A/N: Lryics: It's You by Michelle Branch. A big Thank you to both basilio_the_cat and slaymesoftly for the beta job. And also thanks to those that continue to read!

Chapter Five


If tomorrow never comes
I would want just one thing
I would tell it to the stars and the sun
I would write it for the world to see
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you
Oh it's you
It’s You - Michelle Branch


“Hey now, none of that,” Buffy whispered, her thumbs wiping at his tears. Spike raised his eyes to hers in surprise. A small smile graced her features.


She was there. And she was very real. He could feel it. It suddenly wasn’t so empty. Nothing had replaced something.


She had come back from beyond the grave.


“How?” He grasped her hand with his. He needed to feel her. He needed to reassure himself that she was there. It was too surreal.


“I’m like a cat, you know, with the multiple lives thing and all,” she quipped. He began checking her for injuries.


He was stunned. It was a miracle. It could only be described as a miracle. He wanted to pinch himself to see if it hurt, but then he remembered he was already dreaming.


“But you . . . ” Spike couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “I felt it.”


“For like a minute. The miracle of C.P.R.”


“And the Master?” Spike questioned.


“A pile of dust,” she said happily. He pulled her hair back from her neck, having caught a glimpse of something he hoped wasn’t what he thought it was. “Completely threw him for a loop when I came back. I wish you could have seen his face.”


Spike did too. Then he could have smashed it in a few times. He could have ripped a few of his limbs off for daring to touch his girl. The ancient vamp had it coming and a lot more too.


“He bit you.” He fingered the mark on her neck causing her to shudder.


She nodded regretfully. “But he just took a bit.” It was almost cute how after all she had been through that night she was the one reassuring him.


“He bit you.” He was fixated on that part. Someone other than him had touched her. Had bitten her. Had drunk her blood, and then killed her. A crime if there ever was one. Spike almost wished the Master wasn’t dust so that he could have the pleasure of doing him in himself. Family or not, Spike would show him who belonged to whom. Buffy belonged to him - no one else should know the pleasure of touching her, or the sweet ambrosia of her blood. He would have shown no mercy. The wanker hadn’t deserved it.


He ran his fingers over the mark again, unable to force his eyes away from the sight. “Let me fix it for you,” he whispered. Spike hoped she would let him. He couldn’t stand knowing that someone had marked her, someone so unworthy of doing so, someone who wasn’t him. It tore him up inside, angered and saddened him at the same time to know that he wasn’t the first - that he wasn’t the only one.


She nodded, sensing how important it was to him.


He stepped behind her, peppering her neck with soft kisses. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Replace the Master’s mark with his own, and let the world know exactly to whom the girl in front of him belonged.


Spike knew there was the chance that it wouldn’t work. He feared it even. Maybe his marks wouldn’t penetrate her flesh, or perhaps it would fade. Who knew what the effect of a dream bite could be. And then there was the chance - and the greater chance in his opinion - that the marks did stick. She could be just giving in to make him feel better; he had been kind of whiny earlier. She might not understand the effects, the feelings, the meaning that went behind a vampire’s bite. It was a process so richly complicated that not many outside the vampire community understood it. And . . .


He was over thinking this way too much. He asked, she agreed, it was her own sodding fault if she didn’t like the results. Besides if she was still in denial, maybe this will be her big, flashy clue.


He was evil. Take. Want. Have. Meaning she was lucky she even had the chance to be asked permission.


He sank his fangs into her neck, took a sip of her heavenly blood, and then caressed the new wound gently with his tongue to seal it. He didn’t risk lingering. His emotions and senses were already so magnified within this world that he feared loss of control. Quick and painless with no risks. He didn’t want to risk hurting her, accidentally or otherwise. She had already been through enough.


He really needed to stop thinking so much. She was pressed against him, her warmth engulfing him, and her eyes were closed in content. He hadn’t been wrong. She had wanted it.


“All better?”


“Much,” she replied happily. She was happy. He had made her happy. That was enough for him.


***


Buffy hung up the phone. Willow was on her way over. It was time for a girl talk with her best friend. Time to get a different perspective. She just hoped it wasn’t a mistake.


She was as nervous as hell.


She should have expected it. That morning, when she woke up, she had fingered the bite mark on her neck, just as she had done the previous night before going to sleep. Then she had been filled with a sense of dread. And now? Now it was like a sense of peace washed over her. Panic filled her as she tried to figure out what that might mean. She touched the mark a third time, and once again that peaceful feeling washed over her.


It left no doubt in her mind, somehow, William’s bite had replaced the Master’s.



Buffy hated to think how it was possible. Think of what else was possible. Because in all honesty she had no clue. It could be a set up, each night she could be walking into a death trap and not know it. It didn’t feel like she was - but as much as she hated to think it, she couldn’t deny the possibility.


She didn’t understand what it meant. How it happened. What the consequences would be.


She was proud to bear his mark. It meant something, something really important. It was important to William, and that made it important to her.


It was also another glaring reminder of what he was. A reminder of the dreams that she had once hoped were nothing more than dreams.


She was confused. She knew it was a big deal, but she didn’t feel like it was. It didn’t feel like it should be.


She needed to tell someone. And the only person she could trust was Willow. She was the only one Buffy knew who wouldn’t be judgmental. Willow wouldn’t frown down on her, but would just look at it from a fresh perspective. She would offer her advice, tell her what she thought, and maybe even what to do.


At least that was what she hoped would happen.


Buffy couldn’t think straight, her head and thoughts went in nothing but dizzy circles whenever she thought about it. So she needed someone else to do the thinking for her. She needed someone to make things clear. Or maybe just someone to listen to her as she made the attempt to organize her thoughts.


Basically she needed to borrow Willow’s ear for the afternoon.


“What’s the big?” asked Willow and Buffy suddenly noticed that she was in the room.


Thank God for best friends.


Shutting the door behind the red head, she ushered her to the bed and sat beside her. “I need to tell you something,” said Buffy seriously.


Willow looked nervous. “Is everything okay? You’re not going to die again are you? You would think you
would get a break in between prophecies. Unless you have a fatal disease. Oh my gosh, you don’t, do you? And I’m rambling aren’t I?”


“A bit. But no, nothing like that,” assured Buffy. Deciding that physical evidence was always a plus, she pulled her hair from her neck. She was pretty sure it would get Willow’s mind off her death and onto something a little less bad. “What do you think this is?”


“The place where the Master bit you,” guessed Willow, she looked confused. “Oh ew, it’s not infected is it? Are you turning into a Vampire?”


“This isn’t the Master’s bite, Wills.”


Willow scrunched her nose in what looked like more confusion. Not that Buffy blamed her; she was over her head with the confusion. “Another vamp got you? Did you tell Giles?”


“I can’t. You can’t.” Buffy focused her eyes on Willow’s, intent on making sure she was understood.
“What I tell you can’t leave this room. Not a peep, Willow.”


“Cross my heart.”


“Not a word.”


“I promise, Buffy, not a word,” said the red head seriously. “Now tell me. You’re scaring me.”


“I have these dreams . . . ”


“Slayer dreams?”


“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Buffy. “They started after I was called, so they’re probably related. They’re definitely more than dreams though.”


“But you don’t think they’re visions?”


“No.” She paused and took a deep breath. Buffy could tell she had Willow’s full attention. She wanted to trust her with this. But she was still nervous. This was something so deeply personal that a part of her wanted to keep it that way, keep it in the grove that existed only in her mind, never allowing it to see the light of the real world. There it was safe, they were safe, she was safe. But she knew that she needed to tell someone else, and so she plunged on before she lost her nerve completely. “It’s always the same place - a clearing in the middle of the woods. And there’s a vampire . . . ”


“Angel?” questioned Willow with a teasing smile.


“Ew, no.” Buffy shuddered. “Someone else.”


“Okay then. Does he try to kill you? Fight you? The usual vampire stuff.”


Buffy shook her head. Willow wasn’t getting it and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to. But she continued on anyway, she needed to get this off her chest. “No, we usually just talk about things.”


“I don’t understand,” stated Willow.


“They have an affect on me,” admitted Buffy. “They make me happy. Other guys that aren’t him don’t do
it for me, just the thought makes me feel guilty.”


“You’re crushing on a dream guy?” Willow questioned, she had that look that said that’s clearly insane. Buffy hated that look more than anything.


“That’s the thing Willow. He’s not a dream guy. This bite is his, not the Master’s.”


“Buffy . . . ”


“No. No. I get that you think it’s crazy.” Willow raised her eyebrow. “But last night I touched it, and this cold feeling engulfed me. Nothing but dread. But this morning when I touched the mark again, it was the opposite. Peace and warmth, you know. And last night, in my dream, William bit me, over the Master’s mark. How can you possibly explain that?”


Willow wasn’t buying it. She didn’t understand. She had a look of sympathy and sorrow on her face that clearly said everything was going to be okay. That she would get her friend through this obvious crisis. Only she couldn’t, because no matter what Buffy was going to say, Willow wasn’t going to believe her. She had already made the decision not to the moment it got weird. It defied the logic that Willow liked to cling to.


How could she have been so stupid? She should have known. Buffy had made a mistake, and now she had to figure out what the possible repercussions might be.


“Considering what you were feeling at the time, Buffy,” tried Willow, who always had to be logical. “Maybe you wanted so badly for yourself to be rid of any reminder of the Master that you fabricated this dream so you could feel better when you looked at the mark.”


“And everything else,” countered Buffy, desperate to prove her wrong, even though a part of her knew that now there was no changing Willow’s mind. They had gotten past that point - Willow already had a theory and everything. But she had to try, had to make the attempt to correct her error and regain her footing.


She had so desperately wanted someone who would just listen. Listen and understand. That was all.


“Maybe it’s a way to protect yourself Buffy. A way for your body to rejuvenate - by creating this thing in your head that’s perfectly real to you, you get what you need, a good feeling, a good night’s sleep, and less chance of getting hurt. You go through so much, Buffy, it could just be your body subconsciously playing hero for you while you go out and do it for everyone else.”


It was a good theory. Made a lot of sense, she had to give her that. But Buffy felt deep in her bones that it was real, had known it for a while. But like Willow was now, she had played the part of denial girl. Bottom line - the feelings coursing through her, the physical presence he provided, it left any other possible explanation in the dust.


“I’m not crazy, Willow.”


“And I’m not saying that,” assured the red head. “The mind works in mysterious ways. It’s complex.”


A part of her wanted to yell, just in the effort to get her point across. But Buffy knew she couldn’t, she had already let her big secret out of the bag and been shot down. She couldn’t risk exposing herself more - she knew it would only make the situation worse in Willow’s eyes, and then she might decide to go to someone else. Something that could definitely not happen. Not now.


Perhaps a calmer approach. One last try. She wanted so desperately for her friend to believe her. Because if Willow didn’t, it left her that much more vulnerable. It once again opened up the possibility that she was crazy, that the thing she had been clinging to so desperately in the last few months was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.


And wasn’t that what she had wanted? The dreams to be just that - dreams. That’s what she had told herself. The idea that she had clung to, if only to keep the complicated situation simple. Not real meant that she wouldn’t get hurt. Not real meant only good things would come of it.


But she was the Slayer. She was supposed to be brave, not run away. She knew though, if she let him, he could break her heart to the point where it could never be put back together. Perhaps such a thing might be worth the risk.


That didn’t make it any easier though. Far from it. Which was why she had wanted to talk to Willow. Why hadn’t she thought of the fact that Willow would take a different perspective than the one Buffy wanted her to have?


“It’s more than that, Willow. Every time I go into that clearing, every time I think about it, I can feel it. It’s so much more than that. He’s mine Willow. He was made for me.” Willow had clearly run out of words because she just looked at her with the same sad expression. She wished she could have done a better job of explaining what she felt. Find the right words for the emotions coursing through her, but she didn’t understand them, not as much as she would like. And she knew that was causing a failure in communication. She was too emotional. She wasn’t thinking clearly. The dreams did that to her. “I know what it is. I don’t understand it, and it confuses the hell out of me, but I know what it is. As my friend I had hoped you would get that, but I guess I was wrong.”


“You just went through something horrible, Buffy. Something horrific,” said Willow, her voice clearly sympathetic. Buffy felt the tears begin to form behind her eyes. She had failed. Willow wasn’t going to understand. “You just need some rest, after that, I think then you’ll see just how insane it sounds. You just need to distance yourself from it.”


“Wills, you don’t get it . . . ”


“Rest. We’ll talk about it later. Distance will be good for you right now,” said the red head before letting herself out of the room.


It felt like betrayal. Like someone had stabbed her in the back, even though she knew it wasn’t so. But it didn’t change her mind any, just taught her that she had to be careful. That perhaps this secret was better left in the grove, still unready for the outside world.


She had learned her lesson.