 
“Yes?”
 
“I, um, could use some clean clothes, you know?” Willow said when nothing else came immediately to mind. “How do you think we could go about getting into our room at Buffy’s?”
 
Tara thought for a moment. “We could call, and have Dawn put some of our stuff together for us. I could go pick it up, since I seem to scare her less.”
 
“I guess that would work,” Willow said with a sigh. Should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy. I really wish I knew what was going on over there!
 
“I’ll call them now,” Tara said, heading for the phone. After a few minutes of chatting, Tara hung up and said, “Giles will have Dawn get our things together. I’ll go over there around five.”
 
“That sounds good,” Willow answered. And maybe while you’re gone I can just erase this afternoon and start over with you. They both went back to their research and the uneasy silence.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, so he gets all the money and stuff like that.
 
Thanks again to SanityFair for being the beta who is more betta than any other beta! And thanks to the readers who have patiently stuck with me as I continue to plod along through this story.
 
 
****************
Chapter 13
****************
 
“Would you like some more, pet?” Spike had managed to figure out boxed macaroni and cheese for lunch, continuing his streak of cooking successes, and Buffy seemed to be enjoying it.
 
“Yes, more,” she said, holding out her plate.
 
Spike served her another helping before returning to his own plate. She had wondered why he wasn’t eating, so he decided to join her in order to avoid difficult questions. It pleased him greatly to see a little color come back into her pale cheeks as she ate. After the latest storm of emotion, he had resorted to television again to help her relax. Giles was still in the living room, books and notes spread around him in a ring, searching for answers. He had called Wesley in LA, as well as some contacts in London, but they all seemed to be telling him the same thing: Very few people had ever been resurrected, and the results were almost uniformly bad. In nearly every recorded case the person had either killed themselves again or been institutionalized. He read one such tale in an old tome that described a woman circa 1850 who spent the remainder of her life locked in a cage in Bedlam after being resurrected by her grieving warlock husband. The few cases that did not involve the madhouse or the morgue were vague on details and referred to “lingering melancholia” and other mental effects. Now, he took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, frustrated.
 
The phone rang, causing Buffy to jump and cringe. “Shh, just the telephone, pet,” Spike said, quickly wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Rupert? Can you grab that?”
 
“Yes, I’ve got it.” Giles got up, glad for the distraction. “Hello, Summers residence.”
 
“Giles, it’s Tara,” said the voice on the other end.
 
“Hello, Tara,” Giles replied. “What can I do for you?”
 
“Willow and I could really use some spare clothes, but we don’t want to come over and frighten Buffy,” Tara explained. “When Dawn gets home from school, can you have her pack up some more of our things and put them out on the front porch for us? I can come by around five and get them.”
 
“Yes, that will work,” Giles said. “Have you turned up anything new?”
 
“N-not really.” Tara chewed her lip, mindful of Willow in the next room. Truth be told, she wanted to share her concerns with Giles, but it would have to wait. “How about you?”
 
“Nothing encouraging,” Giles admitted. “But she has had a fairly good day so far. Only one serious meltdown today, and she has been talking a bit, so I suppose that’s a good sign.”
 
“Let’s hope so,” Tara said. “I’ll see you at five then.”
 
“We’ll look for you,” Giles replied. He rang off and moved through to the kitchen, where Buffy and Spike were finishing their lunch. “That was Tara. She’s going to come by later to pick up some more of their things. We can have Dawn leave them on the porch.”
 
“Good plan.” He turned to Buffy and asked, “All done?”
 
“Yes,” she replied, having practically eaten the design off the plate. Spike smiled and cleared off the table, putting everything in the sink to deal with later.
 
Giles studied her a moment from his post near the door. “I wonder if hypnosis would help her recover any of her memories,” he mused.
 
Spike mulled that over. “Might give us some clues on how to help her.” He found himself wishing he had Dru’s gift of thrall. That talent would come in handy about now. Could get into her mind without her even knowing it. He looked over at Buffy, who was fiddling idly with her empty glass. “Don’t want to frighten her though.”
 
“I suppose we could ask first,” Giles proposed.
 
Spike pondered this for a moment then sat down next to Buffy, taking her hands. “Buffy? Giles would like to try something, to help you remember things. It’s not magic, and it won’t hurt, but it might help you get some of your memories back. Do you want to try?”
 
Buffy looked at Giles nervously, then back at Spike. “W-won’t hurt? P-promise?”
 
“I promise you, it won’t hurt,” Giles said. “It’s called hypnosis. It’s a way for you to recover some of your past memories.”
 
“But we’ll only try it if you want us to,” Spike added, hoping she understood. “Do you want us to try?”
 
She searched Spike’s face, looking for any sign of deception, but found none. The angel won’t hurt me. He promised he wouldn’t. “I… I’ll try,” she said finally.
 
“Why don’t we go into the living room then,” Giles suggested. “I’m going to go see if Tara and Willow had any crystals in their room. Certain kinds can make this easier.” Giles headed off to Willow and Tara’s room while Spike led Buffy into the living room and got her settled on the couch. Giles returned with a clear blue crystal about the size of his fist. “This will serve. Are you ready for this Buffy?”
 
Buffy nodded, although she was visibly tense. “Try to relax, sweetheart,” Spike said. “This won’t hurt.” Buffy nodded again, and her shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch as she tried to take Spike’s advice.
 
“Buffy, I want you to look into this crystal and listen to my voice” Buffy obeyed as Giles continued in a low, smooth voice, “Try to breathe slow, and focus on the crystal.”
 
Buffy looked confused for a moment and looked to Spike for help. Spike touched the crystal and said, “Look straight at this, yeah? Listen to Giles and breathe – like this.” Despite his lack of a need for oxygen, he demonstrated deep, relaxing breathing until Buffy started copying him. He touched the crystal again, and Buffy turned her gaze to it, wrinkling her brow as she tried to concentrate.
 
“That’s it,” Giles said encouragingly. “Breathe in and out, and try to empty your mind. Think of nothing but the crystal.” Buffy relaxed a little more as her breathing became slow and regular. “I am going to count backward from fifty. When I reach zero, you will be completely relaxed. Fifty…forty-nine…” Giles kept counting while Buffy continued to relax and breathe. Spike stayed very still so as not to distract her and kept breathing as well, letting her hear the rhythm. At some point she closed her eyes but kept breathing, breathing. “Three… two… one,” Giles finished. Buffy sat erect, her eyes closed, her hands resting lightly on her legs. “Buffy? Can you hear me?” Giles asked quietly.
 
“Yes,” she answered. Her voice was soft but unhesitating.
 
“I want you to try to send your mind back to the past. Try to remember what happened before you woke up in the dark. Try to remember.”
 
Buffy cocked her head slightly, with her eyes still closed. “Glory. I was fighting her. Dawn… Dawn was bleeding. The portal was open. Couldn’t… let her die.”
 
Spike swallowed, thinking back on his role that night. Failed you, Slayer. I should have been able to save you. If I did my job, you wouldn’t have had to jump. Giles too had to repress a shudder thinking of the battle and its terrible outcome. “Do you remember what happened after that?” Giles asked.
 
“Had to jump,” Buffy said. “My blood, same as Dawn’s. Had to close the portal.” She paused and shuddered a little. “Pain. So much pain… in the portal. Then light. Light… on and on, forever. Mom was there. It was warm. I was… finished. I could rest, and I was… loved. Light and love, forever.” A small wistful smile appeared on her face as she remembered.
 
The two men looked at each other, both disturbed to hear that she had suffered. “Do you remember anything else?” Giles began. “Do you…”
 
“Falling,” Buffy said suddenly. Her brow wrinkled and the smile vanished. “Pulled away… from my mother. Like hands… grabbing. A woman’s voice… said to let her cross over.” Her voice got shakier as she continued, “I tried to fight it… stay there. But I couldn’t. W-woke up in the dark. Couldn’t… couldn’t breathe.” She started to breathe harder and harder, shaking her head again and again. “Demons, in the dark. There was blood… on my grave. And this… thing. Looked like me. Demons… t-tore it a-apart.”
 
“Giles, wake her up,” Spike said suddenly. “Don’t make her relive this. Wake her up for Christ’s sake.”
 
“Buffy!” Giles said. “I’m going to count to three, and when I snap my fingers you are going to wake up. One… two… three.” He snapped his fingers and Buffy’s eyes flew open. She looked around wildly at Spike and Giles.
 
“Remembered… dying,” she said, her voice a choked half sob. “Remembered the pain.”
 
“You remembered heaven too though,” Spike said, moving over to comfort her. “You remembered how you fought to save Dawn. You saved the whole world, pet. Bloody heroine, you are.”
 
“How?” she asked. “Saved the w-world?”
 
“You’re the Slayer, Buffy,” Giles put in. “You were chosen to fight the forces of darkness.”
 
“Chosen?” Buffy said, completely confused. Who forced me to do this?
 
“It’s complicated, pet,” Spike said. “You have… powers. Extra strength, fast healing. You can do things that other people can’t.”
 
Buffy shook her head. “Don’t want t-t-to be ch-chosen,” she said. “Still can’t… can’t remember. Don’t want to be… here. Please.” She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly.
 
“Buffy,” Giles said. “I know that returning to life was not of your choosing. But there are no… no portals to send you back.”
 
“Why?” Buffy said plaintively. “Why… only remember… pain? Was there only pain? Before?” Was this all I ever knew? Pain, confusion, and fighting?
 
“No, love,” Spike said. “You had your mates and Dawn. You had love and dancing and joy. Sure, there was fighting, but you took pride in it. Cracked jokes the whole time. It wasn’t all pain before. Not by a long shot.”
 
Buffy bit her lip and kept shaking her head. I want to believe him. But why can’t I remember any of the good things? Nothing’s there. “Can’t remember,” she repeated sadly. “Can’t remember.”
 
“You will, Buffy,” Giles reassured her. “In time you will.” But even as he said it, he wondered if he was speaking a lie.
 
******************
 
Buffy lapsed into troubled silence again for a long time after the hypnosis session. She didn’t respond to Giles or Spike, and although she wasn’t crying or hysterical, she clearly wasn’t happy. She had curled up in the corner of the sofa, resting her head on the arm of the couch and staring out into the room. She barely flinched when Dawn came home with her usual slam of the kitchen door. “Hey everyone,” she said, coming into the living room. “How are things going?” Dawn noticed Buffy’s demeanor with dismay, having spent the day hoping things would improve while she was gone.
 
“Hello, Bit.” Spike followed Dawn’s gaze to her sister and explained, “We tried a little hypnosis on your sister. It helped her remember a bit, but unfortunately she mostly remembered the fight with Glory. Didn’t improve her mood much.”
 
Dawn came over and sat next to Buffy. “You remembered how you saved me? You wouldn’t let them throw me into the portal to close it. You sacrificed yourself for me. I missed you so much after that.” Dawn put her arm around Buffy and rested her head on her sister’s shoulder.
 
This simple act of love stirred Buffy to shift, tentatively putting her arm around Dawn in return. “Had to s-save you,” she said quietly.
 
“I still need you, Buffy,” Dawn said. “I need someone to take care of me. Keep me safe.”
 
Buffy clung to Dawn, saying nothing. Need to protect her still, she thought. But it hurts so much. The holes in her memory frightened and depressed her more than she could hope to put into words.
 
After a few minutes of watching the tableau of the two sisters clinging to each other, Giles broke the silence saying, “Tara called earlier. She wondered if you might pack up some more clothes for the two of them, so she could pick them up later.”
 
“She’s not coming in here, is she?” Dawn asked. Buffy drew back a little, nervous at the thought of the witches coming back.
 
“No,” Giles reassured her. “Tara seems to understand the situation. She just asked us to leave the clothes on the porch around five o’clock.”
 
“Fine. Just as long as she doesn’t come barging in here causing trouble,” Dawn said. She turned back to her sister. “Why don’t you come upstairs and have a bubble bath again? I think you liked that last time.”
 
Buffy looked uncertain, but Spike said, “Good idea, Bit. You go with Dawn, Buffy. She’ll take care of you.” Buffy got up and followed Dawn meekly up the stairs. Dawn ran her a bath and filled it with a large amount of rose scented bubbles. “I’m going to go get some stuff together for Tara. Do you need any help?” Dawn asked as she shut off the water.
 
“No,” Buffy said softly. When the door closed behind Dawn she undressed, sliding into the bubbles up to her neck and closing her eyes. Warm. Quiet. This is all I want. Her mind replayed the battle with Glory in its entirety. She remembered the fighting. I had a hammer and I hit her. And there were these… others, and I fought them too. And a demon that looked like a man. She remembered the others fighting with her, the red-haired witch, and the dark haired boy they called Xander. If they were fighting with me they were on my side. So why hurt me like this? Did I do something bad to them? Even with the restored memory of that night, she found she didn’t understand. She eventually gave up and let her mind go blank, zoning out while she soaked in the fragrant water.
 
Dawn went from the bathroom into the witches’ room. She found an empty duffle bag and began filling it with undergarments, jeans, and shirts. She had half a mind to pick out the most mismatched things she could find as some sort of punishment for Willow. Dawn was still torn between wanting her sister back more than anything in the world and feeling guilty because her sister was suffering, and Willow was behind it all. With a sigh, Dawn decided to forgo fashion revenge and just get the packing over with as soon as possible. Anything to keep Willow out of here for a few more days before she decides to turn Buffy into a frog or something.
 
Downstairs she found Spike in the kitchen, drinking a mug of blood with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Your sis okay?” he asked.
 
“She’s having a bubble bath, so I assume yes,” Dawn said, sitting down next to him.
 
“How was school then?” he asked. “Tell me all about the oppression of the youth today.” Spike found that he needed a momentary distraction from worrying about Buffy, and even the mind numbingly boring tale of a day at school was welcome.
 
Dawn chatted on for a long time about her classes, her performance on her algebra quiz, and the cute boy in her homeroom. Spike was making a mental note to find said boy and frighten him into never even looking at Dawn again when she suddenly asked, “What made you guys decide to try hypnosis on her?”
 
Spike sighed. “Just trying to help her remember. Guess it worked, but the memories weren’t good ones unfortunately.”
 
“I guess it’s progress,” Dawn said. “Maybe if you did it some more she’d remember some of the good stuff as well.”
 
“It’s possible, but it’s gonna take time, and cooperation from her. If she’s too badly freaked out by the memories she might not let us try again,” Spike said shrugging dejectedly and taking another drink.
 
Dawn was about to answer when there was a light tap at the back door. She looked up to see Tara and realized she hadn’t actually put Tara’s things outside like she was supposed to. She went and opened the door and said, “Hey Tara. I got your things together like you asked.”
 
“Thanks,” Tara said, taking the bag. Looking around she said, “How’s Buffy doing?”
 
“She’s upstairs, taking a bubble bath,” Dawn replied. “Do you want to come in for a moment?”
 
“No, I don’t want her to come downstairs and get scared,” Tara said. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Is Giles available? I… I’d like to talk to him. Out here on the porch if it’s okay.”
 
“Sure, he’s just doing research in the dining room.” Dawn walked through to the other room and said, “Giles? Tara’s here, and she wants to talk to you.”
 
Giles looked up from his books. “I’m sorry?” He had been utterly engrossed in a book about alternative hypnosis methods.
 
“Tara’s here on the porch. She wants to talk to you.” Dawn repeated.
 
Giles was a bit surprised, as Willow tended to do most of the talking in their relationship. He got up and made his way out to the porch. “Tara, what can I do for you?” he asked politely.
 
“Hey Giles, I um…” Tara was suddenly wondering if she was perhaps overreacting. No, you’re not, she told herself firmly. Willow’s losing control. Screwing up her courage she said, “I think Willow n-needs help.”
 
“What do you mean?” Giles wondered. He sat down on the steps and motioned for Tara to join him.
 
“I… I think she’s planning to do some type of spell on Buffy,” Tara said. “We had a big argument today. She keeps saying she can fix Buffy, and keeps coming up with lists of spells that she could try. I told her I wouldn’t let her do that, and she said she wouldn’t do any magic for a whole week but… Giles, I don’t believe her!”
 
“Now, calm down, Tara,” Giles said. He had truly never seen the blonde witch so upset. “What sort of spells is Willow considering?”
 
“Everything,” Tara said miserably. “Knock her out, try to fix the amnesia, do one spell then another and another. She just won’t accept that maybe the best thing to do is to let Buffy come out of this gradually.”
 
“I’m beginning to be of that mind as well,” Giles said. “We tried some light hypnosis on her earlier, but it only managed to bring back the memories of the battle with Glory and her… death.” The word was so hard to say, even now.
 
“Giles, I really think you should put some sort of ward spell on the house,” Tara said. “I know she said she wouldn’t do anything, but I see so much… so much darkness in her, since the resurrection spell. I don’t know if she can stop herself.”
 
Giles leaned back against the railing, looking up at the sky as if it would provide guidance. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said at last with a heavy sigh. “Maybe if she tries a few spells and they don’t work she’ll back off a bit and listen to reason.”
 
“Do you have the necessary things to do a spell like that?” Tara asked.
 
“Yes, I should have everything, if I can borrow a few supplies from your room,” Giles answered.
 
“Please do,” Tara said gratefully. She stood up and picked up her bag of clothes. “Thanks, Giles. I hate to go behind her back like this, but I just…”
 
“It’s alright,” Giles said, standing up as well. “If you have any other concerns, please don’t hesitate to call. Any time, day or night.”
 
“Thank you,” said Tara once more. “I’d better get back to the Magic Box and see what’s happening. I’ll talk to you soon.”
 
Giles waved goodbye and went back inside, shutting the door behind him. “Who the hell does Red think she is?” Spike growled.
 
Giles turned to face the clearly seething vampire. “Eavesdropping were you?”
 
“Vampire hearing, mate,” Spike explained. “Don’t need to eavesdrop – could hear every word. Sounds like you’d better get that ward spell up sooner rather than later. Because if Willow hurts her again I may not be responsible for my actions.” His voice lowered to a near growl, and his eyes flashed gold for a moment.
 
“Despite your recent assistance, I will not tolerate you threatening any of our number,” Giles said sternly.
 
Spike stood up and advanced until he was nearly toe-to-toe with the taller man. “Now you listen, Rupert,” he hissed. “With this chip in my head I can’t give Red the thrashing she richly deserves. But if she hurts Buffy, or frightens her any further, I am holding you personally responsible. You are her Watcher. So you’d better watch out for her.” He turned and stormed out of the kitchen battling fiercely to keep his temper in control.
 
Giles stared at the retreating back of the vampire, frowning. “I wonder if he is as safe as he claims to be,” he murmured doubtfully.
 
“You leave him alone,” Dawn cried. She had come downstairs after checking on Buffy and caught the whole exchange between Spike and Giles. “He’s right. You need to protect Buffy and stop Willow. Spike isn’t the one jerking her around, and he hasn’t hurt anyone other than demons for ages.”
 
“I understand that, Dawn, but he is still a vampire and—”
 
“And I don’t care!” Dawn interrupted. “He helps Buffy and he helps me. So do your… whatever… protection spell and leave Spike alone.”
 
Giles was completely taken aback by the ferocity of this petite teenager and decided he was beaten for now. “Alright, Dawn. Don’t upset yourself. I will put up the wards, and we will go from there. But I will not tolerate violence from Spike.”
 
“Worry more about violence from me,” Dawn said. “I don’t have a chip.” Dawn in turn stalked out of the room, leaving a flabbergasted Giles in her wake.
 
*********************
 
Willow was fuming behind her calm exterior. The whole day she felt like Tara was watching her like a child next to a full cookie jar, waiting to see if she would put her hand in. Anya had made the occasional comment as well about getting burnt out from so many spells, and it made Willow want to turn them all into giraffes or some other silent animal. To top it off, the store had gotten extremely busy in the late afternoon, and Willow was obliged to help Anya with customers while Tara went off to collect their things. Tara returned just as Anya was flipping the “Closed” sign on the door prior to collapsing into a chair, exhausted.
 
“I’m back, bearing clothing,” Tara said. “Did it stay busy?”
 
“Is there a full moon tonight?” Anya whined. “I mean why did everyone in the free world need herbs and spell books today? Not that I mind the profits, but spread it out a little!” With an effort she got up to go start counting up the money.
 
“How are things at Buffy’s?” Willow inquired.
 
“Buffy was taking a bubble bath when I was there, so I guess things are reasonably calm,” Tara answered.
 
“So we don’t know if she’s talking more or anything?” Anya asked.
 
“I… didn’t stay very long,” Tara said, trying to hide her guilt about going behind Willow’s back.
 
Willow wondered what Tara was nervous about, but decided not to pursue it. Her overwhelming urge was to get back to the hotel and make this whole long tense afternoon go away. She was about to suggest that they leave when the bell rang and Xander came in. “Hey ladies,” he said. “I come bearing Chinese, in the long standing tradition of men bringing home dead animals.” He held up two large bags of take-out.
 
“Clearly you have done mighty battle, honey,” Anya said, giving him a peck on the cheek and relieving him of one of the bags. “Do you two want to join us? There’s enough food here for a football team.”
 
“I’d love to,” Tara said. “I’m starving!” It was true that she was hungry, but she also felt uneasy and wanted to put off being alone with Willow for as long as possible. She wasn’t used to feeling like she couldn’t trust Willow. It frightened her and depressed her, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it, so the idea of procrastinating over kung pao chicken sounded like a good plan.
 
“Thanks, Xander,” Willow said with a forced smile. “I could do with a little dinner.” She swallowed her irritation and sat down, reaching for the fried rice.
 
“Any advances on the research front?” Xander asked.
 
“Not as such,” Willow said slowly. She had actually found a number of spells that could most likely bring Buffy’s memory back, if they would only let her try them. However, in the interest of keeping the peace she said, “I found some potential leads on spells that might help, but nothing definite.”
 
“Well, that’s probably a good thing,” Anya said around a mouthful of food. “Giles wants you to give her a break for a few days anyway.”
 
“And you said you wouldn’t do any spells for a week,” Tara said quietly. She glanced up at Willow, searching her face to watching her response.
 
Willow swallowed a mouthful of food. “Oh yeah,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I know. I was just trying to get some ideas. You know, in case she doesn’t snap out of it in the next week.”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Xander said, helping himself to seconds. Tara wasn’t convinced but looked back down at her food, avoiding Willow’s gaze.
 
The rest of the meal passed in idle chit-chat, with Xander talking about his day at work, and Anya discussing some of her big sales. Tara and Willow contributed little to the conversation, each lost in her own thoughts. When the meal finally ended, Xander offered them a ride back to the hotel, which they accepted.
 
“How long do they intend to kick you out of the house for?” Xander asked as they drove.
 
“No idea,” Willow said with a shrug. “It seems like Spike and Giles are calling the shots, and they haven’t given us a time frame.”
 
“I guess it isn’t technically your house,” Anya observed.
 
“But we were taking care of Dawn all summer!” Willow protested. “I would think that counts for something.”
 
“It’s just temporary,” Tara soothed. “We won’t die if we have to spend a week at a hotel.”
 
“I know,” Willow replied. “I just don’t think it’s really necessary.”
 
“Let’s not get into this again,” Tara pleaded. “Let’s just go to the hotel and get some sleep, alright?” They all lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive. At the hotel, Tara and Willow said goodbye and walked into the hotel, still not speaking. Inside the hotel room Tara dropped the bag on a chair and sat down on the bed, looking down at the floor.
 
“Tara?” Willow said after she put down her things. “Are you okay?”
 
“I don’t know,” Tara said miserably. Willow sat down next to her and put her head on Tara’s shoulder. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Tara said, “I don’t know if this is going to work.”
 
“What do you mean?” Willow said, sitting up in alarm. “Tara, I love you.”
 
“I know. I love you too. But the magic is starting to change you Willow. It’s just… I was reading about these resurrection spells. They’re so much more dangerous than you told me. This is really on the edge of some very black magic, and it scares me. I don’t want to see you turn into someone else.” Tara looked at Willow, her blue eyes radiating love and concern.
 
“Tara, sweetie, it’s okay,” Willow assured her. “I’m in control, and I’m being very careful.”
 
“These forces can hurt you even if you think you’re in control,” Tara insisted.
 
“I get it that you’re worried,” Willow said. “But like I said, I won’t do magic for a week. It’ll be no sweat. You’ll see – I’ve got it all under control.”
 
“Go a week, and we’ll see,” Tara said. She got up, rummaged in her bag for a pair of pajamas, and went into the bathroom. The second the door was closed, Willow dived into her own bag for some Lethe’s bramble. She concentrated on Tara and the arguments of the day. Once more she said, “Forget.” In the bathroom, Tara looked up into the mirror after brushing her teeth. A little shudder went through her and she smiled. She walked out of the bathroom to find Willow stretched out on the bed, turning on the TV. “Hey, is there anything good on?” Tara asked, climbing in beside her.
 
“I think Thelma and Louise is on the movie channel,” Willow replied.
 
Tara snuggled next to Willow. “Nothing like a chick flick with my favorite chick,” she said. Willow put her arm around Tara, a secret smile on her lips.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and dialog that I borrow belong to Joss Whedon et. al. 

Thanks again to Sanity Fair for being the mistress of the commas. And thanks to all my loyal reviewers, who keep me motivated!

 
********************
Chapter 14
********************
 
Buffy had finished her bath and wandered naked into her bedroom. After staring around for a moment, she started opening drawers and looking at all the things. She eventually dressed herself in jeans and a black t-shirt, unconsciously choosing Spike’s uniform. She kept poking around the room, seeking something, but she wasn’t sure what. She picked up a small soft stuffed pig, which triggered something in her mind. This was mine. I’ve had it for a long time. I called it something… She couldn’t remember what that something was, but she found it somehow comforting and hugged it to her chest for a long minute before putting it down. She continued her circuit of the room, lingering on a collection of crosses hanging from a little gold tree on the dresser. Did I wear these? One large silver one seemed familiar, and she stroked it for a moment or two, trying to remember but nothing came. A noise came from the hallway, and she spun around, relaxing only when she saw it was Spike.
 
“Have a nice soak, love?” She looked puzzled for a moment so he added, “The bath, the water, did it feel good?”
 
“Yes,” she said, finally understanding. She hugged herself and looked around, not having any idea of what to do next.
 
Spike noticed her hair was still a tangled mess after her bath and so he said, “Here, sit down. I’ll brush your hair.” He guided her to a chair and got behind her, gently combing out her tangles. She looked at herself in the mirror, staring at her own face, searching for answers.
 
“Spike,” she said after a while.
 
“That’s me,” he said congenially. “What can I do for you?”
 
“I was… dead?” she asked, trying to puzzle it out.
 
“Yes,” he said quietly. “You jumped off of that tower, remember? Saved the world, like I said before.”
 
She thought for a moment. I died. Then I went to the warm place. “Can I… die again?”
 
Spike’s hand paused in his brushing. Oh God. How do I answer that? “Do you want to?” he said finally, trying to keep his voice neutral while his shaking hands betrayed him.
 
Buffy noticed the change in his demeanor and turned around to look at him. “You… you’re hurt?”
 
“I… um…” He tried to come up with a response, but his throat dried up and nothing came out. Get a grip, William! He cursed himself. Taking a deep breath he said, “When you died it hurt. More than anything. If you died again, I don’t know if I could…” He sat down on the bed and dropped his head in his hands. She wants to die, but I can’t kill her, and I can’t let anyone else kill her because I am a pathetic lovesick git.
 
Buffy was astonished to see her strong angel, who had shown no weakness of any kind so far, struggling with his emotions so visibly. “You… love… me,” she said softly.
 
“Yes,” he replied in a whisper. He looked up at her with eyes both adoring and sad. “And because I love you, I don’t want you to die again.”
 
“You loved me… before?” If he loved me why can’t I remember him? Did I love him before?
 
“Yes,” he said again. “At first we… we fought with each other. But I fell in love with you.”
 
“I loved… you?”
 
It would be so easy to lie to her, said the devil on Spike’s shoulder. In this state he could tell her anything, and she would believe him, and if she never got her memory back it would be true. But even as he thought it he knew he could never do that. Slayer deserves better than that. “You didn’t love me. But you and I fought together and helped each other. As I told you once, you treated me like a man, and that was better than anyone else had in a long time.”
 
What does that mean? Buffy wondered. How was it that she hadn’t loved this kind, strong, protective man? And how was it that he loved her even though the love wasn’t returned? There was so much she didn’t understand about this world and the people around her, but she was absolutely certain that this man loved her and would protect her. “You won’t… let me die.” Her words were a statement, and she looked deep into his eyes while she spoke.
 
“No, I can’t let you die.” He took her hands in his. “I know this isn’t heaven, and I know you don’t deserve to have all this happen to you. But please stay. Stay with me, with Dawn. We’ll help you figure things out. Good things can happen here too. I swear.”
 
Buffy looked at their joined hands. His hands were cool and smooth, with long graceful fingers. The warm place didn’t have his hands. “You… help me?”
 
“Yes,” he said, relieved that the moment had passed. “I’ll always have your back.”
 
Buffy sat up a bit. She picked up the brush from where it had fallen, forgotten, and handed it to Spike. He took it with a small smile as she turned around, and he went back to brushing out her long hair. When he finished he said, “Come with me, Buffy. We’re going to work on that memory of yours.” Buffy stood and took his hand as he led her downstairs. He led her past Dawn and Giles and all the way to the basement. The basement was mostly a repository of old boxes and such, but he cleared away a space in the middle of the floor while Buffy watched with her head tilted. “There,” he said in a moment, brushing off his hands. “Now we have a little more room.” He held up his hands in front of her, like she was holding a gun on him. “I want you to hit my hands.”
 
Buffy was confused. “Hit?”
 
“Here, hold up your hands.” Buffy reluctantly did as he said, and he threw a couple of gentle jabs and crosses into her hands. “Can you do that?” Buffy nodded, concentrating. Spike held his hands up and Buffy tentatively threw a jab. Her form was still perfect, but she was nervous and hesitant. “That’s it. Keep going.” She threw more jabs and then tried a cross, still hitting very lightly. “It’s okay to go a little harder, love,” Spike encouraged.
 
Buffy went a little harder and faster – jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross. As she went on a memory clicked into her mind. I was fighting. It was dark but I wasn’t scared. Her muscle memory started taking over as she struck his hands, a little harder and a little faster so that he had to brace himself to take the blows. There were these… people, or something. In a cemetery. I fought them, and I won. I won, and they turned to dust, and it felt good. A small smile broke over her face at the memory, and she went faster and faster until one punch missed Spike’s hand and contacted his chin instead, sending him flying backward into a pile of boxes. “Angel!” she cried, the memory vanishing in the face of her concern. She rushed over to him. I made him angry. He’s going to leave me because I made him angry.
 
But to her surprise, the angel clambered out of the pile of boxes grinning like a madman, despite his bloody lip. “Now that’s my girl!” he praised her. “That’s the right cross I remember
 
“Not hurt?” she asked, helping him up.
 
“Not hurt,” he reassured her. Truth be told, his chin would probably have a bruise the size and shape of her fist for two days, but she didn’t need to know that. .” He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and dabbed at his lip. “How did that feel?” he asked, pulling up an old kitchen chair and sitting down on it backward.
 
“I remembered… fighting,” she said slowly. “I won. People… turned to d- dust.”
 
Dangerous waters, Spike, he thought. Keeping his grin in place he said, “You were fighting vampires, pet. You did that a lot.”
 
“Not people?” She sat down cross-legged on the floor, looking expectantly at him for his answer.
 
“They were people, once,” he explained. “A demon takes over. They drink blood, and they turn to dust if you put a stake through their heart. You’re the Vampire Slayer. That’s why you have all those stakes, and that’s why you can fight so well.”
 
“You’re not… angry?” she asked, looking for reassurance.
 
“Not at all,” he said. “I wanted to see if some movement might help spark a memory, and it seems like it did. Perhaps later we’ll try some more, yeah?” Buffy nodded enthusiastically.
 
At that moment Dawn opened the door at the top of the stairs and peered down. “Um, is everything okay down there? I heard crashing.”
 
“We’re fine, Nibblet,” Spike answered. He stood up and took Buffy’s hand, leading her upstairs. “Just seeing if Buffy remembered any of her fighting skills.”
 
“Well next time warn us,” Dawn said good-naturedly as they made their way into the living room. “Sounded like there was a battle going on down there.”
 
“I remember… fighting v-v-vampires,” Buffy said, finally getting the words out with a little effort.
 
Giles sat up and looked at her and Spike. “What were you doing downstairs?”
 
“Just letting her do a few jabs and crosses,” Spike said. “Seemed to trigger a little something.”
 
“Might be a good idea to take her to the training room in the Magic Box,” Giles said. “Some more physical training might be very beneficial.”
 
Buffy looked alarmed all of a sudden. “No magic,” she said, shaking her head. “No magic. Stay here. Safe.”
 
“It’s alright, Buffy,” Dawn explained. “It’s just the name of a store, that’s all.”
 
“No magic,” Buffy insisted. “Hurts.”
 
“No worries,” Spike said. “We won’t make you do anything you don’t want, and no one will do any magic on you. I won’t let them.”
 
Buffy seemed reassured, but her nervousness had returned, and she retreated to her corner of the couch. Giles, Spike, and Dawn looked at each other, wondering what the next move should be. “I think I’ll make some nachos for dinner,” Dawn said. She went to the kitchen and poked around. “Um, Giles? Do you think you could take me grocery shopping? It’s sort of hard to make nachos if all you have is salsa.”
 
“Don’t you think you should be having something a bit more nutritious?” he admonished.
 
“Well, right now the fridge is sort of empty. Tara usually does the shopping.”
 
“I suppose I could use a break from the books.” Giles stood up, working the kinks out of his neck. “Are there any other requests?”
 
“I could go for some whiskey and cigarettes,” Spike said hopefully. Giles gave him a disapproving look that told him that he was going to have to supply his own booze and smokes.
 
“Alright, Dawn. Get your things.” Giles and Dawn headed out to the car, leaving Spike and Buffy on the couch. Spike grabbed the remote control and turned on the television. “Here we go. Jeopardy. See if either of us knows any answers.” Buffy watched from her corner for a moment or two before gradually shifting over so she could rest her head on Spike’s shoulder. Never going to need heaven myself if she keeps doing that, he sighed, putting his head on hers and reveling in her scent. God don’t let her forget this when she gets her memory back. Please, if there is anyone out there listening, please let her remember this. He watched the game show, hoping that his prayers would one day be answered.
 
******************
 
“Good morning!” Tara said the next day as Willow rolled over sleepily beside her.
 
“Morning,” Willow answered. “Sleep okay?”
 
“Mmm hmm,” Tara said. “You getting up soon?”
 
“Yeah. Just as soon as I get five more minutes of sleep,” Willow said with an impish smile.
 
“Well I’m in the mood for some coffee, and I was going to take a walk to the Espresso Pump to get some. Can I bring you something?”
 
“A latte and a croissant?”
 
“Done,” Tara said. She got up and got dressed, heading out to seek coffee. The morning was bright and clear, and at first Tara felt relaxed and easy as she strolled toward the center of town. Today perhaps they could actually get some homework done, as they had been neglecting their studies for the past few days in all the excitement. Willow seems willing to let things lie for a while, and Giles can handle… Her steps slowed as she remembered her visit to Giles the night before. She had picked up the clothes, and asked Giles to put wards on the house to prevent anyone from putting spells on Buffy. She clearly remembered the whole scene. Why did I do that? She thought about the day before. They had gone to the Magic Box in the morning, and Xander had been upset about not being allowed in Buffy’s house and then… what? She shook her head, trying to remember the details of the day. We did research, and we helped Anya, but why can’t I remember any of the details? As she walked she kept replaying the tape, but it seemed like although she remembered talking to Willow and Anya and having dinner with the gang, all the particulars seemed hazy, and she couldn’t remember if anything had been decided. Feeling vaguely uneasy, she decided that she simply must have some coffee before she contemplated anything else and directed her feet toward the coffee shop.
 
When she got back to the hotel, Willow was in the shower. She put down the food and went to turn on the bedside lamp for a little more light. As she did, she noticed something sticking out from under her pillow. Reaching under the pillow she pulled out a small dried sprig of pink flowers. That’s sweet, she thought, imagining that Willow had placed it under her pillow to surprise her. She placed it carefully into a book to save it and sat down to enjoy her breakfast.
 
Willow came out of the shower with her hair in a towel. “Mmm. Smells good. Thanks for the delivery service.” She sat down in her robe and took a sip of her latte.
 
“I really need to do some homework today,” Tara said in between sips of coffee. “We haven’t been to class in a couple days, and I have a paper due tomorrow that I need to finish. I was thinking of hitting the library.”
 
“I’ll probably work here for a little bit before I join you,” Willow said. “I need to read a bunch of chapters, and in the library I’ll be tempted to read something that’s, you know, interesting.”
 
“I understand,” Tara replied. “Why don’t we meet at the cafeteria for lunch around 12:30 or so to compare notes?”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Willow agreed. She felt a little guilty lying to Tara. In truth, she planned to do a spell the second Tara left. She had taken one of Buffy’s stakes from the Magic Box and was planning to use it to do a focused spell meant to clear a person’s mind of distressing thoughts. She could do it here, and Buffy would improve, and no one needed to know right away that it was her doing. I’ll just have to act all surprised when she suddenly gets a lot better. I can do that.
 
After they ate and cleared up, Tara gathered her books and notebooks and headed out. The second she was gone Willow gathered the things she needed for her spell. Salt, a crystal, certain herbs, and candles for the four cardinal directions were gathered and arranged, with Willow in the center. “Let the circle be cast. Let Buffy’s mind become free from sadness and grief. Let her remember only that which brings joy, not pain…” The chant continued, and Willow’s power manifested itself first as a fog surrounding her, then as a trail of mist that rose from the center of her skull, twisting and spiraling out under the door of the room, across to a window, and out across town. It was barely visible, noticed no more than a puff of car exhaust as it flew through the streets. Willow’s eyes were closed as she pictured Buffy’s street, her house, her front door, and her room. “Make her mind calm, let her awareness return…” The wisp of ether flew down Revello drive and flowed up the walk before encountering the ward spell and bouncing off the invisible barrier.
 
Willow gasped and rocked back as the power returned, like a rubber band snapping. Her head swam and her vision fogged for a moment as she struggled to cope with the rebounding force. She put her hand down to steady herself and in doing so managed to break the circle. She cried out as more magic surged, flowing chaotically through her and around her until at last it died down. Shakily she got to her feet and managed to make it to the bathroom before throwing up her breakfast. She staggered back out to the main room and flopped back on the bed. What in big blue heck was that? She wondered as she tried to calm her breathing. It had felt like her magic had encountered another powerful spell and had rebounded on her. But what sort of magic? Was Giles doing a spell? Or was someone else attacking Buffy or something? She sat up and reached for the phone, intending to call Giles to make sure everything was all right but stopped with the receiver in her hand. If she called them, she would have to admit that she had been trying to do a spell on Buffy, which would start the whole argument all over again. That wouldn’t go over well. Thinking better of it she hung up the phone and flopped back on the bed, trying to recover and figure out her next move.
 
*******************
 
She was walking through a building with many corridors and rooms all opening off of the hallway she was in. She opened a door to find Glory with her back to the door. The hell god turned and gave Buffy a wicked grin with blood red lips. “See what I made?” she said in her falsely perky voice as she stepped back to reveal Spike, hanging by his wrists. He was sliced open from neck to navel, his skin peeled back and shredded, his blood running in rivers down his naked body. His chin was dropped forward onto his chest, so she couldn’t immediately see is face. She gasped, and at the sound he looked up, and gave her his most adoring look before his eyes grew yellow and his face became a demon’s…
 
“No!” she screamed, wrestling with the covers. “No! Stop!”
 
“Buffy, wake up love.” Spike took hold of her shoulder and shook vigorously. “Wake up!” She woke with a scream, scrambling away for a moment before she realized where she was. Breathing hard, she let Spike gather her close and comfort her. “Another nightmare?” he asked needlessly. She nodded and clung to him, trying to blot the images out of her mind. Spike held her and looked at the clock. It was six in the morning. The previous evening had been fairly uneventful. Dawn had had the idea of spending time reminding Buffy of the words for various objects. They had gone around the living room, picking things up, and seeing if she remembered what they were called and supplying the words when she didn’t. By the end of their session, Buffy seemed fairly pleased, having remembered about half of the words on her own with a little prompting. Giles had cooked them a simple dinner of steak and potatoes, making one steak extremely rare for the vampire. Buffy had eaten heartily then had gotten Spike to finish reading Wuthering Heights to her before everyone turned in. Her progress had been quite remarkable Spike thought, particularly given where she started. She even slept longer before the dreams woke her this time. Give her a couple of weeks and I think she’ll gradually come out of it. But even as he had the thought Spike knew that keeping the Scoobies at bay for a couple of weeks was going to be a challenge.
 
The door opened and Dawn poked her head in. “Is she okay?” Dawn asked anxiously. “I heard the scream.”
 
“She just had another bad dream, Nibblet,” Spike said. “Just give her a few minutes, okay?”
 
“I’ll go take my shower.” Dawn looked sympathetically at her sister on her way out. “You’re okay, Buffy. Remember? Safe here?”
 
“Safe,” Buffy repeated, snuggling closer to Spike. The dream had unnerved her, and she looked up at Spike as if to reassure herself that his blue eyes and sharp cheekbones were still there. She reached up and ran her hand over his face, tracing the curves, feeling his soft dark eyebrows, listening to the deep sigh of contentment this elicited in him. “Spike,” she said, just to hear his name spoken aloud.
 
“I’m here, pet,” he said. “Want to tell me what the dream was about?”
 
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Want to… s-see your face.”
 
Spike closed his eyes and let her explore. “Feels nice,” he said, encouraging her.
 
She let a hand drop to his chest, smooth and hard-muscled. “Glory… hurt you,” she said.
 
“Remembered that, did you?” he said, his eyes still closed so he could concentrate on the feeling of her skin on his. “She worked me over good and proper, wanting to know who her Key was. But I wasn’t going to let her know about Dawn. Meant to protect both of you, no matter what.”
 
Buffy closed her eyes, one hand still resting on Spike’s chest. He was back in his… house? That stone place. His face was all bloody and swollen, and he could barely move. He said his ribs needed mending. And then I… In a repeat of her actions then she reached up and tenderly touched her lips to his. Spike’s eyes flew open and he drew back in surprise, as he had the last time she had done that. “I’m so-sorry,” she said, fearing she had done something wrong.
 
Smiling, Spike kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “No need to be sorry, love,” he said. “A little surprised, that’s all. But a good surprise.”
 
“I did that. Before,” she said. She concentrated, trying to hold the memory. “What you did was r-real.”
 
“Yes,” he breathed, and if his heart could pound it would have been leaping out of his chest at the memory. “That’s what you said. You thanked me, and it was the sweetest moment of my life.”
 
“Thank you,” she said, the words coming clearly for once. She rested her head back on his chest and repeated, “Thank you.”
 
“You’re always welcome,” he replied. They stayed wrapped around each other for a long while until they heard Dawn shut off the shower. “Let’s go find you some breakfast, all right?”
 
“Yes,” Buffy agreed. She watched as Spike threw a clean t-shirt on and followed him downstairs. Giles was already there making tea.
 
“Morning,” Giles said. “Can I interest either of you in a cup of tea?”
 
“Wouldn’t refuse one,” Spike said. “Try some, Buffy. We’ll turn you into a proper British lass.”
 
“Given the California tendency to mangle the King’s English until it is unrecognizable, I highly doubt that tea would be enough to accomplish that transformation.” Giles turned back to the teapot and poured out enough for everyone.
 
Buffy wasn’t sure entirely what to make of the exchange, but she could see that the two men were at ease with each other, so she relaxed and sat down with a curious look on her face. Spike added some cream and sugar and handed her the tea saying, “Careful, it’s rather hot.” Buffy took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste.
 
“I actually found some crumpets at the store,” Giles said. “Do you think the girls will like them?”
 
“Only one way to find out,” Spike said. “Don’t think I’ve had tea and crumpets since you were a lad, Rupert.”
 
“Just because one has left to live among heathens doesn’t mean one should forget about the important things in life.” Giles turned and popped the crumpets in the toaster.
 
“We’ll if we’re really going to do it up, need to get some steak and kidney pudding on then,” Spike joked. “Although I admit, I have no earthly idea how to make it.”
 
“I suppose you haven’t needed to cook for quite a while,” Giles observed.
 
“And before that I had servants and such,” Spike agreed. “Our old cook Nan made a steak and kidney pudding fit for the gods.” Buffy cocked her head, trying to follow what the two men were saying. They must be talking about…England? Where they are from? She wasn’t sure what a crumpet, or kidney pudding was, but soon Spike was handing her a round toasted thing spread thick with strawberry jam and she decided she would worry about more words after eating.
 
“What’s for breakfast?” Dawn said as she bounced into the room, startling Buffy momentarily. “It’s okay, it’s just me!” Dawn reassured her sister, who smiled tentatively and went back to her breakfast.
 
“Tea and crumpets, courtesy of Rupert,” Spike said, handing Dawn a plate.
 
“What’s a crumpet?” she asked, looking slightly in askance at the unfamiliar food.
 
“A relative of what you call an English muffin,” Giles said. “Only infinitely better, in my opinion.”
 
Dawn took a bite. “Mmm. This is good. You British guys are kinda okay you know?”
 
Giles rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Shakespeare rolls in his grave.” They finished breakfast and sent Dawn off to school without incident. As soon as she was gone, Giles said to Spike, “Do you have any particular plans today?”
 
“Might try a little more sparring with the Slayer here,” Spike answered. “That is if you’d like to, pet.”
 
Sparring? Buffy wrinkled her brow for a moment before she got it. “Yes. Won’t… hit too m-much.”
 
Spike grinned. “Don’t worry, I can take it. Want to go down there now?” Buffy nodded and followed him, leaving Giles to finish his tea. Spike led Buffy to the empty space and said, “Maybe we should try some take downs today.”
 
“I don’t… remember how,” Buffy said.
 
“It’s like this,” Spike said, then suddenly swept her leg out and caught her inches from the floor. Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled as Spike lifted her up and put her back on her feet. “That feel familiar?” Buffy concentrated, moving slowly toward Spike. Her first few attempts were tentative, and Spike avoided them easily, moving them around in a circle. Buffy tried again, moving more quickly, almost catching him. “A little rusty then, are we?” he teased. “Not that I mind…”
 
Suddenly, Buffy ducked low, sweeping out one leg before giving him a shove that sent him flying onto his ass. They both grinned as she helped him up. “I think I… remember,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
 
They both circled around, feinting and trying to trick each other. Their mood was playful but with a serious undertone. Buffy found that her mind felt much more at ease as she moved and circled, and she deliberately tried to react on instinct, rather than plan moves out. The more she cleared her mind, the more her body remembered, and the faster she moved. Spike ramped up his intensity in concert with hers, giving as good as he got. They whirled, blocked blows, kicked, and dodged, and an observer would swear they were a choreographed martial arts team. The dance went on and on until Buffy was panting with the effort and Spike found his own reaction times slowing down as well. Just as Spike was about to call a halt, Buffy got him one more time, and he grabbed at her instinctively as he went down. They came to rest on the floor, Buffy lying on top of Spike with a triumphant look on her face.
 
“I… won,” she gasped. Her eyes were bright and alive, and her face was lit up in the biggest smile he had seen on her since her return.
 
“I give up,” Spike said, raising his hands in defeat. He became acutely aware of her body lying on his, and he fought mightily against his rising erection. It got even more difficult when Buffy lay her head down on his chest, resting. God, Slayer, you’re going to kill me. Gonna lose it here. “You alright?” he managed to gasp out.
 
“Yes,” Buffy replied. His chest felt so good to her, so solid. If I have to stay in this place, maybe it will be okay if the ang… Spike is here. There was something odd about his chest, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. It rose and fell with his breath, and it felt so smooth and muscular. Yet something was missing, and she couldn’t tell what. She decided it wasn’t important, and just reveled in how safe and protected she felt here.
 
Just don’t key into the hard-on, alright Slayer? He stroked her silky hair and closed his eyes, for a moment letting himself imagine this was real. What would it be like if they were really together? Would they be able to live together? Or would they splinter apart like he and Dru had? Would she ever really consider him a worthy mate? Or would she always carry the torch for Angel? He had no answer to any of these questions. Just a dream, William. Once she comes back to herself you’ll be back in your crypt. Don’t get your hopes up. But it was so tempting to lose himself in the fantasy for a time that he went with it, closing his eyes, and concentrating every nerve on the feel of her in his arms.
 
After a long while Buffy stirred and sat up. “Thirsty,” she said.
 
“We had a good long workout,” Spike agreed. “Time for a little something.” Buffy got up and extended a hand to Spike. He rubbed his thumb gently over her little hand for a moment before accepting the offer. She smiled at him and let him take the lead upstairs. Don’t know what you’re doing to me, Slayer. He opened the door and turned to head into the kitchen. “Would you like water or…” he began asking. He was interrupted by a shriek from Buffy.
 
She had stopped at the entrance of the living room. Giles had taken a break from reading and had stretched out on the couch. But when Buffy had looked in she had seen a body, sprawled on the couch, and the memory burst into her mind in 3-D surround sound. Mom? Mom? I came home and she was on the couch and I thought she was napping but she was dead and when I tried to help I broke her ribs and she was dead oh no oh mom… The memory overwhelmed her so completely that she didn’t even notice that Giles was sitting up, startled at the sudden scream. She went down on her knees, clutching her head and crying, “Mom… mom…” until in a repeat of the first time she threw up in the hallway.
 
Spike was at her side when she finished throwing up saying, “Buffy? What’s wrong? What did you remember?”
 
“My m-m-mother,” she blurted out. “I c-came home a-and she… lying there… d-dead.” She covered her mouth, nearly choking on her sobs.
 
By now Giles was at her side as well. “When you saw me asleep on the sofa, it triggered the memory of finding your mother?” he asked.
 
Buffy nodded miserably. “W- want to remember b- but not this. Not this,” she said, her voice trailing off to a whisper. Spike cradled her close as Giles went to find something to clean the rug. “Why only remember the b- bad things?” she asked, looking up at Spike in desperation.
 
Spike stroked her face, looking into her eyes. “Remember this morning? What did we do?”
 
“We did… t- take downs,” she hiccupped.
 
“Do you remember how that made you feel?” Spike pressed.
 
“Good,” she answered. “Not like this.”
 
“You just remembered something good,” Spike pointed out. Giles listened to the vampire as he cleaned up the mess. “You can remember good things. The bad things were monumental, and they’re hard memories to escape. But you can remember good things. And you can make more good things happen. “
 
Buffy calmed a little, but still looked forlorn. “I’m not… one person,” she said, trying desperately to explain how she felt. “I’m b- broken. Mind is in… pieces.”
 
Giles looked at her curiously. It was the closest she had come so far to explaining what was going on in her head. “You feel… disconnected somehow? Like the memories are disjointed or something.”
 
Buffy nodded. “Broken. Holes… in my mind. Memories come and g- go. Like bad dreams. Not sure what’s r- real.”
 
Spike sighed. “I know, Buffy. I know how frustrating it is. But it seems like you get a little more back every day. If we just keep at it, bit by bit it will all come back.”
 
“Don’t want it all back,” Buffy said, clearly but quietly. “Hurts.”
 
Her quiet statement struck Giles as the saddest thing he had ever heard. She would prefer this half existence to the risk of regaining even more painful memories. And what can I say to her? She’s comparing this to Heaven. Nothing she experiences here, however good will be able to match that. He got up to go rinse out the dishtowel he was holding, deeply troubled and completely at a loss.
 
Spike too couldn’t find an immediate answer for her, so he rocked her back and forth, planting small kisses on her hair. He found the words of a Byron poem running through his head, and so he quietly began to recite from memory:
 
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
 
Buffy looked up at him, confused. “What… does that mean? I don’t understand.”
 
“It’s poetry, love,” he said. “By a chap called Lord Byron. About a sad woman, mourning something she lost. A little like you.”
 
Buffy rested her head on him again. “More?” she asked plaintively.
 
Spike closed his eyes, trying to remember the rest of the poem. His voice slipped noticeably into the cultured tones of his youth as he recited:
 
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
 
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
 
“More?” Buffy asked as he finished.
 
“I’m afraid that’s the whole poem,” Spike answered. He was aware of Giles, standing in the doorway to the kitchen but didn’t meet his eyes. William the Bloody Awful Poet, at your service. Might as well turn in the Big Bad card now, pathetic wanker.
 
“Why?” Buffy asked.
 
“It just makes me think of you,” Spike answered, understanding what she was asking. “You are beautiful, and have a good heart, even though you’re having a rough go of it nowadays.” Buffy said nothing, but sat up a little, looking deep into his blue eyes. He really does love me, she thought. She leaned over and gently kissed him.
 
Giles made a strangled sound at the sight of Buffy kissing Spike. “What in the name…?”
 
“Rupert,” Spike said suddenly. He caught Giles’ eye and shook his head. Buffy pulled back, confused, looking from Giles’ stern face to Spike, wondering what she had done wrong. Spike smiled at her. “You should go get that drink of water you were looking for, yeah? Between the sparring and the crying, you’ll be just about wrung dry.” He got up and helped her to her feet, leading her into the kitchen. He fetched her a glass of water, watched her drink it, and fetched her another, all under the watchful, disapproving eye of Giles.
 
“I wonder if I could talk to Spike in private for a moment,” Giles said tersely as she finished drinking.
 
Buffy looked puzzled. “You’re… a- angry?” she asked. She couldn’t fathom what she had done wrong.
 
Giles softened a bit at her worried tone. “I’m not angry at you, Buffy. I just want to talk to Spike for a moment. Is that alright?”
 
“Go upstairs for a moment. It’s alright,” Spike said.
 
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. She made her way up the stairs, looking back toward the kitchen once or twice. The men heard her close the bathroom door behind her and turned to face each other.
 
“What the bloody hell was that?” Giles snapped at Spike. “Where did she learn that behavior? I trusted you!”
 
“Open your eyes, Rupert,” Spike snapped back. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. What am I supposed to do? Slap her in the face?”
 
“You’ve become far too familiar with her,” Giles said.
 
“And what of it?” Spike snarled. “She needs some comfort in this goddamned hell Willow’s dragged her into. I hold her. I brush her hair. I spar with her. If she feels gratitude and kisses me, how exactly is that my fault?”
 
“She’s not in her right mind, and you are not being entirely honest with her about what you are,” said Giles. “The Slayer cannot be allowed to become attached to a soulless creature like you.”
 
“Why the fuck not?” Spike cried. He started pacing as he spoke, frustration pouring out in waves. “She’s hanging by a bloody thread. She asked me earlier why she couldn’t die again, Rupert. She barely wants to be here. Right now, she seems willing to stick it out because I’m here. I’m not seducing her, for Christ’s sake.”
 
“Then what do you call spouting Byron to her and calling her beautiful if not seduction?”
 
“I call it comfort! Solace!” The vampire was furious, his demon barely controlled. “I’m doing my best to bring her back. Don’t get on my back because it’s not happening according to your narrow plan. If the only way for her to come back is the way you dictate, then you’re as bad as Red.”
 
Giles was indignant and advanced on the shorter man. “Who do you think you are? The day I take orders from a…”
 
“Stop!”
 
The two men turned to see Buffy in the doorway, hands clasped over her ears, shaking. “T-too loud. Please. Hurts. Please.”
 
Spike and Giles were instantly ashamed. “Forgive me,” Giles said, attempting to dial back his anger. “I lost my temper.”
 
“Don’t hurt a- Spike.” Buffy moved over to Spike and buried her face in his chest again. “Helps m-me.”
 
“Shh, don’t take on,” Spike soothed. “He’s not going to hurt me. We just had a disagreement is all.” Spike met Giles’ eyes across Buffy’s head, and it was clear that the Watcher didn’t consider the discussion over yet.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and any recognizable dialog belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Just playing with his toys.
 
Thanks again to Sanity Fair, for ruthlessly hunting down all my errors. Thanks also to all my faithful reviewers for their encouragement!
 
***************
Chapter 15
****************
 
Tara had a highly productive session at the library and went to join Willow at the cafeteria knowing that she was caught up on schoolwork for a few days. She made her way through campus, enjoying the weather and the sight of people rushing to and fro, laughing, and talking. Despite the surroundings, however, she felt a vague sense of unease she couldn’t quite shake. It was like she was trying to remember the name of a movie or something but couldn’t. Why is yesterday so fuzzy? Resolving to ask Willow what they had done yesterday, she quickened her pace and soon joined the queue of hungry undergrads. As she paid, she heard Willow’s voice call to her and turned to see the redhead waving from a table near the window. Tara made her way through the maze of tables until she sat down with a sigh of relief. “Crowded today,” she commented.
 
“Yeah. I practically had to trip someone to get this table.” Willow was eating light, with just some chicken soup and bread on her tray.
 
“Are you okay? You look a little pale,” Tara commented.
 
“I might be coming down with something,” Willow lied. The rebounding spell had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit, and she was still puzzling over what could have happened. Who else could be doing magic around Buffy? Pretty hypocritical of Giles to say “No spells” then turn around to do his own spells on her.
 
Tara studied her carefully, wondering why Willow seemed so… guarded or something. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”
 
“I’m fine.” They ate in silence for a minute before Willow said, “Did you get caught up on your homework?”
 
“Yeah. We probably should go to class this afternoon, don’t you think?”
 
“Probably. What do you have again?”
 
“History. What do you have going?”
 
“Philosophy.” The awkward silence descended again. “I was thinking of hitting the Magic Box after class. Want to meet there?” Willow asked.
 
“Sounds good,” Tara replied. “Anything in particular you’re looking for there? I’ll probably get there before you.”
 
“Just more of the same – things we could do to help Buffy once she settles down a bit.”
 
Tara repressed a frown. I feel like we agreed to stop trying to fix Buffy, didn’t we? “Willow, what did we do yesterday?”
 
Willow cocked her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
 
“I mean, I feel like I don’t remember what we talked about at the Magic Box all day.”
 
Shit, Willow thought. “We, um, just talked about the resurrection spell. Xander was mad because Giles told him to go away for a while. We helped Anya a lot.” She hoped that was enough of the truth to satisfy Tara without having to get into particulars.
 
“I must have been really tired yesterday. Everything seems like a blur,” Tara said. She shrugged and turned back to her salad.
 
“Some days are like that,” Willow said, swallowing her guilt along with her soup.
 
******************
 
“So she’s doing better?”
 
“A little bit. Got her to remember some names for things yesterday, and Spike was sparring with her a bit. Helped her remember some of her victories I think.” Dawn was perched on the edge of the counter at the Magic Box. She had stopped in on the way home from school to fill the Scoobies in on the current state of things, figuring if they had information they might agree to stay away for a few more days. Anya was the only one there when Dawn arrived, and that suited Dawn fine. She was still mad at Willow, and wasn’t too sure she wanted to deal with Xander either. I can give Anya the news, and she can pass it on to the others.
 
“Do you think we can come over and visit?” Anya asked.
 
“Not yet,” Dawn replied. “She still gets really sad and freaked out about stuff, completely out of the blue. She keeps having these killer nightmares – wakes us all up screaming every night. It’s still really hard for her to communicate, and she’s way terrified of magic. Someone mentioned the name Magic Box, and she absolutely flipped. I really don’t think having people over yet is a good idea.”
 
“That make sense to me,” Anya said.
 
“Yeah, but can you get Xander and the others to understand it?” Dawn’s irritation was evident. “They seem to act like they’re all going to die if they don’t get to hover around Buffy all day.”
 
“Tell me about it,” Anya sympathized. “I mean, hello? I’m the girlfriend here! Why does the friend — friend get all the attention?”
 
“Um, yeah,” Dawn muttered. Sometimes Anya really was a bit of a freak in Dawn’s humble opinion. But at least she got the point about leaving Buffy alone for a while, and that was something.
 
As if on cue, Xander walked in causing Dawn to suppress a sigh. “Dawn! How are things at Casa Summers?” he said when he noticed her.
 
“Not too bad. I was just giving Anya the update.”
 
“Any change?” Xander kissed Anya hello absentmindedly before leaning on the counter to hear Dawn’s answer.
 
“A little more talking, a few more memories,” Dawn replied noncommittally. “But even the word magic still terrifies her. And she pretty much crawled into the couch cushions yesterday when you came to the door, so I’m thinking a few more days of quiet would be of the good.”
 
Xander frowned. It was beyond exasperating. Buffy was back. His high school crush, his heroine, his friend, the girl he had mourned all summer alongside his friends. She was back and so close, yet he and the others were being kept away. We brought her back. Not Giles, not Spike. How is it that they’re calling the shots? Giles took off on us and Spike’s a fucking vampire, but they get to be the gatekeepers? Aloud he said, “Are you sure that we shouldn’t, I don’t know, introduce us one at a time? I think it might jog some of her memories faster.”
 
“What, if she doesn’t get her memories back in a week she’s broken or something?” Dawn said. “What’s the big rush?”
 
“It’s not that. It’s just…”
 
“Just save it.” Dawn hopped off the counter and grabbed her backpack. “You don’t live with her. You don’t see her cringing and acting all terrified every five minutes, and you don’t have to hear her screaming every night with the nightmares. Trust me. We’re doing what’s best for her. If you can’t deal, tough.” Dawn turned and stormed out of the shop, slamming the door behind her.
 
“What the hell is with them?” Xander exploded. “I mean we brought her back!”
 
“So what, she’s your property then?” Anya broke in. “I know we were all in on the spell, but clearly Willow wasn’t giving us all the information on what the spell would do, and Buffy is seriously messed up. If she’s slowly getting better, then that seems to say we’re doing the right thing. Let it go already!”
 
“How can I let it go?”
 
“How can’t you let it go?” Anya countered. “It’s the easiest thing in the world. Do nothing for a week or so. Done. Ta-da!”
 
“After all those months without her, isn’t it natural to want to see her?” Xander asked.
 
“And you will, just in a few days,” Anya replied. “Now are you going to chill out, or do I have to handcuff you to the bed again and leave you there all week this time?”
 
Xander blushed fourteen shades of red. “Anya! Not in public!”
 
“Oh, relax. No one’s here,” Anya began, then Tara walked in. “Okay, now someone’s here, so I won’t mention bondage anymore. But you still have to chill.”
 
Tara’s eyebrows shot up as she caught the last fragment of conversation. I do not want to know, she told herself firmly. “Hey, guys, what’s new?”
 
“Not much,” Xander replied. “Dawn was here a little while ago. Buffy’s talking a little more, but we’re still disinvited for now.”
 
“Yeah, they said she was still pretty fragile when I stopped by last night. Probably best to let her be for a few days.”
 
“What are you up to?” Anya asked.
 
Tara shrugged. “Willow’s going to meet me here after her class is done. She’s still looking for possible spells to help Buffy if she doesn’t snap out of it.”
 
“I’m surprised you two are still speaking,” Anya observed. “After that argument you had yesterday, it looked like you were on the edge of calling it quits.”
 
“Argument?” Tara asked. Did we argue yesterday? I don’t remember an argument.
 
“Well, maybe heated discussion is a better term,” Xander said. “But you did threaten to walk out if she didn’t lay off the magic, so as far as discussions go, it was pretty high temperature.”
 
“We, um… worked it out, I guess,” Tara said. She rubbed her forehead with a frown stitched across her face. Did I really tell Willow that? “Anyhow, I’m going to do a little research while I wait.”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Anya said. “Xander, can you help me bring some of the new stock up from the basement?”
 
“Me man, lift heavy things,” Xander grunted, caveman style. He followed Anya downstairs while Tara went and stared at the books on the shelves, trying to think of where to look. She saw a book about magical herbs and pulled it down. Maybe there are some herbs that could calm her and help her memory without a big spell, she thought. She brought the book over to the table and started flipping through. There were herbs to use in various healing spells, herbs for cursing, herbs for finding what was hidden. Everything short of cilantro, Tara mused. Then she turned the page and saw a drawing of the same flower she had found under her pillow. The entry labeled it as “Lethe’s Bramble”. Tara started reading, first with interest, then with a mounting sense of betrayal. She erased my memories. I can’t… why? Why would she do that? After Glory and all that how could she? Tears came to her eyes as the realization of what Willow had done sank in. She must have done it more than once. That’s why I felt like I was repeating myself. Oh, Willow… She stood up and backed away from the book, stifling a sob. She mechanically started gathering together her things. Maybe I could move back into the dorms. Explain that I lost my housing. I’m sure I could find something.
 
Xander and Anya came upstairs, laden with boxes, and chatting. As they put down their burdens, Xander noticed Tara packing up. “I thought you were waiting for Willow?” he said, wondering what had upset Tara so much.
 
“I n-need to g-go,” she stuttered. “Tell Willow I’ll c-call her.” With that Tara gathered up the last of her things and bolted from the store.
 
“What was that all about?” Anya asked.
 
“Beats me,” Xander replied. Something had clearly upset Tara, but he couldn’t conceive of what. He and Anya returned to restocking and were just finishing when Willow arrived about 45 minutes later.
 
“Hey, guys.” Willow stopped and looked around. “Is Tara here? She said she’d meet me.” She moved over to put her bag on the table, thinking Tara must be in the restroom or something.
 
“She was here, but she got upset about something and left in a hurry,” Xander explained.
 
“What was she upset about…?” Willow broke off when she saw the book lying open on the table to the page about Lethe’s Bramble. Shit. How did she find out? Willow grabbed her bag again and spun around saying, “I’ve got to go find Tara.” In a flash she was out the door again, leaving Xander and Anya staring in her wake.
 
“What’s up with them?” Anya asked.
 
Xander shook his head. “I have no idea.” He had a sinking feeling that whatever it was wasn’t a good thing at all.
 
****************
 
“Tara?” Willow called as she entered the hotel room. “Honey? Are you here?” Willow looked around and saw that Tara’s bags were gone. Oh no… In the middle of the bed she found the sprig of Lethe’s Bramble, which stuck out like an accusatory bloodstain on the white coverlet. Willow turned around frantically, looking for some evidence of where Tara could have gone. A thought struck her, and she grabbed the phone, dialing Buffy’s number with shaking hands.
 
“Hello?”
 
“Giles, it’s me, Willow,” she said, trying to keep her voice under control. “Have you seen Tara today?”
 
There was a slight hesitation before Giles answered, “I saw her last night when she came to pick up your things. Are you concerned about her?”
 
“Yes, well, I just… She was supposed to meet me at the Magic Box and she didn’t and I was wondering.”
 
Another brief pause. “I will let her know you are looking for her. Is there anything else?”
 
“Um, no. How’s… how is Buffy? Was there any improvement?”
 
“She is steadily regaining her ability to communicate and has recovered some memories, but she is still very leery of magic and easily frightened.” Giles explained.
 
“So you haven’t… tried any spells on her lately?” Willow asked as casually as she could.
 
“No. The very mention of the word magic sends her into a panic. I don’t see any particular benefit to it when she is making slow but steady progress without it.”
 
Willow chewed her lip. “Oh. Okay. If you see Tara can you tell her to call me?”
 
“I will mention it,” Giles replied and rang off.
 
Willow hung up the phone in a daze. Either Giles was lying, or he hadn’t done any spells on Buffy. So why did the magic rebound? She shook her head to clear it. Not important right now. I need to find Tara and try to work this out. Willow rummaged in her bags until she found the ingredients for a locator spell. Working quickly she lit candles and chanted the words, concentrating on a map of Sunnydale she kept for the purpose. But although she knew the spell was correct, nothing happened. Is something wrong with me? Did I burn something out somehow?
 
She paced back and forth, arms folded, trying to figure out what to do. I screwed up, big time. But Tara’s got to listen to me. She still loves me. I know she does. I’ve got to make her see that I was just trying to help. Not knowing what else to do, Willow grabbed her purse and left again, walking swiftly toward campus.
 
***************
 
The afternoon had been tense at the Summers house. Giles had reluctantly called a truce with Spike to avoid stressing Buffy even more, but Buffy was clearly wary of him. She shadowed Spike around the house, not wanting to let him out of her sight. She understood that Giles was angry with her angel although she didn’t know why. Spike had accepted her clinging behavior without question and ran with it. He showed her how to help him wash and dry the dishes, which they did side by side in a companionable silence. They had once more watched TV – another nature documentary this time. Giles had buried himself in his books although with constant concerned glances over the tops of his glasses.
 
Dawn’s arrival from school broke the ice somewhat. “Hey everyone!” she called. Buffy jumped a little but recovered quickly and even cracked a faint smile at her sister’s noisy entrance.
 
“Hello, Nibblet. What news of the world?” Spike clicked off the TV as Dawn threw herself onto the other end of the couch.
 
“I stopped by the M… the store on the way home,” said Dawn, narrowly avoiding the dreaded ‘M’ word. “I gave Anya and Xander the update and told them to stay away for now.”
 
“That does seem best,” Giles agreed. “Did they have any news to report?”
 
Dawn shook her head. “Anya’s all on board with just letting Buffy take her time getting better. Xander’s still in must-see-Buffy-now mode. I told him to stuff it.”
 
“Were Willow and Tara there as well?” Giles inquired. Buffy shivered a little at Willow’s name, which did not escape Giles’ notice.
 
“No. They had class or something.”
 
“Speaking of class, have you been doing your homework?” Giles asked pointedly.
 
“More or less,” Dawn replied. “I have a little catch-up to do in a couple of classes.”
 
“Perhaps now would be a good time?” Giles found he couldn’t quite shake the librarian/teacher mode entirely, despite the fact that the high school had been destroyed for quite a while now.
 
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Fine. Spike, could I get your help?”
 
Spike raised one eyebrow. “My help? With homework?”
 
“Well, yeah. We’re working on the causes of World War I in history, and since you were like, there and all that I figured you could give me a hand.”
 
Spike glanced quickly at Buffy to see if the suggestion of his extreme age had registered on her, but she was clearly not grasping all of the conversation. “I’ll do what I can, Bit.” He got up and followed Dawn into the dining room; Buffy trailed along behind.
 
Dawn worked diligently on her homework for nearly an hour, with Spike giving advice and commentary and Buffy just listening, content to hear the banter, even if she didn’t quite get what they were discussing most of the time. “I just don’t get it. I mean okay, some Archduke of Nowhere In Particular gets killed. So what?”
 
“See, here’s the thing, Bit. They were all related and had all these alliances and so on. Queen Victoria had a whole brood of kids, and between them and their cousins and whatnot they pretty much ruled every country in Europe. Like a bunch of kids in high school, really. You picked on my friend, so I have to kick your ass, then that guy’s friend has to kick his ass and on and on until everyone’s fighting. And the Germans decided that they were just the kings of the mountain and had some God given right to rule everyone else, and they wouldn’t back down. No choice but to engage in a whole lot of violence.”
 
“I like the high school analogy,” Dawn said, writing notes furiously. “I totally get that. It’s like, Joe gets mad at Bill so Bill’s best friend has to get mad at Joe, then Joe’s best friend gets mad until everyone’s mad at everyone else. Only they all have guns and tanks and stuff.”
 
“That’s the way of it,” Spike said approvingly. “Just write that down in something approximating the English language and you’ll be all set.”
 
“Hey! I’m a good writer!” Dawn protested.
 
“Never said you weren’t. But some of the words you California girls come up with defy all laws of English grammar.”
 
“Whatever you say, Mr. Stuffy McBritishperson.” Dawn grinned at Spike before concentrating on her notebook to write down her notes on their conversation.
 
Buffy cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you… re-remembering?”
 
“History. Dawn needs to know about what happened long ago, before you and she were born.”
 
“You remember?” Buffy wondered. It had somehow sounded like her angel was remembering personal experiences, not just telling a story.
 
Spike and Dawn exchanged a worried glance. “I’m… older than I look,” Spike finally said.
 
That made Buffy think for a moment. “How old am I?”
 
“You’re twenty years old,” Spike replied.
 
Buffy chewed on that thought for a while. “Feel older,” she mused.
 
“Know what you mean,” Spike replied. He looked at her closely, wondering if he should come clean about being a vampire. You’ve got to tell her sometime, William. It’ll all come out in the end. Do you really want her to find out accidentally? But even as he tried to get up the courage to broach the subject they all heard a knock at the back door.
 
Buffy jumped a bit at the sound, and Spike got up to see who it was. He was surprised to see Tara standing there looking upset. “Glinda? What’s wrong?”
 
“I n-need to speak to Giles. Willow p-put a spell on me.” Tara looked on the verge of tears.
 
Spike thought about Buffy in the next room then made a decision. “Why don’t you come in and sit down here in the kitchen, alright? I’ll go fetch the Watcher.”
 
“Are you sure?” Even in her distress, Tara didn’t want to traumatize Buffy further.
 
“I’m sure. Come on in,” Spike reassured her. “Just wait right here a moment, okay?” Spike went first to the living room and said, “Tara’s in the kitchen, pretty upset. I think you need to go talk to her.”
 
“What’s going on now?” Giles asked.
 
“No clue, but you go find out, while I go make sure Buffy doesn’t get upset.” Spike returned to the dining room, where Buffy had shrunk back into her chair, clearly trying to decide whether to flee or not. Spike got down to look into her eyes. “Buffy, Tara is here. She’s not here to hurt you, or do any magic. I’m going to go in and talk to her. If you want to come with, you can, but I won’t make you. Understand?”
 
Buffy bit her lip for a moment then nodded. When Spike stood up she followed him, clinging to his arm and hiding behind him as they made their way to the kitchen where Giles was sitting next to a miserable Tara, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder.
 
“Calm yourself now, and tell me the whole story from the beginning,” Giles was saying. Spike sat down, and pulled up a chair for Buffy next to him, with her clinging fearfully to his arm the whole time. Dawn came in too, leaning against the doorframe to listen.
 
Tara took a deep breath. “For the last couple days I kept having this feeling of… déjà vu or something. I would be saying something to Willow, and feel like we already had this argument. Today, I found I couldn’t really remember what she and I talked about yesterday, but Xander and Anya both seemed to think we had had a fight. I f-found some flowers under my p-pillow this morning, and I thought they were a surprise from W-willow.” Emotion-fueled tears started gathering in the corners of her eyes as she looked up at Giles. “This afternoon I was looking for something else in a book at the Magic Box, and I found that it was Lethe’s Bramble.”
 
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Spike, but he couldn’t quite place it. “What’s that then?”
 
“It’s an herb used to enhance memory spells,” Giles answered quietly.
 
Tara nodded sadly. “She erased my memory, Giles. We argued, and she just… deleted it from my mind.” Her voice became a sob as she continued. “How could she have done that to me? After all we’ve been through, after Glory and all that, how could she just…?” Tara broke down and covered her face, unable to continue.
 
Dawn moved quickly over to Tara and knelt down, putting her arms around the sobbing woman. “Don’t cry, Tara. Please don’t cry,” the teen said although she was also angry and upset on Tara’s behalf.
 
Spike’s expression darkened further. “Bitch has gone too far this time,” he growled. “Rupert, you need to get through to Red somehow. She’s going to hurt herself or someone else if she isn’t stopped.”
 
Giles had no immediate response. How did I not see this coming? Was she really this bad when I left? A kernel of guilt burned in his mind. I encouraged her. I started her on this road. I should have taught her, guided her. As he sat there, shaking his head and trying to figure out what to say the phone rang. In a daze he got up and answered it. “Hello?”
 
The voice on the other end was the last one he wanted to hear at that moment. He could hear a slight waver in Willow’s voice as she asked if Giles had seen Tara. Giles looked over at Tara, still sobbing and answered carefully, “I saw her last night when she came to pick up your things. Are you concerned about her?” Giles waited to see if Willow would admit that she had done a spell on Tara and was not particularly surprised when Willow gave an evasive answer. He offered to pass the message along and gave her the requested update on Buffy. However, her query about whether Giles had tried any spells filled him with alarm. Did she try a spell and have it return on her?
 
“No,” he answered. “The very mention of the word magic sends her into a panic. I don’t see any particular benefit to it when she is making slow but steady progress without it.” There was a momentary pause before Willow asked Giles once more to pass on a message to Tara before ringing off. Giles hung up the phone and turned to Tara. “That was Willow, asking about you.”
 
“I figured as much,” Tara said sadly. “What am I going to do? How can I trust her again? I don’t know how much of my memory is missing!”
 
“S-stay here. Safe place.”
 
The others had nearly forgotten Buffy’s presence, but her quiet statement caused them all to jerk their heads around in astonishment. “What was that, love?” Spike asked, not quite sure what she meant.
 
Buffy looked at Tara then Spike. “Sh-she got hurt too. By the one with the v-voice. W-Willow. Safe here. She should s-stay.”
 
“Are you saying you want Tara to stay at the house with us so she’ll be safe from Willow?” Spike asked. Buffy nodded, looking straight into Spike’s searching eyes.
 
“But I didn’t stop her from bringing you back,” Tara said to Buffy. “I feel like it was partly my fault. I’m so, so sorry.”
 
Buffy bit her lip, looking slightly lost as she tried to process what Tara was saying. She helped the one who did this. Even as she pondered this, she felt that this unhappy woman in front of her wasn’t going to hurt her. She knew how it felt to have magic used on her against her will. Something in Buffy wanted to protect Tara the way she wanted to protect Dawn, and although she didn’t quite understand why, she still felt it was the right thing to do. “You won’t… do magic here?”
 
Tara shook her head emphatically. “Never. Not unless you ask me to for a really good reason.”
 
“Stay here. Be safe.” Buffy punctuated her statement with a fleeting smile.
 
Spike put an arm around Buffy and hugged her close. “You’re amazing, pet. You really are.”
 
“You can share my room, Tara,” Dawn said eagerly. “If you don’t mind.”
 
“Are you all really, really sure?” Tara asked. “I don’t want to impose on anyone.”
 
“You’re more than welcome, Glinda,” Spike reassured her. He wasn’t sure exactly why Buffy was so willing to protect Tara, but he saw it as a good sign.
 
Giles was still troubled by Willow’s actions. “I don’t know if you are going to be able to avoid talking to Willow indefinitely. She needs to be made to see the seriousness of her actions.”
 
“I know, Giles. I just need a little time. What she did…” Tara looked on the verge of tears once more.
 
“What she did was inexcusable,” Giles said firmly. “While you are here, the wards will protect you from any further interference. Before I speak with her I will contact some of my colleagues in England for some advice.”
 
Spike wanted very much to say that Giles should have bloody well have reined Willow in ages ago, around the time that he had found himself planning a wedding to his mortal enemy. However, given that they had already had one major argument that day already, which had upset Buffy, he decided to hold his tongue for now. Buffy was currently not terrified or cowering and he was not going to upset the balance to say, “I told you so.” no matter how much it was deserved. Instead, he said, “Just make sure she doesn’t turn you into a toad or something when you confront her.”
 
“Duly noted,” Giles replied dryly. “I believe I will make that telephone call straight away before it is too late in England.” He went into the living room while Tara and Dawn went upstairs to settle Tara into her accommodations.
 
“Are you sure you’re okay with Tara being here?” Spike asked once more. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. You know that.”
 
“Not afraid of h-her. She knows the f-fear.” Buffy was not completely sure what the bad witch had done, but she understood that the woman they called Tara had her memories removed somehow and Buffy knew what that was like. Fear. Can’t trust anything. I understand that.
 
Spike understood Buffy’s meaning. “You know how frightening it is not to remember things, yeah?” Buffy nodded. “We’ll keep working on your memory, and we’ll help Tara as well. Sound like a plan?” Buffy nodded again, and buried her head in Spike’s shoulder for comfort.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and stuff belong to Joss Whedon, not me.
 
I would like to thank my beta SanityFair for her hard work. She had it done 10 days ago, and I was too brain dead from work to notice it was in my inbox! Hopefully, my loyal readers will forgive me!
 
*******************
Chapter 16
*******************
 
Willow slowly opened the door to the hotel room, finding it dark and as empty as she had left it. Hoisting a heavy bag on her shoulder, she lugged it over to the dresser to set it down before flopping on the bed, exhausted. She had walked all over the campus, looking for Tara, inquiring at the housing office, combing the library, but there was no sign of her. She had walked the streets of Sunnydale, checking out all their usual haunts, but she once more came up empty. She had finally returned to the Magic Box, to find that Anya and Xander had closed up shop and gone home for the night.
 
Willow let herself into the empty shop, locking the door again behind her and flipping on some lights. The store was tidy and ready for the next day. The only thing out of place was the book of magical herbs, still left open on the table. Willow ran her fingers over the page, thinking. She must be really mad at me, if she won’t even talk to me. But where can she be? Is she okay? She’s been mad at me before, but at least she talked to me about it. She sat down and buried her face in her hands. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted us not to fight. That’s all. No one seems to understand me anymore.
 
After a long wallow in the depths of self-pity, Willow got up and started looking through the bookshelves for inspiration. Where are the ‘do-over’ spells? Can I just do control-alt-delete and start again? After a while, Willow found herself drifting up to the little loft that contained the books on dark magic, the ones that Giles wanted kept far away from the general public. She hesitated then picked out several ponderous tomes and hauled them down to the table. Another trip and she had quite a stack that she jammed into an extra carrying bag from the office. She shut off the lights, locked up the store, and started the long walk back to the hotel.
 
Now that she was alone, she pulled out some of the books and lay on her stomach, reading. There were several problems to solve. She needed to find Tara and talk things out with her. But for some reason, all her spells were going wonky today, so she first needed to find out what was wrong with her magic. Then she could find Tara, apologize, and get back to work trying to help Buffy. Although Giles had said she was making progress, the progress sounded painfully slow. Buffy had to be suffering – was she the only one who could see that? Why let her suffer for weeks and weeks when they could cut it short and have her back again sooner? The whole idea just seemed so simple to Willow, but first she needed to figure out why her spells were bombing.
 
After a few hours of research, she sat up and tried a few spells. Simple things, like levitation were a breeze, as always. She conjured a bouquet of flowers out of thin air, turned them into butterflies, then made them all vanish again without breaking a sweat. She went down to the lobby and talked to the desk clerk, asking him a complicated question about the location of the nearest drugstore, then returned to her room. She performed a memory spell, then went back downstairs, and asked the question again, noting with satisfaction that the clerk acted like he had never spoken to her before. She thanked him once more, then returned again to her room, puzzled as ever. Ok, so memory spells, conjuring, and all that still works. Could it be something with doing spells at a distance? She thought for a moment about how to test that. Concentrating on Xander she sent a mental message across the town. Xander! Call me, right away!
 
She waited a minute or two and then sighed with relief as the phone rang. “Hello? Xander?”
 
“Willow?” Xander said in a breathless voice. “What in the great googly moogly was that?”
 
“Sorry to startle you. I just wanted to test something out about my range.”
 
“Well, Jesus, don’t do that again!” Xander said. “I was…ahem, busy, and you damn near gave me a heart attack.” He looked over at Anya lying naked on the bed and rolling her eyes.
 
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” Willow babbled. “You can go back to whatever you were doing. I promise I won’t do that again unless it’s an emergency.”
 
“Great. Good night, Willow.” Willow hung up, more puzzled than ever. So my magic works, and my range is good – I could get into Xander’s head from across town. Why can’t I find Tara then? Could she have left town? Her locator spell had assumed Sunnydale. That could explain why it didn’t work. Willow frowned in concentration returning to the spell books. It was nearly three in the morning when she hit upon a solution. Ok, how about a spell that makes her want to find me? If I enhance my range a little more then she should want to contact me wherever she is. Reading the spell over again to make sure she had it right, she prepared for the first incantation.
 
The enhancement spell called for a black candle, a blessed blade, and her blood. She cast a circle, lit the candle, and began to chant, with the blade in her left hand. “Send my power, far and wide. Strong as earth and moon and tide…” At a critical juncture she ran the blade over her right palm, dripping blood onto the candle until the flame was extinguished. “So mote it be.” A wind sprung up out of nowhere, spiraling around her, lifting her hair into red flames about her head. She jerked as the power entered her, her eyes growing black and wide. Then just as suddenly the wind vanished, and all was still as Willow came back to herself, panting and bleeding.
 
Wow. She sat back, a little startled. The sensation had been both terrifying and exhilarating, like a thousand cups of coffee at the same time with some hallucinogens thrown in for good measure. Getting shakily to her feet she went to the bathroom and found a towel to wrap her hand in. Her face in the mirror looked pale and her eyes far too wide. Okay, that was about 8.5 on the old Richter scale. A small corner of her mind was sounding an alarm, telling her to quit while she was ahead. Can I control this? But the part of her mind that was still buzzing from the high won out, and after splashing her face with some water and tending to her hand, she went back into the other room.
 
Once more sitting down on the rug, she lit another candle, red this time. She made a pentagram of lavender flowers around the candle and burned a small amount of dried sage as she chanted, “Draw her to me, as a moth to the flame. Let the fragrance of my love enter her mind.” She sent her power out in a diffuse web, spreading out in no particular direction, but with Tara’s sweet face as its object. She felt a little twinge, as if her power was being deflected in places, but she ignored the discomfort and concentrated, sending out the spell as far as she could. When she reached the limits of her power she paused, picturing Tara, her hair shining in the sunlight. I love you. Come back to me. We can work this out. Finally, she relaxed, feeling the power rush back to her in a wave. She blew out the candle and staggered, exhausted, into bed.
 
*************
 
Despite her progress the previous day, the night was a bad one for Buffy. Nightmares had gripped her three times during the night, terrible dreams of death and demons and torment. Each time Spike had been there to wake her, hold her, and soothe her back to sleep. Across the hall Dawn had been able to sleep through the screams, but Tara had sat bolt upright with her heart in her throat. The wrenching terror in Buffy’s voice brought tears to Tara’s eyes. She had been unable to sleep after that. As she lay there, she thought of Willow, wondering what she should do. She made up her mind at last to go talk to her in the morning, knowing that the longer she let it go, the more likely Willow was to do something rash.Her brain knew this was the right thing, but her stomach churned at the thought of confronting Willow. Confrontation had never been Tara’s strong suit. She thought about asking Dawn or Giles to go with her, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. This issue was between her and Willow.
 
Dawn was up early the next morning to get ready for school, but she was the only one who felt like rising after the long night of broken sleep. Giles got up in time to see her disappear out the back door as he blearily began to make himself a pot of tea. As he stared out the window he heard a noise behind him and turned to find a tousled looking Spike entering the kitchen. “Morning,” mumbled the vampire as he rummaged in the fridge for some blood. “I could do with a spot of tea if you’re willing to share.”
 
Suppressing a sigh, Giles answered, “Reach me two cups then, if you will.” Spike handed over two cups to Giles, poured the blood into a third, and put it in the microwave. “I take it she had a difficult night.”
 
“Yeah.” Spike took his blood and sat down. He took a huge gulp and ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “She couldn’t articulate what the dreams were about, but she was screaming, crying, and clinging to me like ivy. Lather, rinse, repeat, all night. Took me about ten minutes to extract myself without waking her, so I could sneak down for some breakfast. She had me in a death grip the whole bloody night.”
 
Giles frowned at the image, but still set two cups of tea on the table. “Does she seem to remember anything more after these nightmares?”
 
Spike downed the rest of his blood and reached for the tea. “Hard to say. She was so hysterical. She could barely speak. Maybe she’ll have something to say this morning.” After a few sips of tea shared in silence Spike asked, “Did you get hold of your contacts in England?”
 
Giles shook his head. “I left a message for the leader of a powerful coven who works with the council sometimes. I asked her to call me as soon as possible today.”
 
“What are we going to do in the meantime?” Spike pressed. “Do Tara and Buffy have to stay here like prisoners so Red doesn’t hex them to the point of no return?”
 
“I will have to meet with her later to discuss this situation,” Giles said, in a tone that indicated how little he relished the idea.
 
“Hope your magic is stronger than hers, or you could be in for a world of trouble.”
 
Giles looked curiously at the vampire. “Do you really think Willow would try to deliberately hurt someone?”
 
“Magic is power, and power corrupts. If she’s tripping on that power, she may not be able to stop before she does something we all regret,” Spike answered grimly.
 
Giles was about to protest further when they heard a noise from upstairs. A moment later Tara came into the kitchen, with circles under her red eyes. “Morning,” she said. “Is there any coffee?”
 
“Afraid there’s just tea this morning,” Spike said. “Comes of letting two Englishmen into your kitchen.”
 
“That’s alright. Mr. Coffee and I are well acquainted.” Tara busied herself with the coffee maker while the two men sat, each drinking their tea in silence.
 
“What are your plans today, Tara?” Giles inquired as Tara finally sat down with her coffee.
 
Tara stared into her mug. “I feel like I should go talk to Willow.”
 
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, pet?” Spike asked.
 
“I need to hear what she has to say,” Tara said. “I just… I need to hear.” Despite her hurt and betrayal, she couldn’t just walk away from Willow without some sort of explanation.
 
“May I suggest a neutral meeting place then?” Giles said with a note of concern.
 
“I’ll meet her at the coffee shop and just see how it goes.” They all found themselves with nothing much to say as they finished their drinks.
 
*******************
 
Willow sat at the local espresso bar with a cappuccino and a muffin, but she was too apprehensive to eat much. Tara had called her this morning, and although she had had little sleep she bolted out of bed to answer the phone. Tara had been subdued and noncommittal on the phone but had asked to meet her at the coffee shop at eleven that morning. Elated that her spell had apparently worked, she had showered and dressed and arrived early to stake out a quiet table for two in a corner. She sipped at her foamy drink and nibbled a few crumbs, but her stomach was in knots as she thought about what to say to Tara.
 
The blonde witch finally arrived, biting her lip when she saw Willow. Tara got herself a cup of coffee and moved over to the table with Willow. She sat down, saying nothing at first, just looking at Willow, and trying to work out how they had gotten to this point. At last Willow couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted out, “Tara, I just want to… to apologize. I know I shouldn’t have done that spell but…”
 
“But what?” Tara interrupted. She brought her eyes up to meet Willow’s and the red haired witch was nearly knocked backward by the pain they held. “What possible reason can you have for… for raping me of my memories like that? For making me wonder if I was going crazy?”
 
Raping her? Willow was completely floored by Tara’s statement. “Tara, sweetie, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted not to fight with you. I love you.” She reached out to touch Tara’s hand, but Tara jerked away.
 
“If you don’t want to fight, then you don’t fight. You don’t use magic to make the fight disappear. You don’t erase my memory just because I don’t agree with you.”
 
“But everything was so tense. We were all upset, and I just wanted to make things better for us,” Willow explained.
 
“You don’t get to decide what’s better for us. We’re in a relationship. We both get a say in how it goes.”
 
Willow chewed her lip and looked down at her coffee. “I know I screwed up. I went about this all wrong.”
 
“Willow, you’ve been trying to solve all your problems the same way. Any time something gets rough, you do a spell without even considering any other options, without even listening to any other possibilities. You’re doing it to me, and you’re trying to do it to Buffy, and it’s got to stop!” Tara’s voice rose to the point that a few people nearby raised some eyebrows.
 
“Tara, baby, I’m so sorry,” Willow said desperately. “What can I do to make this right?”
 
“I don’t know,” Tara said sadly. “Right now I just can’t be around you. I don’t trust you.”
 
Her flat statement stunned Willow. “I swear I’ll never do anything to you without your permission ever again. I promise. Please, don’t…”
 
“I…” Tara wavered for a moment, then stood up. “I need some time to myself for a while. Maybe we can start over someday, but not now. Right now, I just… can’t.” Stifling a sob, Tara turned and fled the restaurant, leaving Willow stunned in her wake.
 
*******************
 
Demons. They were coming in from all sides, battering at the door. The blonde girl was on her knees chanting something and the dark haired boy was fighting off a demon. Her angel was in trouble, she had to get to him before the demons hurt him. For some reason he couldn’t defend himself but the demons kept coming and coming, and she couldn’t get to him through the throng. And in the corner was the red-haired witch, watching the chaos, not a part of it, but it was her doing, it was all her doing, and they were all in danger because of it…
 
Buffy jerked awake with a shriek, clutching the blankets. Just a dream, just a dream, she told herself. But then she noticed that Spike was gone, and she panicked, dashing out of the bedroom frantically. “Spike? Spike!”
 
Spike heard the commotion and dashed out of the kitchen. “Buffy? What it is it?” He collided with her at the bottom of the stairs where she clung to him and sobbed with relief.
 
“You’re s-safe. Not hurt,” she cried, burying her face in his chest.
 
“Just can’t catch a break from the nightmares, can you?” Spike said. He led her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. “What do you remember? Can you tell me?”
 
“D-demons. We we’re fighting. Me a-and you. Others too. W-Willow did it. M-made the d-demons come.” She shivered at the memory.
 
Giles had followed them, leaning against the door frame and listening to Buffy’s tale. A thought struck him. “Do you think she’s remembering Willow’s ‘my will be done spell’?”
 
“Could be,” Spike agreed. Facing Buffy he said, “Were we in a tomb? Me and you, Xander and Anya? Demons coming in all over the place?”
 
“Y-yes. Was that r-real?” This wasn’t a nightmare? It really happened? Her eyes got wide at the implications of that.
 
“Yeah, it happened. Red was upset because her boyfriend left, did a spell that went wrong.”
 
“Why is sh-she here? Hurts e-everyone.” Buffy couldn’t understand why they had allowed this dangerous person to stay around, near Dawn and Tara and the others. She understood that she was somehow chosen to fight bad things, but why hadn’t she dealt with this threat?
 
“Although she has made some mistakes, she has been your friend for several years now,” Giles explained.
 
Buffy shook her head. “Don’t remember. Just remember h-hurt. Hurt T-Tara. Hurt me.”
 
“Watcher’s telling you the truth, pet,” Spike said gently. “I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but she’s been your best mate for ages. She’s lost her way, and we need to get her back on track, but she’s on our side in the end.”
 
“Scared,” Buffy whispered, hiding in Spike’s shirt once more. “So scared.” She couldn’t put into words how much it terrified her to have so many holes in her mind, to not know what was real, what to trust.
 
Spike rocked her, murmuring nothings to her as Giles looked on. He loved Buffy like a daughter, and it was like a knife in his gut to watch her suffer so. I can almost see Willow’s point. If I could make her better with a wave of my arm, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment, if I knew there would be no consequences. The difference between Willow and himself, however, is that he was experienced enough to know that nothing came without consequences. He wanted to say something to ease the situation somehow, to make it better, but his tongue remained tied as his Slayer shuddered in the arms of a vampire.
 
Finally it was Spike who sat up and said, “You need some breakfast, love. Come on.” He stood up and brought her to the kitchen, sitting her down and serving her coffee and toast. As she ate she gradually unwound, responding to Spike’s gentle attempts at humor and his concern. Giles kept watching, getting himself another cup of tea, but otherwise just observing the skillful way Spike cajoled and coaxed Buffy out of her shell, a little at a time. By the end of the meal the storm was over and she was tentatively smiling back at Spike. “All finished?”
 
“Yes. Thanks.”
 
“Might want to consider getting out of your pajamas then, pet,” Spike said. “We can do some more sparring if you like.”
 
Buffy nodded and went upstairs to find some clothes while Spike cleared away the dishes under Giles’ watchful eyes. Finally, Spike turned around and leaned against the sink, his arms folded. “What? You’re looking at me like I’ve got an extra head. Out with it already.”
 
Giles pursed his lips in annoyance. “If you must know, I was marveling at your ability to calm her. It doesn’t quite…”
 
“Doesn’t fit with the big bad image, is that it?” Spike smirked and shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. Even I get tired of being evil all the time.”
 
Giles took off his glasses and polished them, squinting at Spike like he was some newly discovered life form. “You are an infuriating creature. I don’t trust you. I don’t understand you. You shouldn’t be doing what you do and acting the way you act. By all rights, Buffy should have dusted you years ago. But here you are, and God help us all — she needs you.”
 
“Just killing you, isn’t it?” Spike turned to wash the dishes as he spoke. “I don’t fit into your little card catalog like all the other demons, and it just about drives you round the bend.”
 
“Please. I think you overestimate your importance somewhat.”
 
Spike dried his hands, tossed the towel on the counter, and leaned against it, staring down. “Don’t know what I can do to convince you that I mean her no harm. I haven’t harmed you or any of the rest of your merry little band since before all that business with Glory. Not planning to. But starting to get a little sick of you looking at me like I’m about to rip out her throat at any moment. I’m not your enemy already, so just lay off.” With that he stalked angrily out of the kitchen.
 
Spike was pacing the living room, trying to get his temper under control when Buffy came downstairs. He forced himself to smile at her. “Ready for a workout?”
 
Buffy looked at him. “You’re… angry?” she asked.
 
“Nothing to worry about,” he reassured her. “Let’s go downstairs, shall we?” He led the way, with Buffy following; still wondering what he was angry about.
 
“Should we do some exercises to warm up first?” When Buffy looked at him blankly he dropped to the ground and started doing pushups until she got the idea. They quickly made a game of it, seeing who could carry on the longest. Spike finally admitted defeat after a hundred when it appeared that Buffy could cheerfully keep going forever. “Bloody hell, woman. You’re like a machine.”
 
“C-can we… spar now?” Buffy asked, grinning at having worn him out.
 
“If I can,” Spike laughed. He got up and they squared off, starting slowly, but soon falling into their dance. Spike found it hard not to just stop and revel in how beautiful she was. The Slayer was never more attractive than when she was fighting. The way her body moved, the way she balanced and spun so effortlessly made him want to just pull up a chair and watch her for hours. This was a bit difficult to do while blocking punches and ducking under high kicks, truth be told. But he found himself growing ever more aroused by the display of her power in spite of himself. Admit it, William, that’s why you sought out the Slayers. They get you hot, always have. All that power in such a beautiful package.
 
His musing was interrupted by a shot from Buffy’s bare foot that sent him flying into the wall. As he lay there, stunned, Buffy shook herself for a moment before rushing over to see if he was okay. “Spike?”
 
“I’m alright, love. Just a little dazed, that’s all.” He staggered to his feet, trying to clear his ringing head. He made his way to a chair and sat down, like a prize-fighter retreating to his corner. “Can we call a time out for a while? Could use a bit of a breather.”
 
“Okay,” Buffy said. She plopped down on the floor at his feet and rested her head on his knee, panting with the exertion. As she rested she thought more about what she remembered of the demons and other trouble that Willow had called down on them in the past. Something happened between Spike and me. We were… connected somehow. Sitting up she asked, “What else h-happened? When she brought the d-demons?”
 
Spike looked confused for a moment, then realized she was referring to her dream again. “All sorts of things. Watcher went blind for a while, Harris couldn’t go anywhere without demons following him.”
 
“What happened with… us?” I seem to remember it wasn’t all bad, but I just don’t know.
 
Spike was sure that if he could blush he would be as red as his dinner right about then. “She, um…” Buffy looked at him curiously. Spike took a deep breath. “She made us think we were getting married.”
 
Buffy pondered that. “You said I didn’t l-love you.”
 
Spike laughed ruefully. “Neither of us was even the least bit attracted to the other at the time. The spell made us think we were engaged. Spent the whole day talking about wedding parties and invitations and all that rot. Bloody awkward it was.”
 
She leaned her head back on his knee, trying to remember. He was wearing a red shirt, I think. And I was looking up into his eyes and we were happy. She closed her eyes and just kept that image, him smiling down at her, blue eyes shining, his white hair curling just so. ”I remember,” she said. “Remember being happy.”
 
Spike stroked her hair. “I guess we were, while the spell lasted. All came crashing down in the end though.”
 
Buffy hardly heard his words as she reveled in the touch of his hand in her hair. The only place where she felt secure and in control in this confusing world that she had landed in was in the arms of this… man, not angel. He’s a man of some sort, and he loves me. She turned and looked up at him again. “You love me n-now?”
 
“Yes, Buffy. I do,” he said with quiet honesty.
 
She reached up and pulled his face down, planting a tender kiss on his lips before she said, “I love you, Spike.”
 
“Oh, Buffy,” Spike breathed. His heart shattered at the words. It’s not her. Oh God, she loves me but it’s not really her, and what the hell do I do now. He tugged at her arms until she rose and took her on his lap, settling her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, for saying it. I’m just afraid that once you remember everything about me you’re going to regret those words.”
 
“No,” Buffy said, wrapping her arm around his back and kissing his neck gently. “You’re good.”
 
Oh God. He didn’t have a soul. Why the hell did he suddenly seem to have a bloody conscience? This was all so much easier when I was evil. “I wasn’t always good,” he said slowly. “I was very, very bad when we first met. So much so that we wanted to kill each other.”
 
Buffy shook her head against his shoulder. “I don’t c-care. Don’t remember. Don’t want to remember.”
 
“But the others do remember, pet. Giles, Willow, the others, they all remember what happened. They will get angry if they see us together.”
 
“Giles was angry?” Buffy queried, remembering the argument between the two men the day before.
 
“Yes. He thinks it’s not right for… for us to be together.”
 
“Don’t care,” she repeated stubbornly, squeezing him even tighter. “Need you.”
 
His brain ran through every possible way to say, “I’m a vampire” without actually saying “I’m a vampire” and nothing came up. You’ve got to tell her. You know you’ve got to tell her. But in the end he just couldn’t break that perfect moment. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. But we need to be considerate of the others for now, alright?” She nodded her understanding but stayed curled up on his lap for a long time.
 
**********************
 
After she left the coffee shop, Willow was at a loss for what to do. She went back to the hotel in a daze. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, gradually sinking down to the floor and breaking down. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed. Tara. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Never. When she finally cried herself out she got up to wash her face and stare at herself in the mirror. What now, Ms. Rosenberg?
 
The phone rang in the other room and she hurried to answer it, hoping against hope that it was Tara. “Willow? This is Rupert Giles.”
 
Shit. “H-hello Giles,” she said nervously. “What can I do for you?”
 
“I would like to discuss some matters with you,” he said. “Can we meet at the Magic Box at around three o’clock?”
 
Willow found she couldn’t quite tell if he was mad or what. “What’s this about?”
 
“I just have some questions for you about your magic,” he said noncommittally.
 
Since she couldn’t come up with any particularly good reason to decline she said, “Um, sure. I’ll be there at three.” She hung up and looked at the clock. It was noon. Suddenly very tired from the late night and the emotional outburst she set the alarm for 2:30 and lay down.
 
At three o’clock she walked into the Magic Box to find Giles already there, talking to Anya. “Hey guys,” she said, trying to sound more at ease than she was.
 
“Hello.” Giles was stony faced, giving nothing away. “I wondered if we could go into the office and talk privately.”
 
“Sure,” Willow responded. Her stomach did flip-flops as she followed Giles into the office.
 
“Please, sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs and closed the door. Willow sat, feeling an awful lot like she was back in high school and getting called into the principal’s office. “Tara came to see me. She was extremely upset. Would you like to explain?”
 
“What… what did she say?” Willow asked. Maybe Tara didn’t give him the whole story. She found her defensive hackles rising.
 
“She said that you had performed a memory spell on her without her knowledge or permission. I would really like to hear your explanation for this.” When Willow didn’t immediately answer Giles sat up, folding his hands on the desk. “Please, enlighten me. What possible reason could you have for treating the woman you love this way?”
 
“It wasn’t… I just… I didn’t want to fight with her. I thought that it would be better if we just… started over.”
 
“Did you ever think to ask what she wanted?” Giles barked. “You could have permanently injured her! Was it worth it?”
 
“Look, I made a mistake, alright!” Willow cried. “I didn’t hurt her!”
 
“Perhaps not physically. But it will be a long time before she trusts you again. So was it worth it? Was that evening with no conflict good enough to risk an entire relationship over?” Giles’ voice had risen almost to a shout, despite his best efforts at keeping calm.
 
“Who are you to judge me?” Willow retorted. “When you were my age you were conjuring demons! Does the name Eyghon ring a bell? Nobody died because of my spells.”
 
Giles’ mouth opened and shut a few times with no words. Willow’s comment had hit him hard. Finally, he said, “I admitted long ago that I made some mistakes in my youth. I am merely trying to help you avoid making the same mistakes.”
 
“Look, I can handle the magic just fine. I don’t need a Watcher,” Willow said angrily.
 
“But you do need some instruction and guidance before you do something you regret. I have contacted a coven in England, and they are willing to take you on. You can go there, spend some time with them, and learn how to manage your power without abusing it. I’ll even help you with the plane fare.”
 
Willow was indignant. “So you think you can just ship me off somewhere? Because you’ve decided that you’re the judge and jury who gets to sentence me to… to magic reform school?”
 
Giles’ face clouded once more. He stood up. “You need help. You don’t see it, but the magic is taking hold of you and pretty soon you’re going to be lost. When that day comes I hope to hell you have enough friends left to drag you back from the abyss.” He turned and stormed out of the office and out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.
 
Anya poked her head into the office. “Wow. What was that all about?”
 
“Just Giles being paranoid about my magic again,” Willow said evasively. She supposed the situation between her and Tara would come out at some point, but she just didn’t feel like discussing it at the moment.
 
“Why? Have you been casting spells we don’t know about? By the way, what was that mental shouting at Xander last night? He was in the middle of giving me orgasms when you interrupted us.”
 
Willow blushed – she never could quite get used to Anya’s complete lack of verbal filter. “I just wanted to see if my range was improving. I’ve been working on it.”
 
Anya gave her a look that showed some doubts but then said, “Well could we not practice the range without advanced warning next time? I think we’re entitled to some mental privacy.”
 
“Sorry,” Willow mumbled. She sat followed Anya back into the big room. A customer came in and Anya bustled off to help him, leaving Willow to park herself at the research table. She got out a notebook and halfheartedly started looking through some class notes but found herself closing the notebook again after about ten minutes. She got up and started looking through the book titles, finding a strange comfort in the dusty tomes. She looked longingly up the stairs at the dark magic books but wrenched her gaze away after a moment or two. Too many explanations if Anya catches me up there. Her mind was running in a couple of well-worn tracks. How do I get Tara back? How do I get Giles off my case? How do I help Buffy? These questions looped over and over in her head as she searched for inspiration in the stacks.
 
*******************
 
“What’s this then?”
 
Buffy concentrated on the object Spike was holding. Round bottom… used for soup and stuff like that. “Ladle?” she asked.
 
“Correct again. You’re improving,” he approved. After their sparring session they had watched some TV while Giles spoke to the coven, called Willow then went out to do some errands before confronting the wayward witch. Tara hadn’t come back after her interview with Willow, and Dawn had a study session planned with Janice after school, so the two of them had the house to themselves for several hours. After a very late lunch, Spike had decided to quiz Buffy about more words, trying to rebuild her vocabulary by working through the kitchen. Some objects completely mystified her, but Spike wasn’t sure if that was the amnesia, or the fact that the girl probably knew only slightly more about cooking than he did. But she was keen to keep trying, desperate to at least remember what things were called, even if she couldn’t remember events. Now Spike rummaged in the utensil drawer and came up with something he didn’t quite recognize. “What the hell’s this?” he mused to himself.
 
Buffy looked astonished. “You don’t remember?”
 
Spike laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever known. Maybe it’s for serving pasta…?” Buffy giggled at the idea that her teacher was stumped by some of these objects as well. Shrugging, Spike threw it back in the drawer. “Should we quit for now?”
 
“Okay,” Buffy said. She wandered back into the living room, looking at various things, stopping to pick up a picture of her mother from the mantle. She stared for a long time at her mother’s face, running her fingers gently over the glass. Spike came to stand beside her, putting a hand on her back for comfort. “You… knew her?”
 
“She was a great lady,” Spike said. “Always had a cup of cocoa and a listening ear when you needed it. I miss her too, sometimes.”
 
A single tear made its way down Buffy’s cheek. “Hurt to… leave her,” she whispered. “Wanted to s-stay.”
 
“I know,” he whispered back. Buffy shakily put the picture back on its perch and turned to Spike, wrapping her arms around him. He held her, wishing for the hundredth time that he could do something more than give her a shoulder to cry on. He stroked her hair over and over, planting kisses on her head and whispering soothing nothings.
 
After a while Buffy sniffled and unburied her face from Spike’s shirt. She realized that she had this habit of constantly crying at the drop of a hat and wondered if it bothered her protector. “Sorry,” she murmured, still staring into his chest. “Can’t stop.”
 
“You don’t have to worry, pet. I can take it, and so can my shirts.”
 
Buffy looked up at him, at the concern and support in his eyes and reached up to kiss him. Spike closed his eyes and returned the kiss, letting himself enjoy the moment for once. Fuck it. There’s no one here to disapprove. He unfortunately was not quite correct in this assumption.
 
***************
 
It had been a very long day for Xander. The boss had been in a foul mood all day, finding fault with everyone and everything. By the end of the day Xander was considering calling up Willow and asking her to turn him into a cockroach or something. In the end, he decided that Giles would most decidedly object to that course of action and resorted to swearing under his breath. As he drove home he found himself once again wondering what had been eating Willow and Tara last night. They had both seemed upset, but neither gave any particular indication of why. Probably still fighting over magic, he mused. Xander had to say that he tended to fall into Willow’s camp on this one. Yes, they sort of screwed up by pulling Buffy out of heaven. But he had a really hard time feeling bad because his best friend was alive again. Buffy alive equals good thing. We just need to help her get back to her old self. If Willow can help do that faster, not sure why that’s such a problem. I mean, ok, take it easy, do your homework, but in the end, let’s just get her back!
 
As he drove he realized that he could very easily cruise by Buffy’s house on the way. I know they said to stay away, but they also said she was improving… He decided that the worst that could happen was that they could send him away again, so he turned into Revello Drive. He noticed that Joyce’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Did Giles go somewhere maybe? He parked and walked up to the front door, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say. As he was about to mount the front steps he glanced at the living room window then stopped. The curtains were mostly closed, but he could see figures through the gap. Maybe I’ll just get the lay of the land first, he thought. He walked quietly over to the window, stepping carefully over the low plantings, and cautiously peeked in. What he saw made his eyes bug out.
 
Buffy was kissing Spike. As Xander watched Spike closed his eyes and the kiss continued, both of them completely oblivious to his presence. He quickly backed away from the window. He made his way back to the car, shaking his head again and again. I did not just see that. He was kissing her! Does Giles know about this? How can we trust him alone with her? He was tempted to barge in there and stake Spike on the spot, but decided that would probably not go well. Instead he started his car and drove off to the Magic Box in a state of high agitation.
 
He got there to find Anya dusting some of the displays while Willow sat bent over a book. “Hi honey,” Anya said. “How was your day?”
 
“You won’t believe what I just saw,” he gasped.
 
“What is it?” Willow asked, wondering what could have upset Xander so much.
 
“I was on my way home, and decided to stop in at Buffy’s,” he began.
 
Anya interrupted with a frown. “After Dawn repeatedly told you not to?”
 
“It was on my way,” Xander said, by way of explanation. “Anyway, there was no car in the driveway, so I looked in the window to see if anyone was around, and I saw Buffy and Spike in the living room in a lip lock!”
 
“What?” Willow cried.
 
“They were in the living room, kissing. And I mean really kissing.” Xander paced around, running his hands through his hair. “We’ve got to tell Giles! I mean there’s no way we should be leaving them alone together!”
 
“Xander, are you sure you’re not overreacting again?” Anya asked. “I mean I hardly think it’s the end of the world.”
 
“But… but… he’s evil! If he’s kissing her what else could he be doing to her?”
 
Willow saw an opening. “I think we need to work even harder to get her back to her old self,” she insisted. “If we restore her memory, she’ll put Spike in his place, and Giles won’t have anything to complain about.”
 
“I’m with you, Will,” Xander said adamantly. “Enough is enough. We need the real Buffy back, now. Not four weeks from now when Spike has convinced her that they’re engaged or something.”
 
“I guess that didn’t work out so well last time,” Anya conceded. “But I still think Giles has a valid point. We don’t want to make things worse for her.”
 
“I had an idea about that actually,” Willow said. “Remember that enhancement spell we did when Buffy fought Adam?”
 
“Yeah, but I’m not quite sure how that applies here,” Xander answered.
 
“I was thinking a modification of that,” Willow explained. “Something where we enhance her slayer nature, but in a less extreme way. The slayer is such a huge part of who she is that if we bring that front and center, it will probably reset everything.”
 
“Probably?” Anya blurted out. “That doesn’t really sound very reassuring. I mean, what if she goes all homicidal slayer on us?”
 
“That’s why I don’t want to do the full spell like last time,” Willow insisted. “I should be able to make it a less powerful version of the original spell – just enough to make the slayer part of her wake up. The rest should follow.”
 
Xander agreed heartily. “At this point, we should try it. This can’t go on.” And if she just happens to accidentally dust Spike then we’ll kill two birds with one stone.
 
Anya still looked skeptical. “I don’t know. I really think we should consult Giles first on this one.”
 
Willow scoffed. “Giles. He’s decided that I’m out of control and isn’t going to listen to a thing I say. He’ll just bury his head in the sand like he always does and wait for everything to sort itself out.” When Anya still looked doubtful Willow said, “Look, if it bothers you so much, then Xander and I can do it alone. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to.”
 
Anya wavered. She was torn between not wanting to make some really, really big mistake, and not wanting to let Xander get ensnared in Willow’s spell-casting without some support. It could go very badly, but on the other hand, the sooner Buffy was back to normal, the sooner Xander would stop obsessing about her, and they could actually announce their engagement and get on with wedding planning. After weighing all this she said, “Okay, I guess. Are you going to ask Tara to help too?”
 
Willow swallowed. “Tara’s a little irritated with me right now. It’s probably best if I give her some time to get over it. Let’s leave her out of this.”
 
“Fine, the three of us then.” Xander rubbed his hands, eager to get started. He found he couldn’t erase the image of Spike and Buffy embracing from his head and it disturbed him as much as it had when they had been under Willow’s spell. “What do we need to do?”
 
“Well, we’re going to need that magic gourd, and a candle, that shouldn’t be too hard. But we’re going to need to get as close as possible to her to make it work.”
 
“That’s going to be tough,” Anya pointed out. “I mean, Dawn will probably bite you if you try to come in the house again.”
 
“We’ll have to hide out in the backyard or something,” Willow said. “If we do it after dark, no one will be any the wiser.”
 
Anya capitulated. “Okay. Let’s just make sure we know what we’re doing, alright?” The three of them sat down to work out their plan.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: Hail Joss Whedon, owner of the characters we all love to borrow.
 
Thanks once more to Sanity Fair for the beta work. Anything that is wrong is my fault, not hers. Hope the update was fast enough for everyone!
 
*****************
Chapter 17
***************
 
When the others came home that afternoon, Buffy and Spike were curled up on the couch watching TV again. Tara and Giles exchanged notes about their separate encounters with Willow, which did nothing to alleviate either one’s stress level. Later Tara led Dawn through the preparation of a chicken stir-fry which was a hit with all and sundry. The meal, although delicious, was eaten in near silence with everyone lost in their own thoughts.
 
“What’s the homework situation tonight, NIbblet?” Spike asked, more to break the silence than anything else.
 
“I have a chemistry test tomorrow and some trigonometry homework,” Dawn said. “Nothing major.”
 
“Well, you’ll have to find someone else if you want help on those subjects,” Spike said. “Not my forte.”
 
“That’s right – they just added with sticks and rocks when you were young, right?” Dawn teased.
 
“Watch it, Missy. Respect your elders and all that.” Spike gave her a mock stern look that left Dawn rolling her eyes in response.
 
“I’ll help you if you need it, Dawn,” Giles offered.
 
“I think I’m good, but thanks for the offer.” Sometimes having this many adults in the house could be a bit of a drag, especially when one of them was practically a teacher. No way to escape the homework whatsoever. “Where were you all day, Tara? Did you have class?”
 
Tara looked up from where she was picking at her food. “Yeah. Then I went and looked for possible apartments. “
 
“But you know you can stay here,” Dawn said. “You don’t have to leave.”
 
“I know, but I think it’s going to be kinda awkward if… if we start meeting again and stuff like that.” Tara sighed. “It’s already awkward. But I need my own space, so I can sort everything out.”
 
“Safer here,” Buffy said quietly. The others looked at her, still surprised when she seemed to be following the conversation.
 
“I know,” Tara said. “But sometimes you need to do things, even if they’re not completely safe. That’s just the way things are.”
 
Buffy pondered that. “You’re not a-afraid? Of W-Willow?”
 
“Not really,” Tara said. “I’m more… sad. Disappointed. I don’t think she’s going to hurt me though.”
 
“I hope you’re right,” Spike muttered. “Not sure I have your confidence.”
 
“I did mention the coven in England to her,” Giles added. “She wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea.” He failed to add that the “discussion” he and Willow had was much more of a shouting match than anything else.
 
The meal passed with little more discussion, each of them uncertain of what to say. After the dishes were cleared, Dawn and Tara made their way upstairs to work on homework while the rest of them went into the living room. Buffy drifted around, unsure of what to do. Spike watched her for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to voice an idea that was floating around in his head. Finally, he said, “Buffy? Would you like to go for a walk with me?”
 
Buffy looked at him curiously. “Walk?”
 
“You haven’t been outside in days. A little fresh air would do you good.”
 
Buffy shuddered a bit. “D-dark. Afraid.”
 
Spike came over to put his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re afraid. And I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But I’ll be there, and you remember how to fight now, right?”
 
Buffy was clearly wavering. “Safe? With you?”
 
“Yes, Buffy. I promise you will be safe with me,” Spike insisted.
 
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Giles asked, raising his eyebrows.
 
“Just an idea,” Spike said. “Just giving Buffy the chance to expand her horizons a little, if she wants to.” He turned back to the still doubtful Slayer. “So what do you say?”
 
Buffy remembered Tara’s words at dinner. She’s not afraid. I shouldn’t be either. Swallowing, she said, “O-okay.” Spike handed her a pair of sneakers and sat down to put his own boots on. Giles frowned, still wondering what Spike was trying to do. Spike ignored the evil eye Giles was shooting at him and stood, extending a hand to Buffy. “Ready to go?” Buffy took his hand and followed him slowly out the door.
 
It was a warm, clear night, with a light breeze blowing. Buffy clung to Spike like a second shadow, gripping his hand so tightly he had to fight not wince. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, let’s stop here. Look around. What do you see?”
 
“Dark,” Buffy said. “Sh-shadows.”
 
“Look up, love,” Spike urged. Buffy complied and her eyes widened at the sight of the full moon, shining through the trees. It was huge and glowing, close and breathtaking.
 
“Beautiful,” Buffy breathed. Her mouth dropped open slightly. “I didn’t remember.”
 
“The night has always been our time, pet. It can be dark, and there can be monsters, but it can be beautiful too.” He let her stand there for long minutes, just drinking in the moon and the night sounds. “Hear the crickets? Sweet, isn’t it?”
 
“Yes.” Buffy closed her eyes and listened. She inhaled the scent of night flowers, a little smile appearing on her lips.
 
“Come with me.” Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike smiling down on her. She nodded and followed him, still clinging to his hand. He moved slowly down the street, wrapping his arm around her protectively. The night was still young, and a few cars went by as they walked. Buffy jumped, but Spike soothed her saying, “Just a car, love. Had one myself once. Beautiful old Desoto. Loved that car.”
 
“Where is it?” Buffy asked when she had calmed down a bit.
 
“The Desoto? Alas, it died down in Mexico, and I couldn’t fix it. Poor old thing.”
 
“Died?”
 
Spike laughed. “No, just an expression. I probably should have said it broke and couldn’t be repaired.” They walked on, with Buffy jumping at shadows from time to time while Spike patiently explained what things were. They didn’t venture out of the residential area that contained Revello Drive, and after three quarters of an hour or so found themselves back at Buffy’s house. Spike led them around to the back porch to sit down for awhile.
 
Buffy stopped, looking at the stairs as another memory welled up. I was sitting here, and I was crying, and Spike was here. Why? Aloud she said, “I remember… crying here.”
 
Spike remembered the night he had come to kill her, shotgun in hand, furious at having had his inadequacies once again rubbed in his face. His fury had evaporated as he saw her there, vulnerable and lost, and he could no more kill her than he could bathe in holy water. “You were upset. Your mom told you she was sick.”
 
She sat down on the porch, hugging her arms and trying to remember. “You were here with me?”
 
“Yeah. I was here, patting your back and trying to make you feel better.” He sat down next to her, repeating the gesture.
 
Buffy leaned into him. “Tell me… something good. A m-memory.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “There was a bunch of government scientists. Called themselves the Initiative. They made this great hulking thing – half human, half demon. Killed a bunch of people. You and your friends defeated him. You fended off half the army and ripped the thing’s heart out. Bloody amazing you were.”
 
Buffy closed her eyes, trying to picture that. A faint image appeared in her mind of a man, half covered in metal. Gunfire and explosions all around. I had to rescue… someone. A man. But the image blurred in her mind and she shook her head. “Can’t remember.”
 
“Let’s try another one then,” Spike said. With his arm around her he began spinning the tale of how she had defeated Dracula, not realizing that they were no longer alone.
 
***********************
 
It had taken until after sunset for Willow to work out the details of the spell to everyone’s liking. In the end she had slipped off into the back room for a moment and put a minor spell on Anya, whereby she suddenly stopped having so many objections for some reason. Now they were making their way on foot to Buffy’s house, with Willow shouldering a bag of various necessary accoutrements. “Remember, once we join hands and start the spell, we need to keep connected until it is over. Anya, you concentrate on the slayer spirit. Xander, your job is to focus on the heart and emotions. I’ll focus on the mind of the slayer. The hands should take care of themselves.”
 
“How will we know if it works?” Xander asked. Now that they were approaching Buffy’s house, he found himself a little nervous about what they were about to attempt.
 
“After we finish the spell, we’ll wait a bit then call them. If everything worked, I’m sure they’ll let us know.” They arrived on Buffy’s block and slowed down, quietly approaching the house. The lights were on, and they could clearly see figures moving in the living room behind the curtains. “Good, they’re home,” Willow whispered. “Let’s head around back.” Halfway around the house Willow stopped, causing the others to crash into the back of her.
 
“Willow what..?” Xander started.
 
Willow held up her hand. “Shh, listen!” Straining, the others heard Spike’s voice talking to someone. After a long minute they heard Buffy’s voice replying tentatively.
 
“What do we do now?” Anya whispered.
 
“Come on,” Willow said. She led them back around the house to the other side, which was crammed close to the neighbor’s property and somewhat overgrown. When they reached the shadows behind a screen of bushes, she motioned them to sit down on the ground.
 
“Is this going to work?” Anya said, her doubts resurfacing.
 
“Yes, if we all do our part,” Willow snapped softly. She arranged everything, grateful that the wind was blowing in the right direction to avoid broadcasting their scent to the vampire. “Join hands, and don’t let go,” she hissed quietly. The others complied, concentrating as they had been instructed. Under her breath, Willow began chanting the words of the modified spell. The others felt their hands growing warmer, and Xander’s eyes grew wide as he noticed Willow’s eyes growing darker and darker. A gray mist started gathering in the center of their circle, forming a small swirling tornado that grew in speed and size as the chanting went on. Willow’s grip on their hands tightened as she chanted faster and faster, the words flying unintelligibly from her lips. Finally, with a gasp she flung her head upward and the gray mist shot heavenward, spinning once around the house before diving down toward the back porch.
 
“Was right glad to see you defeat the poncy bastard,” Spike was saying. “Still owes me eleven pounds.”
 
Buffy was about to ask him what that meant when she felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Spike felt her stiffen and saw her look around, wary. Suddenly, she stood up, looking around in all directions before staggering out onto the lawn with a strangled cry and grabbing her head. Spike jumped up, flying to her side as she stood like a statue of a madwoman. “Buffy? What is it, love? What’s wrong?”
 
It was as if a switch had flipped in Buffy’s mind. All her Slayer senses came on full blast. The night sounds were suddenly crisp and louder, the scents sharper, and some undefined sensation rippled through her entire skin. Slayer. We are the Slayer. We have always been the Slayer. An image of a wild dark woman covered in body paint came to her mind. This is who I am. This is what I am. “Buffy?” Spike shook her shoulder, trying to get her attention.
 
She looked up slowly, her eyes narrowed and aware in a way they hadn’t been since she had been back. “Vampire,” she hissed.
 
Spike jumped back as if scalded. “Buffy? It’s me, pet, remember?” He backed up, his vampire senses on fire as he realized that somehow or another the Slayer was in full force and running the show.
 
Buffy got to her feet slowly, hands curling into fists as she advanced on him. “Vampire.” Her mind swirled with images of fire and black, swirling mist. The name Buffy hadn’t really registered when Spike had said it. She was the Slayer, defender against the forces of darkness. This was her calling, her sacred duty.
 
“Now let’s just hold on here a moment and talk this out…” Spike began, but he got no further. With an incoherent battle cry Buffy attacked, launching a flying kick at his face. Spike ducked and rolled, coming back to his feet ready to defend himself. “Giles?” he shouted. “Dawn? Anyone?” He blocked a flurry of kicks and punches as he yelled, hoping that someone in the house would hear him.
 
Around the corner, the spell casters looked up in alarm at Spike’s shout. “What the hell?” Xander cried. Forgetting entirely about Willow’s previous instructions he leaped to his feet and ran for the back yard.
 
“Wait!” called Willow, hot on his heels while Anya trailed behind. They rounded the corner of the house to find Spike and Buffy in a pitched battle. Spike was clearly trying to defend himself without hurting her but was rapidly losing the fight. Spike flew through the air to slam mercilessly against a tree trunk before sinking in a heap to the ground. Buffy kicked the porch railing, splintering it into a dozen pieces and grabbing one of them to use as an impromptu stake. Alarmed, Willow called, “Buffy! Stop! It’s alright!”
 
Buffy turned at the voice and stopped, tilting her head to look at the newcomers. Witch. She’s a witch. The slayer instinct mingled with a memory of falling, of pain and darkness. She hurt me. She hurt others. She’s evil, and my job is to fight evil. Ignoring the stunned vampire she advanced on Willow, her brain repeating over and over, she hurts people with magic. She must be stopped. Hurts people. The pure slayer inhabiting her brain didn’t remember names or the concept of friendship. Only good and evil existed, black and white, and the witch was black, dark, and dangerous.
 
Willow’s heart skipped a beat as Buffy turned and came toward her. “Do you remember? Buffy? We’re your friends.” Buffy continued advancing on Willow, her face impassive, her head still tilted. “Buffy…?” Buffy stopped in front of the three Scoobies, observing Anya and Xander then focusing once more on Willow, who swallowed nervously and said, “Are you…”
 
Buffy’s hand shot straight out from her hip, faster than the eye could follow, connecting with Willow’s solar plexus and dropping her to the ground. “What are you doing?” Xander cried, grabbing for Buffy’s arm. Without missing a beat Buffy grabbed Xander by the arm and flung him halfway across the yard.
 
“Xander!” Anya cried, running to his side and leaving Willow to fend for herself.
 
The house door slammed open as Dawn, Giles, and Tara raced onto the porch.”What’s going on?” Giles demanded.
 
Buffy ignored everything and concentrated on the gasping woman in front of her. She bent down to grab Willow by the collar, hauling her up while she gasped for breath.
 
“H-hot.” Willow gasped, and the power surged through her, making her shirt feel like red hot iron to Buffy, who hissed and dropped Willow on the ground again.
 
“Buffy! Stop!” Dawn cried. She wanted to run to her sister, but Giles stopped her saying, “No, she’s too dangerous. Stay right here.”
 
Buffy quickly recovered herself and delivered a roundhouse kick to Willow’s midsection, once more leaving the witch gasping. Willow shakily held up a hand, moving her lips to invoke a protective spell. Buffy saw her lips moving and threw herself on Willow, punching at her again and again. Willow found herself unable to do anything but squirm to get away as blows rained down on her. Pain bloomed in her head as her cheekbone cracked and her lips split under the onslaught. Giles came running up, trying to pull Buffy off of Willow. He succeeded momentarily but got himself tossed to the side roughly for his efforts. Buffy grabbed Willow once more by the shirt front, hurling her across the yard into a decorative bench. Willow fought to maintain consciousness as Buffy pounced on her again, pounding her head into the ground as she slowly throttled her.
 
“Spike! Do something!” Dawn screamed, and the teen’s cry managed to rouse Spike from his daze. He staggered to his feet, shaking his head as he took in the situation. Tara was helping Giles to his feet; Anya was tending to Xander, and Buffy was in the process of killing Willow with her bare hands. Throwing caution to the wind he vamped out to give himself an extra edge and launched himself across the yard, pouncing on Buffy from behind and tearing her away from Willow.
 
Buffy spun around and squared off against him, her eyes narrowing as she sized up her opponent. “Why are you saving the witch?” she growled.
 
“Slayers kill demons, not people,” he growled back.
 
They continued circling each other. “She is evil. She must be stopped.”
 
“Not your call to make, Slayer,” he said. He looked for any opening, any way he could take her down without causing her too much damage, but she was a honed fighting machine, and no openings appeared.
 
“Who are you to tell me what to do, vampire?” Her voice was for once without hesitation, but lacked all of Buffy’s usual spirit and flippancy, and it sent chills down the spines of all who heard it.
 
“Right then. Let’s finish this.” With a roar he launched himself at her, wrestling her to the ground and grappling with her, trying to get into a position where he could knock her out. Buffy fought like a tiger, rolling them over until she was on top, pounding his face again and again. She rolled them again until she was in reach of the stake, and she grabbed it trying to force it down into his chest as he caught it, struggling with all his might to keep the deadly point away from his heart.
 
“Buffy, love, listen to me,” he ground out through bruised lips. With an effort he shook off his gameface to be able to speak more clearly, desperate to reach her. “Please listen. You don’t want to do this.”
 
“I’m the Slayer,” she said, grinding her teeth with the effort. “Who are you?”
 
“Buffy, please,” Spike pleaded. “I’m your angel, remember? I love you. Please remember. I love you. Always love you.” He felt his arms shake as the point of the stake crept inexorably toward his chest. A pained look of regret crossed his face as he whispered again, “I love you.”
 
Buffy froze. Loves me? The vampire loves me? “Spike,” she whispered, staring into space. Her mouth worked but no sound came out as her mind whirled. Then behind her, Willow finally lost consciousness.
 
Buffy dropped the stake and got unsteadily to her feet, backing away from Spike as the magic surged through her brain once more then dissipated. She screamed and fell to her hands and knees as all her memories came flooding back in one huge tsunami of images. Memory piled on memory, years of joys and triumphs and battles and sorrows all rushing back and she screamed again and again at the shock and pain of it all. The others were arranged in a tableau – Dawn clutching the porch railing with white knuckles, Anya and Xander clinging to each other, Tara and Giles kneeling next to Willow, and Spike struggling to sit up while the world swam around him. Giles finally left Willow to Tara and came over to Buffy’s side. He reached out to her as he said, “Buffy? It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.”
 
“Get away from me!” she shrieked, scrambling to her feet, chest heaving and eyes wild and darting. She looked at Willow, at Xander, and then at Spike, bleeding on the ground but still fixing her with those love-filled eyes. “I remember. I remember everything…” Shaking her head in horror and disbelief she turned and bolted, disappearing out of sight before anyone could even react.
 
“Buffy!” Dawn screamed, chasing after her. But Dawn was no match for a fleeing, panicked slayer, and Buffy soon disappeared into the dark. When she came back around the house Giles was inside, calling for an ambulance as Anya helped Xander to his feet and Tara wept at Willow’s side. Dawn ran over to the still struggling vampire and helped him sit up. He looked horrible, with his face swollen and purple, and he coughed and winced at a cracked rib on his left side. “Spike, what happened? We heard you yelling and then…” Dawn trailed off, having no idea how to process what she had just seen.
 
“We were talking,” Spike ground out painfully. “All of a sudden she just went into complete slayer mode. It’s like she forgot everything else and became pure slayer…” He trailed off, looking at Xander and Anya. He lurched painfully to his feet and limped over to Xander. He grabbed Xander’s collar, the act nearly toppling both men and causing Spike’s chip to fire. “What. Did. You. Do.”
 
“It was a spell,” Xander said. “Willow said it would help her remember the slayer side of things, which would trigger the rest. I guess it worked.”
 
“At what cost?” Tara sobbed. Willow’s face was ashen where it wasn’t black and blue, and she was still as death. Tears slipped down Tara’s face as she stroked Willow’s hair, willing her to hang on until the ambulance arrived.
 
“Fools!” Spike spat, releasing Xander contemptuously. “Couldn’t leave her alone, could you?”
 
“Couldn’t leave her in your clutches!” Xander cried. “You were kissing her! I saw you!”
 
“You have no idea what you’ve done. Even now.” Spike turned and stalked away as rapidly as his battered frame allowed.
 
“Spike, where are you going?” Dawn pleaded.
 
“To find Buffy before she hurts herself,” he said. Then he was gone, vanished into the darkness. The others stared after him in silence until the sound of the approaching ambulance broke the spell.
 
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and dialogue I borrow belong to Joss Whedon, to whom I am grateful! Thanks for sharing, Mr. Whedon.
 
Thanks to Sanity Fair for her tireless beta work. Hope all my readers have enjoyed!
 
*****************
Chapter 18
*****************
 
Spike walked as fast as his battered body would allow, going straight from Buffy’s house to the butcher’s, where he downed two pints of blood in rapid succession. The infusion went to work, easing some of the minor aches almost immediately although he knew it would be a few days before his face and ribs knit themselves back together. Standing outside the butcher shop he thought about the Slayer and her state of mind. He headed toward the rougher side of town, finally catching a whiff of her scent. He followed it to a place he knew and dreaded – the tower where she had fought with Glory. A shiver went down his spine as he approached. This place was cursed, covered by an intangible evil pall. He could understand why no one had torn it down; it was the sort of place one instinctively avoided. But her scent grew stronger as he approached, and he followed it up the rickety tower to the top. There, out on the edge of the platform stood the Slayer, looking down.
 
“Slayer.” He stepped lightly onto the platform, which creaked ominously under his weight. “What are you doing here?”
 
She turned to face him. “It all came back, Spike. Everything. I remember it all.” Her voice was hollow and distant, and her eyes seemed to be miles away.
 
“And?”
 
“And I can’t… I can’t face this. I nearly killed them and you.” She stared into the abyss again.
 
“I’m still here, love,” he said, approaching slowly. “I still love you.”
 
“I know,” she whispered. “But they won’t let me be. They’re going to keep fixing and pushing me, and I can’t… I can’t live knowing that they’re going to keep messing with my mind.”
 
“No, they won’t.” Spike moved even closer, despite the swaying of the haphazardly built structure. “I won’t let them.”
 
“Why did they bring me back?” Her voice was plaintive, filled with pain. “I was so happy there.”
 
“I know, love. Never wanted to pull you back to suffer. But I don’t want to lose you again either. And I will fight the Scoobies until my head explodes if that’s what it takes to keep you here and help you get back to the land of the living again.”
 
Spike’s statement struck Buffy, and she turned once more to face him. “You fought me,” Buffy said, staring him down. “And the chip didn’t fire.”
 
Spike stopped. “You’re right. I didn’t notice that until just now.”
 
“What does that mean?”
 
“I don’t know,” Spike admitted. “It did fire when I grabbed Harris after you left.”
 
“Am I… wrong somehow? Damaged? Is that why this hurts so much? Why I couldn’t remember anything?” Buffy’s eyes welled with unshed tears.
 
“Listen to me,” Spike said, putting a little force into his voice. “You’re still Buffy. You’re still the Slayer. You’ve had a miserable experience, but you’re still you in all the ways that matter.”
 
“How do I do this, Spike? How do I live again?” She turned back to the drop. “How do I let you live when I don’t know if you’re safe to be around? And if I kill you, how do I survive?”
 
Spike moved slowly toward her again. “Do you remember these last few days? Since you came back?”
 
“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the drop, at her feet, at Spike.
 
“Were you ever in danger from me?” He caught her gaze and held it as he advanced a step at a time. “Did I ever hurt anyone?”
 
Buffy closed her eyes. He was so… tender. He kept the others away and cared for me. He could have done anything to me at all. “No. You took care of me,” she admitted.
 
“Like I said,” Spike continued, moving steadily closer. “I love you. I’d do anything for you. I was prepared to take care of you until the end of time. Still am.”
 
Buffy looked at the drop again. It would be so easy. One step, a sudden sharp shock, and she would be back at rest. Would I go to heaven this time? If it was suicide? What would happen to Dawn? She looked back at Spike, whose blue eyes bored into her, willing her to be strong. I wouldn’t have him there. She thought about these last nights, shaking in fear from nightmare after nightmare. The only thing that had kept her even remotely grounded in sanity had been the strong arms around her at every turn. Strong arms that belonged to the creature in front of her. And for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t want to let that go. With one last look into the abyss, she turned and walked unsteadily to meet him. They stared at each other for a long minute before she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt, weeping for the paradise she had lost.
 
Spike was about to heave a sigh of relief when the whole tower shuddered at her sudden movement. “Shit! Come on!” he cried. Grabbing her hand, he turned and ran for the stairs. Halfway down it was clear that the tower was not going to survive long enough for them to reach the ground, and they both jumped for a dangling chain, riding it down to the bottom as pieces of metal rained down around them. They picked themselves up at the bottom and sprinted away, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the falling tower. Outside the fence they stopped, gasping, looking back at the clouds of dust billowing in the wake of the tower’s collapse. They turned to each other and searched each other’s eyes for a moment before leaning in for a long, desperate kiss. When they finally came up for air, Buffy wound her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “I love you Spike,” Buffy whispered. “I remember, and I still love you.” And nothing else mattered to the startled vampire for a very long time.
 
******************
 
They walked home slowly, arms around each other. Spike was sore and wincing with every step, and Buffy was deep in thought. Although Spike could have floated home when Buffy said those three little words to him, her subsequent silence worried him. Having second thoughts, I suppose. Knew that would happen. Probably won’t want to risk upsetting the Scoobies any further by rubbing another relationship with a vampire in their face. In a way he understood. Coming back to life was painful and wrenching, and the pile of things stacked up to be dealt with would be daunting to anyone. She’ll be the good girl she always is and let me down easy, I suppose. His heart ached, wanting to ask her what she was thinking about but not really wanting to know the answer.
 
Buffy’s thoughts were on a completely different track than the one imagined by the vampire. I clearly can’t have Willow and Xander in my life anymore. Tara’s okay. Not sure about Anya. Not entirely sure about Giles either. But how do I do this Slayer thing without them? Everyone always said that my friends were why I survived so long. Can I really do this with just Spike? He won’t leave me, but he can’t do everything. How am I going to manage all this and Dawn and the house and the bills? I can’t dump all this on Spike. It’s not fair. But how? She had no answers, just a growing knot of dread in her stomach as she approached her house.
 
When they got to the front porch, Spike couldn’t stand it anymore. “Buffy,” he said, stopping short of the door.
 
“Hmm?” she said, shaking herself out of her reverie and turning to look at him.
 
“If… if this is…” He felt as tongue tied as a schoolboy and cursed himself for it. Taking a deep breath he said, “If you’re having second thoughts about me, I’d… I’d rather know sooner than later.”
 
Buffy looked at him like he had asked her for a lobster. “What? What are you talking about?”
 
“It’s just… I know you’ve got a lot to deal with, and I know the Scoobies are going to give you a hard time about me being around, and I…”
 
Buffy’s sharp laugh stopped him short. “The Scoobies? I don’t care what Willow and Xander have to say. I was actually trying to figure out how all this was going to work since I clearly can’t rely on them anymore.”
 
Spike’s jaw dropped open. “You… you really meant it?”
 
Buffy stepped up and kissed him gently. “I love you, Spike. I’m worried sick about how I’m going to cope with everything, and I’m furious with the others, and I’m scared that the nightmares will never stop. I’m worried that I’m going to dump too much on you, and you’re going to get fed up and leave. But I know this much: I love you, and I am so, so glad you’re here.”
 
“Oh God,” he breathed. He pulled her to him, fighting back tears of relief as he kissed her long and deep. When they came up for air he pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and said. “I’m yours, Buffy. Dump anything you want on me. I can take it.”
 
“Thank you,” she said. Straightening up she added, “I suppose we should go inside and see what the damage is.”
 
“Suppose so,” he agreed. With matching deep breaths, they squared their shoulders and opened the door.
 
Dawn was huddled on the couch, ignoring some old movie while Giles was talking on the phone. When the door opened, Dawn looked up fearfully then got up, coming up to Buffy uncertainly. “Buffy? Are you..?”
 
“I’m… I’m back, Dawn. I remember.” At that Dawn leaped into her sister’s arms, laughing and crying with relief. “Shh, Dawnie,” Buffy soothed. “I’m here, and I’m staying. I promise you.” The two sisters hugged each other like they would never let go, and Spike couldn’t help but smile. He tried to edge his way past to go collapse on the sofa, but Dawn saw him and released Buffy long enough to give Spike a hug that ground his sore ribs together. “Thank you, Spike.”
 
“You’re welcome, Nibblet,” Spike said, trying not to grimace.
 
“Oh! Sorry. Bruised?” Dawn said as she realized that he was wincing.
 
“Just a little. Nothing to fret over.” His slow movement to the sofa belied his words, leaving Dawn to look a little guilty.
 
At that moment Giles entered. “Buffy? Are you really yourself again?” he asked as if he hardly dared to hope.
 
“Giles.” Buffy hugged her watcher as well, and he had to struggle to keep his stiff upper lip as waves of gratitude for her return washed over him.
 
Buffy let go, feeling a little shaky and overwhelmed. “Can we go just sit down for a while?”
 
“Of course, I’m sorry,” Giles said, fumbling over his words in his emotional state.
 
“What was the update from the hospital?” Dawn asked as they sat down.
 
“Hospital?” Buffy asked from her seat next to Spike.
 
“I just spoke to Tara. Willow is still unconscious. She has a fractured skull.”
 
Dawn’s mouth dropped open but Buffy just sat there, still and impassive. “Is she… going to be alright?” she asked finally.
 
“They’re not sure. She’s stable right now although she hasn’t shown any signs of waking up”
 
Buffy absorbed this for a moment. “Anyone else get hurt?”
 
“Xander was a little bruised but nothing broken,” Giles replied. He looked at her a moment and said, “Buffy? Are you alright?”
 
“I don’t… I don’t know,” she said finally. She wrung her hands together nervously before asking, “What happened to me? What did she do?”
 
“As far as I can tell, she tried to bring out your Slayer nature in the hopes of getting your memory back. Since the Slayer is such a big part of who you are, she thought that bringing that to the surface would trigger the rest.” Giles was concerned at Buffy’s strangely quiet behavior. Is she somehow relapsing?
 
“I guess it worked,” Buffy muttered. She noticed Giles’ concerned look and said, “I’m supposed to feel bad. I hurt my friends. But I’m having trouble feeling anything but justified.”
 
Giles looked a little shocked at her bald statement. “I know Willow has done you a number of wrongs, but that doesn’t mean…”
 
“She hurt me, Giles,” Buffy said in a flat voice. “She pulled me out of heaven. Do you understand what that means? What it feels like?”
 
“I don’t pretend to know what that could possibly be like…” Giles began.
 
Buffy cut him off. “I was completely lost, and instead of leaving me alone or listening to you, or Spike, or Dawn she just insisted on hexing me again and again!” Her voice softened as she went on. “I don’t want her to die. But I don’t want her in my life right now either. And I’m not sure I need Xander poking his nose into my business any more either.”
 
Now it was Dawn’s turn to look a little nervous. “But Buffy… they’ve been part of the team for so long. I mean okay, be mad at them. But not forever!”
 
Buffy suddenly felt tired. “I don’t want to argue right now. Maybe someday we’ll work it out. But right now, I’ve got a mountain of… life to climb. I’m not going to spend my time worrying about hurting their feelings.”
 
“It’s alright, pet,” Spike said, putting his arm around her. “They’ll survive until you’re ready to deal with them.”
 
Giles frowned a bit at the vampire’s continued closeness. Buffy noticed and narrowed her eyes. She stood up and faced Giles, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. “Listen to me, Giles.” Pointing to the vampire she said, “Spike is staying in my life. In my house if he so chooses. He’s done nothing but help me, and I need him now more than ever. What’s more, I love him. So either deal with that fact, or get the hell out, right now. I am not arguing about this with anyone. Got it?” Giles’ eyes bulged, and his face got red as he tried to get a word out but Buffy cut him off. “Got it?” she repeated, with all the Slayer menace she could muster.
 
“I… can see this is not a subject to discuss at this time,” Giles managed. A cold drop of sweat ran down the back of his neck. Facing a determined Slayer was still a rather daunting prospect, even after all these years and all his training.
 
“Good.” Buffy turned to her sister. “Dawn, do you have any issues with Spike staying here if he wants to?”
 
“Duh, of course not!” Dawn squealed. “That would be awesome!” She hugged Spike and Buffy each again, with Giles looking on in defeat.
 
******************
Epilogue
******************
 
“Has there been any change?”
 
“None.” Tara and Xander shared chairs at Willow’s bedside. For two weeks she had been in a coma, her head swathed in bandages. Her skull had been fractured by the force of the impact with the garden bench, and she had yet to show any signs of regaining consciousness. Xander’s bruises had faded to a nasty purplish yellow, but he had otherwise escaped unscathed. He and Tara had taken turns sitting with Willow. Buffy had come once, but had looked on her handiwork and retreated without a word. Tara was planning to move back to the dorms at the end of the month, although Buffy and Spike had both insisted that she could stay as long as she needed. Giles had retrieved his old apartment, putting a little space between himself and the Slayer, which had improved the tense situation between him and Spike somewhat. Spike had more or less moved into Buffy’s room, and no one was certain about the nature of their relationship. Xander found himself outside of the loop, and it hurt in a way he wasn’t used to.
 
Xander now looked sadly at his best friend, lying there helpless. “We really screwed up this time, didn’t we?” The conversation was one they had repeated in many different configurations but seemed to be the only one they could have as they watched Willow’s pale unconscious form.
 
“Yeah. I should have tried harder to stop her. We all should have. But in the end, Willow cast the spells. She’s the one who has to pay the consequences.” Tara’s voice was low and sad, her heart aching for her former lover.
 
While they sat there, caught up in their thoughts, the figure on the bed stirred. Tara was the first to notice the movement, and she grabbed Xander’s arm. “Look.” Willow’s head moved back and forth slightly until finally her eyes fluttered open.
 
“Where..?” Willow whispered.
 
“You’re in the hospital, Willow,” Xander said, taking her hand. “You had a really bad run in with a bench.”
 
Willow wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Do I… know you?”
 
“I’m Xander. This is Tara. Don’t you remember?”
 
Willow shook her head helplessly. “I can’t remember…” My name? What’s my name? Who are these people? Why don’t I remember? She closed her eyes again as a cold fear gripped her heart.
 
*****************
 
Spike woke up, yawned, then sat up suddenly realizing Buffy wasn’t next to him. For two weeks now they had been sleeping together, with him soothing her during the nightmares that still happened every night. Their relationship had not progressed beyond kissing and holding each other, but Spike was so overwhelmed at the idea of being in her bed at all, he scarcely noticed. This was the first morning she hadn’t been next to him when he woke, and he rose to seek her out. It was Saturday, and Dawn was still in bed, having indulged in a late night movie fest the night before. Spike padded down the stairs in a pair of gray sweat pants - his compromise between sleeping naked, as he preferred and living in his jeans. He found the Slayer sitting at the dining table, surrounded by a mountain of papers, with her head in her hands.”Buffy? You alright love?”
 
“No,” she said quietly. She sat up, and it was clear that she had been crying. “I don’t know what to do about all this.” She waved her hands at the pile of bills.
 
“What are our assets?” he asked, sitting down at her side. He started looking at the bills. The mortgage was due, the electric bill, the water bill – all of them had bold numbers at the bottom that demanded attention.
 
“About two thousand dollars left in the bank. Mom’s car. That’s about it.” Buffy buried her face in her hands again. This is hopeless. Why did Willow drag me back for this?
 
“Not much then,” Spike said. He mentally added up the current bills and came up short. “Guess the medical bills ate up a lot.”
 
“Yeah.” Buffy rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “It all just… hit me. I guess I’m going to have to find a job or something.”
 
Spike gathered her into his arms. “I can help out too you know.”
 
“How? No offense, but not sure your poker skills are going to support the three of us. Especially since kittens aren’t legal tender.”
 
Spike smirked. “They’re always looking for bartenders at the Bronze. I don’t mind working nights.”
 
Buffy looked up at him. “You’d do that? For me?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Why not? I’m nocturnal. I like booze. How hard could it be?”
 
Buffy half smiled at that. “Do you know how to make a mojito?”
 
“A what?”
 
“See, you can’t just pour whiskey or beer at the Bronze. You need to know all the girly drinks.” Buffy sighed. “Maybe the Doublemeat Palace is hiring.”
 
“That place is beneath you, Slayer,” Spike insisted. “How about the Council of Wankers? Can’t they do something for you?”
 
“The Council…?” Buffy sat up. “I’ve honestly never thought of that. They’re rolling in money. They should be able to spare some to keep me from having to live on the street.”
 
“You should ask Rupert to put you in touch with them,” Spike urged. “In the meantime, I do have some money stashed away myself. Might take a little doing to get a hold of it, but it’ll help tide you over for a few months I should think.”
 
“Thanks. Again. Do you ever get tired of saving me every day and night?”
 
Spike took her hands and his face grew serious. “Buffy, while you were gone I dreamed about you every night. Every night I was faster, more clever, somehow got to Glory in time, or got to Dawn in time, and you didn’t have to jump. Every night I saved you.” His voice trailed off as the memory of those long nights shuddered through him.
 
Buffy’s heart melted at his words, at his deep blue eyes so intent. “You’ve always known how I feel. Even before I do. How do you do that?”
 
“I think it’s because you and me are a lot alike. You’re no typical Slayer. I’m sure as hell no typical vampire. We both have our own ways of doing things. Both care deeply about some things and don’t give a flying fuck about others. We’re both killers, hunters, and we’re both making the best of situations that neither of us asked for.”
 
“Never thought of it that way,” Buffy admitted. “You really seem to like being a vampire. Never occurred to me that this was something forced on you.”
 
“Compared to my completely pathetic human existence, being a vampire was a welcome change. But yeah, not something I went out and solicited.”
 
Buffy looked down at her hands for a moment. “I never asked to be chosen, or to die, or to come back. Really pisses me off sometimes.”
 
“Sometimes, I’d like to be able to see some of those California girls in their bikinis on the beach. We all have our crosses to bear.” Buffy smiled at that and leaned in for a kiss. Their kiss was interrupted after a few minutes by the phone ringing.
 
“I guess I’ll get that,” Buffy said. She went into the kitchen and answered the phone. After a brief conversation she hung up and came back to the dining room, where Spike was sorting through the bills. “That was Tara. Willow is awake.”
 
“Oh?” Spike wasn’t sure how Buffy felt about that. “You okay?”
 
“Yeah. Ironically, she seems to be suffering from amnesia. She can’t remember who she is or what happened.”
 
“Shoe’s on the other foot then?”
 
“Seems to be.” Buffy said nothing for a minute or two. “I don’t… I don’t want that for her. It’s horrible, not knowing who you are. Even though she deserves it, I still can’t wish that on her.”
 
Spike marveled at this girl. “You’re amazing, love. Don’t think I could have that sort of attitude in your place.”
 
“I guess you’re no angel, then,” Buffy said, looking up at him with a sideways smile.
 
“Neither of us is, pet. Is that alright?”
 
“Just fine,” Buffy replied. They kissed again, then got up and got back to the business of living.
 
The End.