Second Sight by AJ Hofacre

Chapter #1 - Risk The Pain

It hurts. It hurts so much, and I know that I got myself into this, but Christ, I just wish it would stop. After this I’ll be hailed as a hero. After all, I’m the Slayer that fought a god, the Slayer that fought for five years against the forces of darkness to make the world a better place. I’m the Slayer that killed herself for her sister and friends. Oh, god, it hurts. I think this is just my way of getting out. I’m tired... I’m so tired of saving the world all the time, of being the one everyone counts on. I can’t be myself anymore. I have to be what they need me to be. Even my friends can’t seem to recognize me from the Slayer anymore. They know who Buffy is, and they know who the Slayer is. But ever since the Glory shit started going downhill, ever since Mom died, Buffy the scared college sophomore seems to have faded from existence. She’s been replaced by Buffy the hard, steely Slayer, who saves the world on a daily basis, no matter what the cost. Humph. I’d like to see them try and make me do it now. I just want this to end, so, so much. I know it’s selfish of me. I can’t help it. I’ve given myself to the Powers for five years, though. I’ve served the world for five years, not that anyone other than my little group will ever know that, and it’s just... it’s my time to go. It’s got to be. I can’t be selfless like that anymore. By being selfish for once, I’m giving everyone else a new chance. Dawn can live out her life now. It hurt her so much to know that she was only some mystical energy funneled into the form of a fourteen-year-old girl. "Is this blood?” "Dawn!” "Oh, baby –“ "What did you do?!” "This is blood, isn't it? It can't be me. I'm not a key. I'm not a thing.” "Oh, sweetie, no. Wha-what is this all about?” "What am I? Am I real? Am I anything?" If she wasn’t before, she can be real now. She can be something. Make something of herself. No one can hold her back. Over the dull rush of wind and light crackling in my ears, I was sure I could hear her crying. I know it isn’t fair, sweetheart. First Mom, now me. You’re all alone. She isn’t, really. She has the Scoobies. Willow. "Willow, hi!” "Hey, Dawnie! How’s my favorite chess partner? Still leading with your knight?" Tara. "Do you wanna thumb-wrestle?” "Okay." Xander. "Dawn patrol!” "Hey!” "Check this out, they put cheese on round bread. It's gonna be big." Hmm. Anya, too. "We are gonna have fun, fun, fun. Look, I've got Monopoly, Clue, and ooh, the Game of Life! That sounds good!" I can trust all of them to care for her. They’re not the most conventional group of people – Willow and Tara are active witches, Anya’s an ex-vengeance demon with little or no tact, and Xander is – well, Xander... but they’d get the job done. I’m gonna miss them. So much. But like I told Dawnie, this is the work I have to do. This is why I was called. I knew it was gonna end eventually – I didn’t want it to then. I do now. I know better now. I have to leave to keep the world going round. I don’t think it’s a stupid reason at all. It’s just my death wish, catching up to me, just like Spike said. "Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later it's gonna catch you.” "And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish. Even you." I don’t think he was imagining something quite like this when he said it, though. I think some part of him still tried to hate me, still wanted to kill me, and what I said to him after that probably pushed him over the edge. I wanted to kill him that night, I wanted to hurt him, either physically or emotionally because he scared me so badly. But I know that he was just being himself – he was just telling me what I wanted to hear; he was telling me the truth. At least I can trust him for that. I can trust his love. He proved it to me. "Why did you let that Glory hurt you?” "She wanted to know who the key was.” "Oh, well, I can tell her, and then you'll—“ "No! You can't ever. Glory never finds out.” "Why?” "Cause Buffy.... the other, not-so-pleasant Buffy... anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her bein' in that much pain. Let Glory kill me first... Hmm... Nearly bloody did." After everything I had said and done to him, he still didn’t betray me to her. Yeah, Glory found out about Dawn, but the point was, Spike wasn’t the one who told her. It would’ve been hell to have to go through all this earlier on in the game. Like it’s any fun right now. Being sucked of my life force here, and not in the usual way? Major ouchies. He loves me. It’s so hard to believe, but there’s something inside of me that tells me it’s true. He wasn’t just messing with my head. Dawn was right. I really should have known better. It’s the little things I remember about him this year that clued me in. The way he would act... "Oh, yeah. Okay, let me guess... you won't kill me? Wooo... the whole crowd-pleasing threats-and-swagger routine! How stunningly original. You know, I'm just passing through. Satisfied?... You know, I really hope so because God knows you need some satisfaction in life besides shagging Captain Cardboard and... I never really liked you anyway and... and you have stupid hair!" I think I should have realized that he was being more defensive than usual right then. The out-of-character things he would do that would shatter my perceptions of him, and how nervous he could get if I questioned him enough... "What do you want now?” "... what’s wrong?” "I don’t want to talk about it.” "... Is there something I can do?" "Spike?” "Yeah, listen, uh, did you hear a noise?” "What the hell are you doing in my house?” "Right then, caught me... Your basement’s full of junk. And... me being in need of, uh, junk...” "You were stealing?” "Well, yeah. Can’t exactly work the counter at Burger Barn, can I?” "Wait, are those pictures of me?" "It’s me.” "Every time you show up like this, you risk all of your parts, you know that?” "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a good reason. As usual, I’m here to help you and I – are you naked under there?” "Get out.” "No, I’m serious. I mean, not about the naked part. I mean...” "Get out or I will drop you out head-first!” "What are you doing?” "Making this woman more comfortable. I’m not sampling, I’ll have you know. Just look at all these lovely blood-covered people. I could, but not a taste for Spike, not a lick. Know you wouldn’t like it.” "You want credit for not feeding on bleeding disaster victims?” "Well… yeah.” "You’re disgusting!” "You were right. This is my fault. I should have told her.” "Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out. She's not just a blob of energy, she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb. Which one's screwing her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel. You'll find her, just in the nick of time, that's what you hero types do... You'll find her.” "And then what?” There’s also the fact that he loves me and admits to it. “I love you.” "Oh, my god.” "No, look at me! I... love you. You're all I bloody think about. Dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you, Summers, I'm drowning in you.” Maybe if I hadn’t been chained to his wall with Drusilla tied up about ten feet in front of me, I might’ve actually listened to him for once. But I was angry, and when I get angry, I tend to make some... not-so-sound judgments. Also, I can be a real bitch. I was a colossal bitch to him that night. He deserved most of it, but I think now I shouldn’t have taken it as far as I did. I went a little over the line with most of the stuff I said. I mean, I had Willow disinvite him from my home because all he said was that he loved me. Before that, he’d had an open invitation to my house for years! Before he even had the chip! God, maybe if I had listened to him, like he’d wanted, things might’ve turned out differently. Er... I mean, I’d still have let him know that he didn’t have Antarctica’s chance in hell, but he and I might’ve been a little better off. I’m just trying to make myself feel better. He put himself through hell for me, when he had nothing but my hate and scorn. Of course, I’m still mad about him chaining me up, and egad, let’s not forget the BuffyBot incident (actually, we can totally forget about that), but... he did some amazing things for me. Glory nearly demolished him that night. Even Xander felt bad for him, and that’s saying something. Xander has hated all vampires ever since his friend Jesse was turned into one, and he’d had to stake him. Of course, Xander’s early crush on me and my falling in love with Angel instead probably didn’t help things much. And then Spike came along, so of course he was no exception to the rule. But at times, it was almost like he and Xander could get along if there hadn’t been all that weirdness between them. Like maybe Xander was just transferring his Angel-hate to Spike, since Angel was gone. Oh, I don’t know. Spike stole an RV for me, when we had to hit the road to get away from Glory. That’s not saying much, but those weird looking goggles were amusing, the RV did get us pretty far, and he didn’t even hesitate to snatch it in the first place – because I asked him to. He even took a sword for me – sliced his palms right down the middle. I would’ve been stabbed in the head if Spike hadn’t shoved me aside and grabbed the blade. I wanted to kiss him tonight. To just fall into his arms and let the world melt away. I should’ve said something to him tonight, something reassuring. I should have said something before I made that jump... God, I don’t even know where he is, or if he’s alright. Dammit, I knew someone would die tonight... I should’ve known better than to leave things unsaid. He thought it was going to be him. "We're not all gonna make it. You know that.” "Yeah. Hey. Always knew I'd go down fightin'.” "I'm counting on you. To protect her.” "Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight.” "I'll be a minute.” "Yeah... I know you'll never love me. I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's...” I don’t trust just anyone to be enlisted as my younger sister’s official protector. I wanted it to be Spike because he’s as strong as I am. And he cares about her as much as I do, too. I wanted to know what he’d been going to say. I’d been standing there, listening to his words, listening to him call himself a monster, and acknowledge the fact that I could never love him. He’d paused, and then mentioned something about waiting for me. I trudged slowly up the stairs after watching him for a minute longer. Talk about conflicts. That was when I knew. That was when I finally knew that Spike loved me. Because he believed that I couldn’t love him back, yet he was willing to stay with me, all the way to the end. He was preparing himself to die – to protect me, to protect my friends, and Giles, and my sister – all because he loved me. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect anything of me, he didn’t expect me to fall into his arms, shouting my eternal devotion to him. Instead, he stood by my side, fought with my friends, and did his best to protect my sister. He got knocked off of the tower for his troubles. He didn’t have to be here. But he was. I was wrong. Spike’s not a monster. I don’t think… I don’t think he ever had been. Maybe I should’ve told him I cared. Guess it’s a little too late now. The pain is blinding. The power of the vortex is pretty much sweeping the inside of my body clean, tugging away at my life. The pressure is building, slowly, painfully slowly, my head feels like it’s going to explode, and I don’t think I can take much more, because if these keeps going I’m gonna have to stab myself and put me out of my misery. And like a prayer’s been answered, it stops. The pain is gone. Now I’m just floating. I can see my body falling. I barely wince as it crashes down on the brick and debris, shattering. I’m drifting down. Giles is waving away at the smoke and dust. It’s morning, I can see the light streaking over the buildings. I’m chicken shit. I can’t even bring myself to look at my own dead body. Something just registered. Wow – I’m dead. Holy... Giles looks absolutely astonished. Not really the reaction I was expecting there, buddy. Willow’s is more appropriate. She’s freaking out, and Tara’s holding on to her, trying to calm her down. Xander looks numb. I can see Anya in his arms... poor Ahn must’ve gotten hit by something major. She looks horrified. Or maybe it’s just seeing yet another human death. First Mom, now me. Dawn is coming down the steps of the tower now. I can see her, trying to hold back her tears. The first person she walks to is Spike. I follow her movements, and that’s when I finally notice him. He’s on the outskirts of the group, curled up on the ground. His leg is broken. He’ll need about a month of rehab to fix that. God. He’s sobbing his eyes out. He’s crying over me. Over me. The bitch that used him as a punching bag for two years, the bitch that put herself up on a pedestal compared to him. The bitch that told him that he was beneath her. William is crying over me. He and Dawn both are. My sister has her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He won’t uncurl, he just has his face buried in Dawn’s shoulder, and he’s rocking back and forth, crying. Crying. Never thought I’d see the day when Spike would cry. Too bad it had to be now. It always takes something tragic to reveal your true self to people. Maybe I should’ve told him I cared. Then at least I could leave and not feel like such a cruel, heartless bitch about the way I treated him. I try to justify myself by saying he did loads of stupid shit that made him deserve everything I said and did. But the truth is that no matter what anyone does, nobody deserves the things I did to him. It’s been my undoing. I didn’t lose the ability to love. I lost the ability to feel compassion. I can’t react soundly. I’m one big black hole. Spike tried to do good, tried to show me he’d changed, did everything in his power to make me like him, and I ruined his efforts. Everything he said or did that was nice, I ended up quadrupling and throwing back in his face as hate and disgust. Why did he disgust me so much? Was it just because he was a vampire? Or maybe I just hated him because he was there? A reminder of what Angel had been, solid, constant, by my side... he was even related to Angel. Maybe I really am a selfish, self-satisfied, holier-than-thou bitch and I just looked down on him because I thought that I was better than him. I used his inadequacy to me to make myself feel better. I’m the Slayer, you’re a vampire, hey, I can kick your ass, I’m better than you. Right. Pull the other one. Is it too late for me to apologize? Floating down, I pull in close to him. I can feel the hurt, the pain, the grief rolling off of him in waves. Not just that. I can feel guilt. He thinks this is his fault. If I could kiss him now, really kiss him, I would. Anything to make him feel better. This wasn’t his fault. Never his fault. Boy, I really am a cold-hearted bitch. I lean forward and press my airy lips against his forehead. He shifts at the sensation, and it seems to make his tears come faster. Anyway. I guess it’s time to go. He’s starting to fade. I don’t want that. Maybe I can come back and visit him. If I could stay, I would, guys. But that can’t happen. My work is done. I’ve finally given you my all. I can leave. I brush my fingers against Dawnie’s wet cheek and she shivers a little. Hmm... maybe she can sense me too? I love you, Dawn. Be a good girl for me. Giles, Xander, be strong. Don’t let this get to you too much. You know I’ll still always be here. Wills, I need you to be the brave one. I need you to be there for the group. Spike... love Dawn. Take care of her for me. It’s all I ask of you. So this is what the First Slayer meant. All her ‘you are full of love’ and ‘risk the pain’ bull was just her cryptic way of telling me that I love till it hurts and that it’ll kill me. She could’ve made it a little easier. At least easier on them. But it’s all right. The grief will go away. I’ll still be in their hearts. Hey, it’s not like they can resurrect me, right? They know better. End Part 1

Chapter #2 - Working Through

Working Through It’s so quiet. It’s weird, really. This isn’t what I expected when I got to the pearly white gates. Maybe it was the imagery that so many people yapped about. Blindingly white, poofy clouds to lounge on, perfect serenity everywhere, everything and anything you want, pure and mystical (right, like I haven’t seen enough mystical things in my time). I was pretty surprised when I got here, and none of those ideals were functioning. Not that this place isn’t perfect. It’s beautiful, serene, majestic, all those other words that can basically be summed up by saying, "oooh, pretty." It’s not all white up here. It’s perfect, though; there’s shimmery peaches, and pinks, and purples, and blues, and greens, and creams everywhere, and it’s all exquisite. You don’t sprawl around on clouds, like I said before. I mean, the clouds are there, but it’s kind of like they’re there for scenery or something. Instead of sitting, you really just float. Oh, and if you wanna get somewhere, it’s sort of by teleportation. You just think of where you want to be and boom, there you are. It’s nifty, sort of like Star Trek, except without all the pretty, shimmery sparkly stuff coming down. You don’t talk up here, either. Well, you talk, but not like you talk on Earth. In Heaven... you use more of a telepathy. Just concentrate on whoever it is that’s in front of you, and listen to their mind, and once you get galled into a couple of unwitting conversations, you kinda get the hang of it. I thought I’d go crazy when I first got here, and my mouth wouldn’t move. That’s when I realized that I have no mouth. I have no body; I’m just a being. I exist, but I’m not solid. It’s definitely weird. Probably the best thing that has happened to me since I came here, is that I’ve been reunited with my mother. Yep, Mom’s up here. I passed through to this plane, and the first one waiting for me was Mom. And the first thing she told me was, "I am so proud of you." I would have cried had I been able to (yeah, no crying up here, either). And even though my sister is all alone down there -- the-last-of-our-family type of alone, I mean -- Mom thinks I did the right thing. She isn’t too happy that I had to kill myself for it to be the right thing, because she wanted me to be able to live out a future. Pfft. Like I had a future. What was I gonna do? Slay-for-pay for the rest of my life? Bah. I’m not too happy about Mom’s recaptured role of SuperMom, though. Even in Heaven, where you barely have to lift a finger for anything (actually, if there’s something you want that isn’t within your immediate reach, all you have to do is reach out your hand and concentrate on the object, and it’ll come to you). My mom honed up her nagging skills before I came here, it’s kind of evident. She likes taking back her position and ordering me to clean or something. Like what do I have to clean? It’s like -- snap of the finger and poof: all tidy. Another thing I’m not too keen on is watching my friends. When I look down on them, it’s apparent that they aren’t coping too well. They’re doing fine ridding Sunnydale of its vampire population and everything, but they don’t want to seem to get over my death. At least, Willow and Xander don’t. Giles, Anya, and Tara are at least trying to get on without me. I think Giles even left. I’m not sure. Sometimes I’ll look down, and I can see Willow holding her head in her hands and sobbing her eyes out. And Xander will just walk around in a complete daze, like a zombie. I know I shouldn’t expect them to be over this in a snap, but it’s been quite a while down there, they should at least be trying. Right? They’ve employed the BuffyBot again, in order to fool the demon population into thinking I’m still around. I watched Willow fix it up again. Jeez, they really don’t wanna let go of me. It’s getting unnerving. Dawn is trying her hardest, I can tell. I think her grades might be slipping again. I understand why. Poor Dawn. First, the three of us lost Dad from the divorce. Then she and I lost Mom. And then she lost me. She has my friends, though. And more importantly, she has Spike. There we go. Been wondering when I’d get to him, right? Yeah, well, truth of the matter is that Spike has kept good on his word. He’s made himself an integral part of Dawn’s life, I can tell. I look down on them, and whenever there’s a particularly evil baddie the gang needs help with, or Dawn needs a baby-sitter, or she gets herself into some sort of trouble, whether it be scraping her knee or getting chased by some ugly, horned demon, Spike is right there next to her in under a fraction of a second. He’s protected her all summer long. I knew I could count on him. I worry about him, though. Because when I look into Spike’s head as he sleeps, I see the same thing, every single night. The same scene that should’ve left his mind by now. Me, on the scaffolding of that tower, from Spike’s point of view, taking a running leap and jumping into the vortex. Sometimes he’s standing right behind me, screaming out my name but completely unable to move any muscles at all, sometimes he’s standing below and can do nothing but watch as I take the plunge. He’s torturing himself with my death. And it’s heartbreaking, really. Because Spike believes that it’s his fault that I died. I’ve been watching him a lot more lately, and I’ll sneak into his head a few times, manipulate his dreams a little. Just trying to make him feel better. He feels grief and guilt because of me, so I try to level it for him, even though I’m not there. I’ll make his body dive, make him grab Doc and throw the little bastard off the tower before he can slice Dawn, just in the nick of time. The ritual’s time limit fizzles out, and Spike’s just saved my sister, and me. Maybe it seems a little cruel to put those ideas into his head. I’ve been doing it for him since the night I died. I don’t want him to feel guilty. I want him to know that what I did was necessary; that if I hadn’t thrown myself off, Dawn would’ve died, he would have died, Giles and Xander and Anya and Will and Tara would all have been goners. Maybe I am torturing him more with making him dream that he’s saving my life, but I think he prefers that rather than dreaming night after night of my untimely demise. One time I even saw him smile in his sleep. Of course, that was probably because I manipulated his mind some more that night by allowing him to kiss me in one of his dreams. Er…. Don’t pay attention to that, I didn’t really say it. Even Spike’s Biggest Fan has been nagging at me because of him. And here she comes now. Time for more Spike-related nagging already? Yay. Hey, Mom. Hello, sweetheart. She floats next to me without saying anything. I can tell that she’s following my gaze. Weird, right? We have no bodies, yet we know exactly what the other is doing. I feel a little sheepish, because it's obvious that I’ve been watching Spike again. He’s with Dawnie, and she’s snuggled up to him in the living room of our house. They’re watching TV. I sense Mom’s gaze drift away and focus on me. You’re torturing yourself, Buffy. I look toward her sharply. What? That’s ridiculous. I am not. Oh, I so am. Oh, you so are. Heh. She knows me way too well. She senses my humor. See? I know you, Buffy, I know how you are. I’d roll my eyes if I could. Yeah, okay, fine, so what if I am? I’m sorry, Mom. I miss her. The voice pattern I hear is sympathetic. I know, baby. I miss her, too. But I wasn’t talking about Dawnie. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to you lately. I notice that you’ve been keeping watch over a certain vampire...? Oh, crap and a half. She's noticed? If I had a body, now would generally be when I’d blush a bright beet red head to toe. I have not! Oh, yes I have. Oh, yes you have, don’t you even try to lie to me, young lady. Don’t forget, we’re not on earth anymore. Sorry, Mom. This is the oddest conversation, I swear... I sense Mom beckoning me in a different direction, so I follow the pretty copper-ish light that surrounds Mom’s essence. Me? I kind of have a reddish-gold glow with silver and blue sparklies. Buffy. I look toward my mom. Yes? How do you feel about him? She’s always been straightforward. That’s my mom; she just cuts right to the point, whether she’s alive, or... well, alive on another plane. I don’t know, Mom. I trust him with Dawn’s life. I think he’s a good fighter. He’s a huge help with my friends. And suprisingly, he’s... he was a good... friend... to me. Her voice filled my head, her laughter like tinkling little bells, amusement all too clear. Buffy, I can see right through you. I look down at my non-existent body’s floaty-ness. So can I. She chuckled again. You know what I mean. Buffy, I’m your mother. I know that you feel something for him. Maybe something as strong as you felt for Angel...? Mother! Don’t ever compare whatever I feel for Spike to whatever I felt for Angel again! That is so of the wrong, that... that I... Argh! I hate it when she does that! Even without a tongue, she always ends up leaving me tongue-tied! Buffy. Don’t be testy. Like I said, I’m your mother, I know. Yeah, yeah, yeah... Oh, so you do feel something for him, then? Mom! Her sweet laugh is heard once again. Oh, come off it, Buffy. Admit it. There was something there between you. I pout to myself. I don’t wanna answer. ‘S not fair. Moms always have the upper hand on you. Okay, okay. Maybe a little something. Like a spark. Not even a spark, more like a twitch. Spike shouldn’t merit a twitch, even. And why are you suddenly so gung-ho about whatever that perverse thing between us was? You were terrified when I first told you that he was in love with me! You even said to try and turn him off of me! Her voice is contrite. I think he’s more than made up for it, sweetheart. I frown. Unfortunately, she does have a point there. And I hate to admit it, but... I... did... sort of... have an attraction to him. It was minor, though. Minor attraction. Really. Whoa. What just went through me? I look toward my mother’s glow. Mom? What was that? Mom sounds scared. Uh-oh. Not good. I-I don’t know. You... just sort of rippled. Rippled? Oh. There it goes again. Okay, this is weird. Things are starting to flash. I keep seeing black. Okay... now I’m starting to get scared. Something is tugging at me, and I look frantically toward Mom. Mom, what’s happening?! She sounds as helpless as I feel. I-I don’t know, Buffy, just try to hold on! There’s a whirring sound filling my ears now and the tugging becomes stronger, almost insistent. MOM! I scream. I can feel her hold on me begin to slip, and my surroundings begin to flash in and out, spinning into a myriad of dizzying colors. I keep trying to hold back. I know that I’m not gonna like the result of what’s happening, but something just won’t let up. Something is happening, something bad, and oh, god, I can’t hear Mom anymore. The colors start flashing faster, between a sort of tie-dye scene and black. The tugging is becoming slightly less insistent, but I can still feel it, and the black is becoming more apparent. And suddenly, I spasm, drawing in a deep, desperate breath. My eyes open and I look around me frantically. Oh my god. No. No, please, no. Oh my god. I’m in a coffin. Why am I in a coffin? That’s right. I died. So if I’m dead, then why the hell am I not back up there with Mom? Why am I in a coffin? Oh, Jesus. I have to get out of here. I start tearing and clawing at the silken insides of the box, desperate to get out. Someone’s locked me in here. The last span of time has all just been a dream, or I’ve been hallucinating while some big baddie had their fun with me, locking me in a box and trying to fucking suffocate me! I’ve regained use of curse words. This can not be good. Somebody has made this fabric really strong, because I keep trying to tear my way through, and it just -- There. There! It’s ripped. Oh thank God, it’s ripped. Oh, hell. I forgot. It only covers the wooden part of it. My air isn’t going to last much longer. I have to get out of here. I have to! I have to know where I am! I have to know why I’m here! My hands begin clawing and scratching so frenziedly that I think I’m scratching right through the wood. Let me out; let me out, PLEASE, for the love of all that’s holy, let me out of this box! I think I’ve regained normal muscle strength, because suddenly, I’m not just scratching at the wood, I’m tearing chunks of it off. So I test my punches. My hand goes right through the lid. Normal muscle strength is definitely a go, so I keep punching, and dirt spills out on top of me. No... no, it’s taking up my room. I need to breath; I have to breath. My lungs hurt so bad, and I need to get air in them now or I know I’m going to suffocate. I lift myself up and shove my way through the dirt that keeps piling onto me. I tear away at the packed soil that’s above that and push myself out of the box. I’ve got to feel my way up. Where am I going? I have to get out. I need air! I punch through the dirt more; that seems to be working. I squirm higher and higher and -- there! My fist breaks through to the surface. I can feel a cold breeze blowing across my bleeding hand. Where in the world... My other hand pushes up and both set themselves against the ground. I lift myself up and -- air. Oh. I’m out, oh, god, oh, god, I’m out, thank God. I can feel my lungs expand and deflate with each desperate gasp of air I take, and I start looking around. What the hell am I wearing? I don’t remember owning this. What the hell is the big idea burying me ali-- No. No, no, no. This can not be happening. Buffy Anne Summers 1981 -- 2001 I’m dead. Or I was. I look down at myself. There’s only one thought that flashes through my mind. I’m too pale. Pale? No. That shouldn’t be right. I haven’t been in there that long have I? Pale? I can’t be. I’m healthy. I just burst out through a hole in the ground, that shows you how strong -- Oh dear God. I’m a vampire. No. This only happens to vampires. A master drains their blood, feeds them theirs. Subject is thrown into the ground for a night. Then comes back up through their coffin... through the dirt... out of their... Grave. I’m a vampire. I look around desperately, hoping that I won’t see anyone. If I don’t see them, they don’t become Buffy food. Then I start to run. Who would do this to me? Who the hell would have the cruelty to do this to me? I was dead, I was at peace, and all of a sudden I’m brought back as a goddamn vampire? I’m gone. I can’t do this. Where am I? Sunnydale. That’s right. I must have died here. Anywhere else, and they wouldn’t have known my name. Where can I go? I need to go somewhere. Can’t go near people. Being near people is bad. Being near people might lead to mini Buffy feeding frenzy. Where can I go? Spike. Spike doesn’t live. He dies. He’s not human. Don’t have to be scared of Spike. No. Can’t go to Spike. He might be scared. Or taking care of Dawn. That’s right. Spike’s taking care of Dawn. And Dawn’s human. Can’t go near Dawn. So that means no Spike. When I find the ones that did this to me, they will pay for this. Hmph. Show them what happens when you bring a Slayer back from the grave. Ugh, and as a vampire, of all things. Fucking hell. End Part 2.

Chapter #3 - Living A Lie

Living a Lie Okay. I’m not a vampire. Can you blame me for freaking, though? I mean, if you were dead, and you knew you were dead, and then all of a sudden you were brought right back up out of the ground... Having to face your tombstone and deal with telltale signs of vampirism... Yeah, you’d be a bit frantic, too. I wanted to kill myself. I actually thought about it. I was back up on the scaffolding of the tower... that stupid, stupid tower... and I was contemplating leaping off. But then... Dawnie. My Dawnie... followed me up there. Dawn put her own life in danger because she wanted to keep me alive. This ‘I live and die for you’ thing is getting really old. But I wasn’t about to let Dawn be killed. I saved her from death once, and I was gonna keep that little brat alive if it killed me again. Which it didn’t. I'd grabbed hold of Dawn, then snatched a pulley thing that had been hanging off of the side of the tower. Jumping on, we slid down, then stopped altogether when the pulley reached the end of it's chain. The tower's creaking had gotten worse, and we didn't have any other choice by that point, so at about ten feet or so off the ground we let go and dropped to the ground. The tower seemed to know that we were finally off, because when we took off running, it gave its last creak and groan, and then finally collapsed. I’m home right now. Home. Home. It’s an empty word. I feel nothing behind it. I recognize this place. I used to live here. But this isn’t my home anymore. Home was up there. With Mom. Someone’s taken me away. And what nauseates me is that I know who that someone... or someones are. Wha... oh, Dawn’s talking to me. We’re upstairs. She’s just finished washing me up. I had to hide my hands from her. I’m... ashamed of them. I nearly destroyed my hands trying to get out of that coffin. They changed Mom’s room. It’s Willow and Tara’s room now. I guess they moved in after I died to take care of Dawn. "Yeah, well, it seemed to make the most sense. No one was using it, and it's the biggest. But, you know, now that you're here, we'll have to figure out something to do." Huh. Dawn explaining why the witchy duo have Mom’s room. This is getting nerve-wracking. What the hell else did they change here? What did Willow ruin? I catch that train of thought and frown. Of course I must have resentment toward Willow. She had to have been the one to orchestrate the worst night of my life. Tara is too level-headed and in tune with the balance of nature to attempt something as stupid as a ressurection, Xander -- as much as it would hurt him -- would have rather I'd be dead and in peace, unless Willow convinced him otherwise, and Anya couldn't give two shits half the time. So, yes. I'm not feeling too strongly for Willow right now. In fact, if she hadn't been there for me for some of the roughest times of my life, I would say that I hated her right now. I turn to go out and I’m stopped by Dawn. She looks frustrated. Oh-ho, you don’t even know the beginning of frustration, honey. "Buffy! You wanna, like, stop?" Hopeful. "We can... we can sit down and talk." I don’t want to talk that much. "What else is different?" I ask, gazing at her. I’m looking at her, but I’m not actually seeing her. It’s just this weird myriad of colors. I think that may be one of the first full sentences I’ve spoken since I was dragged back. Dawn sighs. "Do you mean about the house, or..." I shrug. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. The colors are starting to make me dizzy. I can’t look at her. "Um. Let’s see... Giles. It’s so weird. He, he left today. Because you were..." Oh. Great. My surrogate father is gone. How nice. Care to drop anything else on me, Dawn? "He, he'll come right back, I'll call him. Someone'll call him." He’d better come back. No, of course... of course he will. Of course he’ll come back. He’s Giles, he has to come back. My mind starts to form question. "What..." Dawn responds immediately. "What what?" Shit, I’ve lost my train of thought. Something about Giles. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I blink once. "Uh... What, um... will you say to him?" Out of nowhere, the door opens downstairs, and I jump. What? Who? Who’s here, and what the hell do they want? I look around the room, feeling almost paranoid. "What’s that?" Dawn jumped, too. "It’s okay, it’s okay." I think she can tell how badly that stupid door wigged me out. "Dawn? DAWN! Are you there?" There’s something familiar about that voice. Hard and angry, but warm and weathered at the same time. Dawn looks at me. "It, it’s just Spike." Looking toward the door, she calls, "I’m here!" She turns to look at me, like she’s telling me to come with her. Like I won’t listen. Instant cool down. Spike's here. Spike's here. This should be interesting. A surge of relief, anxiety and anticipation flow through me. I'm going to see him again face to face for the first time since the night I died. The second I was out of the grave, Spike was the first person I thought of. Maybe it was that whole nifty ‘crawling out of the grave’ thing we now have in common. I follow Dawn toward the stairs, and I can hear his deep, growly voice. He sounds genuinely frantic, and extremely pissed. "Thank God! You scared me half to death or... more to death. You - I could kill you!" Dawn starts down the steps, and she looks back up at me quickly, then down at Spike again. "Spike." "I mean it! I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain stem!" Oooh. Visual. Very nice to know that Spike hasn’t entirely changed. Dawn’s at the bottom of the steps now, so I guess it’s my turn to go down. I start down the steps as slowly as possible. I still haven’t seen Spike’s face yet. He’s shut up, though, and I hear Dawn say, "Look," which means that I’ve become a bulls-eye. Spike looks me over, and doesn’t seem impressed. "Yeh? I’ve seen the bloody bot before. Didn’t think she’d patch up so --" He stops right in the middle of his sentence, and I can hear him draw a deep breath. Yep. He’s figured it out. I’m Real Deal Buffy. Spike looks like he’s just had the life shoved back into him. Wow. I’d forgotten how handsome he was. And even though I am now officially scared to death, I can’t stop looking at him. Dawn starts talking again, but her voice just drones in my ears. "She's kind of, um ... She's been through a lot ... with the ... death. But I think she's okay." Okay? Eh. Not so much. I stop at the middle step, and my shirt flaps against my hand. Oops. Spike’s not supposed to see any of that. I start buttoning it as Dawn looks at him closely. I think he thinks that he’s dreaming. "Spike? Are... you okay?" she asks. I can hear the catch in his voice. "I... What did you do?" No, no. Dawn didn’t do anything. Blame my so-called friends. They did this to me. "Me? Nothing," Dawn replies, sounding surprised. I look up at Spike again, and now I’m starting to freak. He won’t stop staring at me and, and I can’t get my stupid fingers to finish buttoning the rest of this goddamn shirt, so I grab it with my hand and pull it closed. I’m scared... I’m scared of Spike. He’s more interested in my face, rather than in the rest of my body, like I thought he would be. He's gazing at me like he's been in the desert for years and finally found a drought of fresh water. Why on earth did I think he’d be more interested in my body? After getting to know him the way I did before... before I left, how could I possibly think that way about him now? He blinks once. "Her hands," he mumbles. Shit. He’s seen them. I jerk my hands down and hide them behind my back. Dammit, I know there’s a God, so get me out of here! "Um, I was gonna fix ‘em. I don’t know how they got like that," Dawn replies. "I do," Spike replies. "Clawed her way out of a coffin, that’s how." He looks at me again. "Isn’t that right?" Dawn looks appropriately horrified. I bite my lip. "Yeah. That’s... what I had to do." His voice is quiet. "Done it myself." That’s right. I forgot... Spike knows exactly what I’m going through. After a bit, Spike blinks a couple of times and shakes his head a little. "Um... we’ll take care of you. Come here." I let him take my arm and walk into the living room myself. The different... post-death Buffy living room. He speaks again, but this time to Dawn. "Get some stuff, uh, mercurochrome, bandages." Dawn still looks stunned, but she nods -- probably in a frantic attempt to get away from the situation. Or maybe to just give Spike some time with me. "Okay." Off she goes. I sit down on the sofa as Spike follows me in. He sits on the coffee table, and stretches his hands out, taking mine. Strange. His hands should feel colder. Instead, he’s cool, and warm. Soothing. He looks up at me then and... I can’t look away again. I haven’t seen him in so long. Why is it that he can hold my gaze, but I can’t stand to even look at my own sister? We’ve locked eyes. "How long was I gone?" I ask softly. Spike ducks his head a bit, then looks up again, his eyebrows creased together as he thinks. "Hundred forty-seven days yesterday. Uh... hundred forty-eight today." He smiles softly at me. "’Cept today doesn’t count, does it?" I don’t answer him, but right now, I’m amazed. Not how many months... anybody can count the months. Spike’s been keeping track of the days. He knows precisely how long I’ve been gone. He looks down at my hands again, then back up at me. "How long was it for you... where you were?" he asked quietly, like he senses that it’s a touchy subject and I might not want to answer. I let a pause grow between his question, and when I answer, I take a huge breath, then exhale it. "Longer." We both look down at our hands together, and I draw a deep, shaky breath when his left thumb gently strokes my right wrist. He looks up at me unsteadily, disbelieving... And I have to swallow hard not to give in to tears right then and there, because he looks so in awe of me actually being there with him, that his eyes swarm with unshed tears. His other hand shakily reaches up to my face, preparing to cup my cheek, and I lean close, preparing to give myself in to it. It's been so long since someone's touched me this sweetly... We both jerk back though, because Dawn comes back in, holding the stuff Spike wanted to clean my hands with. "Got the stuff." And suddenly, I’m swarmed. Willow, Anya, Xander, and Tara run in and bombard me with a barrage of questions. And suddenly, I feel like I’m suffocating. I can vaguely feel Spike’s presence next to me, and when I look at him out of the corner of my eye, he’s glaring at the Scoobies, looking absolutely disgusted. He knows. He knows that they’re the ones that did this to me. Good. However, the next thing I know, Spike is moving away from me, glaring hatefully at the group. I, unfortunately, am surrounded, and I lock my gaze with his before he ducks out, begging him with my eyes to get me out of here. He looks at me helplessly, then looks down, shakes his head, and storms out the door. I don’t remember much after that. The Scoobs were getting a little too pushy, and Dawn was getting mad. I was really tired... so I went to bed. It was all I could do. I've kinda walked around like a zombie, so far. When I woke up, I didn’t move out of my position. I just laid there, glaring at my ceiling. What in the hell did I do to deserve this? I saved the world from an apocalypse seven major times on seven different occasions. I sacrificed half of what I was in order to be the Slayer. I killed Angel to save the world from Acathla, I stabbed Faith to save Angel, who in turn left me after I saved the world from the Mayor, and then I sacrificed myself to save the world from an evil hellbitch goddess. Why is it that nothing is fucking enough for the Powers? Why do they agree to drag me out of Heaven of all places, kicking and screaming up through my grave, then toss me in front of my "friends," who think they did a good thing by messing with supernatural forces and resurrecting me? Nothing is fucking enough, my whole damn life is just one big fucking joke to them! Anyway. There’s a new demon out and about. And of course, they expect me to jump right to my old job and make it go smash. We were having a meeting in the Magic Box... so weird without Giles there... and I just got so fed up, that I made the excuse to patrol, just so I could get the hell out of there. So here I am right now, walking along a row of tombstones, and around some trees. Supposedly doing my job. What job? The job that I was supposed to be relieved from? You know, by dying? Because I did die. And yet, here I am, still searching out vampires and demons, and killing them. Doing it all over again, to protect a town that’s pleasantly clueless, and a world that doesn’t even give a shit. Ain’t it disgusting how life works? I don’t want to patrol anymore. I can’t stand it. I have to go somewhere, have to get away from the rows upon rows of headstones. Well, at least somebody up there isn’t entirely against me. I just came upon Spike’s crypt. Visiting Spike is better than this. At least I can get some sort of entertainment out of Spike. I walk up to the crypt and open the door, striding inside slowly. My eyes dart around, taking in what I haven’t seen in four months. Hmph. He has furniture. How about that. Ooh. Coffee-table. Nice. With magazines. Even better. Sighing, I move over to said coffee-table and sift through the magazines. He’s got an assortment. Housekeeping. Sports Illustrated -- the actual magazine, and not the swimsuit issue, and somehow I am incredibly relieved. "Buffy." I jump before turning around and looking at him. That could be bad; he actually startled me. If I’m gonna be forced to work a job for a world that doesn’t care, then I need to be on my toes. He’s got a dagger in his hand. Oh. Self-defense. Probably didn’t realize it was me. "You should be careful," he says quietly. "Never know what kinda villain’s got a knife at your back." Check, Spike. I gotcha. I look down at the knife-wielding hand. It’s bleeding. "Your hand is hurt," I point out. "Hmm." He nods toward my own hand. "Same with you." I look down at my tainted knuckles, covered in scratches, and probably with wood splinters stuck under the skin. Oh. Yeah. "Right." Spike looks at me for a little bit, then fidgets, moving toward the wall and setting the knife down. I think I’m making him nervous. Hey. New way to scare vamps. Make the Slayer come back from the dead and traumatize her by making her see her own grave. "Willow's gettin’ pretty strong, isn't she? Bringin’ you back. It's hard to get a good night's death around here." He tries to laugh, but I think he can see that it’s pointless. I don’t want him to make me laugh right now, anyway. He nods behind me. "You can sit down. Got furniture." Already noticed. I sit down on a chair anyway. "You should see the downstairs, too, it's quite posh," he adds. Right. I’ll bet. You’ve done good, Spike. Here’s a cookie. Actually, it does look nice, and I bet the downstairs probably is quite, um... posh. He sighs and walks over, sitting down in front of me on the edge of the table. Good God, why can’t I stop looking at him? This could prove to be a problem sometime down the line. Hark. He speaks. "Uh ... I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her." He stops for a second. He won’t look at me. "If I had done that ... even if I didn't make it ... you wouldn't have had to jump." And it has officially come out. He does feel guilty about my death. Something inside of me does something completely unexpected then -- my heart twists at the sound of his voice. He sounds so... ashamed. I can’t say anything. I don’t want to say anything. I just want to listen to his voice. It’s stirring something inside of me. I do, however, have the desire to comfort him. It wasn't his fault, after all. So I scoot toward him, and carefully take his hand in mine. He looks up at me, startled, then continues pleadingly. "But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but ... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again ... do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways ... " If I could smile, I would. He received my messages to him. When I manipulated his dreams. Good. I’m... I’m really glad. I gently squeeze his hand, and he tightly closes his eyes, a tear seeping out of the corner of one. He squeezes my hand back. "Every night I save you," he finishes softly. You’re welcome, Spike. They’re all looking at me. It’s the morning after, again. A demon created when I was brought back tried to kill me last night. It went solid, and I killed it. Knocked its head clean off. Hah. One up for me. We’re at the Magic Box, and I just saw Dawn off to school. I’m supposed to be saying something, but it’s complete bullshit, because it’s what they want to hear. It’s not what I really feel. But I have to say it. Because I understand why they did it now. And I don’t want to hurt them by letting them know the truth about where I was. They thought I was in Hell. Except I was in Heaven. You see my dilemma. "You brought me back. I was in a ... I was in hell. I, um ... I can't think too much about what it was like. But it felt like the world abandoned me there. And then suddenly ... you guys did what you did." Sounds good, right? Tara interrupts. "It was Willow. She knew what to do." Hate to break it to you, Tara, but your girlfriend didn’t know what to do. She only thought she did. Willow did a stupid, selfish, thoughtless thing, and now I'm suffering for it. "Okay. So you did that. And the world came rushing back. Thank you. You guys gave me the world. I can't tell you what it means to me," I say. Willow’s eyes are filling up with tears. "And I should have said it before." Willow walks up to me and hugs me. "You’re welcome," she whispers. I close my eyes and hug her back. Xander walks over and puts his arms around the both of us and we three-way hug. "Welcome back, Buffy," he murmurs. Even though I know what they did to me, it still feels good to hug them again. But I’m not happy. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again. We pull away from the hug and I look up at them, a tight smile on my face. "I think I’ll go for a walk or something. Okay?" Hmph. I have to ask permission of them before I can do anything now, or else they think that I’ll go suicidal. Not a bad idea, but no. I have Dawn back, and that’s a good thing. They nod, and Willow squeezes my hand before pulling away. I give them a tiny smile and head toward the back of the shop. I don’t want to be in sunshine right now. The alley feels better. Not so bright. Not so hard. "Buffy." Jesus H. Christ, he has to stop doing that! I look up, and there he is, standing right there in the alley, looking at me all concerned. I oughta hit him for scaring me. What a sec. How in the hell did he get here in the first place? It’s day. "Spike, it’s daylight, and you’re..." "Not on fire?" He shrugs and looks up at the sky. "Sun’s low enough, shady enough here." I put my arms around my waist. It’s kind of cold out here. I’m not gonna do anything stupid, except I think that if I let my arms go, I might grab Spike and hug him to death. He sounds a little revolted. "I was gonna go inside, but I overheard you and the Super-friends exchanging a special moment and I came over a bit queasy." No kidding. Don’t think he has any idea how it felt for me. A lock of hair falls down over my cheek and I push it away. I think he can tell that I’m in kind of a grubby mood. But he speaks again, anyway. "Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group hug?" Nothing out of the ordinary. They put one big-ass hole in me. "Just wanted some time alone." Oops. I think he got the wrong impression. He looks wounded. "Oh. Uh... right then." He gets up and walks to the edge of the alley. Silly vampire. He forgot. Sunlight. He can’t get out unless he made one helluva run for it. He tilts his head up and glares at the sky. I watch him quietly. And now I don’t want him to leave, not after he's been so tender to me, so I say what pops into my head. "That’s okay. I can be alone with you here." Oh, I keep saying things the wrong way. He looks apologetic now. "Thanks ever so." But he still smiles at me. I can’t look at him. If I look at him, I won’t be able to stop myself from staring. "Right." Neither of us says anything for a moment, but I can tell that he's dying to say something. Odd. We used to have an almost comfortable silence between us at times. Sure enough, a second later... He looks over at me. "Buff? ... Slayer? Are you okay?" No. But I sit up a little bit and nod at him. "I'm here. I'm good." He starts walking back to me. "Buffy, if you're in ... if you're in pain ... or if you need anything... or if I can do anything for you..." I can feel just a tiny little bit of my heart soften at his words. Oh... he’s sweet. I look down at my lap. "You can’t." He sits down next to me. I like the proximity. Very close. At the moment, I’m fighting the urge to cuddle up to him. He solves that by tentatively reaching out a hand and placing it on top of mine. Third time's the charm. I look up at him and I'm pretty sure from the way I look that he can all but read my devastation. "Well, I haven't been to a hell dimension just of late, but I do know a thing or two about torment." I inwardly wince about that, thinking back on just what exactly happened to him the last time he was tormented. Yeah, Spike. You would know, wouldn’t you? He’s gone through so much because of me. Maybe it’s time I gave a little back to him. Maybe I should let him know about it. Let him know where I was. "I was happy," I whisper, still looking down. I can feel him looking at me. He’s confused. According to my brilliant friends, I was in Hell, so he’s wondering why I’d be happy. I continue. "Wherever I ... was ... I was happy. At peace." Yeah. He gets it now. I can hear him draw in a sharp breath. He’s shocked. I'm losing the fight with myself for the urge to lean on him, bury my face in his chest and sob my eyes out. I feel my body leaning closer to his, and my hand turns itself in the grasp of his, so that my palm fits to Spike's. "I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time ... didn't mean anything ... nothing had form ... but I was still me, you know?" I look up at him for a second, and I actually have to force myself to look away. "And I was warm ... and I was loved ... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or ... any of it, really ... but I think I was in Heaven." Wow. I think I’ve actually frightened Spike. He’s looking at me in complete horror. And now the tears try to force their way through. "And now I’m not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out ... by my friends." Spike is still staring at me, just listening to me. I like that. He just wants to let me talk. "Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch ... this is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ..." My voice softens, and I force back a sniffle. "Knowing what I’ve lost..." I break down completely now, sniffles and sobs escaping my throat, and without hesitation, he pulls me close to him, winding me inside the circle of his arms. Desperately, I give in to the one thing I have been anxious to do since the thought of him came to my mind at my grave, and I hug him, as tight as I can. I can feel his chin resting atop my head, and I can hear the gentle purring sounds he's emitting to try to comfort me. I bury my face into his chest, and he pulls me tighter, not caring if I happen to soak his shirt through. And that's when it hits me that he’s still there. Any other man I know might have taken off running at the first sign of my tears, or they might have uncomfortably tried to comfort me -- much like Spike did the night I told him about my mother's illness. But now, not even caring about himself, not even caring that I might have a mood swing and turn around to kill him, Spike is holding me as close as he possibly can and letting me cry out all of my pain and frustrations on his shoulder. When my tears have dried out, I can finally look up at him again. He stares down at me sadly, and places a gentle, careful kiss on my forehead. Instead of jerking away from him, I snuggle back into his arms and close my eyes. I don't think I have ever felt safer -- not even when Angel held me. I think I’ve actually stunned all the words out of him. But I just have one more thing to add before Real Life forces me to move away from him and his wonderful arms. "They can never know. Never." I look up at him again, pleading this time. "Please, Spike. They think what they did was right, and I'm already hurting enough. If I hurt them by telling them what they really did, I'll hurt worse. Please don't tell them what you know." He looks absolutely miserable with my request, but after a second, he slowly nods, and pulls me close again. "I won't tell, love. 'S just between you an' me." I breathe out a sigh of relief and sink back against him. "Thank you." I know what you’re thinking. It’s cruel that I’ve placed this sort of thing, this... enormous secret on his head. But he’s the only one that can understand. I can’t talk to anyone else... They wouldn’t get it. They’d be terrified. They'd be apologetic. And I don't want to hear the apologies, because no amount of them is ever going to make this right, make me okay, ever again. Spike listened, and didn’t comment, didn’t chastise me for lying to my friends. He understood... and right now, that’s all I need. Someone who will understand me. And I can still count on Spike for that. Even though a part of me is dying from what's been done to me, I can still feel a little of it carefully seeping back. And it's because of Spike. As the hour wears on, and I still haven't left his arms, I wonder to myself... why didn't I ever take comfort in his strength before? It's so much safer here with him. I think it always has been. End story.