Innocence Lost

by Christy

Buffy slowly made her way to the bathroom counter. She felt like she was dragging the weight of the world with her. Leaning heavily on the sink, she supported herself with her hands. Gazing into the mirror, she studied her face. The image looked like Buffy, but she knew deep inside that she would never be Buffy again. Buffy had died all those months ago and the woman in the mirror had taken her place.

Her eyes glazed over and the image in the mirror became blurry. This was who she was now, a blurry image in a mirror. Buffy continued looking in the glass, but didn't really see. She was numb. This was nothing new; she had been numb since her friends had brought her back. Some days even the numbness wasn't enough to bury the pain. Those were the days she went to him.

Closing her eyes, his face came unbidden to her mind. It was the same image that had played over and over in her head since the day she ended it. It was a movie on continuous replay. She couldn't turn it off. Whenever she slowed down, for even a minute, it played. I can't love you. The look on his face the instant he realized she meant it. It haunted her. Why did she stay away? The not being with him was much worse than the being with him. At least when she was with him, she could forget him. His face didn't follow her wherever she went, appearing to her at the most inconvenient times. Like now.

The timer going off startled her out of her daze. She jumped, knocking a glass off the counter. She watched it fall in slow motion, tumbling ever closer to the floor and an inevitable end. She could have caught it; she was the Slayer. But her body refused to move. The problem with being numb was that everything took too much effort. The glass hit the floor and shattered. Buffy stared at the shards. She liked that glass. Her mom bought it for her when she was six. Back when the world made sense. Back when she cared.

The glass was decorated with Wiley Coyote and Road Runner. She identified with Wiley Coyote. They both put all their time and effort into the hunt, devising new strategies, better ways to kill. Wiley Coyote never caught his prey. Her prey just kept coming. No matter how many she caught, she was back to the hunt the next night. Road Runner had nothing on vampires. Looking at the broken glass, she wanted to cry. Wanted to mourn for the girl she used to be. But she was too tired.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she looked at the stick sitting on the bathroom counter. She had refused to look at it during the three minute wait. Convinced that if she peeked she would jinx herself. She knew it was silly. She was already jinxed. Pink. She wasn't surprised. Nothing surprised her anymore. She knew what she had to do. With a deep sigh, she picked up her discarded clothes and shuffled to her bedroom. Time to get dressed, time to face another day. With a last glance at the broken glass, tears formed in her eyes, but refused to fall.

---

Dawn rested her head on the shower wall, letting the hot water beat on her back. The rhythm of the water was soothing, erasing all thoughts from her head. She closed her eyes and relaxed, something she hadn't done fully since Buffy came back. She wanted to stay in the shower all day. If she could stay here she wouldn't have to face her day. Wouldn't have to deal with school. Wouldn't have to deal with working at The Magic Box. And most importantly, wouldn't have to deal with Buffy. She never knew which Buffy she was going to have to face in the morning. It could be fake, cheerful Buffy, trying to be a good mom, or it could be zombie Buffy. She wasn't sure which Buffy she preferred. Fake, cheerful Buffy usually had some sort of breakfast waiting. She would ask annoying questions about Dawn's plans for the day and not listen to the answers. Zombie Buffy just stared into space, not acknowledging Dawn's existence at all. Some days Dawn really missed the Buffy Bot. She may not have been real, but she was more alive than the Buffy she was stuck with now. At least the Bot had cared about her. Yeah, the Bot had been programmed to care, but programmed love is better than no love at all. Isn't it?

Dawn pulled herself off the wall wearily and started drying off. Might as well get this over with. She trudged over to the sink to brush her teeth and hair. Some days she wondered why she bothered. It wasn't like the boys ever noticed her anyway. Except the one, and she'd had to dust him. It wasn't fair. Buffy could date vampires but she couldn't. True, he was trying to turn her, and Buffy's vampires were at least usually nice. But still, couldn't she meet a nice vampire? Someone like Spike? Someone who would love her unconditionally. Someone who would always be there for her. She was afraid she would end up spending her whole life alone. Who would want to love a key anyway, it's not like she was real? Clearly not Buffy.

She noticed broken glass on the floor by the counter. Why didn't Buffy pick this glass up, Dawn wondered. A person could get hurt! Bending down to pick up the glass, she noticing that it was the Road Runner glass. She sighed. She had loved that glass. It seemed like everything she loved got destroyed. Her mom, Tara and Willow, Buffy. Why should this glass be any different? She put the glass in the trash and continued to the sink.

Dawn looked down at the counter to find her brush, saw the stick sitting there, and picked it up. She knew what this was; one of her friends at school had to take one of these. Pink. She couldn't remember whether this was positive or negative. She supposed it depended on your point of view. Glancing around, she looked for the box and spotted it in the trash can. Buffy sure wasn't trying to hide this was she? Picking up the box and flipping it over, she saw that pink was positive. Dawn stood in shock. It didn't seem possible. Was Buffy even dating anyone? Dawn knew almost instantly--Spike. She had known something was going on with those two. They acted so weird around each other. Of course, no one else noticed. None of them ever noticed anything.

She wasn't sure whether to be happy about this. This might be just the thing to make Buffy want to live again. It might give Buffy something good to think about. And if she were happy, she would pay more attention to Dawn. Might even love her again. On the other hand, this could be just one more thing Buffy could pay attention to instead of her. One more thing to distract Buffy from the person she was supposed to be taking care of. The person she was *supposed* to be influencing and all that.

---

It had been almost a week since Dawn found out. She hadn't talked to anyone about it, not even Buffy. That was how things worked in their house, all topics of any importance were to be avoided. She made her way toward the Magic Box. She didn't want to go there. In fact, she would rather be almost anywhere else. But she had debts to pay. Maybe if she did her time, Buffy would smile again. Maybe she would decide Dawn was worth living for.

Dawn brushed away a tear and steeled herself for Anya's false cheerfulness. Looking up, she noticed Spike in the distance and walked toward him. She hadn't seen him in weeks. She was dying to find out how he was reacting to the big news.

As she got closer she saw him, really saw him. What she saw shocked her. Dawn stopped moving. This wasn't Spike, not her Spike. Her Spike was full of fire. He didn't walk down a street, he strutted, duster flying behind him. Her Spike demanded attention wherever he went. Her Spike struck fear in the hearts of thousands with just a look. This man was not her Spike. This man shuffled, head hung low, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his duster. This man had no pride. He reminded her of a dog that had been beaten one too many times and was now trying to avoid attracting attention to itself.

Dawn knew the cause: Buffy. Maybe she really had come back as a zombie. Like that scary man had warned her mom could. Zombies sucked life, didn't they? Buffy had surely sucked the life out of Spike. He used to be the most alive person she knew, even if he was technically dead. He crackled with life. But now, now he was little more than a walking corpse. At that moment Dawn hated Buffy. Hated her for destroying yet another thing she loved. With a sigh and a sad shake of her head, she moved towards Spike again. Pasting a smile of her face she called out, "Hello Spike."

Spike stopped and waited for her to catch up with him. "Hi Nibblet, how are things in the world of the youngest Summers?" He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, the same. Still being a mindless automaton at school. Working off my debt to Anya. That is where I am heading now. Anya sure is annoying! I can't wait until I am done working for her. Not much else. And you?"

Spike looked startled. Was it because she was asking about him, or because he wasn't really listening and was surprised she was done talking already? Dawn wasn't sure which. "I'm fine Bit. It is nice of you to be concerned. Not many people are anymore."

"I don't see you around much these days, I miss you."

"Big Sis isn't too fond of me hanging around you. Evil and all. Thinks I'm a bad influence."

"I hope she eases up after the baby is born. A child should know its father." Dawn blurted out. One look at Spike's face and she knew she had screwed up big time. Apparently Buffy hadn't told him. Big Sis is going to kill me now, she thought.

---

Spike prowled the cemeteries looking for Buffy. He still couldn't believe what The Bit had told him. Was it possible? Had he finally done something worthwhile with his pathetic existence? Would this be what finally gave his slayer her spark back? He missed her so much. She used to be all vibrant energy. She lit up rooms with her joy for life. You could feel the power coming off her. Now she didn't give off light; she absorbed it. Now when she entered a room, despair seemed to permeated every corner within minutes. He despised her friends for doing this to her.

The only time since she returned he glimpsed his slayer was when he'd been inside her. And that was short lived. She was too quickly dead again. But that little spark was enough to give him hope, to make him keep trying to reach her. He would do anything to get her back. He had loved that woman with an immeasurable depth. She had been his salvation. She had made him a better person.

It was a cruel trick of the powers. To send her back, make him think he had his old slayer again. Only to discover she was an empty shell wearing her face. It was a poor substitute. Some days he wished she were still dead. At least then he had known his purpose. He always felt instantly guilty for such thoughts. He had to stick by her. He had to save her.

Spike finally spotted Buffy making her way through the tombstones. He used to love to watch her move. It was poetry in motion. Watching her used to make him long to write, to capture the feelings she evoked in him. Now, watching her was depression in motion. She did everything slowly. He got the feeling it all took too much energy. Just watching her made him feel tired.

As he approached her he realized something was wrong. Well, more wrong than usual. Her skin, which hadn't had a healthy glow since she had come back, was even pastier. She looked shaky and weak. He was afraid she was going to fall over. What were her *friends* doing, letting her patrol? He studied her closely and a cold chill ran up his spine.

"Buffy, what did you do?" He whispered. She refused to meet his eyes, refused to look at him. The truth of what she had done hit him. He staggered with the impact. The moment froze in time. Everything became hyper-clear. In that instance he was struck with two realizations. The first being that his slayer was truly dead. The woman he had loved so much would never have done this. His slayer valued life above all else. He grieved for the death of his dream, the dream of having the old Buffy back.

He then felt something shatter inside him, something he hadn't even known existed. It was his dream of being a father. His dream of little arms around his neck. And he realized something that had never occurred to him. The death of a dream that you never knew about hurt just as much, if not more, than the death of a dream you were aware of. He had lost something he hadn't even known he wanted. The pain was unbearable.

Buffy couldn't look at him. She knew without a doubt this would be the face that would haunt her for the rest of her life. It would take the place of his face after she ended it. She couldn't bear it. She knew this face would be full of contempt. Better to live with his pain than his loathing.

Looking down at her, so full of shame, something inside him broke. He strode to her, roughly grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. Her head snapped back and then forward. "What the hell did you do?" He screamed in her face, his voice shaking with fury. She still refused to look at him. He shoved her to the ground. "I can't even stand to look at you! You make me sick!"

She looked up then, shocked by the hatred in his voice. Instantly she wished she hadn't. She had been right; this was the face. This face distorted with rage and disgust. She would never be free of it. She knew for the rest of her life she would live with this moment.

Spike looked down at her, at the emptiness in her eyes. He turned and stormed away, leaving Buffy sitting on the ground. Watching him walk away from her, she saw something she hadn't even noticed was missing. The realization caused her to crumble into a ball, weeping. The tears finally pouring down her face.

He had his fire back.

~Fin~