Confluents

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Like I have to say this again. If I owned any of these characters, Spike and Buffy would have lived happily ever after, as would nearly everyone else.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.

Summary: Set directly after the events of Same Time, Same Place. Buffy realizes that she's probably left Spike in the basement for too long and hauls him out. Her attempts to get the First to stop tormenting him don't go quite as planned, however. Then again, when do spells on the Hellmouth ever work right?

A/N: I may be a minority, but I thought the First was about the lamest villain ever. How do you fight something like that? It's impossible. And besides, it's philosophically and logically insupportable that you'd have the First Evil and not a First Good of some kind. I'd give you the logical argument, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm treating the First as the S3 episode Amends treated the First—like some ghost that could be chased away by some fast talk and the light of day. I'm ignoring the rest of S7 canon pretty much. Oh, and the title is taken from a Christina Rossetti poem I thought was appropriate.

 

Chapter 1: Mission of Mercy

 

"Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig/and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:/maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,/a cracked bell, or a torn heart..." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet VI

 

Buffy traced her path through the basement with a feeling of trepidation. She was nervous about seeing Spike again. It wasn't really a bad kind of nervous—she wasn't scared of Spike anymore.

The scene in the chapel had her completely wigging, of course. Watching the vampire throw himself on the cross had been horrifying. Knowing that he had gotten the soul for her was—humbling. Not knowing what else to do, Buffy had hauled him off the cross and then watched him flee into the night.

He had been down in the basement for too long already. Buffy knew she should have dragged him home immediately after finding out he had a soul. That's what the soul meant, right? Spike got a get-out-of-jail-free card, a clean slate, a fresh start. As the Slayer, it was her job to make certain that he got it, that he was taken care of— at least to a certain extent. She'd done no less for Angel when that particular souled vampire had returned from hell, and he had done worse things to her.

Spike, after all, hadn't killed anyone. He'd just tried to rape her.

Buffy shook her head. That wasn't fair either. The Slayer was pretty sure that Spike hadn't meant it. He had wanted her to admit that she felt something and had taken things too far.

It's not like she hadn't done the same thing.

If the truth were to be told, Buffy had left Spike in the school basement because it was easier. Life was easier when Spike wasn't around. Maybe not better, but definitely less complicated.

It was time to be the Slayer again, though. Time to deal with the tough issues that no one else wanted to touch; time to make sure that Spike wasn't going to hurt anyone in his crazy state. Buffy didn't think he was a danger, but it didn't pay to be careless.

"Spike?" she called. "Are you down here?"

Silence was the only reply she got, and then she heard him. The words were too low for her to catch, but she followed the sound to its source. Spike sat, arms around his legs, curled up into a little ball.

He looked smaller without his coat, Buffy thought upon seeing him. The coat that was currently residing under her bed. "Spike?"

"Quiet," he muttered. "If we're quiet they won't bother us."

She approached him slowly. "Who won't bother us, Spike?"

"They won't bother us." He repeated it over and over again like a mantra.

Buffy swallowed hard. It hurt seeing him like this. She might not be in love with him, but there was something there, some feeling. Enough that it had hurt to have him break her trust as he had. If Buffy hadn't had any feelings for Spike at all, his attack on her person would not have been a surprise, and she could have quickly brushed it off.

It had stung to realize how much she had trusted him.

"Spike," she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You need to come with me."

He skittered away from her touch, moving back into the deeper shadows. "Don't touch! You ought not to touch!" The vampire started rocking back and forth, the back of his head hitting the wall every time he moved back. "No one ought to touch that which is unclean."

"You're not unclean, Spike," Buffy tried to reassure him. He was definitely dirty. Spike had always been fairly particular about being clean. Now he smelled like a dead thing. It was the stench of an open grave.

And it broke her heart.

"Please, Spike," Buffy said, trying again. "You have to come with me." An idea hit her. "I need your help."

His head snapped up, and a brief flash of lucidity passed through his eyes. "I can help?"

"That's right," Buffy said, feeling a sudden flare of hope. "You can help me, but you have to come with me now. It's really important."

He scrambled to his feet, trying to smooth out his clothing awkwardly. "Okay."

Buffy wished she'd known the magic words a little earlier. Spike was pathetically eager to give his aid. He was acting like a whipped puppy, eager for more attention.

She always hated how Spike made her feel, even when he wasn't doing anything wrong. Buffy reached out to take his hand to lead him, but he shoved both hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Don't touch. It's not allowed."

"Fine," Buffy agreed, just to placate him. "But stay close, okay?"

He followed her docilely enough, so close that she could sense him on her heels. For a moment Buffy allowed herself to remember the days and weeks right after she'd been resurrected when Spike had stayed as close as he could. Those were the days when his presence had been a comfort and a balm. What had happened?

Oh, yeah. They'd had sex.

Buffy heard his sharp indrawn breath as they passed through the front doors of the school. Spike was looking around everywhere but at her, obviously ready to bolt back inside. "You're not going back," she said firmly in her best General-Buffy voice. "Spike, look at me." She waited until he'd complied. "You're not going back."

Spike made a sound that could only be described as a whimper. "They'll punish me."

"No one's going to be punishing anybody," Buffy replied. "I won't allow them to."

He didn't look as though he believed her. "I'm bad."

Buffy sighed, not wanting to do this. She didn't want to be gentle; she wanted Spike to snap out of it so she could kick his ass and then make him promise not to leave. "Fine, Spike, you're bad," the Slayer replied. "So is pretty much everyone else I know, and no one's punishing them. Let's go. I'm tired and I want to go to bed."

~~~~~

Dawn was torn. Sure she'd been all big with the threats on Spike's unlife, but that had been when he was looking sane and in one piece. Now Buffy was bringing home crazy-but-with-a-soul Spike, who had helped the gang save Willow.

Spike, who had watched over her the summer Buffy was gone. Spike, whom she'd had a crush on. The same Spike she had loved.

In the darkest hours of the night, Dawn could admit not only that she had loved Spike, but that she still did. He had been the only thing in her world that made sense. Then he'd attacked Buffy. It was that betrayal that had hurt the worst, knowing that her anchor was just another sinkhole.

Maybe if Buffy had been a little more forthcoming with the details, Dawn would have had a better idea of how to feel about the whole thing. Instead, her sister had simply announced that she was going to collect Spike from the school basement, and that they would talk about it later.

"Where are they?" Dawn asked Willow, who was trying very hard to appear calm and collected. Willow had to admit that she was also a little nervous about seeing Spike. He'd been acting really strange the last time she'd seen him.

The witch looked over at her. "I'm sure Buffy's on her way back."

"What if she's not?" Dawn demanded. "What if Spike tries to hurt her or something?"

Willow bit her lip. "Spike wouldn't try anything, Dawnie. Buffy said he has a soul now."

Dawn wasn't sure what all this talk about a soul was. Everyone made a big deal about the soul. Angel had a soul, and that was the only thing holding him back. Well, so what? Just because Spike had a soul didn't mean he wouldn't hurt Buffy.

"So what?" Dawn said, the thoughts too big for her head to hold. "It's not like people with souls don't do really horrible things."

She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth, of course. Willow was just beginning to get back into the swing of things, she was obviously trying very hard, and now Dawn had to rub her face in it. Willow turned bright red and went back to playing around on her laptop. "You're right, Dawnie, but the soul does make a difference."

Dawn might have said more, but the opening of the front door interrupted her. She dashed out into the hall to see her sister tugging a recalcitrant Spike through the door. "Don't make me do this the hard way, Spike," Buffy warned him. "You are not going back to the school basement."

He looked bad and smelled worse, Dawn realized, and almost in spite of herself, she softened slightly. "Somebody's going to have to clean him up, Buffy," she said.

"I know," her sister replied irritably. She glanced towards the stairs. "It's not like we have anything for him to wear, though. It's probably a good idea just to stick him down in the basement tonight."

"Will he stay?" Willow asked, coming out to join them. "I mean, he looks ready to bolt."

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at the vampire, who appeared as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. "I don't know," Buffy said reluctantly. "We could..." She stopped that thought right there. Chaining Spike up was her last resort since he wasn't a danger to anyone else but himself.

There was a moment of silence, and then Spike announced, "Standing right here."

His eyes reflected a glimmer of sanity. "So are you going to stay, Spike?" Buffy asked, her tone revealing her impatience. She was not used to being a nursemaid, nor did she want to put on the act.

"You said you wanted help," he accused, looking like a sulky little boy.

To Buffy and Dawn's surprise, Willow grabbed his arm. "We do need your help, Spike, but you can't do much from the school basement. It's much better if you stay here."

Spike stared at her intently for a moment. "You know."

Buffy frowned in confusion, but Willow understood immediately. "I do. What do you say we get you cleaned up. I'm sure Buffy wouldn't mind getting something for you to eat."

Spike shook his head frantically. "I don't eat anymore. I won't. It's not mine to take."

"It's okay, Spike," Willow soothed. "It's just pig's blood, and that's okay to eat. Buffy and Dawn eat pork all the time, and that's just the same." She glanced at Buffy. "We'll just go get you cleaned up."

Speaking in a low voice, the witch managed to coax Spike up the stairs, leaving Buffy and Dawn with their mouths hanging open.

"I want details, Buffy," Dawn said flatly. "What's going on?"

"Dawn—"

"No," the girl said stubbornly. "I don't understand why you'd want Spike in our house after what he did to you." Buffy looked away. "He did—did he do what Xander said he did?" Dawn demanded.

Buffy winced. "Not exactly," she said uncomfortably. Xander had assumed, and then he'd told Dawn his assumptions, and Buffy had never really bothered to correct them. It had been easier. "He—it's complicated, Dawnie."

"Then uncomplicate it," she said flatly. "You said Spike went and got his soul. Was it because he raped you?"

"He didn't rape me," Buffy replied. Glancing up the stairs, she grabbed Dawn's arm and tugged her into the kitchen. "He was trying to make me admit that I had feelings for him." This was why Buffy hadn't attempted an explanation before now. It was too hard. "Look, Dawn, I told you it was complicated. I don't know how else to explain."

"Then explain why you're okay with him being in the house."

There was a challenge in her sister's voice that Buffy couldn't ignore. "He has a soul."

"So what?" Dawn demanded. "What difference does the soul make, other than make him crazy?"

"He got it for me!" Buffy hissed, and there was a flash of emotion in her eyes that Dawn could read like a book. "Spike got his soul for me."

Dawn sighed, admitting defeat in the face of her sister's obvious distress. It was no wonder Buffy was being all weird about this—what with the whole comparison thing that neither of them could help making. Angel lost his soul and Angelus didn't want it back. Spike went looking for his soul because he hurt the woman he loved. Dawn was the brainy one—she could do the math.

"Come on, Buffy," she said. "Let's get Spike's blood. He looks like he could use a decent meal."

~~~~~

Willow had to admit to feeling a certain sympathy with the blond vampire. She completely understood the whole guilt trip thing. If Giles and the coven hadn't been so great, she honestly wondered if she wouldn't have gone crazy.

If not from the guilt, then certainly from the grief.

She knew that Spike's remorse was a hundred times heavier than her own, and Willow also knew that Buffy was probably not the best person to deal with him right now. Willow loved her friend, but the Slayer often had a hard time with the softer side of things.

Spike needed soft right now.

As they neared the door to the bathroom, Spike stopped dead in his tracks. "No," he muttered. "I hurt the girl. I can't—I won't. You can't make me!"

His voice was rising rapidly, and Willow hurried to soothe him. "It's okay, Spike. No one's going to make you do anything." She tugged him towards the master bedroom, the room she had once shared with Tara. "We'll just use a different bathroom."

Spike shook his head. "I won't tell. I promised I wouldn't tell."

"You don't have to tell me anything," Willow replied. "It's okay."

He twisted slightly, his eyes unfocused. "Will you punish me?"

"No," Willow replied slowly. "I'm really not in a position to punish anybody."

Spike lowered his voice, confiding, "I wasn't supposed to leave. They said so."

"Who said so?"

"They did."

Willow realized that Spike wasn't up to explaining anything. "Okay, well, if they bug you again, you just tell Buffy or me. We'll tell them where to get off."

He looked skeptical, but the conversation had gotten them into Buffy's bathroom without any more fuss. Spike started to look panicked again as he realized where he was, and Willow wondered if he had generalized his fear to all bathrooms. It would explain why he was so filthy, even just beyond the whole craziness thing.

Willow decided it was time to use her best take-charge voice. "Spike, look at me." He glanced away, obviously uncomfortable, complying only when Willow grabbed his chin and forced his head around. "I want you to get undressed and put your clothes outside the door. Then I want you to take a shower. Can you do that?"

He nodded.

"Good." Willow gave him a quick pat on the arm. "I'm going to find something else for you to wear."

She shut the door behind her and then paused, feeling a chill. There was a sense of wrongness in the air, although she couldn't define it any better than that. Willow shook it off, chalking it up to the general weirdness that was always around the Hellmouth.

Willow didn't trust her instincts these days.

~~~~~

His ears were buzzing. All Spike could see or hear was Buffy's voice. No!...Ask me now why I could never trust you...

He whimpered. Clean. He was supposed to get clean.

"You're never going to be clean." Spike whirled to see Buffy standing there. "You get that, right? This is never going to be over, Spike. People don't forgive things like that."

"No," Spike said. "You're not—you're not real. You're—"

"I'm real enough," Buffy replied. "Oh, come on, Spike. Like I'm ever going to love you after what you've done. You're a monster, and now you're insane. What kind of woman wants something like that around?"

"No!" Spike shouted. "I won't listen to you! You're not real!"

"Spike?" Buffy's voice came through the door. "What's going on in there?"

He had turned involuntarily towards the door, and when he looked back at where Buffy had been standing, the spot was empty.

It was too much.

Spike collapsed against the wall, shaking uncontrollably. He buried his head in his arms and rocked back and forth, repeating over and over, "You're not real."

 

 

Chapter 2: A Madman in the Basement

 

"My love, I returned from travel and sorrow/to your voice...I cannot give up your love, not without dying./So: play the waltz of the tranquil moon,/the barcarole, on the fluid guitar,/ till my head lolls, dreaming:/for all my life's sleeplessness has woven/this shelter in the grove where your hand lives and flies,/watching over the night of the sleeping traveler." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXXX

 

They heard the shouting in the kitchen. Buffy might have been concerned for Willow, but her friend was asking about finding something for Spike to wear. She was up the stairs in a flash, pounding on the bathroom door.

"Spike? What's going on in there?" She heard Spike's voice, but she couldn't make out the words. Apparently he'd gotten the shouting out of his system. "Spike? Are you decent? I'm coming in."

There was no response, and Buffy opened the door cautiously. "Spike?"

He was on the floor, in much the same posture she'd found him in the basement. "You're not real," Spike muttered. "You're not real. You're not real."

"Of course I'm real," Buffy said, but her tone was gentle. She knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Spike, what's this all about?"

Her touch brought his eyes to hers. "Buffy?"

"That's right," she replied, pulling her hand away. "What's going on?"

Spike shook his head. "I promised not to tell."

"Who did you promise?"

"Them." His voice dropped down to a whisper. "They'll hurt me if I tell."

"No one's going to hurt you, Spike," Buffy replied, wanting to add that she would if he didn't tell her what was going on. He looked so completely wigged, however, that she didn't want to add to his distress. She had to say that the last thing she wanted right now was to be dealing with an insane vampire who was hearing voices. "Who were you talking to?"

"You." It was definitely not her, of that Buffy was certain. She was about to tell him that, when he added, "But you weren't real."

Buffy frowned. "Who else talks to you?"

 

"Dru," he admitted, shrinking down into himself a little further. "And Angelus. And the others."

She didn't have to ask what others; Buffy thought she knew. It was a familiar story. Spike was seeing and hearing things that no one else could—things that were tormenting him, driving him crazy. The Slayer had experienced this before.

"Okay, Spike," Buffy said quietly. "I want you to get cleaned up now." She stood to leave, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist. He dropped it just as quickly, as though her skin had burned him.

"Please, don't."

Buffy was torn. She was fairly certain that to stay with him was to invite trouble. On the other hand, he looked so desperate— "I can't stay with you."

"Please, just—talk to me?" Spike pleaded. "If you talk to me I can't hear them. Please?"

Buffy sighed and knelt beside him again, reaching out to touch his cheek gently. Instead of scuttling away from her touch, the vampire froze and then seemed to relax, closing his eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, and Buffy knew that she had done this.

She had broken him; therefore, she was responsible for putting him back together.

"Leave the door open," she instructed. "I'll be outside if you need me."

He nodded reluctantly, and Buffy withdrew, stepping into her bedroom, but leaving the door cracked behind her. She waited until she could hear the sound of the water running, and then she ran a hand over her face. It was no wonder Spike was a little crazy right now, and Buffy knew that she needed to attend to it immediately.

Otherwise, she'd have to talk yet another souled vampire out of offing himself.

~~~~~

"You want me to do what?" Willow squeaked.

Buffy sighed. "I want you to see if you can find a spell that would help protect Spike," she explained patiently. "If Spike's crazy because of the First, I want to be able to chase it off. It's not going to mess with him anymore."

Willow and Dawn exchanged looks, wondering if Buffy knew how that sounded. It reminded both of them of her adamant protection of Angel or Riley when she was dating them. Buffy really didn't like it when the bad guys messed with her boyfriend.

"I can look, Buffy, but I don't know if it'll do any good," Willow replied. "If the First can mess with Spike because he has a soul, the only way to prevent it would be to either get rid of the First or get rid of the soul."

Buffy shook her head. "We're not getting rid of the soul. Not that Spike needs one, but he wanted it, and he fought for it. I'm not taking that away from him."

"Okay," Willow said slowly. "I'll look, but—magic?" she asked. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"We'll hope it doesn't come to that, Will," the Slayer said. "But I'm not going to bank on it." She glanced up the stairs, hearing the water shut off. "I'd better get back up there." Grabbing the mug of blood, she swept out of the kitchen.

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "I thought Buffy said she wasn't in love with Spike."

"She did say that," Willow answered thoughtfully.

Dawn turned to the witch. "You want some help with the research?"

"Yeah," Willow replied. "You can keep me on the straight and narrow." She hesitated. "I thought you were mad at Spike."

"I am," Dawn replied. "But just because I'm mad doesn't mean I won't help him." An unreadable emotion passed through her eyes. "I mean, he's in really bad shape."

Willow grimaced. "Yeah, he definitely is."

~~~~~

He could smell her, all over everything. Her scent was in the air, on the towel he'd wrapped around his waist, in the shampoo he'd used.

Spike clutched the towel more tightly, suddenly certain that this was a dream, a mirage. Sometimes he saw things that he knew weren't there, heard the voices of people long dead. This was all a part of the madness—there was no way Buffy would allow him into her house again.

A noise from behind had him whirling to face the new threat, only to see Buffy standing in front of him, a bundle of clothing in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. "Are you okay?"

The words stuck in his throat, and he could only nod. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. She was a figment of his imagination, and she would—"Spike?" Her hand was on his arm, and he stared at it, because the ghosts never touched him.

Buffy looked into wounded eyes and kept her hand on his arm. The clothes lay on the bed—an old pair of sweatpants that had always been too big for her and an old t-shirt. She would have to locate more of his things. Maybe Clem would know where they were.

His hair was wet and curly from the shower, and Buffy could feel the wire-taut muscle of his forearm under her hand. Spike was ready to run. "I want you to get dressed," she said quietly. "Can you do that for me?"

It took a moment for the words to register, and Spike shuddered beneath her touch. Why hadn't she staked him yet? He could understand her not dusting him if she wasn't real, but she was real. Why hadn't she killed him?

"You have a soul, Spike." Her words broke through the stasis, and he realized he'd spoken the question out loud. "Just—just get dressed, okay? And drink your blood. I've already got a bed set up for you in the basement."

She left him then, and Spike felt her absence terribly. He could identify what was real while she was there with him, touching him, speaking to him. There was a tone in her voice that it could never match.

Because he could do nothing else, Spike dressed in the clothing she had left for him and drank the blood she gave him, concentrating on those two tasks with everything he had. Then, feeling wearier than he ever had before, he descended the stairs, finding Buffy waiting for him. "Come on," she said. "You need to sleep."

When he didn't move right away, Buffy took him by the arm, her touch gentle. "Downstairs, Spike."

He followed her down the stairs, allowing himself to be led like a child. "They come when I sleep."

"Well, they're not allowed in my house," Buffy declared, ignoring the fact that Spike had seen an apparition just a short while before. "So you can go to sleep."

Spike wasn't sure he remembered what sleep felt like. What it felt like to drift away without a care in the world. When had he last slept—deeply and without dreaming? "Don't sleep anymore."

"You'll sleep here," Buffy declared, tugging him over to the bed and tucking him in as she would have a child. "Just close your eyes and lie still."

He did as he was told, feeling the brush of her hand over his hair as she left. Much to his surprise, Spike soon drifted off to sleep.

And he did not dream.

~~~~~

Buffy knew she probably should have gone on the hunt for the First and its minions immediately. She would have to check the Christmas tree lot where she'd first come upon the harbingers, not to mention checking the school basement again. She felt completely drained after getting Spike settled in the old cot, however, and all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep for a week.

It probably would have been easier to do her investigating if she had accepted the job at the school. Part time did not pay bills, however, and sticking with waitressing was pretty much the only option until she could start school again in the spring. Waiting tables sucked, but it was paradise compared to the Doublemeat.

Besides, something about the principal gave her the wiggins.

So Buffy followed her usual schedule, going to work and then going home to change before heading out on patrol.

The house was silent when she arrived, and for one panic-stricken moment Buffy thought that Spike had disappeared again. She would have to find him, drag him back, and chain him up so he couldn't get away.

It was the last thing she wanted to do.

The back porch was the last place she thought to check, but sure enough Spike was out there, pulling on a cigarette. "Hey."

"Hey."

The Slayer took a cautious step towards him and settled herself gingerly on the step. "You're looking better."

"Feel a little better."

There was no emotion in his voice. It was flat, expressionless, and it bothered her. Everything about Spike bothered her these days, Buffy realized. His presence made her feel as though her skin was too tight. "Spike—"

"'m sorry," he said, before she could go any further. "I know I tried before, to say it, but—"

"You weren't the only one there, Spike," Buffy admitted quietly. "I think we both screwed things up pretty much equally." She was quiet. "You're sounding a little saner tonight."

"Voices aren't as loud here," he replied. "It's easier." Spike stood. "I should go."

Someone—Willow or Dawn, probably—had washed the clothing he'd been wearing. Buffy caught the scent of fabric softener drifting past her nose. "Go where?" she asked, standing quickly.

"Dunno," Spike replied. "But I shouldn't be here. I thought—" He broke off, not completing the sentence. "I should go."

Buffy swallowed hard. "Spike, no. We don't know what's messing with you. If you leave—"

"I won't be a burden," he finished. "Never meant for that, you know."

"You're not a burden."

Spike's lips twisted into an expression that wasn't quite a smile. "Yeah, right. Thanks for the blood and kip, pet, but I'll be on my way."

The panic was there again. Buffy didn't want him to stay, and she didn't want him to go. "Wait," she demanded, a little desperately. "I think I know what's after you."

"Didn't start till I came back to Sunnydale," he replied. "Chances are if I leave, it'll leave me alone." Spike shrugged. "An' if not, I can be crazy somewhere else just as well as here."

He was going to make her say it, Buffy recognized. She was going to have to say the words. "I don't want you to leave."

Spike didn't reply, shrugging his shoulders against the tension. She didn't want him to go? Well, he didn't want to stay. This was more difficult than he thought it would be. Spike had honestly believed that she'd stake him before she gave him the chance to speak. He considered it just penance.

To his surprise, the Slayer wasn't cooperating.

"What if this thing causes some damage, Spike?" Buffy demanded. "What if it uses you? Let's at least try to get this figured out."

Spike hesitated and then nodded. "I can stay at my crypt until then."

"It's not there anymore."

He stiffened. "What are you talkin' about?"

"It's not there anymore," she repeated. "Clem—Clem told me. It got infested with a bunch of Rakka demons, and the only way to get rid of them is to—"

"Destroy their home," Spike muttered.

The tension hummed between them, and Buffy could feel his desire to flee like a tangible thing. "Clem said he got most of your things out. I thought I'd pick them up tonight while I was out on patrol."

"Fine," Spike said, sounding terribly reluctant. "I'll stay till we get this thing figured out then."

"Spike—" She hesitated, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it. She wanted to tell him that it was better when he was around, even if it wasn't easier. To tell him that she was glad he'd returned, even if it hurt. To say she was sorry for everything that had gone on.

Buffy was sorry that she'd used him, but she didn't know how to say it.

"Forget it," Spike said, reading some of that in her eyes and face. "My own soddin' fault."

She watched him go inside, and then pressed one hand to her forehead, resisting the urge to weep. Buffy hated that this was so damn hard.

~~~~~

Willow had been looking through her magic texts rather half-heartedly. It wasn't that she didn't want to help Spike; she really did. It was the actual doing of the magic that scared her, and most of the spells she had found were more than a little dangerous.

Mostly dangerous for Spike. Willow hated to think what Buffy's reaction might be if she blew the vampire up.

There was one spell that looked relatively promising, but she didn't want to try anything unless absolutely necessary. On the other hand, it never hurt to be prepared, which was why she was in the Magic Box, fidgeting under Anya's watchful gaze.

She turned when the bell over the door jangled, thinking it might be Buffy. Instead, Xander was looking at her with raised eyebrows. "I thought you were off the magic, Will," he commented.

"Oh, I am," Willow replied. "This is sort of for Buffy. Just research, you know, trying to be prepared." She was fairly certain that she didn't want to explain the Spike situation to Xander, who had a tendency to be irrational any time a vampire was involved.

"Prepared for what?" Xander asked, immediately interested. "Is there an apocalypse on the horizon?"

"There's always an apocalypse on the horizon," Anya broke in with some asperity. "Like they'd need you for that, Xander. Unless they need donuts."

Willow hid a wince as Xander's face darkened. Anya's tongue could be as sharp as Cordelia's at times. "I do more than you," he replied heatedly.

"That's because I don't care anymore," she replied. "If this world goes to hell, it won't be much of an improvement, quite frankly."

Willow decided it was time to break things up. "There's no apocalypse," she said quickly. "It's just that Buffy thinks there might be something after Spike."

Mentioning the blond vampire was a mistake; Willow realized that as soon as the words left her mouth. Xander's face resembled a thundercloud. "We're helping Spike now?"

"He has a soul, Xander," Willow said reprovingly.

"We only have his word for it," Xander growled. "He could be lying so Buffy won't stake him."

Anya rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. "He's not lying, Xander. I knew Spike had a soul before Buffy did. It's obvious."

"If you're a demon," Xander retorted.

"That's right, Xander, I am a demon," Anya shot back. "Let's not forget why. Or do you need me to remind you?"

He frowned and then turned to face Willow again. "So why are we helping Spike again?"

"Something is tormenting him," the witch said. "Buffy thinks it might be the First, and she's worried that it's going to make Spike do something bad."

"Like kill someone?" Xander asked, sounding concerned for the first time.

"Like kill himself," Willow corrected him. Then, seeing his expression, she hastily added, "Or someone else. There's really no telling."

Xander stood processing that for a minute, reluctantly recalling Spike's complete freak-out after he'd hurt Ronnie-the-Giant-Worm. "You want some help?"

Willow blinked in surprise, and then smiled. "Yeah, actually that would be nice."

~~~~~

Dawn slipped into the house as quietly as she was able. Buffy was probably out on patrol, but Willow might be home, and she would really rather not explain where she'd been.

Telling people you were visiting your mother's grave in hopes of getting some sort of sign was a little weird, even for the Hellmouth.

The only conclusion she'd come to was that she was tired of people leaving, and she was glad Spike had come back. If Buffy was willing to forgive him for what he'd done, then Dawn would try to do the same.

Of course, she was going to make him suffer a little bit first. That was only fair.

He was standing in the kitchen. "Spike?"

 

"Dawn."

Spike's voice was even, and Dawn found herself wishing for the long summer days when he was the only one she could talk to. Then his voice had dripped with emotion—repressed grief and guilt and an endless love.

Sometimes Dawn wished Spike loved her as he loved Buffy. She could not help but think she'd feel safe as houses then.

"What are you doing?" He was just standing there, not moving, not even breathing, and it was beginning to freak her out a little.

There was a long silence, and then Spike turned to look at her, eyes glittering in the darkness. "Do you hear that?"

Dawn felt a chill run up her spine. "Hear what, Spike?"

"That's what I thought," he said calmly. Dawn would have felt better if he were yelling at her. A calm Spike was a frightening creature. "You need to leave now, Niblet."

She backed up a step, knowing without being told that something was very, very wrong. "Why?"

"Because I'm not in control right now." His face shifted, yellow eyes glowing, and Dawn could see him fighting it. "Run!"

She took to her heels, not bothering to look over her shoulder. She could hear the growls behind her, and then she heard him whistling a jaunty tune.

It was the song that scared her more than anything else.

 

Chapter 3: A Little Innocence

 

"who were so dark of heart they might not speak,/a little innocence will make them sing;/ teach them to see who could not learn to look/--from the reality of all nothing/will actually lift a luminous whole;/turn sheer despairing to most perfect gay,/nowhere to here,never to beautiful:/a little innocence creates a day./And something thought or done or wished without/a little innocence,although it were/as red as terror and as green as fate,/greyly shall fail and dully despair--/but the proud power of himself death immense/is not so as a little innocence" ~e.e. cummings

 

The Christmas tree lot was deserted this time of the year. It would be a couple months yet before the lot was crowded with people. Buffy wandered in a seemingly aimless pattern, winding her way through the obstacles in concentric circles, moving ever closer to the location where she'd discovered the First and its minions the first time around.

"Why am I not surprised?" Buffy muttered as she came upon her goal. Sure enough, the trees were dead again. They had been thriving a couple years ago when she had come with her mom to buy a tree. It was the last Christmas Joyce had been alive.

Once again, Buffy hunted around until she found the entrance to the cavern, dropping down through the hole she'd created. She had no idea what she was supposed to do about this thing. The First was back. Last time its goal had seemed to be to get Angel to kill himself, after it couldn't force him to kill her. This time, Buffy hadn't a clue what it wanted.

Unless, of course, the First wanted Spike to kill himself, in which case she was going to be seriously pissed off. How many times did she have to go through this?

"I knew you'd come." This time, there were no harbingers, or if there were they were better hidden. "Did you really think I'd set up shop here again?"

The First looked like her. Buffy was staring into a mirror image of herself, and she suddenly understood exactly how it had managed to get under Spike's skin so deeply. "This is getting really old," she commented. "Have you ever thought of trying a new game?"

"Why?" not-Buffy asked smugly. "This game is so much fun. Better yet, you know the rules. I was a little surprised at how long it took you to catch on, though. I had a long time to work on him. You won't save this one, not this time."

Buffy snarled. "I think you're underestimating him. Spike's the most stubborn person I've ever met."

The First smiled cruelly, and seeing its expression, Buffy wondered if that wasn't what she had looked like to Spike. She suddenly understood why he might not want to stay in Sunnydale. "Do you really think so?" not-Buffy asked. "And what if he killed someone? What then?" The grin broadened. "What if he killed your sister, his beloved Little Bit? You don't think he would beg for death, even if you didn't kill him?"

Buffy's eyes widened. She had no idea if the First could carry out its threat or not, but if it could—if Spike was forced to kill Dawn—the Slayer had no doubt that it would destroy him completely.

The sound of its laughter rang out behind her as she ran.

~~~~~

Dawn had been scared before, but she'd never been frightened of Spike. Well, never was probably an exaggeration, but it had been a long time since she'd felt fear in his presence. Now, however, she could hear his mocking tones behind her.

She had bolted for the front door, only to find him there in front of her. Sometimes it was hard to remember just how fast vampires could be. Dawn had immediately bolted for her room, locking the door behind her, and grabbing her cross and stake.

"Come on, Dawn," Spike's voice called through the door. "Don't make me come find you."

Dawn tugged the window open, her breath coming in short, quick bursts. If she could sneak out the window before Spike knew what she was doing, she could make it to the Magic Box, or one of her friend's houses where he didn't have an invitation.

No, correction. She could find Buffy, because if her sister came home and didn't realize that Spike was psycho, he could be on her before she knew what was happening.

The window finally came up, and Dawn was half out when her bedroom door burst open, the sound of splintering wood causing her to startle.

"You're not trying to sneak out, are you, luv?" Spike asked, his tone mocking. "What would your sister say?"

It wasn't Spike, of that Dawn was certain. Something had him—something was controlling him. Dawn knew that he had warned her for a reason, probably before he'd completely lost control of himself. If he hadn't given her that warning—

Spike grabbed her foot, the only part of her body still in the room. "Come on, pet," he murmured, his yellow eyes glittering. "Don't you want to live forever?"

Dawn yanked herself out of his grip, tumbling down the incline of the roof and onto the ground, the air rushing out of her lungs. She gasped, trying to get her breath back as she forced herself into a standing position. "Dawn!" Strong hands grasped her by the arms, and Dawn met her sister's green eyes. "Where is he?"

"He's inside," Dawn panted. "Something's wrong, Buffy. Spike isn't—"

"He's not himself," Buffy finished grimly. "I'm going to take care of this."

Dawn took a step back, wincing as she put her weight on her twisted ankle. "Don't hurt him, Buffy! He tried to warn me to get away."

"I'll take care of him." Buffy's face was set, and Dawn watched her sister, worried that the Slayer was going to do something she would later regret.

~~~~~

Buffy marched through the front door, ready to do some damage. She wanted to hurt the First, but for right now she'd have to settle for Spike. She hated to beat him up when he wasn't himself, but it was that or staking him.

Staking him wasn't an option. Period.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "Get your sorry ass down here!"

He was in full game face when he descended the stairs, his walk as cocky as it had been way back when she had first seen him in that alley outside the Bronze. "Wondered when you'd show."

"This isn't you, Spike," Buffy said, wondering if she could talk him down before she had to put him down. "I know you're in there somewhere."

He didn't reply, coming after her without warning. Buffy fought him off desperately, feeling both his strength and his lack of grace. It was almost as though he was struggling against something, since his movement was jerky and stilted.

Buffy blocked a couple of his punches, taking a kick on the thigh as she twisted out of the way. "Snap out of it!" she yelled, hoping that her voice would bring him back to himself as it had earlier.

There was no recognition in his face now; it was completely blank, devoid of emotion. That was what frightened Buffy more than anything else, since Spike usually wore a manic grin while he fought. This wasn't even concentration. This was like fighting a Spike-shaped automaton.

She finally got the chance to put a fist in his gut, causing him to double over instinctively. Following up the punch with a kick to the jaw, the force of her blow sent him flying across the room, where he lay still.

Buffy sighed as she looked at him. This wasn't what she'd wanted, not anymore. "Is he going to be okay?" Dawn asked from behind her.

"I think so," Buffy replied, going over to where he laid, a trickle of blood on his chin. "Are you okay?"

"My ankle's a little sore," Dawn said, "but I'll be fine. I'm more worried about Spike. He's going to hate himself when he remembers what happened."

Buffy knew her sister was right on the mark. "We'll just have to make sure he believes it wasn't his fault then."

~~~~~

Willow found Dawn on the couch, her leg propped up and an ice pack draped over her ankle. The witch frowned. "What happened, Dawnie?"

"Spike went all psycho on me," Dawn replied. "Literally."

Willow blinked. Dawn sounded way too casual about the whole thing. "And you're okay?"

"I'll be fine," Dawn replied. "It really wasn't Spike's fault. He warned me to get out before he came after me. Buffy thinks the First possessed him or something."

Willow smelled an emergency. She had the sinking feeling that the spell she had found would end up being their only solution after all. "Where's Buffy?"

"In the basement making sure Spike's secure." Dawn grimaced. "You know, I'm beginning to feel really sorry for Spike. First he goes crazy, then something possesses him, and then he gets beat up by my sister." She looked over at Willow. "What did you find? Are you going to do that spell we were talking about?"

Willow sighed. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, but I'm not sure that I have a choice now. It looks like it might be the only game in town."

"Do you really think it's going to help?" Dawn asked. "Won't the First or whatever it is just find another way to torment him?"

"Maybe," Willow allowed. "What the spell will do is prevent the First from making him do anything he doesn't want to do. The biggest problem seems to be that it can play Spike's demon off his soul, making one act against the other. If we can make them one—metaphysically speaking—we can prevent that from happening."

Dawn look skeptical. "What's that going to do to Spike, though?"

"That I don't know," Willow confessed. "I wouldn't dare try it with Angel, but it's got at least a chance at working with Spike."

Dawn wasn't so sure about that. It seemed to her that there were a lot of risks involved with this spell, and that most of them were risks to Spike. "I guess we'll just have to let Buffy decide then."

Willow shook her head. "I'm not doing this without Spike's full cooperation. If this doesn't work, he could wind up a vegetable—or worse."

Dawn didn't even want to know what could be worse.

~~~~~

Spike groaned as he woke, his head throbbing. He felt something cool slide against his skin, and his eyes fluttered open to see Buffy's face. Her hand pushed him back down when he tried to sit up. "Lie down, Spike."

He did as he was told, knowing that he was as close to being dust as he ever had been before. He could feel the heavy manacles around his wrists and felt a rush of relief. "How's Dawn?"

"She's fine." Buffy's face was grim as she wiped the blood from his chin. "She twisted her ankle when she fell, but it'll probably be fine by tomorrow."

Spike's face twisted in shame. "Just stake me, Buffy. It's the only way—"

"It's not the only way," Buffy cut him off. "Willow's working on a spell that might help."

Spike shook his head. "What if it doesn't work? What if I get loose, an' I hurt Dawn, or Red, or—you. Bloody hell, Slayer! Just do it already!"

"I'm not going to kill you," she said stubbornly. "That's just what the First wants."

Spike swallowed. "Then why don't we give it what it wants?" he asked quietly. "'s not like I don't deserve it."

"Forget it," Buffy retorted. "You're not getting out of this that easy, Spike."

"So you're doin' this to torture me?"

"No, I'm doing this because you don't deserve to die any more than anybody else does," she responded. "Think about it, Spike. If I killed everyone who's hurt me, anyone who'd ever tried to kill me—I wouldn't have any friends right now."

"But—"

"No," she said. "I'm going to get you through this, and then we're going to hash some things out." Buffy's hand was still on his chest, sending heat radiating through his form. "This wasn't your fault. Something got to you, and we're going to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Why are you doin' this?" he demanded, sitting up in spite of her orders. "You're not in love with me. You don't even like me. Why does it matter?"

"Because it does." At the look on his face, Buffy winced. "I don't hate you. Besides, you—" She couldn't finish, couldn't say the words to his face. It would be too much of an admission that there was something more there.

It would mean confessing that she had known he loved her before the soul.

"Look, we can talk about this later. I need to see if Willow's found anything yet."

The sound of a throat being cleared had Buffy turning. "I found a spell."

~~~~~

Buffy was shaking her head by the time Willow got done. "There are too many risks."

"I want you to do it," Spike said, ignoring Buffy's objection. "Is it safe for you?"

"For me?" Willow asked. "Yeah, but if it doesn't work there's no telling what it will do to you."

"It'll merge the demon an' the soul, right?" Spike asked. "'s pretty much what I wanted to begin with."

"Technically it doesn't merge the two, it just makes it hard to tell one from the other. It binds them together so that the First can't use the demon side of you, or the human side."

Buffy had a bad feeling about this. "I don't know, Will. If this goes wrong—"

"You'll stake me an' be done with it," Spike interrupted. "If this doesn't work, I won't have this thing usin' me."

Buffy shook her head. "I'll go find its Bringers and kick their asses," she objected. "We can at least try."

"And until you know for sure it's gone, you keep me in the basement?" Spike asked incredulously. "Don't think so."

Willow held up a hand. "I think Spike might be right," she inserted. "Not that I want to do the spell, but the First could easily come back without us knowing about it. It seems to really like souled vampires."

"It seems to hate souled vampires," Buffy corrected impatiently. She stood, beginning to pace. She didn't like the risks that Willow had outlined, nor did she like the idea of keeping Spike chained up indefinitely. "What's the real risk on this, Willow? Give me your best guess."

Willow sighed. "There's a really good chance that if the spell doesn't work it'll just fizzle. No harm done. I think I can make it work."

"And if it doesn't work and it doesn't fizzle?" Buffy pressed.

Willow gave Spike an apologetic look. "Spike could just not wake up. Ever."

"I still want to do it." Spike's voice was steady. "Buffy, I can't do this again. If I hurt you or Dawn—"

He didn't have to finish. Buffy knew exactly what it would do to him. There would literally be nothing left. "What do we need?"

"I already have the supplies," Willow replied. "I got them tonight, just in case."

"I want to do it as soon as possible." Spike's voice cut into the silence. "I trust you, Red."

Buffy looked over at her friend, who was wringing her hands nervously. "That's good, because I don't know if I trust me." Willow gave Buffy a pleading look. "You should probably be here for it, you know. If I go all veiny—"

"I'll take care of it," Buffy replied. "You'd better get your things."

She left, and the Slayer looked over at Spike. "You're sure about this?"

"Do I look sure?"

He looked as determined as she'd ever seen him. "Maybe we're being too hasty," she hedged. "We haven't been looking for a solution very long. There could be—"

"Something else?" Spike asked. "How long before we're sure? How long until I get hijacked again an' end up doin' some real damage?"

Buffy took a deep breath, sitting down next to him on the cot. "I don't want you hurt."

"Nice to know you care, luv," he said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"I care."

It was out now, although she'd been giving off every indication of caring for the past couple days. "Because of the soul."

"Not just that, though it helps," Buffy admitted. "It makes things easier."

"Yeah," he muttered, staring down at his hands. Spike hated that it mattered, but wasn't that why he'd gotten it in the first place?

Buffy laid a hand on his. "Look, Spike, if this doesn't turn out—"

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by Willow's re-entrance. "I've got everything," she said. "I don't think it'll take too long."

The Slayer knew she needed to say something—knew she needed to tell Spike that the soul wasn't everything. The words stuck in her throat. "Great. Let's get started then."

~~~~~

The spell was deceptively simple. While they would have all been more comfortable upstairs in the living room, it was deemed safer to stay in the basement, just in case the chains around Spike's wrists became necessary in the middle of things.

Willow was more than a little nervous about the whole thing. It wasn't a complicated spell, but it required a lot of concentration and will power from the caster, and while that was exactly what she'd been working on with the coven, this was the first test of her new-found control.

This was why she had started using magic in the first place—to help her friends, to be useful. This was also why Giles had sent her back to Sunnydale, because they needed her.

Willow asked Buffy to move the cot out of the way, then she sprinkled the elements around Spike in a circle. "This won't set me on fire, will it?" he asked.

"No fire, I promise," Willow replied. "This is a fire-free zone."

"You'll be fine, Red."

Willow appreciated his assurances, and his faith. They had been almost-friends at some point, before things had gone so horribly wrong. Willow hated that she was a part of that, hated that she hadn't done anything to help Buffy after ripping her friend out of heaven.

It had been easier to get lost in the magicks. Willow had forgotten that magic was supposed to be hard.

She sat down cross-legged in front of him, taking in a deep breath. "What's going to happen?" Buffy asked from behind her.

"Not much," Willow replied quietly. "It's not a real flashy spell."

"How will we know if it worked?" the Slayer asked, sounding doubtful.

Willow made a face at Spike, knowing Buffy couldn't see it, noting the answering twinkle in his eyes. "Spike will definitely know."

She felt it immediately—the power like a siren's call. It was there all the time, but Willow could sense it more distinctly when she focused. The coven had explained that this wasn't something she could just get rid of, and even if she could, Willow had the responsibility to use her power wisely.

To whom much is given, much is required.

Willow had understood then that asking that they strip her of her abilities was just another attempt at taking the easy way out. The magic had gotten out of control, therefore the magic ought to be taken from her.

It was never that easy.

As Willow had suspected, both Spike's soul and demon weren't at war. The demon had asked for the soul, so it was relatively resigned to the state of things. There was still a chasm that needed to be bridged, however, and that was what the spell would do.

It was, in many ways, artificial, and it wouldn't last forever. What it would do—Willow hoped—was to prevent one side from being taken over from the other. The First would find it impossible to use Spike's demon against him, would no longer be able to tap into that energy without getting the moral compass the soul represented.

The spell would also, with some luck, undo any of the brainwashing that the First had used. That last part was a long shot, however.

At long last, Willow could feel the spell she'd woven taking effect, binding the demon to the soul and vice versa. Everything was going just fine when something lurched, and she was hit with a wave of power.

As darkness swept over her, Willow realized that she had underestimated the affect that the First itself would have on the spell.

~~~~~

Buffy watched as Willow's eyes shot open, the pupils having expanded until they eclipsed the iris. The Slayer froze, wondering if she would have to step in, but the witch's eyes shut, and she toppled over sideways in the next moment.

Rushing over to her friend, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when Willow began to stir immediately. "Oh boy," she groaned. "That was not fun."

Buffy frowned, and then looked back towards Spike. He had seemed to drift off to sleep during the course of the spell, but now his eyes were wide open, and he was looking around with ill-concealed terror. "Spike?"

His head snapped around, and he focused on her for the first time. There was no recognition in his eyes. "Where am I?" he demanded. "Who are you?" The chains rattled as he moved his hands. "I demand to know what you want of me!"

Buffy sat frozen. The accent was different, the facial expressions, everything. It was impossible, but of one thing she was certain—it was no longer Spike sitting in front of her.

 

Chapter 4: Sweet William

 

"What are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow:/What are brief? today and tomorrow:/What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth:/What are deep? the ocean and truth." ~Christina Rossetti

 

"I demand an explanation!"

William's voice, growing increasingly panicked, snapped Buffy out of her stupor. Before she could respond, Dawn called down the stairs, "Buffy? Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Dawnie," she shouted back quickly. "I'll be up in a minute."

William looked as though he was going to start yelling again, but Buffy used her speed to advantage and clapped a hand over his mouth. "Okay, look. I know you're confused, but I promise, there's a really good explanation for this. Just sit tight."

Frustrated blue eyes stared at her, and she could feel his cool skin and lips under her hand. This was the most physical contact they'd had since his return, and Buffy felt a chill run up her spine. Taking her hand away slowly, she waited for him to speak. "Where am I?"

"You're in California," Buffy replied, casting an anxious glance back towards Willow, who was pushing herself up off the floor. "Wills? You okay?"

"Oh, sure," Willow replied. "As soon as my head stops pounding." The witch looked from the Slayer to the discombobulated vampire and winced. "You know, why don't I make us some tea?" she suggested brightly, escaping up the stairs before Buffy could protest.

Buffy turned back to the vampire, who was frowning. "California? But isn't that—I don't understand."

She had no clue what to say to make him understand, either. "What's the last thing you remember?"

It was as if all the fight had been taken out of him. All he managed was, "There was a woman in an alley."

It was enough for Buffy. "Look, if I let you go, do you promise not to run off?"

He shook his head. "Who are you? How did I get here?"

"Okay, one question at a time," she replied. "I'm Buffy, and how you got here is a really long story. Now, do you promise not to try anything if I let you go?"

He stared at her, confusion writ large on his expressive face. "I promise," he said finally. "But I don't—"

Buffy interrupted him. "I know this is strange and confusing. I promise I'll explain. We'll just go upstairs, and have some tea, and it'll be fine."

His eyes followed her as she unlocked his chains. "Do you—do you know me?"

"Really well," Buffy replied. "Trust me, William. We know each other really well."

~~~~~

William's hands engulfed the warm mug, seeking comfort in the familiar.

Although, even the ceramic felt strange in his hands.

Nothing looked the least bit familiar; he had never seen any of the women before in his life. The awkward silence that had fallen upon his and Buffy's arrival in the kitchen had just gotten worse. His own clothing felt strange to him, and the clothes that the women were wearing were like nothing he'd ever seen.

There were gadgets on the counter whose purpose he could not determine, and the entire house was well-lit by electricity. William had heard of such things, of course, but he had no idea that it was so wide-spread in America.

Even the material that comprised the kitchen counters was unfamiliar.

Briefly, William wondered if he'd gone crazy. Was this the hallucination of a madman? Perhaps he really was confined in an asylum somewhere, and his fevered brain had simply concocted this elaborate world.

William wondered if he even wanted the answers.

"Okay, somebody say something already," the young woman they'd introduced as Dawn exclaimed.

Buffy frowned. "Dawn—"

The girl turned towards him. "Look, this is 2002, not the 1800's. You're not human, and Willow did a spell that got screwed up. Again."

Willow made a face, but she didn't saying anything to defend herself. It was all true.

Somehow, William didn't find that that explanation clarified matters at all. "I beg your pardon?"

"What year is it?" Buffy asked, shooting her sister a quelling look.

William shook his head. "It's 1880. I—" He looked around him. William might have his head in the clouds much of the time, but he wasn't stupid. There was something very strange going on.

"It's not," Willow said gently. "It's the 21^st century."

He shook his head impatiently. This was all impossible. Perhaps he had gone mad. That seemed the only likely explanation. "No," he said impatiently. "I don't know what kind of game this is, or how you brought me here, but—"

"Show him the bathroom, Buffy," Dawn said impatiently.

Buffy frowned. "The what?"

"The mirror," Willow clarified. "He needs to know. If he doesn't, and he goes outside during the day..."

William had no idea what they were talking about. "I don't know what you've done to me, but you cannot keep me here against my will."

"Actually, I can," Buffy replied, grabbing him by the upper arm. Talking was obviously getting them nowhere. Dawn and Willow were right. Spike was a danger to himself as long as he didn't know the truth, and the proof was as close as the mirror upstairs.

She was amazingly strong, William realized. Buffy wasn't hurting him, but he could tell that with a little more pressure she could easily do him real harm. "Unhand me!" he protested.

"No," she replied grimly. "Trust me, this is for your own good."

He chose not to struggle after that. It would be too embarrassing to be forced against his will by a woman who was stronger than he. After the humiliation of last night—if the party was indeed yesterday—William had no desire to relive that shame.

Feeling a twinge as she pushed him through the doorway, he instinctively looked into the mirror that was directly in front of him—and saw nothing.

William raised a hand, thinking that perhaps it was some trick of the light, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for Buffy, with the space next to her empty, as though he didn't exist.

Did he not exist? Was he nothing after all?

Buffy saw the stricken look on his face, watched as he stumbled backwards towards the wall, clutching at it in an attempt to stay upright. Shame hit her hard. She might have been gentler in her delivery of the news. She could have broken it to him more gradually. Instead, this whole exercise seemed to have hurt him more than he had been before.

Perhaps the choice to do the spell had been Spike's, but this wasn't the outcome he had anticipated.

"I don't understand," William whispered, finally turning his eyes from the mirror to Buffy, who was standing there looking at him with more compassion than he'd seen since waking up in her cellar. "Please..."

This time when she reached out, it was to grab his hand, not his arm. "I know. Let's go sit down."

William was grateful when she didn't let go. He needed to feel real again, and only the touch of her hand in his proved his existence.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, as they reached the living room again. "I probably could have done that differently."

William shook his head. "I still don't understand. I wasn't—how is it that I do not have a reflection?"

"Spike—" The name slipped out before she could help herself. Buffy sighed. "Your heart isn't beating, William. You're not—you're not human anymore."

It was what the younger girl had said, the one who was even now staring at him with sympathy mixed with impatience. He shook his head again. He was walking, talking—even if he wasn't sure he was making sense. Buffy took his hand and moved it to his chest, to rest over his heart.

It wasn't beating.

His heart lay silent in his chest, and William realized for the first time that although breathing was still a habit, it wasn't necessary. As soon as his attention had been called to it, he began hyperventilating. William felt suffocated—as though everything was pressing down on him. He was dying all over again.

He didn't remember dying the first time.

A glass of water appeared before his face. "Drink this. Slowly," Dawn warned.

William did as he was told more out of habit than anything else. He sipped at the water, trying to calm himself. "I don't understand," he finally managed.

He seemed to be saying that a lot. William was lost.

"You're a vampire," Buffy began quietly, "but you have your soul. We've known each other for years now. There was—something haunting you, and Willow did a spell that was supposed to protect you. Now—"

When Buffy broke off, Willow took up the story. "The spell made the soul primary, instead of giving it equal footing with the demon," she explained. "That's why you don't really remember anything."

Dawn cleared her throat. "But the soul's been there for a while. Spike should have some memories of recent events."

"Spike?" William asked hesitantly.

"Vampire-you," Buffy said impatiently, thinking.

Willow sighed. "The spell went weird at the end," she said. "I honestly don't know why it's working this way now."

There was a long pause. "I still don't think I understand," William finally said.

"Neither does anybody else," Willow said soothingly. "We're all pretty lost right now."

"Which is nothing new," Dawn said wryly. "I guess it's research time, then."

Buffy shook her head. "What about getting Spike back?"

Willow shook her head. "I don't know, but the spell isn't supposed to be permanent. I'd give it a few weeks, maybe a couple months at most."

William slowly realized that they were talking about what was basically his imminent demise. As bewildered as he might be, William wasn't quite ready to not exist. Or something. "Wait! You can't just get rid of me!"

"We're not getting rid of you, we're getting the rest of you back," Buffy snapped. She winced as he flinched at her sharp tone. "Look, William—"

William stood stiffly. "I think I would like to freshen up, if you don't mind."

"I'll take you upstairs, William," Willow said gently. "We still have to find some other clothing for you."

"I'll go see Clem," Buffy announced, needing to get out of the house. "I think he still has some of Spike's stuff."

They all scattered, and Dawn looking around, sighing. "I guess I'm just going to start on the books then," she muttered.

~~~~~

Buffy stalked down the street towards where she knew Clem was staying. Her life was insane. She couldn't believe this. Just as she was starting to get used to Spike being around again, she ends up with William.

William!

He was definitely not Spike that was for sure.

"'I've always been bad,' my ass," Buffy muttered, thinking about his response to her. William had been scared stiff and ready to run. He'd started hyperventilating, for Pete's sake. He was also completely freaked out, and Buffy knew they were going to have to babysit him. Probably for a while. The big question was how much to tell him about their relationship and who she was; for his own sake, he had to know about being a vampire.

Willow might not think this spell was going to last forever, but Buffy wasn't going to count on that assurance. This was the Hellmouth, after all. There was no guarantee that Spike would come back on his own.

And Buffy wanted Spike back.

Correction. Buffy wanted the old Spike back. She wanted the cocky vampire who refused to go away. The guy who chased her all around town, who made her forget how to breathe.

The thing that she would never tell Spike was that she'd dreamed of him over the summer. At first she'd thought it was pretty sick—having erotic dreams about the guy who had tried to rape her. After a while, however, Buffy had found it easier to remember the moments that had led up to her sleeping with him in the first place.

She wasn't the kind of girl to sleep with a man she didn't like, or that she didn't have some kind of feelings for.

By the end of the summer, Buffy was having as many dreams about sitting on her porch with him, just talking, as she was about having sex with him. It was the reason she hadn't staked Spike immediately upon seeing him.

Or even after.

Buffy bit back a sigh, and rapped softly on Clem's door. The gentle demon had a tendency to get a little wigged when she showed up unannounced. "Buffy!" he exclaimed. "How's it going?"

A reluctant smile spread across her face. It was hard to be irritated around Clem. "It's—okay, Clem. Not great, but okay. Do you still have Spike's stuff from the crypt?"

"Sure!" he replied, opening the door wider so that she could enter. "Sophie and I were just watching some reruns of Knight Rider. If you want to join us—"

"No thanks," Buffy replied.

He peered at her with some concern. "Is everything okay? Is Spike—"

"Spike's not quite himself," Buffy said slowly. "There was a spell..."

Clem managed to look slightly disapproving. "That magic will get you into trouble."

"Tell me about it," Buffy muttered.

He patted her on the shoulder, careful of his claws. "If you need some help with him, you just let me know," Clem offered. "Spike's my pal."

"I know he is, Clem," Buffy said gently. "I'll definitely give you a call if I can use your help."

~~~~~

William splashed water on his face, trying not to glance into the mirror. He had no desire to see the empty space where he ought to be.

Clutching at the counter with wet hands, he watched the water dribble down the drain. Everything was strange; nothing made sense.

He reached for the towel blindly, blotting his face dry and turning his back to the mirror to wipe his hands off. There was a knock on the door. "William? How are you doing in there?"

William opened the door to find Willow standing there. "Quite well, thank you," he said politely.

"Are you sure?" Willow said anxiously. "Are you hungry? Because I could get you something to eat."

He hesitated. "Don't vampires drink—blood?" he asked, gulping heavily.

Willow winced. "Oh, well, yeah, but you can eat other things too!" She tried to sound cheerful for his sake. "You could, you know, drink your blood really fast, and then have something else to wash it down."

William wasn't sure what he thought of that, but it didn't seem like he had any other options at this point. "That could work. What might you have to eat?"

The redhead frowned. She wasn't much of a cook, and there was no way that William was ready for Dawn's brand of food. "We could make hot chocolate," she suggested, dimly recalling someone saying something about Spike liking it.

He thought about it for a moment. "Thank you, that would be nice."

"I really am sorry about this," Willow said. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

William wanted to know what way it was supposed to go. He wanted to know how it was that he and Buffy were acquainted, and what their relationship was precisely.

He wanted to know everything and nothing.

Even though William wanted to ask a dozen questions, he was a gentleman, and gentlemen didn't pry. "I understand," he replied. Even though he didn't.

Willow caught the expression in his eyes. "Let's go find something to eat," she said gently, tucking her hand through his arm.

William appreciated her sweetness. "That would be lovely."