Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, not me. Sigh.

Thank you to all my patient readers and reviewers. This story is taking me a while, for whatever reason, but I promise to finish it come hell or high water!


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Chapter 12
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Spike made his way back downstairs around noon after a long shower. He realized that Buffy’s underarms were getting fuzzy and managed to shave them successfully, but he took a look at the expanse of skin involved in shaving the legs and chickened out. With my luck I’ll slice open a vein and have to fight the demon off after he smells Slayer blood. After the usual exhausting attempt to figure out what clothes to wear, he finally made his way downstairs. Buffy had been sipping coffee in front of the TV and looked up when Spike entered the room. “How are you doing?” she asked.
 
“Better. Feel almost human again,” he said. “Well, okay, I am human. But you know what I mean. I’m actually starting to get hungry now that the hangover is wearing off.”
 
“Well, help yourself to whatever you can find,” Buffy offered, following him into the kitchen. “I could probably stand to go grocery shopping sometime. The cupboard is getting a little bare around here.”
 
Spike had to agree. Aside from the blood he had bought, the fridge contained some cheese and butter, and half a carton of milk, but not much else. “Not sure what to make of these ingredients,” he admitted.
 
Buffy looked over his shoulder. “Grilled cheese?” she suggested.
 
“Sounds good, although I’ve honestly never made it,” Spike said.
 
“It’s not that hard. You can learn,” Buffy said. She gave him a few hints as she sat down to watch him cook. Ten minutes and a singed finger later, he had a reasonably decent sandwich, put some tortilla chips next to it, and called it lunch. Buffy poured another mug of blood and sat down to join him. “Not bad for a guy,” she smirked.
 
“Hey, I’m not completely helpless,” he protested. “I just haven’t needed to cook my lunch, well, ever.” He found the sandwich delicious for a first attempt. Had I known what I’d be missing I would have made sure to thank the cook more when I was alive.
 
“What, you didn’t cook when you were alive?” Buffy asked, curious.
 
Spike shook his head with his mouth full. “No. Had servants. Most everyone in my circle did at the time. And even if we hadn’t had them, men just didn’t cook back then. Womenfolk would shoo you out of the kitchen every time you tried to set foot in there.”
 
Buffy pondered that. “Servants. Wish I had some of those. At least for the laundry and the housecleaning.”
 
“You’ve got a sister and a roommate,” Spike pointed out. “They should be doing more of that stuff.”
 
“Willow does some,” Buffy said. “But I do need to make Dawn do more chores and stuff. She’s getting spoiled.”
 
“Threaten to eat her,” Spike said with a grin.
 
“Very funny,” Buffy replied. “And besides, once we switch back that means a level of cannibalism that I’m not particularly comfortable with.”
 
“Picky eater,” Spike teased, and Buffy stuck her tongue out at him in response.
 
Willow and Xander came in through the kitchen door at that point with a bag of takeout from the local fried chicken place. “We’re back,” Willow said, clearly uneasy at their chummy interaction. “We um, brought some lunch if anyone is interested.”
 
“Well, I sort of just finished lunch,” Spike said. “But I’ll take a piece of chicken if you can spare it.”
 
“How did it go?” Buffy asked as the others grabbed plates and dug in.
 
“We may have found something,” Xander replied. He described the security tape and the three men with the black van. The description triggered a memory in Buffy.
 
“Three guys,” she mused. “That’s what I saw out of the corner of my eye that night. Three figures at least. I don’t remember what they looked like or if there was a van, but I did see three people walking.” She wrinkled her brow trying to remember more.
 
“That rings a bell with me as well,” Spike added. “Three heartbeats. I remember hearing them. Didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, given that I was a bit preoccupied with trying to remember my own name.”
 
“What did the third guy look like?” Buffy asked. Willow described him and suddenly Spike sat up and smacked himself on the forehead.
 
“Of course!” he said. “The guys who… um… the guys who made the bot.” His borrowed face blushed as he remembered the bot and all the baggage that came with it. “Warren was the third guy’s name. I went over there recently to go find out… some information on the chip.” Spike figured that the Scoobies didn’t really need to know that the chip didn’t work on Buffy yet.
 
“So you’ve been there?” Buffy exclaimed. “You know where they live?”
 
“I know where they used to live, in any event,” Spike said. “Maybe we can check the place out tonight, after dark. Don’t fancy walking in there dressed as you if they’re trying to erase your memory because you’re the Slayer.”
 
“Good point,” Buffy said.
 
Willow had been listening to the exchange, and felt the need to assert herself. “But are we sure those are the same guys? And what could they possibly have done to make this happen? I mean, building a robot is one thing, but erasing people’s memories?”
 
“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” Buffy said firmly. “I intend to follow it.”
 
Spike nodded, finishing his second piece of chicken and licking his lips. “I agree. I still think Tara and I should go check out the victims. Maybe it will give us some more clues on how they did this.”
 
“Well, she should be here in a little while,” Buffy said. “While you’re gone, maybe we can do some internet searching and find out as much as possible about these guys.”
 
“I guess that’s a plan,” Willow said. “As soon as we’re done eating I’ll fire up the old laptop and see what we can find.”
 
When Tara arrived the leftovers had been cleared away and the dishes piled in the sink, making room for Willow’s laptop. Xander and Buffy crowded around, hunting for any information on Warren, Andrew (once they had remembered Tucker’s brother’s name) and Jonathan. The Trio had done a fair job of covering their tracks online, but they were able to find Warren’s parents’ house, which seemed to Spike to be the right address. “Hello, Glinda,” Spike said as he answered the doorbell. “Glad to see you. Come in while I get my things together.”
 
“Hey guys,” Tara said. “How goes the battle?”
 
“We’ve had a few leads,” Willow explained. She briefly outlined what they had found so far, with a few interruptions from Xander to clarify some points.
 
“That’s great,” Tara exclaimed. “We might actually be getting somewhere.”
 
“Speaking of getting somewhere, are you ready to go check out the hospital?” Spike asked.
 
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tara said. “I feel like some sort of secret agent or something.”
 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” Willow asked, trying to hide her disappointment at being left behind.
 
“The fewer people, the less we’ll be noticed,” Spike said. “Come on Glinda, let’s see what we can find.” He led the way out the door.
 
Tara looked at Willow with concern, but in the end said, “We’ll be back soon.” She turned and followed Spike, closing the door behind her.
 
“Who died and left him boss?” Xander grumbled. He was completely uncomfortable with the thought of a vampire calling the shots.
 
“I did,” Buffy said shortly, fixing him with a stare that dared him to make something of it. Xander didn’t have an immediate response to her statement. He moved over next to Willow, frowning constantly while Buffy ignored him and started washing the dishes.
 
“Buffy, what did he mean about checking out the chip?” Willow asked nervously. “What if he was trying to get it out?”
 
Here we go, she thought. She was halfway tempted to come up with some lame lie or brush-off, but Spike was right – she really needed to start asserting herself. Buffy steadfastly concentrated on the dishes as she quietly said, “He was probably trying to figure out why it doesn’t work on me anymore.”
 
The effect of her statement was immediate and completely expected. “What?” Xander cried. “He can hurt you? Why didn’t you dust him already?”
 
“I thought you said the chip still works!” Willow spluttered. “It worked when you went after me yesterday morning!”
 
“Will the two of you just calm down for two seconds!” Buffy thundered, cutting through the stream of recriminations as she spun to face them. “Okay, yes he can hurt me. I punched him in the nose, he punched me back, the chip didn’t fire. The chip still works on humans so I’m assuming that when you brought me back you fucked something up so that I don’t register as human anymore.” Her voice got ragged with hurt as she finally voiced her secret concern: that she was no longer fully human after all she had been through.
 
Xander and Willow were both thunderstruck for a moment. Then Xander sputtered, “What do you mean, you’re not human? Willow’s spell couldn’t have done that!”
 
“How do you know?” Buffy spat back. “You guys didn’t even know I was in heaven. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing! All you wanted was to get me back so you didn’t have to deal with the slaying and to hell with the consequences!”
 
“That’s not fair!” Willow cried. “You’re our friend, Buffy! We all care about you! We missed you!”
 
“That’s great, but it’s still about you guys, isn’t it?” Buffy said. “You missed me. So I had to get dragged out of my eternal reward because you couldn’t deal.”
 
“But that still doesn’t answer the question about Spike!” Xander said, doggedly trying to drag the conversation back to the vampire. “If his chip is malfunctioning you can’t keep him around! What if it fails completely?”
 
“The last few weeks he could have killed me at least a half a dozen times, Xander,” Buffy said in a lower voice. “I’ve been so depressed and out of it, he could have drained my neck and I would have let him. But he didn’t.”
 
Willow’s eyes grew wide. “Buffy, you’re starting to scare me here,” she said.
 
“He didn’t hurt me,” Buffy repeated, staring them both down. “He helped me. He listened to me, and didn’t judge me, and didn’t tell me what to do or what to feel. The only reason I didn’t let some vampire have a really good day was because of him.”
 
“But he’s a killer, Buffy!” Xander insisted. “The fact that he’s helping you out doesn’t erase what he is!”
 
Buffy turned back to the dishes, drying plates while she collected her thoughts. “Xander, how many years was Anya a demon?” Buffy asked quietly after a minute or two.
 
The statement seemed like a nonsequitur to Xander. “What difference does that make?” Xander asked. “She’s human now.”
 
Buffy pressed on. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to be human. It’s not like she stood up and said ‘I renounce all my demon ways. Forgive me world for all the mayhem I caused for a thousand years.’ It was forced on her, just like the chip was forced on Spike.”
 
“Still not seeing the point here,” Xander said.
 
Buffy turned to face him again. “The point is that Anya spent about ten times longer killing and tormenting people before she became human again, and we’re supposed to instantly forget all that. But if Spike fights on our side, he gets no credit because he spent a century being a vampire. Seems a bit of a double standard if you ask me.”
 
“But…” Xander began.
 
“Enough,” Buffy cut in, throwing the towel on the counter. “Here’s the deal. I need Spike around. He helps me with the slaying and he helps me cope. You can either shut up and deal, or get the fuck out of my house. I am done with this argument already.”
 
“So you’re choosing the bloodsucker over us?” Xander cried.
 
“No, you’re the one who’s making a choice out of it,” Buffy said firmly. “The choice is yours – accept Spike as part of the team, or get out. I’m through justifying myself to you. I have no problem with having both you and Spike as friends and allies. You’re the one with the problem. So fucking solve it yourself.” With that she stalked out of the room and up to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
 
Willow sat stunned at the exchange. “What do we do now?” she asked after a minute.
 
“You do what you want,” Xander growled angrily. “I’ve got to get out of here for a while. I’ll be at the Magic Box if you need me.” He turned and left, also slamming the door, leaving Willow alone in the kitchen with her laptop and a troubled mind.
 
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Tara and Spike made their way to the hospital on foot, with Spike pausing at every stoplight to turn his face up to the sun. “You’re really enjoying that, aren’t you?” Tara commented.
 
“Yeah,” Spike admitted. “You learn to cope with being in shadow all the time, but I think any vamp who says he doesn’t miss the sun at all is full of it.”
 
“Are Willow and Xander still giving you guys a hard time?” Tara asked. She had noticed Willow’s unhappiness at being left behind and it pained her, although she agreed with the reasons.
 
Spike sighed and shrugged. “Willow was waiting for us when we got home last night. Then this morning Xander came banging in as usual, giving us shit about the fact that we went out to the Bronze last night.”
 
“You went to the Bronze?” Tara asked, raising her eyebrows.
 
“Just went for a couple of beers after patrol. I forgot about the beer to body weight ratio problem and got pretty wasted. But Xander acted like we had both gotten drunk and destroyed half the town,” Spike grumbled.
 
“What did Buffy say when Xander started in?”
 
“She told him to lay off, which was a fine thing to see,” Spike said. “I hope she keeps it up. I’m just afraid when we get all switched back she’s going to fall back into letting them call all the shots.”
 
“Well, maybe with your help she won’t,” Tara said with a smile that gave Spike hope. At least someone is on her side, he thought.
 
They reached the hospital and went in, asking at the information desk about Mr. Renolds, the first victim. “I’m sorry, but he’s in the psych ward, and only immediate family are allowed in to see him.” The nurse was not convinced that Tara was a cousin, and they turned away, momentarily stymied.
 
“What now?” Tara asked.
 
Spike looked around. “Let’s go up to the psych ward and see what we can find,” he said. Tara shivered a bit, recalling her experience with Glory, but steeled herself to go up there with Spike. On the way they saw an orderly coming out of a locker room, and Spike got an idea. Waiting until the coast was clear, Spike and Tara dashed into the ladies’ locker room. He was able to dig two used but not filthy sets of scrubs out of a laundry hamper that fit them well enough. “Doctor Tara and Doctor Spike, at your service,” he said, and Tara grinned in reply.
 
Tara muttered a small charm, a glamour meant to cause people not to notice their lack of IDs and other details. The spell was effective, given that they were ninety percent disguised already. They left the locker room strolling purposefully toward the psych ward, and were pleased to see that no one in particular stopped them. When the nurse behind the desk stepped out for a moment, they peered over the counter to find out the room where the first victim was located. They found the room empty except for a middle aged man in a hospital bed, watching TV in a desultory manner.
 
“Mr. Renolds?” Spike said. “How are you feeling?”
 
“I’m doing okay,” he said. He cocked his head in confusion. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”
 
“We were both off the last couple of days,” Tara explained. “We were just making the rounds. Have you noticed any changes?”
 
The man shook his head. “Still can’t remember anything. They tell me my name’s Jerry, and some woman has been here who says she’s my wife, but I can’t remember anything,” he said sadly. “It’s like my brain is an etch-a-sketch and someone shook it.”
 
“Well, at least you remember what an etch-a-sketch is,” Spike said. “Nothing else though, huh?”
 
Tara looked hard at the man as he spoke to Spike, seeking out his aura. At first it seemed he didn’t have one, which was alarming in and of itself. All sentient creatures had auras, even vampires and demons. Then with a stifled gasp she realized that the man’s aura was actually next to him. Usually she saw auras as a cloud of colors centered on the person. Here, the cloud was separated from him by about six inches, moving when he moved, but not connected to him. What in the world could do that to a person?
 
“Well, I know the other specialists are working on some new angles, so hopefully we’ll be able to get you back to yourself soon,” Tara said, catching Spike’s eye.
 
“I sure hope so,” the man sighed dejectedly.
 
“Hang in there, Mr. Renolds,” Spike said, and together he and Tara left the room. They walked unhurriedly back to the changing room to reclaim their clothes, with Tara developing a headache from holding the glamour spell. She breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally able to slip out of the locker room and exit the hospital.
 
“What did you see, Glinda?” Spike asked. “I didn’t notice anything useful at all.”
 
“His aura was… shifted somehow,” Tara said. “It would be like if someone detached your shadow and it was following you, but not touching you. His aura was there, but in this pool of color next to him on the bed.”
 
Spike boggled a moment at her statement. “So whatever those guys did, it somehow displaced, what, his consciousness? His soul? Pulled something out of place so that he can’t remember anything?” Spike wondered.
 
“And with you guys, they must have done the same thing,” Tara broke in. “But since you were so close your auras or consciousnesses or whatever just latched on to the other body somehow.”
 
Spike shook his head. “That makes some sense, but what could do that?”
 
Tara shook her head in return. “No idea. I’m thinking magic, but it would have to be a fairly powerful spell, and I would think the caster would have to be really close to the person to make it work.”
 
“Well, Buffy and I will go poke around over there tonight,” Spike said. “Maybe we’ll find something that will clue us in.”
 
“Let’s get back to the house and tell the others,” Tara said. “But I feel like we are finally getting somewhere.”
 
“Agreed,” said Spike, and they turned their feet toward Revello Drive.
 
*******************
 
Anya was dusting shelves when Xander came bursting through the door of the Magic Box, clearly in a state of annoyance. “Xander? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” she asked.
 
“Buffy practically threw me out of her house!” Xander yelled.
 
“What did you do to her?” Anya asked. “You didn’t try to take over her house again, did you?”
 
“What?” Xander said. “I don’t take over her house.”
 
“I’m just saying that she seemed pretty annoyed by the disinvite spell we did,” Anya said. “At least that’s what Spike said.”
 
“Spike is the problem!” Xander yelled, pacing back and forth. “Buffy basically told us that she was choosing Spike over us!”
 
“What? Xander, I think you’re overreacting again,” Anya said.
 
“I am not overreacting!” he yelled. “She told us his chip doesn’t work on her anymore and we’re supposed to somehow welcome him into the group with open arms? The hell?”
 
“Xander, you’re not making any sense,” Anya said in exasperation. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to sit down at the table. Sitting next to him she said, “Now, tell me the whole thing, from the beginning, without the hysterics.”
 
“I am not hysterical!” Anya folded her arms and looked at him sternly. “Fine. I went over there with donuts this morning like I always do…”
 
Anya listened for several long minutes as he described Buffy telling him to use the doorbell and to leave Spike alone. He described the trip to the mall and what they found. Then he launched into the description of the argument with Buffy that ended with them both slamming doors. “I just couldn’t believe what she was saying! She even compared you to Spike, like somehow Spike should get a pass just because you were a demon longer or something.”
 
“I guess I am a little like Spike,” Anya said thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re both old, both of us are in our current state without our consent.”
 
“But he’s evil!” Xander insisted. “You’re not going to go out on a killing rampage if a piece of silicon stops working.”
 
“How do you know Spike will?” Anya asked, honestly not seeing his point. “I mean, he’s the Slayer of Slayers. The only person he can slay right now is the Slayer, and he hasn’t slayed her, so if the Slayer of Slayers isn’t slaying the Slayer, then what makes you think he’s going to go around slaying everyone else?”
 
Xander paused a moment to parse Anya’s last sentence. Then shaking his head to clear it he said, “But you’ve got a soul, Anya. You’re human. There’s no comparison.”
 
Anya shrugged. “You assume I have a soul. I don’t know. I did without one for a thousand years. I guess I have one now. But don’t human criminals have those too?”
 
“Yeah, but…” Xander was finding it tough to come up with a reply.
 
“And I never wanted to be human and all that,” Anya continued. “Okay, I like it now that I found you, but I enjoyed being a Vengeance Demon. It was fun and rewarding. If I didn’t have you, I’d go back to it in a heartbeat if the opportunity arose.”
 
Xander’s jaw dropped. “What are you saying? You think tormenting people is fun?”
 
“Well, people who deserve it,” Anya said with a shrug. “My point is that I don’t have much of a choice. I’m human, and I have to make it work. Since I met you, I want to be a good person so you’ll stay with me and give me lots of orgasms. But Spike never had to stay around and help. He stopped doing evil things and started helping us last summer because he wanted to. He could have taken off when Buffy died or gotten some minions together to wreak havoc or heaven knows what else. He stayed, Buffy wants him around. I really don’t see the problem.”
 
“But… but…” Xander babbled.
 
“Look,” Anya said, leaning forward and taking his hands. “I love you. But you have got to get it through your skull that Buffy can handle her own affairs. If she wants Spike around, what are you going to gain from fighting her? I mean, what do you hope to accomplish?”
 
Xander stared for a moment. “We just want her to see how dangerous Spike is,” he said. “She’s been so out of it since she came back and we just don’t think she’s…”
 
“What, she’s not in her right mind?” Anya interrupted. “Xander, she may be depressed and pissed off about being pulled out of heaven, but she’s not crazy. And I think she’s a lot more of an expert on what vampires are dangerous than you are.”
 
Xander shook his head and then dropped it into his hands. “I just can’t believe she’d choose him over us,” he said.
 
“Xander, honey, you could just, you know, leave Spike alone. There’s a thought.” She stood up and faced him, arms folded. “You’re just going to drive her away if you keep this up. You and Willow need to back off and let the woman breathe.”
 
“She’s our friend, An,” Xander said. “We’re just trying to help her. And what’s with you defending Spike all of a sudden?” he demanded.
 
Anya gave up and turned to pick up her duster. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should ask her what she considers help. You know, listen to her? Like friends do?” A customer entered the shop at that point, and Anya turned her attention to capitalist gain. Xander leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair, completely flummoxed by the whole situation. 

TBC