Warning:  This fic is officially an abandoned WIP, without the IP part.

Chapter Nineteen

 

And for the first time I'm discovering The things I used to treasure About you.     ~ Winter Wood, Don McLean

When Buffy returned from patrol Willow was sitting on the back porch, reading.  Her studiously bent head gave the house an illusion of calm and Buffy allowed herself to relax a little more.  None of the windows were smashed and Willow was neither bleeding nor veiny, a better result than she could have hoped for when she left - fled - earlier.  Still, she couldn't help asking: "Does this quiet mean everyone else is dead?  Because I wouldn't blame you, really."

Willow looked up and gave her a weak smile.  "It's okay.  We all survived for an hour without you playing referee.  Xander went home but he'll be back in the morning, to pick Dawn up.  He's starting at the building crew at the school.  Apparently they have a high staff turnover."

Buffy snorted.  "Right over the Hellmouth.  Who'd've guessed?"

"There's no ticky box for 'mystical convergence' on the health and safety assessment plan."

Buffy sat down next to Willow and wriggled out of her patrol shoes.  "So you're out here escaping the wrath of Dawn?" she guessed.   "Has she been bad?"

Willow shook her head, red locks falling down to conceal her face.  "Not by, y'know, teenage standards.  Mostly just ignoring me, which is best, I suppose.  I don't really know what to say to her now we've done the whole 'sorry about saying I'd turn you back into a big ball of energy' thing."

"That's a bit of a conversation killer," Buffy agreed.  "Hard to follow."

"I really scared her," Willow said, so low it was almost a whisper.

"Yeah.  And hurt her feelings."

"And that's worse, right?"

Reluctantly, Buffy nodded.  "I think she's dealing with the ending the world thing better.  Who hasn't wanted to do that?  And she loved Tara too.  She's just..."

"I said a lot of stuff."  Willow admitted, when Buffy failed to sum up Dawn.  "I knew just what to say to hurt her, to hurt all of you.  And some of it's so close to being true I don't know how to... unsay it."

"I have many platitudes about time being the great healer," Buffy tried to joke.  "Some of them are even true."

Willow smiled again, but it wasn't genuine enough to completely drive out the thousand-yard stare she'd arrived with. "Giles beat you to it.  I've already heard every platitude under the sun, and some he made up.  And I can't complain, can I?"  Willow shook herself.  "That's not why I'm out here, anyway.  She's watching TV with Spike, they seemed okay without me.  She is okay with Spike, right?"

"Hopefully.  I've gambled on that one already."  It was a decision that itched at Buffy, though no more than any decision that allowed Dawn out of her sight after dark.  Statistically, she told herself firmly, he was no more likely to suddenly turn homicidal than any of her human friends.

"I wanted to read this," Willow explained.  She waved the handbook and Buffy flinched back from her brief glimpse of the cover illustration.  "I thought I'd better go somewhere Spike wasn't.  His face, when Anya walked in with it earlier...  Well, it would have been funny if it wasn't so..."

"Stomach churning?" Buffy supplied.

"Yeah.  I think even Xander felt a little sorry for him.  A little less furious, at least."

"It's a bit of a shock, isn't it?  I was pretty angry myself, when I...  Stupid vampire, making me go and rescue him, after everything.  It took me a while to realise."

"You're allowed to be angry, Buffy."

"Angry is nice.  Angry is easy.  Now I feel responsible, and I don't even know why.  It's not like what's happened to him has anything to do with me.  But he's so broken."

"We got used to him," said Willow.  "We might have treated him like a vampire but really, we got used to him being part of the gang.  A really annoying part.  Like Anya."

"Hey," Buffy objected, half-heartedly.  "This summer, Anya's been all of the gang."

"Sorry."  Willow wrapped her arms around her knees and Buffy realised Spike wasn't the only one she felt responsible for beyond all reason.  What she'd meant as a joke had obviously come out as a dig.

"She's still annoying," Buffy conceded, bumping Willow's shoulder with her own.  "So's Spike.  But they're..."

"Ours?" Willow finished.

"I don't want them to be," Buffy said.  "Anya's doing god knows what, probably wreaking vengeance left and right, and I just try not to think about it too much.  And I want Spike gone, I really do, but I can't just throw him out when he's got no-one else."

"There's nothing wrong with compassion, Buffy.  Nothing wrong with having feelings."

"Sometimes there really is.  I can't, not feelings for Spike.  Hell, even the feelings for Anya are dangerous, and what I feel for her is usually just irritation.  Do you remember how we met her?  She nearly ended the world as we know it.  One wrong wish granted and she could do it again, and I just have to hope she won't, because...  She's not a vengence demon in my head, she's Anya that runs the magic box and has a money dance and is really quite good at managing Dawn and kind, sometimes, even if you'd half like to throttle her.  Which won't sound like a hell of a good excuse when I have to explain why there's dead people everywhere.  And Spike.  I feel sorry for him.  I owe him.  I'm...  Kinda fond of him.  But under it all he's still the guy who kills people because they annoy him, or get in his way.  Or for fun."

Willow shrugged.  "These things aren't exactly logical, Buffy."

"They are if I say they are.  New rule: All emotions shall be subjected to a strict logical process.  Any that don't conform, they're out."

"That'll work," Willow agreed dryly.  "Denial, where would we be without it?"

"We need to work on that 'out of sight, out of mind' thing," Buffy agreed.  She nodded toward the pamphlet Willow was still holding.  "So, is there an out-of-sight in sight?  Anything in there that I need to read?"

Willow may have picked up on the dread in her voice because she shook her head.  "I mean yes, there's stuff in here that you need to know, but I can give you the edited highlights.  It's pretty...  There's stuff in here that no-one needs to read, ever.  I couldn't...  I skipped quite a lot of it, I don't think I've missed anything important.  I'm nearly done."

"So, highlights?  How about a quick and easy solution?"

"To the Spike problem, or the demon slave ring problem?"  Willow asked.

"How about we start small?  Fix world poverty first?  Solve the Middle East crisis, answer the millennium problems.  Build up to Spike slowly."

"It might not be all that complicated.  There is good news.  It's magic based.  In theory - after adequate research and consulting with Giles, obviously - I think we can... well, I'm pretty sure I can get Spike back to how he was.  I mean, they haven't removed part of his brain, or anything, there's nothing been done that's irreversible."

"You can explain later how that's a good thing."

"No amnesia means no responsibility," Willow answered.  "Logic, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"The spell I was telling you about on the phone, that should tell me for sure.  If you, I mean if Spike...  Giles has checked it over, and it's not invasive, not really, not like mind-reading or something."

"And you'd be okay, doing that?"

"Yeah.  I can phone the coven, if you like, for... insurance.  But it's tiny magic, not changing anything, just looking.  It's not dark, veiny stuff."

"That's not what I meant.  It's just, this morning..."  You were flipping out on me, Buffy didn't quite say.  Willow shrugged.

"Maybe you were right.  And if we're going to need magic to fight The First, this is about as safe a place to start practising as any."

"And then you could undo it?"

"Maybe.  Probably.  If the first spell shows what I think it's going to show.  As best I can tell, they're all linked.  They've probably cast a different spell for each vampire that's been brainwashed, but all the same spell, if you see what I mean.  And they probably all use the same focus.  A stone, probably.  Whoever did this has to be pretty powerful, Buffy.  To take over a person like that, not just wipe their memories but change them, that's big magic.  Huge, dark, veiny magic."

"But the spells are all in a stone?  What if there was no more stone?"

Willow grinned slightly.  "You really want to smash something up, don't you?"

"Oh yeah.  Can I do that?"

"No.  Well yes.  Not really.  First, it would have to be a powerful stone, a diamond probably.  I don't think even you could smash one of those.  And it's the lynch-pin of their whole opperation, it's going to be heavily guarded."

"Could you destroy it with magic?"

"Um, again, yes in theory, no in practise.  To destroy something remotely, that I've never seen?  Huge magic.  And, by definition, destructive magic.  I don't, I wouldn't..."

"Veiny Willow?"

"Maybe.  Also, these people have to be pretty powerful, Buff.  What was done to Spike wasn't exactly floating a pencil kind of magic; they're at my level.  And if I can trace their spells..."

"They can trace yours."

"And I'm not exactly up to a sorcery duel.  That would be very bad.  The really not good kind of bad.  Besides, we have no idea how many times they've used it.  You undo it, you're also releasing an unknown number of really pissed off demons.  And I'm...  I'd be scared, going up against these people.  Is that really the plan?"

Buffy snorted.  "There is no plan.  Dawn was all for it.  'We have to stop the evil demon kidnappers'.  But I notice she hasn't said a word about it since we got Spike out.  I don't know if we can.  They're human, right?  At least some of them.  I can't go around decapitating people.  Not even these people.  On the other hand, if it's the First that's behind it all...   Do you think it is?"

"No," said Willow reluctantly.  "This is...  These people, they're making a profit.  We're talking big business.  And this," she waved the pamphlet again, "This is pretty foul, but it's the professionally produced kind of foul.  If Walmart was evil, that's the kind of organisation we're talking about."

"You mean Walmart aren't evil?"  But the joke was flat even to Buffy's own ears and she shook herself.  "So how does any of this help Spike?"

"Well, Spike's here.  And willing.  I mean, presumably.  If he was okay with the spell, I should be able to take it off him.  Again, working hypothesis only."

"And that wouldn't affect anything else?"

"I don't think so.  I don't think they'd even know.  I mean, if someone were to check up on Spike, specifically, they could probably tell he was no longer being controlled, but without Spike, they couldn't put it back, or probably even find out why.  And there's no reason anyone should check, right?"

"Well, if they haven't noticed I've stolen him by now, they're probably not going to.  And just to be sure, Spike would remember the last three years and you'd not be veiny?"

"Um.  I think.  It's breaking a spell, but that's different to destroying a power source, it's not the same kind of-"

"I think you'd better break it down into veiny/not veiny for me."

"Not veiny.  As sure as I can be.  As for Spike, I think so.  But I really can't conceive of a spell that could change a person that much.  I wouldn't even have thought it was possible.  There's no guarentees."

"But there is a workable plan.  In fact, I think I like this plan."

"You do?"

"Totally.  You fix Spike, Angel can worry about the evil Walmart people - it's his territory after all - and I'll...  I can fetch pizza.  Pizza is essential to any plan."

"You can save your strength for the First?"  Willow suggested.

"Exactly.  And won't that be fun?"

"So how was patrol?  Any luck?"

Buffy shook her head.  "You'd think someone closed the Hellmouth and forgot to send me the memo.  Not a vampire to be found.  I swung by the Christmas tree lot where the First Evil stashed its minions last time but it's all abandoned.  Haven't spotted any dead trees, but...  Well, it would take more than a day or two to check every tree in Sunnydale.  There's got to be a better way."

"Plus," Willow added, "if it had any sense it would set up shop somewhere there was nothing growing in the first place."

"If it had any sense it would stay out of my town.  And it would stop trying to destroy the world, or whatever its stupid evil scheme is.  That makes no sense, anyway.  There's tons of evil here.  This whole planet is one big Atrocities'R'Us.  The human race deserves a runner-up medal at the very least, and then there's all the demons that live here.  The First should be applauding our efforts to keep this big old factory farm of evil going.  It should be on our side."

Willow blinked.  "You've been thinking about that, haven't you?"

"Maybe just a little," Buffy admitted.  "I've had lots of other things to not think about.  And I live in hope of a Big Bad that could just be reasoned with."

"And pigs might fly."

"No!"  Buffy yelped and covered her ears with her hands.  "Don't say things like that!  Have you forgotten every rule of the Hellmouth?  Do you really think what we need right now is flying pigs?"

"Metaphorical pigs, Buffy."

"That's what you think when you say it.  Then it'll turn out there's a whimsical-speculation-granting demon in earshot and metaphorical pigs are bound to be the most evil kind.  Don't you think life's enough like a really weird soap opera already?"

"Actually, I think you could do with some light relief."

"You'd think amnesia and teenagers would count.  Turns out, they're only funny when they happen to people on TV.  Evil's really quite amusing by comparison.  Do we know what it's evil plan is yet?  Did Giles call?"

"No and no.  But I think there's some league-of-evil rule about ending the world in September.  Aren't you supposed to save that up for May?"

Buffy groaned.  "If it's going to hang around all that time I'll be ready to end the world myself by April.  It is my turn."  Willow didn't respond and Buffy shrugged.  "Little early to be joking about that?"

"You can.  It's probably best if I don't."

Buffy leaned back, stretching shoulder muscles she could never quite get the tension out of.  Willow sat quietly next to her and like Spike, there was something essential missing.  Some energy, some indefinable but constant thread of Willow-ness that linked shy nerd and confident witch.  "I miss that."

"The world ending?" Willow asked.

"No.  Just... being able to joke about stuff.  Even the really awful stuff.  It was you and me and Xander against the world and Giles was always right there and dependable, and Spike was there to be mocked, and Dawn was Mom's problem."

"And your boyfriend turned evil and we had to go to school and there was a weekly tragedy-"

"Okay, okay.  Maybe I have a little nostalgia going on there.  But we were always solid, the three of us.  It felt like a constant.  We messed up over and over, but we always bounced back.  And we laughed about it.  Sometimes.  After the fact."

"We got old?" Willow offered.

"We're twenty-two."  But it was a weak counter and Buffy knew it.  Didn't include the extra years grief and trauma added to a person.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just getting maudlin.  I didn't mean that you should just forget Tara.  I didn't-"

"I know what you meant."  Willow slipped an arm around her friend and Buffy almost flinched.  It seemed an awfully long time since hugs and casual touches had been a part of her life.  But when she let herself relax into it the comforting warmth of Willow's half-hug it didn't feel strange at all.  "You know, Xander said he'd be back in the morning."

"You said that already."

"We could have a Scoobie meeting.  The whole gang.  We could even invite Anya.  Well, you could, she's not speaking to me.  We could make pancakes.  Maybe call Giles, put him on speaker and drive him nuts with our collective immaturity?  It would be just like old times."

Buffy ran this idea through her head.  It sounded surprisingly appealing, if unlikely.  "And Dawn can glower and Xander can glower and Anya can glower and Spike can be confused," she felt compelled to say.

"They just need a good example.  And none of them can resist the lure of making Giles sound all indignant and British.  We just need to fake it long enough and maybe it'll be real again."

"I can't help feeling we're doing this wrong.  I should be be comforting you."

Willow shook her head.  "You can't bring Tara back.  I think I proved that quite conclusively.  But us?  Maybe that's something we can fix."

 

********

"Dawn's turned in," Spike said, before Buffy had a chance to ask.  "Patrol okay?"

"Dull and unhelpful," Buffy summarized, settling on the couch beside him.  "Dawn okay?"

"Just fine.  Or, completely schizophrenic, depending on how you look at it.  Apparently we're best friends now that the witch is back.  I heard quite a lot about that."

Buffy tried not to wince, and deliberately didn't ask what else Spike might have heard a lot about.  "Willow's been researching," she said instead.  "She thinks she might know what's wrong with you.  She thinks it's fixable."

"There's a cure for being a vampire now?"

"No.  But it seems there's a cure for you not being as evil as you're supposed to be.  We're totally not thinking too hard about that, in case my brain encounters a fatal error."

"No thinking.  Check."

"I'm totally offloading the problem onto Willow,"  Buffy said easily.  "Moral dilemmas and all.  I mean, she's good," she reassured, "when she's not trying to end the world.  And if she does the end the world thing, that totally solves the problem, right?"

Spike smiled.  "Such an optimist.  Always looking on the bright side."

"That's why you love me."

There was a moment of silence as, far too late, Buffy tried to swallow those words back down.  When she dared catch Spike's eye he looked amused, and Buffy got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh at her."

"S'okay, Slayer.  Think I'd worked that out for myself.  Only thing that made sense.  And how could I not?  You're-"

"Leaving now!"  Buffy announced, with a near squeak of alarm as she jumped back up.  Determined to at least get out of sight before succumbing to the need to bang her head against a hard surface.

"Buffy.  I won't-"

"Sleep.  Sleep is very important.  We should do that now."  And with only a token effort at pretending she was doing anything else, Buffy fled.

 

Chapter Twenty

 

Can you remember what I was? Can you feel it? Can you feel my pain? Can you heal it?     ~ Crossroads, Don McLean

You may notice this chapter is missing.  That's because I didn't write it.  Have notes and summary instead.

Spike POV.  Next morning.

Spike wondering if maybe he has a soul now, if that's why he feels so different.  He tries to talk to Buffy about it, but she thinks he's trying to talk about the whole 'Spike loves Buffy' thing and shuts him down.  He's left with the incorrect impression that Buffy knows he has a soul now.  That that was one of the things she didn't want to talk about, that that was how they became kind of friends/involved.  That's an important point.  Reiterate.  Spike thinks he probably has a soul now, once it occurs to him it seems obvious.  He feels so different.  He assumes Buffy must know.  After all, she's helping him, right?   He's uneasy, wishes she would talk to him.

 

********

Scooby breakfast.  Buffy POV
There are tensions, duh, but less shouting than Buffy had predicted.  She realises how much she's missed having a houseful of people, noise and bustle and bickering all around her.  Realises how much she's moved on from last year when she couldn't stand to have these same people around her.

Willow explains the spell that has brainwashed Spike.  And presumably all the other kidnapped demons.  Explains how it co-opts a victim's own experiences and fears and weaknesses to make them think they've been in the same hopeless, helpless situation for years and so kills the will to fight back.  Makes them think they've tried that already and failed, and been punished for it.  In Spike's case the chip was his weakness so that's what he remembers, with a few tweaks to suit the agenda of the demon slave traders.  Willow theorises that remembering his, albeit rocky, relationship with the Scoobies might have caused him to hold out hope for a rescue and that's why he's forgotten them.  Likewise why the spell made him think Angelus and Drusilla were dust.  She's sickened by the extent of the mindfuck but has to be reluctantly admiring of the cleverness of the spell.

They phone Giles.  He has a little more news of the First Evil, that more potential Slayers and Watchers have been disappearing.  How he's considering sending the remaining potentials to Buffy for protection.  He approves the detection spell and in theory the fixing spell, though he favours the staking plan himself.

Xander and Dawn leave for school.  Anya just leaves, because she doesn't want to stick around and watch Willow get her evil on.  Buffy and Willow and Spike stare uncomfortably at each other.

 

Chapter Twenty-One

More notes, then some actual chapter.

Willow does the detecting spell.  It shows more or less exactly what she thought it would, she can 'see' the magical influence of the demon slave traders.  Buffy want to push on straight to the undoing spell, overriding Spike and Willow's nervous reluctance.  It seems to go without a hitch, apart from leaving Spike unconscious, which Willow predicted.  But the only way to know for sure was to wait for Spike to wake up, so Buffy moves him to the basement and settles in to wait and see.
 

 

********

"Did it work?" Buffy asked, the second she noticed the vampire stirring.  He opened one eye, then the other, slowly took in his surroundings with a look of wary confusion.  Though Buffy couldn't have put her finger on how, his expression managed to be different to the wary confusion he'd displayed so often the last few days.

"I'd say, on balance, no," he answered carefully, rising as he spoke and stalking towards her.  Every nuance of his body language different.  If Buffy had not already been on her guard that swagger would have tipped her off.  "Now why don't you tell me precisely what you were trying to achieve?"

"Sure," Buffy placated.  "We can sit down-"

Quick as a rattlesnake he struck, wrapping a hand around her neck and pinning her to the wall.

"Now, eh sweetheart?  And I'll make you a nice quick kill."

The Slayer repressed an eye roll as his fingers tightened on her windpipe.  "You have amnesia, or some kind of... brain spell.  I have deja vu and a really short fuse.  So I suggest you sit down because if you try and kill me again, I...  Well I'll be really annoyed this time."

"Yeah," he sneered, "you're really in a position to make threats.  Spill, gorgeous, or we'll make this slow and painful."

"I spilled already," Buffy pointed out.  "And you're not making it any easier with the whole cutting off my air supply thing."

She lifted her knee sharply, hitting vampire groin with such force Spike was lifted off the ground.  He leapt back with an unmanly shriek, clutching himself.   "Now you want to sit down and do this the civilised way?"

But Spike was livid and already charging.  Buffy caught him neatly on the way passed and slammed him into the wall.

"You're going to pay for that, bitch," Spike howled, twisting free and kicking out at her legs.  "And my ring."

As they traded punches Buffy let herself go wild with the eye-rolling.

"Jeez, looks like Willow hit your reset button."

"What the fuck are you talking about?  What the fuck is going on?"

"Stop... Hitting... Me."  Buffy ducked, then a sweep kick to his stomach, buying enough time to step back and finish her sentence.  "And I will tell you."

But he wouldn't, and truthfully Buffy neither minded nor blamed him.  Didn't suppose she'd have reacted calmly to waking in Spike's basement with no memory.  And a Spike she could hit with a clear conscience was something of a relief - to fall back into that old pattern of attack and counter attack, so much easier than conversation.

An easier pattern for her, she soon realised.  Two years fighting together and she knew his every move, while he'd forgotten hers.  And underweight, with dozens of badly healed injuries, he had no chance against the Slayer that had taken him down in the prime of his invulnerability.  Buffy had every advantage and needed none of them.

"Did you do this?" Spike shouted.  "Did you curse me?"

"Looong story."  And not one that Buffy was going to attempt, even when not being punched.  The vampire soon realised the odds were against him and took the 'flight' option but Buffy was on him before he made it to the stairs, knocking him down and out with the one tackle.

With one more swift kick to the head to make sure he was under, Buffy went to wake Willow.  

 

********

[make this more into W'l POV.  More introspection and considering of B's feelings.  Her concern for Spike, her concern for Buffy's concern about Spike]

"There's no magic left," said Willow, not even a glance at the vampire to be certain sure.  "I don't need a spell to tell you that, there's no magic in the room but mine.  Are you sure he didn't remember you?"  She bit her lip as she looked at Buffy, not sure how her friend would take the next sentence.  "Maybe he's back to normal and he still wants to kill you?"

The Slayer shook her head firmly.  "He was confused.  He asked what I'd done to him  and he mentioned the ring.  The Gem of Amara.  That was pretty much the last thing he remembered before.  The last real thing, anyway.  This couldn't be some kind of magical hangover?  Or... I don't know, a hidden spell?"

"No magic," Willow repeated.  She struggled to find a way of explaining it to her friend.  "You know the vampires tinglies?  Well, I have magic tinglies.  And I'm getting nothing.  Zip.  The ritual worked, the spell is all gone."

"Could a vampire really get amnesia?" Buffy asked doubtfully.

"It doesn't seem likely.  Amnesia is usually the human brain's way of coping with trauma or injury, and you wouldn't think a vampire would be affected in the same way."

"The First?"

"Not without magic, I don't think.  Maybe it's the chip?"

"It's never mind-wiped him before.  He must have zapped himself a thousand times, it never did any damage."

"Unless you count falling in love with your mortal enemy."  Buffy winced and Willow went to apologize but the Slayer shook her head.  

"That's actually a pretty Spike-like thing to do, if you think about it.  The most contrary, unpredictable option going.

"Unless I was wrong, and the demon trader's spell really did permanently remove parts of his memory.  And if undoing the spell didn't fix that then I don't think anything will."

"But it can't have.  You said yourself, it used Spike's own memories to construct his mental prison.  It couldn't have done that if they were just gone, right?  They have to be still there somewhere."

"I don't know.  I thought so."  Willow took a deep breath.  "The chip's not magical.  It's the only thing I can think of that might currently be interfering with his brain that I wouldn't be able to detect.  It was definitely doing something, earlier.  Sending out little pulses, like brainwaves.  I'm only guessing, Buffy."

The Slayer frowned.  "If it's the chip, can you fix it?"

Willow was saved from that impossible question by the telephone.  

 

"That was Angel," Buffy said slowly, as if she wasn't quite sure he'd been right about that.  "He said they've dealt with the slave-traders.  Lawyers, he said there were lawyers.  Every time he cut one head off they'd grow two more."  Buffy looking puzzled, hopefully at willow.  "They were metaphorical heads, right?"

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

I don't believe in magic but I do believe in you When you say you believe in me There's so much magic I can do     ~ Birthday Song, Don McLean

"And you really, really understand that I have no idea what I'm doing here.  This is technology far beyond my comprehension; it's all going to go horribly wrong - because when doesn't it go horribly wrong? - and you'll end up with a rabid, brain damaged vampire?"

Buffy shot her a look.  "...again?"  Willow amended.

Buffy quashed a sigh.  She remembered Giles' warnings, Tara's warnings, knew she should be glad Willow was correcting her previous 'if in doubt, try a spell' approach to magic.  But as with Spike previously, Buffy was discovering she liked her friends a little more self-confident.

"I get it.  I'll sign the waiver.  Just get on with it already."

"Buffy..."

"Are we going to get anywhere with research?" she snapped.  The two girls had been second guessing themselves around in circles for an hour now and Buffy was impatient for action, even vicarious magical action.  "Can you think of a better solution than poking around in there and seeing what happens?  Are there books on behaviour modification chips?"

Willow shook her head unhappily.  "I'm just saying, there's an awful lot of variables with that chip.  And then magic, big lessons learned about the unpredictability of magic.  We could maybe put the brainwashing back?  He was very well mannered."

Buffy gave her friend the ghost of a smile.  "Willow!"

"Better a little traumatised than a vampire vegetable," countered Willow seriously.

"Spike would say take the risk.  At least, the old Spike would have.  And we're already fighting an evil I can't hit.  Got no need for a big bad scared of his shadow and a witch that won't do magic."

"I did the magic.  He tried to kill you - and that's the magic that worked!  This is magic and technology and vampire brains, and I'm just not sure..."

"Well I am sure."  It was a lie, but one of them had to be making decisions.  Preferably before Xander and Dawn returned and got in on the debate.  "I'll take responsibility."  Much closer to the truth.  "Tell me where to sprinkle the sand."

Willow shrugged apologetically.  "I've kind of grown beyond the trappings.  It's boring to watch, but..."

"Fine.  Do it."

Willow sat cross-legged on the floor, palms either side of Spike's head.  "It's just like a tiny computer," she explained as she closed her eyes.  "I'm going to go in through the interface, pretend to be the mother computer.  Maybe I can find out just what it's...  Uh-oh."

The witch frowned in concentration, eyes squeezed shut.  Buffy managed to wait all of three seconds before asking "Uh-oh, what?"

"It's telling me the safety override has been activated.  I need to reboot the chip before proceeding."

"Meaning?"

"It's like... It's operating under some kind of emergency protocol, like a shut down, y'know?  Something has tripped its alarm, and now nothing's getting in or out until it gets rebooted with its security codes and stuff.  Could be what's affecting his memory."

"You mean Spike did this to himself?  He tried to get the chip shut off?"

"It's possible.  Unless I can make it think I have the right codes, I don't think there's any way of telling.  It could just be on a timer - like it has to touch base every so often, or it shuts down.  Or maybe those...  people messing around in his head set it off."

Buffy could too easily imagine Spike leaving town with some hairbrained scheme for getting the chip out.  This was Spike, there was almost certainly some hairbrained scheme somewhere along the line.  If that had been his plan he'd failed spectacularly, lumbered himself with so much worse.

"This isn't just a behaviour modification chip.  It's a prototype, I think it's designed to collect information as well.  It makes sense that the army wouldn't want anyone else getting that information.  That they'd have safeguards in place.  If Spike had cut the chip out, it would cause so much damage to his brain he wouldn't be telling anyone anything.  But if someone tampered with it, tried to send it remote signals, for instance...  They'd get nothing.  And it would be a safeguard against the 'hostile's' too.  It one of them did get the thing to stop firing, they wouldn't be able to go back and take revenge, or tell anyone what happened to them.  Sorry Buff, I can't even tell what kind of sensors it has, without these codes."

"Can't you hack around the codes?"

"I could try."

"And then he'd get his memory back?"

Willow shrugged helplessly, eyes still tight shut in concentration.  "Probably?  It's sending strange pulses, that's all I can tell from the outside.  If I could get that shut off... Possibly.  Or it could self destruct and leave a crater where your house used to be."

It seemed desperately important to Buffy that they get Spike's memory back.  She didn't want a rerun of the chained-in-bathtub days - and with Giles moved on, it would be her bathtub.  But Buffy had come a long way since her resurrection, knew damn well, nowadays, when she was lying to herself, and she knew that wasn't the whole reason.  And Spike's opinion she could guess at, because every single time he picked the risky option.  He'd probably be pleased with his very own crater.

"That last bit was a joke, right?"

"Probably," Willow deadpanned.  "It's not to late to put the brainwashing back."

Meek, obedient Spike, hovering indefinitely under her protection or turned out defenceless into the world.  It wasn't really a choice.

"You've got to fix the chip."

More waiting - Buffy's very least favourite thing to do.

"It's got some serious anti-tamper guard.  It knows I'm here and it's questioning my identification.  Damn.  Okay, now it's getting tetchy."

Another three nail-biting seconds of silence, then Spike started to shake.  Soon he was jerking around like an epileptic, banging his head against the hard floor as Willow's questing hands tried to follow.  Buffy leapt to hold him down.

"What's happening, Will?" she asked with forced calm.

"It wants its own core program rebooted, and it wants it now."  Willow opened her eyes and looked straight at Buffy in dismay.  "I've set off the self-destruct."

Struggling to pin the flailing vampire, Buffy bit her lip

"There's no way to undo it," Willow continued.  "I just don't have its original program to reinstall."

"So, what?  Crater time?"

Willow shook her head.  "It's just going to carry on going off.  Until it runs out of juice."

"How long?"

"No idea.  It could even be recharging itself from Spike."

"How long before his brain is mush?"

"I don't know anything about vampire brains!"  Willow held up her hands helplessly.  "I couldn't begin to guess."

"And if you take it out, that's still brain mush?"

"No.  I mean with surgery, yeah, you'd have to cut out a lot of important bits, it's like it's put down roots.  But with magic... oh.  I could do that.  Should I do that?"

The silence stretched as both girls put all their energy into keeping Spike still.  Buffy avoided Willow's questioning eyes for as long as she could.  "I promised him, Willow-" and even Buffy could hear the note of pleading in her voice "-I promised he could trust me."

"You didn't promise him it would work.  This isn't your fault."

"My choice, my fault."  And now another choice.  Two options, both wrong, and Buffy couldn't pick the one that involved staking Spike, not when he'd submitted to another round of magical prodding on her say-so.  "I just can't, Will."

"I could," said Willow, and off Buffy's surprised glance she added: "I want to help Spike too.  But not so much I'd risk you dying because you couldn't stake him."

"I could!" Buffy protested.  "If he was killing...  If he was being evil.  But not when I said I'd help him, not when...  He deserves the chance to walk away, doesn't he?"  One more vampire walking the world, for all the thousands she'd taken out of it, that was a fair trade, right?  And thousands that would be dinner for that one vampire, Buffy knew that too, people not numbers that couldn't be put on some cosmic balance against the people he had saved.  Thousands of tragedies Buffy could prevent with one staking, but it would feel like murder.  Willow let go of Spike's head long enough to give her friend a comforting squeeze, but she still had to point out the obvious.

"And all the people he might kill?"

"He deserves a chance," Buffy repeated.  "He earned a chance.  Take it out."

Willow waited a long moment before complying.  The spell itself only took a second's concentration and, in the blink of an eye, a tiny silicon chip appeared on the floor, its roots spread out like tentacles.  A few aftershocks and Spike lay still; Buffy picked up the still-activating chip and stared at it in fascination.

"It's really a very simple spell," said Willow, "just move something a foot to the left.  I'm kinda surprised Spike never tried it himself."

"He didn't like magic," said Buffy absently, eyes still on the chip, sitting astride the unconscious vampire.  "Will he have his memory back now?"

"I think so.  Eighty-five percent sure.  Sometimes it's just the devil or the deep blue sea, Buffy."  Willow shuffled across the floor to put an arm around her friend and Buffy leaned gratefully into the embrace.  "You never know, Spike might be the key to defeating the First.  You might just have saved the world, and not even know it yet."

Comfort, Willow style - with added logic.  Buffy managed a watery smile at that far-fetched scenario.  "You never know," she agreed.  "How long before he comes to?"

Willow chuckled, dispelling the sombre atmosphere.  "I'm not a vampire MD, Buffy, I only know about the magic.  There's no knowing what damage the chip might have done.  You should probably chain him up.  He might have real amnesia, or..." she trailed off and Buffy nodded, not wanting to hear the 'or'."

"Then I guess I'll wait."

"I could sit with him," Willow offered.  "I could... Well, I can defend myself."

"I can do it," Buffy insisted.  "Really I can.  I tried to kill you a couple months back, Spike really wouldn't be the problem you seem to think."

"But you shouldn't have to," said Willow gently.

"No," Buffy agreed.  "Let's hope Spike sees it that way."

 

********

Buffy finished fastening the chains and settled down to wait for Spike to regain consciousness.  She heard Dawn and Xander returning, but no-one came down to the basement to disturb her vigil.  A couple of hours must have drifted by before a voice at her elbow startled the Slayer.  

"He looks so sweet when he's asleep," said Spike's sarcastic drawl.  "So... innocent."

Buffy didn't bother turning her head, keeping her gaze fixed on the original article.  "And seeing as he's right over there, I'm not likely to be fooled by the copy."

"Just thinking of you, pet."  Not-Spike prowled around her with Spike's cocky walk, planted itself firmly in her line of sight with Spike's familiar sneer.  "Bit easier on the eye than most dead people, aren't I?"

"Could we maybe skip to the big scary and completely empty threats and then that nice bit where you disappear into a little blip," asked Buffy sweetly.  "I'm contemplating here."

"Contemplating your dead lover?"

"He's not my lover.  You know he's not my lover.  And I'm way past caring if you want to call him that.  Don't you have apocalypses to plan?  Maybe a few tormented souls to bring over to the dark side?"

"You'd be surprised.  Evil looks after itself well enough.  Much rather be here to watch the carnage when our golden boy wakes up."

"You're incorporeal and he's chained up.  How much carnage are we talking here?  And he's not your golden boy - you didn't even have anything to do with what happened to him.  I spoke to Angel, it was evil Lawyers.  Which is one of those oxymoron things, right?"

"Think you've forgotten who I am, sweetheart," said Not-Spike, rolling his neck and smirking at her with that shit-eating grin she'd loved to punch.  "Or who he is, if you'd rather have it that way.  I am evil - he's mine.  Got used to the shadow - you've forgotten the real me."

"I think you're confused," said Buffy kindly, determined not to show this copy of Spike at his most predatory her unease.  The real Spike would have noticed, heard her hitching breath and racing pulse from across the room and maybe this version could too, but she wasn't about to give it the satisfaction of shattering her calm façade.  "It's actually Spike who's forgotten who he is."

"And you fixed that all up for me, didn't you love?  You and the little redhead.  So what do you think, Slayer?  Am I going to come after you?  Or just trot off into the sunset to slaughter innocents another day?"

Buffy just shrugged, as if the words didn't hit an already exposed nerve.

"I remember the good old days," said fake-Spike happily, leaning against the wall next to Spike's cot in such a casual way it was hard to remember he was not solid.  "Picking off the young ones, the fresh ones.  There's quite a knack to it, pet.  Knowing just how much blood to take, leave them alive long enough that they still scream when you fuck them.  'Cause it's just not as much fun if they don't scream.  You stupid enough to think a taste of my own medicine will have cured me from being evil?"

"Actually, I'm wondering why you want me to stake Spike so much.  Was Willow right?  Is he the key to stopping the next apocalypse?"  

"William the Bloody, Champion of the People?" mocked the First.

"Who knows.  Maybe he's the only creature in the universe that can out-talk you?  Because otherwise I don't get it.  An unchipped Spike means more dead people, he can single-handedly increase your repertoire.  So I really want to know why you're popping up to remind me of his bad qualities when he's all helpless."

For a second Buffy really thought she was on to something, but instead of fading with a thwarted cackle Not-Spike was suddenly in her face.  "Because I know you can't do it."  It was Spike at his nastiest and Buffy fought not to step back, though she knew it was only an apparition, not even tangible.  "I know all the people that are going to die because you fucked an evil thing and I like taunting you about it, because I'm evil.  I know your secret, Slayer.  Know your weakness.  I know that all the people I'll kill will sit on your conscience until they drown you, and I know you're powerless to stop it because you can't kill me.  It's delicious.

"You're too pathetic to end me now, and you'll be too pathetic to live with what you've done.  You need me around, need the kick it gives you, to have an evil thing so obsessed with you.  Need the passion I bring because you're dead inside, you can't get it any other way, not now you've had a taste.  You can kick and scream and tell me you don't want it, but you and I both know you do.  I'm in you, down to your bones."

Buffy turned her head to the wall, for once at a loss for a witty retort.

"Oh, come now, pet, don't look away.  I'm about to do that blippy thing you like so much.  Sweet dreams."  And with a fearsome roar and a fairly impressive special effect, it was gone.  

Though Buffy's pulse was rattling away like a freight train she refused to sit there and second-guess her decision.  The First Evil might do a good job of reading her mind, voicing all the things she really didn't want to think about, but that didn't mean she couldn't go right back to not thinking about them.  But it had one thing exactly right - she had forgotten the real Spike.

She'd grown accustomed to the pale shadow and his polite ways but even before then, it had been a long time since Spike had got nasty with her.  The non-sexy kind of nasty.  Intellectually, Buffy could remember a time when he'd been a serious threat, but in the years between the visceral details had faded.  The force of his confidence, hard blue eyes and mocking, merciless smile.  The brutal, careless way he'd killed, thoughtless of gain or consequence, had been overlaid by a vampire much easier to laugh at, downtrodden and defenceless.  That brief fight earlier should have served as a reminder, but that wasn't Spike in 'gonna kill me a Slayer' mode, just someone disorientated, covering panic with anger.  Instead of feeling threatened Buffy had mostly just felt sympathy.

The First Evil had done a much better job of recreating that chill of fear only vaguely remembered from their first meeting, when Spike had casually told her he was going to kill her.  It had recreated the Spike who really wanted her dead, and with hindsight, that Spike had died long before he'd declared his change of allegiance, killed off piece by piece by memories and experiences.  If Willow was wrong, if those memories were gone and not merely suppressed by a malfunctioning chip, that was the Spike that was going to be waking in her basement.  

That Spike, at least, Buffy knew how to kill.  The other... well, the First had been half right there, too.  She could dust Spike.  To save the world, easy, to save Dawn, for sure, even in self-defence if she had to.  But she couldn't dust him for all the people he'd probably kill.  Could hardly stand to think of it.

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Well everybody's looking like they're supposed to But nobody's looking very good When you find somebody to get close to Don't you think you should?     ~ Narcisissma, Don McLean

1100

Spike groaned a little and stretched like a cat, an adorable morning routine that Buffy had witnessed more than once.  On this occasion, his languorous stretching was sharply curtailed by heavy chains.  His head shot up, blearily startled eyes taking in first the restraints, then the room, then her.  His head fell back on the thin mattress with a thunk.

"Fuck," said Spike, succinctly.  

Buffy stayed silent, watching him, waiting for an indication of which Spike she was dealing with today.  He stayed silent too, corpse-like, eyes shut, and not like any Spike she'd yet met.  

Buffy caved first.  "Hello to you too," she said eventually.

"Buffy," he acknowledged, without moving.  

The use of her name, and the weariness in his tone, told Buffy most of what she needed to know but still she asked guardedly: "What do you remember?"

"Everything," Spike answered bluntly.  "Every bloody thing."

"Seeing as we're dealing with multiple levels of amnesia here, can we make sure your everything is the same as my everything?"

Spike used his chains to haul himself sitting.  Buffy could see him gathering his courage before he met her gaze.

"Remember the chip, first time around.  Remember two years in Sunnyhell, trying to rape you, leaving.  Remember going to Africa, finishing the trials and then I just... forgot two years.  Didn't realise it wasn't still 2001 till I was halfway to LA, thought Angel might still be there, didn't know what else to do.  Got tazered instead.  Then I remember remembering lots of things that never happened and a few that did.  Remember you coming for me, then I remember not remembering that.  Then I don't remember anything, and I'm hoping like hell that's because I was unconscious."

"You were," Buffy confirmed, "that was just this morning."  A part of Buffy wanted to delay with the small talk.  Ask what Africa was like and why he'd gone there.  She ruthlessly tamped down the impulse, slid off the dryer and walked over to the cot, not quite looking at Spike as she leant forward to unfasten his manacles.  

"So what now?" Spike asked, as the chains fell away and Buffy took two very deliberate steps back.

"Now you leave.  Just this once, you can wait until the sun goes down."

"Good of you," he said softly.  "I'm so sorry, Buffy."

Buffy knew he wasn't talking about trying to kill her a few hours ago.  She'd finally got her apology and it didn't make her feel any better.  

In truth she'd already forgiven him.  Not because what he'd done hadn't been so bad, or because he'd been stupid enough to get himself kidnapped and put through hell.  She wasn't even sure when it had happened.  But this was the Spike she knew best, who could take a punch in the face as encouragement, and she wasn't about to let him think that things could go back to how they were.

"That doesn't make it alright."

"Anything that will?" he asked bleakly.

"No."

"Then sorry's all I got.  And my undying gratitude, for what that's worth."

Buffy started to pick up the scattered detritus of their earlier fight, mere displacement activity as she asked:  "How much of it was real, Spike?"

She couldn't bear to put the question more explicitely, knew he would know what she meant.

"Not a fraction of what I deserve," he answered bitterly.

"That's a pretty subjective measurement."

"Few weeks, I guess."

"You were virtually a skeleton.  That didn't happen in a few weeks."

The vampire shrugged.  "Two months, tops.  Wasn't exactly well-nourished when they picked me up.  Your point, lo-  Slayer?"

"No point.  I'll get you some more blood."

Spike raised a surprised eyebrow.  "Done enough for me, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'm going to drink it when you've gone."

And she quit the basement with such speed Spike could hardly doubt that the blood was just an excuse to be out of his presence.  And maybe a tiny sop to her conscience, too.  After all, a well-fed vampire was likely to do less killing than a starving one, right?  And Buffy wasn't going to delude herself that Spike would survive long on pigs blood once he realised he had an alternative.

 

********

For what seemed like the dozenth time in three days Spike's world was turned upside down.  He was seriously starting to think his head might fall off.  Couldn't even rant and punch wall and break furniture and scream about how he was fucking sick of this merry-go-round because he was in Buffy's basement and had caused more than enough disruption in her life.  He threw his pillow instead, it hit the wall with a soft thud and slumped to the floor, not even splitting open.

The shame was maybe the worst thing.  Not exactly the shame of being used as a sex toy but allowing it.  Angelus had used sex as a weapon many a time and happily extended that abuse from his human victims to his unruly childer, but Spike had railed and fought until he was black and blue, carried right on defying his grandsire until he was too strong to be taken or used.  But a bit of brainwashing and he'd rolled over and played the victim.  Had never once dared fight back because of manufactured memories of losing those fights.  And worse of all he'd put his craven cowerdice on display for the Slayer.  Let her clearly see how easily he'd been broken to the point where even her pity terrified him.  

But all that self-hate was playing out over a mantra of 'Buffy came for me'.

Even that tiny bit of joyous news was tainted.  The soul made him the person he'd never counted as before, made him worth rescuing, and he couldn't help but resent that on behalf of his former self.  Ridiculous though it was, even though he'd done the unforgivable, he resented that.  And right that moment he hated the soul.  For making him weak, weaker even than a chip and an unhealthy mortal-enemy obsession.  For making him worth rescuing but not good enough to stay in Sunnydale.  Couldn't hate Buffy for it.  Knew he couldn't ever blame her for not wanting him, for not even wanting him in the same town as her.  So he hated the soul instead.  Without it he'd never have ended up back here, would never have had to find out for sure he wasn't welcome, though he'd already known it.  Hated the soul for making him hate himself.  Spike didn't know how he could ever have wondered, about the soul.  Was crawling inside him now and he should have known.  Buffy had known.

He needed time, huge oceans of time to get used to the enormity of it all, didn't have any because in an hour the sun would go down and everything that still meant anything would be barred from him forever.  Still couldn't really follow the steps in his own mind.  Technology and magic had fucked him over so thoroughly even now he only half understood all that had happened.  In the blink of an eye he'd gone from fighting for his soul or death to laying in a cave in the middle of a continent he didn't remember visiting with no idea of why his last century of cheerfully killing people was suddenly a tortuous memory.  Well maybe some idea, he wasn't stupid and remembered well enough what had happened to Angelus.  But no fucking clue why it had happened to him.  With hindsight the chip must have taken objection to the soul, had viewed it as tampering.  Ironically, it wasn't until demons took their turn at fucking around with his brain that he even remembered that he'd had a chip.  

After a week or two of moping, and remembering his kills, he'd left on the long and awkward - for someone who couldn't stand sunlight or kill pesky immigration clerks - journey back to Los Angeles.  Some half-formed notion that Angel might have done this to him as revenge for the post-Amarra torture.  And because it wasn't in his nature to simply lay down and waste away.

Couldn't really parse what came next.  Couldn't think of any of it because it was all too much, and besides, all he could think about was Buffy.  Damn soul hadn't even cured him of that.  When he should have been thinking about what to do with a shiny new soul and a century's worth of atonement he could only sort through memories of her.  Buffy running gentle fingers over his mutilated back.  Buffy begging him to stop.  Buffy awkward and skittish in his company but too kind to tell him why.

Should be thinking of who he was now because he'd had no time to figure it out between mindfucks but soul or not it turned out he could only think like Spike still and Spike could only think of Buffy.  Hell, if he hadn't been in love before he would be now; how could you not love someone who'd brazenly walk into hell to rescue - okay, technically steal - a man she hated.

Buffy returned with a mug of warm blood, left it on the dryer and sat herself on the basement stairs as if she hadn't just disappeared for half an hour.  Watched in silence as he sipped at her offering.

"Did you try to take the chip out?" she asked suddenly.  

"No."  Spike turned surprised eyes to Buffy but she just nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Willow said it was the chip that mind-wiped you.  The spell the demon traders did, it used parts of your subconscious memories, but it was the chip that...  That something had triggered it, it... restored factory settings. To your brain."

Spike gave her a watery smile.  "Surprised there's any brain left in there."  But Buffy ignored his attempt at humour, picking at invisible splinters on the handrail.  "I haven't touched it, Buffy, I swear.  Maybe it didn't like Lurky, that's when I lost my memory.  I'm still muzzled, don't you worry about that."

The shifty, guilty way her eyes slid from his puzzled the vampire.  "You gonna stake me?" he asked.  

"What do you think?" Buffy snapped, holding up her empty hands.

"Think you've got some big bombshell coming," said Spike calmly.  "And if it's not something that's already happened..."

"It has happened."  More petty vandalism of the railings.  "Willow tried to undo it, but she set the chip off."

Spike waited patiently for her to continue, but she carried right on removing flaking varnish from the bannister.  "So?" he asked eventually.  "It's not working?  It's going to blow up?"

"It's working," Buiffy answered reluctantly.  "It's still going off."

"Oh.  And I'm not feeling the excruciating pain because...?"

Suddenly Buffy tossed him something tiny that glittered as Spike put out his hand to catch it.  Spike looked at the small buzzing object on his palm in wonder.  Looked up to her, back to his hand.

"I'll be buggered.  You took it out."

Buffy did nothing but watch him.

"Fuck!" Spike said again.  "You took my chip out!"

"It was going to melt your brain."

"And wouldn't that be such a tragic loss for the world.  Fuck!  You took my bloody chip out!"

"No need to be grateful," said Buffy tartly.  "Next time we'll just leave you twitching on the floor.  You could be art."

Spike gave an incredulous laugh.  "You're off your bleeding rocker, you are.  Completely fucking loopy!"

He threw the chip back at her, Buffy ignored it.  It swished  past her head and skittered along the basement floor.

"I'm grateful, love."  Spike was clutching the edge of the cot now, knuckles white.  "You have no idea of the hell you rescued me from.  Even though most of it was fake the result was... nothing.  I was nothing.  And there isn't room in that pretty little head of your for the evil that men do."

"Yeah, I'm an innocent bimbo," said Buffy dryly.  "Patronise me at will."

Spike half smiled, though he didn't look at her.  "No.  But even so.  Christ, Buffy.  Means so much that you came for me."

"Really doesn't," she said harshly.  "That means nothing." some silence.  "What are you going to do now?" low and lethal.

"Right now?  Forget that you ever told me?" Spike suggested.  "Head's already in overload.  How did you know?"

Buffy doesn't understand the question.  Changes subject.
@@@need some kind of interruption here. an excuse for a rather random pov change.  or change chapter.  or keep s pov.  whatever.

 

********

"So now we come to the serious talk bit."

"A conversation?  You and me?" asked Spike with mock incredulity.  Buffy frowned.

"More of a lecture.  I don't want to kill you," said Buffy, as flatly as she could.  "And you owe me, you owe me big time.  So you're going to leave town, and this time you're going to stay gone.  Because that's what I want, okay?"

Spike nodded.  "Anything for you," he said mockingly.

"I'm serious, Spike.  I would stake you.  And I shouldn't have to."

"You should want to, daft bitch.  Should be dancing in my ashes.  Should have left me there."

Buffy remained silent, in an eloquent way, and Spike laughed.  "You couldn't, could you?  No more capable of standing by than I am of going veggie.  Can't do the wrong thing."

"I've done plenty of wrong things."

"With me?"

"Yes."

Spike snorted.  "Couple unhealthy decisions when you were wanting to be dead and it rips you up inside.  Doesn't count."

"And what would you know of right and wrong?"

"I always knew.  Just, before...  Couldn't care.  Didn't understand, not really, why you did.  There's a huge difference between knowing that you always did the right thing and understanding why; never realised how that was a part of you.  Too stupid and too souless to understand I could never have you as you were because to be with me, to not care what I was, you would have to change, lose that thing that ate at you and I didn't understand how big a part that was."

"Whereas now you're clever and soulful..."

Spike just ignored the sarcasm.

 

"Anyone else would have been glad to know what had happened to me."

"Who says I wasn't?"

"I was there, Slayer.  I do remember."

"Shows what you know.  Because I was glad."

Spike shook his head in patient disbelief.  "Maybe you laughed when you heard I was kidnapped.  It's not the same.  I deserved what happened to me, anyone else would have left me there to rot, and been glad to think on it."

"Anyone else obviously didn't have Anya and Dawn on their case.  And two wrongs don't make a right."

"And the right matters.  Matters more to you than vengeance, more than not wanting to lay eyes on me again, more than just having better things to do than hare across state to rescue someone you rightly despise.  Even your regular souled-up human being would have found an excuse for doing nothing.  The best of them might have felt mildly guilty about it.  But you, you're incapable of making excuses.  And beyond that you find it in you to be nice to me, can't even enjoy me sweating it out, not just because it's wrong, but cause there's even room in that gorgeous little heart for caring about my pain."

"That's very pretty.  You still have to leave."

"Yeah.  I have to leave town or you'll threaten to stake me some more."

"You're starting to sound like that thing.  I'm not threatening-"

"Yes you are.  Oh, I'm going," he added hastily.  "If the only thing I can give you is my absence then you can have it.  You're right, I owe you more than you can ever know.  But you wouldn't stake me.  If I was killing, sure.  But staking me for not doing what you told me?  That wouldn't be right, and you know it, and you can't do the wrong thing."

"You're insane.  Of course that would be right, that's my duty."

"That's not-"

"Shut up.  Just... shut up.  Have your little theories, I don't care.  Just, let's not put them to the test," Buffy said warningly.

"No." long silence.

"I'm so very sorry."  more silence

"Maybe it was for the best," Buffy sighed eventually.

"We talking about the same thing here?"

"Why you left?"

"Yeah.  That was... for the best?  Jesus.  How can you say that?"

"Well there was never going to be a happy ending, was there?  Even you must realise that.  And you weren't about to wander off of your own accord.  Something had to give.  And as it was, you left, neither of us were dead.  For the best."

"Well that's... pragmatic.  Bet that's exactly what you were thinking, when you were fighting me off.  'How fortunate-'"

"Spike!"  Sharp, chiding, all that was needed to rein him in.  "Willow could totally put the brainwashing back, you know.  You were a lot less of a drama queen when you had amnesia.  I'm just trying to say... silver linings, and that.  Put it behind you."

Buffy figetted with her cuffs.  "I don't despise you and you didn't deserve it."

Spike blinked.  "I did."  Then, with less certainty, "you don't?"   

"No-one deserves to be raped.  That's what happened to you, isn't it?"

A pause, then Spike nodded.

"What you did to me was a million miles from okay, but it wasn't that.  It wasn't the same."

Another snort.  "Think you're the only girl I ever hurt?  Only girl I ever held down and tried to fuck?  You're just the one who could fight back, and the only one I gave a toss about.  The rest are long since rotten piles of bloody remains.  Believe me, I deserved it."

If Buffy paled slightly she did her best to hide it.  "Well maybe, in the whole karmic balance thing.  Maybe you had it coming.  Does that mean you're going to stop?"

Spike gaped.  "Stop... raping people?  I think you know the bloody answer to that, or you wouldn't have-" gestures to chip on floor.  "I didn't get myself a soul just to-"

"You got yourself a soul?"

"That's right.. Did you think I'd been cursed?  Because it wasn't like that."

"A soul?"  repeated Buffy stupidly.

"Yeees."

"And you're just going to casually drop that into the conversation?"

Spike looked at her, stunned.  "But you knew, you said... You took my chip out!"

"It was frying your brain!"

More gaping.  "Guess I was wrong, sometimes you can do the wrong thing."