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!
 
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Chapter 17
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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.
 
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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