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!

 
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Chapter 14
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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