I’ve had this empty hole inside. And I’m the idiot that dug it out.

That particular part of the conversation Buffy had had earlier with Xander played in her mind. Unfortunately, she knew exactly how he felt. It was funny how she as well as her two best friends managed to screw up their relationships— she and Xander nearly simultaneously.

Let’s face it; none of us are ever gonna have a happy, normal relationship.

We’re doomed!

Apparently, being a slayer wasn’t the only thing she was destined for. She had also been condemned to an endless sea of failed relationships.

“Why do I even bother?” she asked herself as she walked the familiar cemetery, twirling her stake. And then she looked up, and saw his crypt several yards away. She paused and thought that he was most certainly worth the bother and then some.

Even when he was being annoying…

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Spike approaching. He stopped when he noticed her, though pretended as if he didn’t see her as he put down his grocery bag to take out his lighter and pack of cigarettes.

“You lookin’ for me?” he asked with nonchalance, lighting up.

Buffy felt something not so pleasant constrict in her chest. She ignored it, though, refusing to let him see her wallowing, even if she was (coincidentally) in his neck of the woods. Not like she was looking for him or nothin’… Yeah.

“Really not,” she said monotonously, turning away. She may care, but at least she could feign indifference. There was a bit of comfort in that. And dignity.

Had to have some of that.

“Oh. Right then. Off you go.” Spike pocketed his lighter, thinking quickly on a way to stall her. He figured it would no longer be a common occurrence for him to be in close proximity to her anymore, being broken up or what all. He had to find some way to spend time with her. So, might as well drag out the brief moments he was given with her, eh?

Even if it will hurt like a bitch.

“Did you cry?” Buffy paused with her back to him, frozen in shock.

How could he know? Was it obvious? Are my eyes still puffy? She desperately hoped he couldn’t hear her heart race.

“What?” she asked him, a hint of fear coloring her voice.

“The wedding,” he clarified. She felt her muscles relax as she turned towards him. “Two hearts joined for eternity— great pelting showers of rice and so forth.”

She walked closer to him and said, “You didn’t hear.”

“What? Families get out of hand? Tear the place apart?”

“No. Well, yes. Absolutely. But… Xander left. The wedding didn’t happen.”

Spikes eyes widened in shock. He sat down on the bench next to him, hoping she would follow suit.

A full blown conversation was much better than a few sentences in passing...

“Well. Gotta say… didn’t see that coming.” He thought he had helped assuage Xander’s fears of holy matrimony… Apparently not. Not that he should feel bad about it. Harris was a total git. Period. And what right did he have on giving out advice for relationships anyway?

“It was awful. Anya was devastated.” She sat down next to him, not leaving much space between them. Not that she did it on purpose. Cause um, the bench was awfully small. Yeah. Okay, that wasn’t completely true, if not at all. It’s just… when would she get another opportunity? Chances were he’d avoid her like the plague or something. She wouldn’t have even seen him then had she not been “patrolling” only yards from where he resided at.

“Is that right?” he asked, eyeing her. Wondering what she was thinking. If she thought about him… probably not.

No need to entertain those thoughts, mate. She was probably relieved when I called it off— saved her the bloody trouble.

“They were… they were supposed to be the soothing light at the end of tunnel for me, you know?”

“Instead it was just a freight train, eh?” Buffy nodded solemnly, looking straight ahead. “Can’t rely on others for your happiness, pet,” he muttered. Buffy glanced at him briefly before shifting her eyes straight ahead again.

“Xander… thinks maybe they can still get back together, but… he hurt her a lot. “

“Yea, well… some people can’t see a good thing when they’ve got it,” he said in a matter of fact tone (though hurt and a bit of anger seeped through), keeping his gaze steady upon her. She returned his stare, and swallowed once before responding.

“I saw it, Spike. I’m just sorry that I didn’t acknowledge it.” A brief spark of hopefulness flickered across his face before returning to cool indifference. Buffy saw it before it disappeared, though, and felt a wave of warm hope blossom in her chest. Spike took another drag on his cigarette.

“You admitting there was something to acknowledge then?”

“Of course, Spike. I know that it’s late… But I knew I had a good thing.” Spike looked down, flicking off ashes onto the grass, mulling her answer over.

“Did you mean it?” she asked him quietly. He snapped his head back up, full attention on her.

“Did I mean what?” he asked, unsure of what she was referring to.

“That we couldn’t… be friends?” she asked timidly. “Patrol? Just… just talking, even? Something…” Spike swallowed deeply, looking down at the burning embers of his cigarette. Buffy just watched him, gripping her stake.

“It’s… it’s too soon, luv.” Buffy didn’t think she’d hear him call her “luv” again. Of course, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stand to be around her, apparently.

“Even this, here—now, is hard. Too soddin’—” Before Spike could finish his sentence, Buffy was up and running away from him.

“Buffy! I didn’t say never!” Buffy paused, but didn’t turn around. Instead, she collapsed to the ground.

“Buffy?” He continued to sit on the bench, stunned and a bit perplexed. "Buffy!” Spike yelled, running over to her once he realized she wasn’t getting up. Just as he reached her, Willow and Xander approached, carrying stakes.

“Buffy?” Willow asked worriedly when she saw her, dropping down to her knees beside her best friend.

“Spike— what happened? Was it a demon?” Xander asked, looking back between Willow kneeling next to Buffy, and Spike, standing there staring, unsure of what to do exactly. He shook his head.

“Not a demon. We were just sitting over there, talking. She got up to leave, and…”

“Dizzy spell?” Xander asked, watching as Willow stroked Buffy’s brow.

“No. Buffy doesn’t get those. Slayer’s never sick,” Spike replied, focusing in on her heart beat. It was strong, if not a tad bit faster than usual.

What the bloody hell is wrong with her?

“Cept that one time, Xander. From that flu bug that was going around accompanied by exhaustion from slaying overtime,” Willow commented, stilling her hand on Buffy’s forehead to see if she had a fever. She did.

“Junior year,” Xander said absentmindedly. He turned to Spike. “When Angelus…” he trailed off. Spike was well aware.

“Buffy,” Spike said in relief as her eyes fluttered open. She sat up slowly.

“Buffy, are you okay?” Willow asked.

“What happened?” Xander asked before she could answer. She dipped her head, eyes fluttering closed again. She put her hands to her head, her face scrunching in agony.

“Oh… no!” She looked up and around as Xander and Willow flanked her, taking her arms to help her stand.

“Here, let’s get her back to my crypt,” Spike said, not taking his eyes off of Buffy. She didn’t look so well.

And a bit…confused.

“It’s okay, Spike. I think it’s best if we just took her home,” Xander said.

“No, guys, I’m okay. I’m okay.” Buffy bleary eyed and wobbly on her feet, wasn’t exactly convincing.

“Come on, Xander. Help me get her home,” Willow said in a tone that left no room for an argument. Spike watched them silently as they walked away.

“Put a little ice on the back of her neck,” he called out to them before they were out of earshot. He turned and picked up his bag of groceries, knowing that her mates would take care of her.

“She likes that,” he said to himself, shaking his head briefly before walking off.

It was only an hour or so later when Harris showed up, telling him that some demon had given Buffy a dose of something, and the antidote was in his venom. Of course the boy couldn’t track and catch him alone.

Spike exhaled slowly as he took a sideward glance at Xander with his flashlight and dart rifle as they traveled through the forest.

“So, she’s having the wiggins, is she? Thinks none of us are real. Bloody self-centered if you ask me.” Spike sounded only slightly spiteful. He was immensely relieved that it wasn’t something dire, and could be solved quickly. Once he captured the demon, that is.

“Spike, we need muscle, not colorful commentary.”

“Yea, yea. Keep your soddin’ knickers on. Got a beastie to find for the Slayer, right? After all, it is always about her. Her timetable, her needs, bloody assumptions—”

“Um, you think we can focus for a second? This is kinda important.”

“Good to see you’re focused on what’s important and what’s not. Like at your wedding. Oh wait…”

“Don’t. Even. Start. Spike,” Xander gritted out.

“You made a huge mistake, you know? Bloody humans. Always playing the ‘what if?’ game; worry about things that may or may not come about instead of livin’ in the present.”

“You have no idea how I felt.”

“Maybe not. But I’d wager I know exactly how you feel right now—like a piece of—”

Before Spike could finish his statement, the demon leapt out at them. Xander yelped, attempting to aim the rifle.

“Oh balls. You didn’t say it was a glarghk guhl kashma'nik.”

“That’s because I can’t say glar—”

Once again the demon interrupted their exchange, knocking Xander to the ground, simultaneously attempting to kick at Spike, who ducked out of the way. During Spike and the demons multiple exchange of blows, Xander managed to fire off two darts into the demon, which were completely ineffective of taking him down. He knocked Xander once again to the ground, focusing on the greater threat— Spike. Spike, incredibly bored with the situation, and also in haste to get the serum to Buffy, grabed the glarghk… yeah, the demon from behind and twists its neck, rendering it unconscious.

Once the fight was officially over, Xander got up and walked over to Spike and the now laid out demon. He and Spike stand there panting, looking at it.

“I’m willing to bet he feels like a piece of manure. Get it? I…” he trailed off on Spike’s scowl. “Never mind.”

*****

“It’s your ideal reality, and I’m not even apart of it,” Dawn said angrily, tearfully.

“Dawn, I… I didn’t mean—”

“I have to go finish my chores.” Dawn turned her back on her, exiting the room.

Buffy put her hand up to her head, feeling dizzy.

How could that be an ideal reality? Stuck in a mental institution for nearly a decade? No Dawn, Willow, Xander, Spike… no Giles in either place now.

She laughed hard to herself, making the headache worse.

“But Mom…” Buffy closed her eyes, remembering the way her mother’s hand had felt on her cheek. She shook her head, refusing to cry.

“It wasn’t… it didn’t happen. It’s not real, that place,” she said aloud, attempting to convince herself. The nerds, of course, are attempting to make her crazy…

Crazy by making me believe that I was really crazy and that Sunnydale didn’t exist.

But why make up a reality as ludicrous as Sunnydale? Demons aside, why would her own mind betray her, and put her through so much grief? Losing her mom, Giles abandoning her, and just when she thought she had happiness with Spike… And where was she, mentally, when she was dead the whole summer? Nothing was making sense… Nothing was making any sense at all.

*****

Several hours later after capturing the demon and getting it to Buffy’s, Willow finally made the concoction that would make Buffy well again. Spike decided to leave the demon alive (and still chained to the pillar) just in case Willow needed more of his poison. He came out of the basement and headed up to the Slayer’s room, hovering in the doorway, a bit uncertain, as Willow began to come out.

“How is she?” he asked, itching for a cigarette, though he knew it wasn’t allowed in the Summers’ home.

“Make sure she drinks all that. I’m gonna let Dawn know that everything’s gonna be okay.” She gave Buffy a smile before leaving. Spike remained in the doorway.

“You alright?” he asked her quietly. Buffy grimaced, not looking at him.

“You need to leave me alone. You’re not apart of my life.”

“Alright. I suppose that’s fair, considering I was the one who said I couldn’t be around you…” He paused, entering the room slowly. “I just… I just want you to understand that when I said that, it wasn’t to hurt you. I just wanted to do what I thought—what I think is best for me. On the other hand, I had to make sure you were alright.” Buffy looked up at him, frowning.

“You don’t care about—”

“You? You’re daft if you think that I don’t. But we do need some time apart, Buffy. We both need time to suss things out. I hope you understand that.” Spike let out a weary sigh as Buffy frowned even more.

“I love you Buffy, but we can’t be together. At least, not like this. S’ not fair to me if trust, among other things, will only be a one way street.” He swallowed, as if he were waiting for something… Whatever it was, it never came. All he got was Buffy’s frowning face. He turned and left.

Buffy’s face went from a frown to pure anguish as she held the mug up. She paused, and then brought it up to her lips. She paused again, staring off into space and pondering. Slowly, she held the mug out, tipping it over the trash can, letting all of its contents spill out.

She didn’t want to be there anymore.

*****

It was about ten minutes down into the tunnels that Spike realized that he hadn’t made sure that Buffy had taken that nasty, goopy slop that Willow called the anecdote.

Had to make sure that Buffy was officially off of the Funny Farm.

“Bugger,” he said tiredly, heading back from the direction from whence he came. He pulled out his pack of mentholated smokes and silver lighter, lighting up a fag with a casual ease that appeared sexy as hell on him. Perhaps that isn’t fair to say, for pretty much everything Spike does looks sexy. Go figure.

On his walk back to the Summers’ home, he pondered the past events of the last few days. He and Buffy just couldn’t seem to stop bumping heads. Sure she was currently insane from a venomous poison, but still…

And her betrayal with the wanker.

It was just incredibly hard to believe that she could be so gullible.

It must’ve been something deep down within her, looking for a way out. Couldn’t handle a real relationship, could she? Hell, maybe it was just me…

Yes, deep insecurities had finally reared its ugly head again.

Spike pulled his coat over his head as he made a mad dash to the kitchen back door, rushing inside (of course it was unlocked— they never learn) and slammed it shut behind him. Straightening his jacket, he listened, not hearing any noise really on the main floor or upstairs.

“Buffy, help me!” He heard the whelp yell from the basement. Spike opened up the basement door and headed down the stairs. On the middle step, he could see Willow, bound and gagged on the cold floor.

“Red!” he called out to her, leaping over the stair rail to the floor in a fluid motion, reminiscent of a large jungle cat. As soon as he landed in a crouch position, he took a hard hit to the noggin. Buffy decided to go upside his head with a shovel. She hit him so hard with it, it broke in half. It stunned him, but he was still alert enough to kick her in the midsection, clear across the room.

“Always goin’ for my head,” he muttered, coming up behind the demon (who was about to attack a still bound, but standing Xander) and grabbing him in a headlock. He ran full speed towards the brick wall with the demon still in his grip, stopping short as he released him head first into the wall. It knocked the demon out cold. Before Spike could catch the breath he didn’t need, Buffy grabbed him by the shoulders, and threw him to the ground. She then jumped on top of him, straddling him as punched him hard in the face three times in rapid succession.

“I have to get better,” she said in a monotonous tone, eyes glazed.

“I know I used to be into this kinda thing. But pet, dementia really doesn’t look too good on you.” Buffy grabbed his hair, pulling his head up before slamming it down onto the cement floor. All business, she was. Spike was thoroughly dazed now. He had a headache from hell.

You’re a survivor. You can do this Buffy heard her mom to say to her. She nodded bravely, grabbing the top half of the broken shovel. She raised it high above her head, the jagged edges aimed directly at Spike’s heart.

“Buffy— what are you doing?” she heard Xander yell out in a panic, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of Spike. There was something vaguely familiar about it all… He was lying there, deathly still, and she was ready to stake him, because he wasn’t real, and she had to get better, and—

“Katrina?” Buffy said to herself quietly. She remembered the dream, where she staked Spike, and he turned into Katrina— the girl that Warren killed, and tried to blame on her. He tried to set her up; he tried to make her believe that she was a murderer. But she wasn’t. And now he was trying to make her believe she was insane. Her arm wavered as she dropped the makeshift stake to the floor, her hands shaking. She put her hands out in front of her— they were still trembling. She had almost killed Spike, her best friends and her sister. Tears began to pour from her eyes.

“Spike?” she whispered to him. His eyes fluttered, and he turned his head, looking at her.

“Buffy?”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t… I’m not well. I’m not…” she trailed off. Spike sat up slowly, Buffy still on his lap. She started looking at her shaking hands again.

“I need help, Spike. I’m all—”

“I know, Buffy. S’ alright, now,” he said gently, soothingly, attempting to ignore the pain in his head. He took both of her hands in his and placed them down on the tops of her thighs. He then placed his hands softly on the sides of her face, lifting it up just so, so that she could look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispered to her. He then quickly yanked her head toward his, ramming his forehead into hers, effectively knocking her out. He let his hands slip to her shoulders, and slowly lowered her to the floor. Spike got up, dragging the demon back over to the pillar and re-chained him. Then he walked back over to Buffy and picked her up, carrying her to Xander’s pillar. Once he had effectively tied her to it, he untied Xander before going to help Dawn and Willow.

“How?” Xander asked, stupefied.

“How what?” Spike asked irritably, finished taking off Dawn’s rope before going to Willow.

“Thank god you got here, Spike. Buffy was totally out of her friggin’ mind,” Dawn said, rubbing her wrists gingerly. “It was… scary,” she said softly, looking at her immobile sister.

“Thanks, Spike. But then… you were the one who said he’d make sure she drunk that stuff in the first place,” Willow complained as she attempted to help Spike untie her feet. He batted her hands away, knowing it would go faster if he did it himself.

“Sorry. Was a bit distracted.”

“How, Spike?” Xander asked more firmly, standing behind him. Spike turned once the knots were loose. He stood up and faced the now angry brick layer.

“How what, Harris?”

“How were you able to hit Buffy with no pain?” Spike paused, not sure what to say.

“Well… dire emergency, wasn’t it? Guess uh, guess it didn’t matter.”

“Try again, fang boy. When you first got that chip, you couldn’t even point a fake gun at me. Willow, Dawn, upstairs now,” he said firmly.

“Xander, you’re totally overreacting— he just saved us,” Dawn pointed out.

“And Xander… his chip still works,” Willow said sheepishly.

“What? What are you—”

“The long and short of it? When we resurrected Buffy, she had some slight molecular changes. Like a molecular tan. Just enough difference that it could fool Spike’s chip,” Willow explained.

“Even so, he could still hurt Buffy, Will. Gotta get Tara to do a de-invite spell.”

“What? No!” Dawn objected vehemently.

“Blowing things way outta proportion, Xander. I’m not gonna hurt Buffy,” Spike said, body tensed in anger.

“Oh, like how you just didn’t ram your head into hers, knocking her out? If we weren’t here, you’d probably be making yourself a Slayer snack about now, huh?”

“It’s clear you’ve completely lost it. And I’ve had enough of crazy for one day,” Spike retorted, heading up the stairs. Just as he was about to open the kitchen door, he heard Dawn make it to the top of the stairs.

“And here I thought you were fond of ‘crazy.’ Buffy should be perfect for you now,” Dawn half joked. He turned to look at her.

“Dawnie, the dating of women past twelve on the crazy clock is more than over for me. I truly did appreciate your sister’s sanity.”

“Really hating the use of past tense verbs in your sentences. At least, when it’s in regards to Buffy,” she said solemnly. “When are you going to forgive her?” He gritted his teeth a bit before a look feigning thoughtfulness appeared on his face.

“You know? How about when she finally asks for it? When she shows that she does appreciate me? How about that?” Dawn pouted at his sarcasm.

“That face doesn’t work on me, Nibblet. Give us adults some time, yea?” He opened the door to leave.

“Time? Well maybe it’s time the two of you stop acting like babies!” she yelled to his rapidly retreating form. “I swear I’m the most adult one around here. And technically the oldest,” she thought aloud to herself, closing the door.

*
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A/N: Yeah, so after “As You Were,” I’ve been writing this story as I go along. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and I’m terrified at the prospect of disappointing you all… Please let me know your opinion of what you would like to see happen next. I’m not making any promises, but as a writer, I am after all, catering to you.

Until next time…