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Chapter Three
 
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Chapter Three

~I feel like I'm dipping and a-diving
My sky shoes are spiked with lead heels
I'm lost in this star car I'm a-driving
And my air soul is pushing big wheels~

"...who's Dawn?"

The car screeched to a halt. Not that Buffy had been going for such a dramatic, swerving stop but gentleness with foot pedals hadn't ever been her thing. Spike cowered away from her as she turned to look at him and that was the second thing that was very wrong here.

"I'm sorry," he squeaked. "No talking. No more talking."

Buffy didn't answer, busy counting down from ten. Maintaining a Zen state of calm wasn't easy when the world kept throwing this crap at her. "Who am I, Spike?" she asked eventually.

And the vampire, who should have rolled his eyes and said she was the thorn in his bloody side, looked like a kid facing a surprise pop quiz - where the punishment for failing was painful death.

"Mistress?" he whispered. Her eyes flashed and he hastened to correct himself. "Slayer!" Then with increasing desperation: "Buffy Summers!"

"Riiiight. So my sister is?"

He shook his head, the petrified resignation on his face making Buffy's blood run cold. "I'm sorry. I don't know the answer."

The Slayer banged her head on the steering wheel. At that particular moment there seemed nothing else sensible to do, and she was so tired.

"You remember the chip in your head, right?"

Again he reacted physically, as if her words were a threat. "Yes."

"Well good. So I guess we can worry about the whole brain meltdown after I've had some sleep."

She restarted the car, but of course couldn't leave it there. "Do you remember when we last met?"

"Yes."

"Where did you go, after?"

"LA."

"And you're really not even going to say sorry?"

"I'm sorry!" he positively leapt on the instruction. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you. I didn't know any better then."

"Oh!" Buffy couldn't have said if the surprise or hurt was greater. Their last meeting wasn't exactly something she'd dwelt on, and after three months the details were a little hazy round the edges but his lack of game face throughout was seared on her memory and his attention had definitely been directed much lower than her neck. "You were trying to kill me, I didn't realise."

He was looking at her as if she was crazy, and very volatile.

"You don't remember me either!" she accused, a light bulb coming on. "You mean another time you were trying to kill me."

Spike just watched her helplessly, not daring an answer to this nonsensical statement.

"You have amnesia!"

Of course. And Buffy was strangely relieved, that she'd solved the mystery of Silent!Spike. Because really she'd expected him to be sorry, if only for as long as it took to start hitting on her again. She remembered clearly the horror on his face when she'd finally managed to throw him off her, had thought for once she'd seen real awareness, that he'd done A Very Bad Thing. And of all the reasons she'd tried to give herself for not coming to his rescue, she'd not considered that he might be a threat to her, at least not intentionally. She'd wanted to think at least that much good of him, that he regretted what he'd done, and her new theory allowed her to carry on believing that.

Also selfishly adding to her relief, the thought that vampire brain damage was someone else's research problem, and most importantly of all a problem that would keep till she'd had some sleep. Only thirty miles from home now and Buffy was counting the minutes.

"So when was the last time you remember trying to kill me?"

"Daytime," the vampire answered succinctly.

"When you had that ring?"

Spike nodded warily.

"But that was before the chip," Buffy frowned. "How come you remember the chip and not me?"

"You want me to tell you the things I don't remember?" From Spike it should have been sarcasm, but it wasn't. He seemed to be pleading for easier questions.

"It's okay, that was stupid," Buffy said hastily, starting to wish she could remove the fearful look from his face. "This isn't making any sense to you, is it? It's okay, we can fix it tomorrow." She gave a hollow little laugh. "God knows you wouldn't want to miss out on the torture of your last few years."

She was looking at the road and missed the way Spike flinched. "Don't you have any questions?" Again with the surprise exam face. "I'm not going to stake you for talking, Spike," she added.

He shook his head. "Don't know where to start, Slayer. Guess I would like to know, please, what you want me for?"

"Nothing!" Buffy exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "Big heap of nothing. When we get your brain fixed you're gonna remember just how much nothing."

********

The car was at a distinct angle from the sidewalk, Buffy eyed it critically before deciding she really didn't care. Spike had followed her out of the car, she turned to hand him the keys and he shied away like a nervous horse.

"Keys, Spike! For getting your stuff out of the trunk, not fatal to vampires."

He took them obediently and was back to looking at anything but her.

"I've already said I'm not going to stake you, not if you're really still harmless. What the hell are you so afraid of?"

For a brief instant Buffy thought she could see a glimpse of the real Spike in there, that look he gave her when he thought she was being stupid. "Helpless and at your mercy, Slayer, how would you feel if our positions were reversed? And when you tire of me, on to the next sadist until somebody finally takes pity and dusts me."

Buffy stubbornly refused to offer him comfort; though every instinct was to reach out and touch him she was afraid he would remember when he was back to being obnoxious. "You're not going back to that place," she said flatly. "I'll dust you first. And I'm not a sadist. I'm mad at you for a whole lot of reasons you don't remember but I'm not getting off on this, okay?"

The vampire nodded, though he hardly looked happier.

"Get your stuff."

He retrieved the case and followed her up the front steps, pausing briefly at the entrance before testing his welcome and shied again instinctively as she turned to take the case from him and place it on the counter in the kitchen. The tiny, mean spirited part of Buffy that had thought maybe he deserved to look so beaten now wanted to slap him round the head and tell him to pull himself together. Instead she tried to speak kindly. "Get some blood if you want some, and some sleep, we can worry about the details tomorrow."

"Blood?" the vampire asked suspiciously. "You... blood for me?"

More grinding of teeth as Buffy fought for patience, half tempted to go to bed and let Spike sort himself out. "You still drink blood, right? Because if you're a Spikebot there's going to be trouble."

"I drink blood."

Buffy just shook her head, determined to put the oddities that were Amnesia!Spike on the back burner till tomorrow. She flipped on the kitchen lights and he followed, standing awkwardly in the doorway as she went to the fridge.
"Anya said she'd put a couple of blood bags in... ah, here they are. Remind me to send her a text later or Dawn will be back first thing checking I've not been kidnapped too." She turned to find a mug and noticed him still standing, paused in her blood prep to push a stool out for him. "Sit down before you fall over."

Obediently Spike sat as Buffy programmed the microwave and helped herself to a glass of juice. She put the heated blood on the island in front of him and Spike watched her expectantly.

"Not hungry?" she asked when he continued to stare. "Because I've got to say - the skeleton look? Doesn't suit you."

"Not allowed to feed without permission."

Fascinated, Buffy watched as his fingers seemed to reach for the mug of their own volition. It was incredible to her that he could really expect her to punish him for drinking blood she'd just given him but if it was an act it was a hell of a performance.

"You think I'm putting blood in front of you to not drink?"

His doubt was obvious and Buffy tried hard not to explode. "Rhetorical question, dummy!"

Quick as a whip he was pouring the blood down his throat, licking inside the rim of the mug until she had to look away. He noticed the movement and hastily put the mug down. "Thank you M... Slayer. Sorry."

"I'm used to your table manners," she said lightly. "It was worse with a straw, I don't suppose you remember that either. After the first couple of days we sent Dawn in, that's my sister that you mysteriously don't remember at all. More?"

Without waiting for an answer she reached over and snagged the empty mug, took it over to the fridge and pulled out another blood bag. "We don't have so many rules in this house, okay? Don't put your feet on the coffee table, don't leave scum around the bathtub, that sort of thing. Here you speak when you've got something to say and you eat when you're hungry. As long as it's not people. Or anything that Dawn cooks. That last one's more of a health and safety regulation than an actual rule."

He was regarding her suspiciously but anything was better than carefully schooled blankness or poorly concealed terror. And her words must have sunk in a little, because when she took the second mug out of the microwave he picked it straight up and downed it, though he still said nothing as she started on the third and final bag.

"When did you last feed?"

Spike shrugged. "Get a pint a day, if I'm good."

"I'm going to guess you weren't," said Buffy dryly.

"Tried," the vampire snapped back defensively. "They kept changing the rules, made it so you couldn't win." The blood, already affecting his sallow features, gave him foolhardy courage. "That your game, Slayer?"

She could see him bite back the words almost as soon as they were out. Didn't answer as she put the third mug on the table and slid onto the stool next to him.

"No game. I'm trying to help you."

The vampire gave her an incredulous look and Buffy shrugged.

"It sounds pretty unlikely to me too. It is unlikely, because you're an-. Well, you're not very nice. But you didn't deserve this."

She ran her hand along his scarred upper arm, Spike started at the touch. With more tenderness than she'd really meant to let show Buffy added: "I don't like seeing you scared, Spike."

He stood up so suddenly, the chair fell back with a clatter and his empty mug hopped off the counter and smashed on the floor. "Bitch!" he roared, with such violence Buffy was momentarily cowed. "Just bring it on, you hear me? Bring it the fuck on!"

Buffy blinked. Tried to squash down the hurt and count to ten, it was getting to be a night for that. "Ooo-kay. Maybe scared had something going for it."

But she didn't think the vampire had even heard her. "You think you can fuck with my head? It's all been done before, Slayer. You expect me to believe that's why you bought yourself a vampire toy? That's why you picked one that had tried to kill you - you want to be my friend!"

"Stop it, Spike."

"Don't use my name. You want your payback? Just take it, call me slave like everyone else because you can't make it hurt worse. I'm not falling for that line of bullshit."

Rant over, the vampire braced himself against the table, trembling. His head was turned away from her and Buffy knew that was because he was crying. She couldn't summon up the slightest bit of anger at being screamed at when it had obviously taken so much out of him. Whatever had happened to Spike to make him forget the last three years had left behind an entirely different vampire and Buffy had to stay calm and find a way of getting through to him because she couldn't rest while things were in this state.

"Spike, look at me."

The habit of obedience was long engrained and he turned his eyes to hers.

"I don't torture people. Not even vampires. What was done to you was evil, and I'm the girl that takes a stand against evil."

It was plain on his face that he didn't know what to believe. All self restraint gone, the naked fear in his expression was almost unbearable to look at.

"So you're not going to beat me for breaking the cup?"
 
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