Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon. Thanks again to Sanity Fair for the beta work, and to the readers for their infinite patience while I get my act together.
 
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Chapter 11 – High School Reunion
 
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She didn’t speak as they drove to the Magic Box. She stared out the window, noticing that things were mostly the same but with a different sign here and a different business there. The Magic Box looked much the same as before, and she followed Riley apprehensively into the store. Anya was behind the counter ringing up a sale, and as soon as she finished with the customer she saw them and exclaimed, “Buffy! Giles says you’ve lost your mind again. I wouldn’t worry about it though. We fixed you the last time.” She came out from behind the counter and Buffy’s eyes popped out when she saw that Anya was obviously pregnant.
 
“Anya, you’re… you’re pregnant?” Buffy gasped in astonishment. You’re alive, and you’re pregnant? What other news have I missed here?
 
“Well, yeah, I’m due in two months. But I guess if your memories are all gone then you don’t know that. I’ll remind you when the baby shower is though. It’s the…”
 
“Anya, for God’s sake!” Xander came in from the back room, followed by Willow and…
 
“Tara?” Buffy couldn’t contain her gasp of astonishment. They’re all alive. Anya, Jenny, Tara – they’re all alive. Xander had both eyes still, and she noticed a wedding ring on Xander’s hand and on Anya’s. And they actually went through with the wedding this time.
 
Tara looked at her with a puzzled face. “Giles said you had lost your memory. I’m surprised you remember me.”
 
“I did. Lose my memory, that is,” Buffy said, feeling like she was a bug under a microscope. “I remember people though.”
 
“Well that’s something,” Willow said brightly. “I can just do a quick spell and we’ll…”
 
“No!” They all turned to stare at her. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want you doing magic on me. Not until I have all the facts about what happened. Please, no magic. Okay?”
 
Willow looked hurt but said, “Okay. But you know you’ve got nothing to worry about, right? We’re you’re friends. We won’t hurt you.”
 
“Just… just give me some time. I feel a bit shell-shocked right now.” Changing the subject she said, “Where’s Giles?”
 
“Oh, he and Jenny wanted to grab some books from their house before they came over,” Willow explained. Turning to Riley she asked, “Could it have something to do with the medication she’s on?”
 
“Um, hello? Standing right here!” Buffy exclaimed. “What the hell? You’re all acting like I’m some mental case or something! What’s the deal?”
 
They all looked at each other, as if they didn’t know how much to tell her. Finally Riley said slowly, “You, um, you had a lot of trouble after… after Dawn died. We’re just worried that you’re having a relapse.”
 
“What sort of trouble?” Buffy demanded. Again they looked away and shifted their feet nervously. “Tell me, damn it!”
 
Their eyes all widened at her outburst, but again it was Riley who spoke. “You… you lost all touch with reality. You spent five months in a mental institution under suicide watch. Until Willow did her spell to cure you, we thought we had lost you forever.”
 
Buffy shook her head. So instead of being dead, I was nuts. Great. “So after that I was just what, magically all better?”
 
“Well, sort of,” Willow hedged. “It still took you a lot of time to get back to your old self. The meds helped, and I did a few more spells as well.” Willow bit her lip, then said, “I really wish you’d let me fix things.”
 
“How do you know it wasn’t all your spells that did this?” Buffy cried. “I mean maybe you just tweaked my brain once too many times, so I just forgot everything.” Rounding on Riley she said, “And you! You’re my husband so you say. So how can you let them just use me as a magical guinea pig?”
 
Xander stepped up and tried to diffuse the situation. “Buffy, we’re all here because we care about you. I know you’re pretty freaked out right now, but if you just give us a chance, we’ll sort this out. So just give us a chance, okay?”
 
His plaintive plea sounded so much like the old Xander before he became bitter and battle scarred. She willed herself to calm down. They don’t know what’s going on, remember? They think you’ve lost your memory. She sat down at the table and stared at the surface. How many hours had they spent researching this, that, and the other at this table? Was the wood the same? Was the fate of the tree it was made from somehow altered because a vampire hadn’t been created? No cocky, bleached blonde, exasperating Englishman had ever sat at this table saying, “Of course it has to be blood.” He hadn’t ever come dashing in here, smoking, wearing a ridiculous suit because he owed a shark headed demon a bunch of Siamese cats. The incongruity of that memory struck her all of a sudden and she burst out with a sad little laugh.
 
“What’s so funny?” Tara asked. Tara squinted at Buffy, trying to figure out what was going on. Buffy’s aura was all manner of strange and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different.
 
Buffy shook her head. “You had to have been there,” she answered. Then she laughed again. Well actually you were, all of us were, and it was stupid and funny and sad, and if you and I had the same memories then you wouldn’t trust Willow either. Then her mind replayed the tape of sitting in the Bronze, dejected, feeling empty and lost, and of Spike asking if she was alright with his concerned blue eyes. She had turned away then chased him, and if she closed her eyes she could taste the smoke on his lips and feel the worn leather of his coat. Spike… Her laughter died a sudden death and her face fell again. Unable to face the others she stood up. “I’ll be in the back. I just want to be alone.” She left the others staring in her wake as she escaped to the training room and shut the door.
 
The training room had a nicer couch, and more bookshelves to hold library overflow but was essentially the same. She walked up to the punching bag and squared off, hitting it lightly at first, then with increasing intensity. All her rage at the hand she’d been dealt flowed out from her fists as she struck the bag again and again. It’s not fair! I did what I was supposed to do! We took out Darla! How come I remember then? She kept pounding the bag in a blind fury, not even noticing when the door opened behind her and Giles stepped into the room.
 
Giles watched Buffy with a growing sense of alarm. The intensity of her anger was like a physical presence in the room, a dangerous presence. He loved this girl like a daughter, and he had trained her and worried about her for years. Her mental troubles had always led her to withdraw or to seek oblivion, and time and again he and the others had pulled her back from the brink. But this rage was something different, and he wasn’t sure what its origin or target was. It frightened him in some undefinable way, and he wanted nothing more than to slip quietly back out of the room. However, his Watcher’s training wouldn’t allow that so he screwed up his courage and cleared his throat. “Buffy? We’d like to speak to you in the next room if we could.”
 
With an incoherent snarl she spun and kicked the bag clear out of the ceiling, sending it flying across the room to land on the couch. She looked after it, panting for a moment, trying to regain control. It’s not their fault. They don’t know. They didn’t do this to you. She repeated this mantra a few more times until her fists finally unclenched and her breathing returned to normal. She turned to face Giles. “Sorry. I just needed to let out some frustration.”
 
“Yes, I see,” Giles said gravely. “When you’re ready, we’d like to explore some possible explanations for your memory loss.”
 
“Fine,” Buffy said shortly. She followed Giles out to the store proper, where a pile of books had appeared on the table and the others were drawing up chairs. Jenny and Willow were talking in low tones, but broke off when they saw Buffy, which did nothing whatsoever for her confidence in their promise not to use magic. With a herculean effort she held her tongue and sat down.
 
“Can you tell us a little more about what you do remember, or whatever you can think of that can shed some light on this?” Jenny asked when Buffy was seated.
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “I know that I met Riley in psychology class freshman year. I… I remember most of what happened before that, although it seems like some details are missing. But I don’t remember anything after that.”
 
Tara frowned and exchanged a concerned glance with Willow and Jenny. “Buffy, are you sure that’s all? It just seems like you’re holding something back from us.”
 
Damn. Tara sees auras. Forgot about that. Tara had once explained how someone’s aura got a little darker when they were lying. Chewing her lip, Buffy said, “I’m just really, really pissed off about this, okay?”
 
“Understood,” Giles replied. “I believe the best thing to do would be for Willow to do a spell to reveal whether you are under the influence of any magical threats. That would eliminate certain possibilities.”
 
Buffy hesitated. What’s the worst that can happen? Okay, the worst that could happen is that I forget everything.
 
The others seemed truly perplexed by her hesitation. “Buffy, what’s the problem?” Anya asked, blunt as usual. “Willow does spells on you all the time. I’d like to get this cleared up so we can get back to planning the baby shower and other birth rituals.”
 
“Anya!” Xander cried, exasperated. Anya shrugged her shoulders in a “what did I do?” gesture that had the others shaking their heads slightly.
 
“It really won’t do anything, I promise,” Willow said. “If someone cast a spell on you, we’ll see some residual energy. If not, nothing will happen.”
 
Buffy still didn’t answer. Riley came over and took her hand. “Please. For me. Just let her try, okay?”
 
Buffy sighed in defeat. It seemed like it was either listen to this pleading all day until they did something without her consent, knock them all out and bolt, or let them do the blasted spell. “Fine,” she muttered. “Just get it over with.” It doesn’t matter anyway. Spike’s gone, Dawn’s gone, and I’m stuck here.
 
Frowning a bit at her less than enthusiastic assent, Willow stood up and pulled a crystal out of her pocket. “Okay, can you just stand here?” Buffy rose and stood where she was told, crossing her arms and staring at the floor. Willow dangled the crystal in front of her and chanted in some strange tongue. The crystal started to glow blue, and the glow reached out to envelop Buffy. The glow grew brighter and brighter as Willow chanted, then winked suddenly out of existence when she stopped.
 
Buffy looked up, having noticed no change of any kind. “So? What’s the verdict?”
 
“Well, it’s not magic,” Willow said, sounding flummoxed. “That’s really weird. It must be something demonic or…” She broke off suddenly, looking like she had said too much.
 
“Or what?” Buffy demanded. When they didn’t immediately answer her she continued, “Or Buffy’s crazy, is that it? Buffy’s just gone off the deep end again, better lock her up.”
 
“That’s not what any of us are thinking,” Jenny began.
 
“Save it,” Buffy broke in. “Look, I just want some time to think, okay? I need to do some investigating on my own.” She turned and strode toward the door.
 
Riley moved to block her exit. “Buffy, please, I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”
 
She firmly stopped him with a hand to his chest. Turning to address the others she said, “I appreciate everyone’s concern. I do. But I don’t want to deal with this right now, got it?” She turned and bolted out the door. Outside, she broke into a run and soon left the Magic Box far behind. She slowed to a fast walk after several blocks, making sure she wasn’t being followed. Her feet seemed to carry her automatically to Restfield Cemetery. She walked through the tombstones, some familiar, some not. After about five minutes she saw it. Spike’s crypt.
 
The name was the same over the door. She put her hand against the cold stone and closed her eyes. Her mind called out for that presence that she had sensed on the other side of this door so many times, but there was no returning tingle that meant vampire. She pushed on the door but it was stuck fast and the cords of all her muscles were standing out by the time she got it to budge. Squeezing through the small opening she stood in the empty crypt. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and cobwebs draped every corner and surface. No one, or nothing, lived here. As she walked around her footsteps echoed and she shivered in the sudden chill. It had never seemed so cold when Spike had been here. They had had sex on that coffin there, and on the floor over there, and down in the lower room, the trapdoor of which seemed not to exist in this version. Had Spike made the trapdoor? She didn’t know. After blowing the dust off of a coffin she climbed up on it, lying down and running her hand over the stone. Tears fell slowly onto the marble as she remembered his hands, his eyes—his voice. This cold room wasn’t the same, had never sheltered the man she loved, but it was as close as she was going to get at present. She closed her eyes and despaired in silence.
 
TBC