8:

Alliances

Angel sat back and watched the two interact. It was hard to believe they'd met only yesterday. It was as if they knew each other for years. Spike never kept his eyes off her for very long and Buffy was constantly goading him into something. He saw something in her he hadn't seen in a long time, something he hadn't seen after she moved in with Lindsey: A spark. It was in her eyes. Her vibrancy was back. While he was happy to see it, it also concerned him. How long would it last? Would she hold onto it or let it go to be with Lindsey? Was there a way to keep that spark in her? And just how DID she meet the man whose nickname was Spike and hailed from L.A.? He wasn't as dumb as Buffy thought. He got his chance to question William alone when Buffy excused herself to use the ladies.

Angel wasted no time at all. "So, how do you really know my sister?"

Spike looked at him, eyebrow raised. He chuckled. "Cut right to the chase
huh?"

Angel shrugged. "No sense in beating around the bush."

"I can't tell you how I really know Buffy."

"Why not?" Angel asked, his protective side kicking in.

"Because Buffy wants to tell you and I promised not to tell you."

"She's not here right now."

Spike shook his head. "I can't do that to her. I promised."

Angel grinned. "Good answer."

"Do you approve?"

"Of?"

"Gonna make me spell it out?" Spike asked, sitting back and studying
Angel.

"Yep. Think of me as the guy you have to get through to get to her."

"I'm glad you look out for her," Spike whispered.

"What else am I supposed to do? She's my sister and the only family I
have."

"Sometimes not even that means much."

"Sounds like you know from experience."

"Not really, but you learn who really loves you when you have money and
power."

"You were a lawyer right?"

Spike nodded.

"Ever hear of a Lindsey McDonald?"

Spike grinned. "Nope. But I want to."

Angel regarded Spike thoughtfully. "What do you want from my sister?"

"Everything. Not in the sick, possessive kind of way, but in the ‘I want her
to be happy way.'"

"And you want her to be happy with you," Angel summed up.

"I won't lie. Yes. But I'm not going to push her for that. She needs to find
her way first. She feels she doesn't have any control right now."

"You see that too?"

"She told me. In a round about way."

Angel huffed. "You know more than I do then. She doesn't tell me much of
anything." He shook his head and frowned, frustrated.

"I wouldn't take it as a bad thing. I'm not related to her, I don't have a
large history with her—I'm still an outsider. Sometimes it's easier to tell an
outsider what you're feeling rather than someone you're close to."

"I know. . . it's just hard. It's like before sometimes. . . " Angel trailed off,
twirling his cup in front of him and frowning.

"Before the accident?"

"Can you at least tell me what she says about Lindsey? Does she love him?
Is she happy with him?"

Spike sat back, now he too frowned. "I honestly don't know what to make
of her relationship with him. I think she feels she owes him something."

"No doubt he makes her feel like she does," Angel muttered.

Spikes head snapped to Angel. "You don't like him."

Angel smiled, "What gave it away?"

"What's his deal?"

"Well, how about I cut you a deal there Spike?"

Spike eyed him warily. "What kind of deal?"

"Keep an eye out on my sister. I'm pretty good at reading people, and from
what I've seen here tonight from the moment you and Buffy walked in the
apartment earlier was that you were good for her. You were making her
smile again. You make her happy, you make me happy. Lindsey—doesn't
make me happy. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him and it's not like
Buffy will tell me anything. Before OR after the accident. She seems to trust
you and opens up to you. Whatever you find out about him, I want to know
about it."

"And what do I get in return for that?" Spike asked warily.

"My support. Look, I'm not doing this to be deceitful to Buffy. I'm not
trying to control her; I'm trying to get to the bottom of things."

"What things exactly? I think I should know what kind of ‘things'you're
looking for. You're suddenly the puppet master here; I feel I should be kept
abreast of what it is you're exactly looking for." He was sounding defensive
and angry and Angel couldn't exactly blame him.

He stared at Spike, weighing it out in his mind. To tell or not to tell? He
might have more to gain than lose if seeing Buffy so happy with Spike was
any indication.

"I think Lindsey had something to do with her accident," Angel finally said.

Spike's eyes widened. "What?" he whispered.

"He ‘found' her lying on the bottom of stairs when he came home."

Spike's eyes darkened in anger. "You think he pushed her?"

"Yes."

Spike was clenching his jaw. It twitched as he stuck out his hand. "You've
got yourself a deal then."

Angel smiled and shook his hand. "I realize I came on a little rough—to
stealthy and covert op, but I need to protect Buffy. I don't want to send her
into the lions den. She shut me out before when it came to him and I feel
that she has a second chance now. She only recalls a month of her time with
him. The ‘honeymoon' phase in any relationship."

"You're worried what'll happen after the honeymoon," Spike nodded,
balling his hands in fists.

"Right."

Spike met his eyes. "They call me Spike for a reason. You want to take
Lindsey down? I'm your guy."

"And if you hurt my sister? I'll chop your dick off, got it?"

Spike smiled, "I'd chop my own dick off."

"Just as long as we're clear."

 

9:

Starting

"Have you seen Lindsey lately?" Angel asked Buffy later after William had left them for the night. Brother and sister sat in their living room watching mindless TV.

Buffy shook her head and then sighed. "I think we have plans tomorrow
night."

"So, William seems like a cool guy."

Buffy broke out into a smile. "He really is."

"How do you know him?"

Now she was blushing. "Uh, well, that's complicated. . . "

"Care to share? Maybe I can help unravel the complexity."

She shot him a look and shook her head. "I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Really rather not."

"What happened to trusting me?"

He had her there. "I do trust you. However, you're also my big brother and
I DO remember how protective you can be."

"That's true. But why not trust that I'll listen with an open mind and not do
anything to stop your friendship with William."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Angel nudged her, "Come on imp. Tell me."

Buffy sighed and turned, giving him her full attention. Angel muted the TV.

"All I know is that he and I had some kind of relationship," she told him
after taking a deep breath.

Angel blinked. "Care to elaborate?"

"Supposedly we met on a trip I took to Rhode Island—which you never
told me about."

Angel shrugged. "I didn't think telling you about some trip you took by
yourself was all that important. You never came back and said something
life changing happened. In light of all the other life changing events going
on, taking a trip seemed the least of them. Know what I mean?"

"I do. But . . . was I having problems with Lindsey, Angel?"

She sounded concerned, worried. Angel took a deep breath. "If you did,
you didn't let on to me."

She studied him. "I didn't?" she said finally.

"You didn't. You uh . . . kind of well, shut me out."

"Why?" she truly did not understand that.

"Oh well, you're stubborn and pig headed. You get an idea in your head
and you don't let it go."

"I don't think I'm like that anymore," she said softly, looking down. She
grabbed a throw pillow and started to play with the trim.

"Some things have altered Buffy, but only because you're still trying to find
your way. But you're still Buffy to the core. I'm sure that side of you will
come out in time."

"I feel broken Angel," Buffy admitted.

"Broken?"

"Yeah, broken. It's the only way to describe it. I feel like I have pieces of
me all over except I can't fit them back together in any pattern." A tear
slipped from her eye at that and in an instant Angel wrapped her arms
around her.

"Think of it as making new pieces and fitting them back. Some things just
aren't important enough for you to feel like you have to remember them.
And you certainly don't have to remember to please anyone."

"Well it's not like I can put a rush order on those memories anyway. The
doctors said that I might not ever get them back."

"Exactly. So don't stress yourself out about it. Don't make yourself feel
something you don't feel and don't push yourself to do something that you
don't feel you can do. Yeah, you lost three years. But you have three years
ahead of you in which to make new memories. It's like a clean slate."

"That's what William said," Buffy murmured against Angels shoulder.

Angel grinned. "I knew I liked him for a reason. Can you tell me more
about him?'

"We had some kind of relationship while I was in Rhode Island. He came
looking for me."

"From L.A.? He came looking for you from L.A.?" Angel asked in shock and
drew Buffy away from him, holding onto her arms.

She nodded.

"Buffy, you never mentioned him."

"I gathered." She looked down. "Do you think he's lying?"

Angel sighed heavily. "The weird thing is? I don't. I mean that would be
some story to make up and since you DID take a trip to Rhode Island. . . I
just wonder . . ."

"What?"

"Why you never mentioned him."

Buffy shrugged, "Lindsey? He could be why. I just don't understand
myself. If I was so happy with Lindsey—"

"I said I didn't know if you were Buffy. You could have been miserable for
all you let me know about it," he sounded bitter.

Buffy winced. "I'm sorry."

Angel shook his head, "Buffy, I'm sorry. I suppose that didn't help. I don't
want you to feel guilty for things you don't remember—Did William make
you feel guilty for whatever it was that you did?"

She shook her head, "No, he didn't. He's just . . . there. He didn't want to
lose me again and he didn't want to pressure me into anything. He just
wants to spend time with me."

Angel smiled broadly. "That's something then."

"You like him huh?"

Angel nodded, "I do."

"What about Lindsey?"

"I think that's a question you need to start asking yourself Buffy."



"So this is your office," Spike grinned as Buffy ushered him into her office
the day before she was to start back to work.

She nodded slowly, a feeling of dread come over her as she stepped into
the office. She sat down at her desk and tried to focus on breathing.

"Buffy? What's wrong luv?" Spike asked, kneeling in front of her.

"Nothing," she said and her voice sounded strained.

"It's something. Tell me, let me help." He took her hands in his and gazed
up at her imploringly.

"It's just that . . . I started working here right after college. I'd been
promoted to events coordinator during the time I lost. I'm scared I won't
remember how to do my job," she explained fearfully.

"They know don't they Buffy?"

She nodded, "But it's not like they can keep me on just out of pity."

"They can't fire you if you're sick."

"Oh so that's what I am now? Sick?" she tried to push at him.

He stayed in place and didn't give her any room to move. "That's not what
I meant. I meant that they can't fire you because of an accident and the
outcome of which is out of your control."

"They can't keep me on for it either. They'll have to train me all over again.
. . "

"Buffy, did you ride a bike as a kid?"

She furrowed her brow, "Yeah."

"Well, don't you think this may be just like that?"

"No, how can it possibly? Riding a bike is instinct. This is. . . a lot of
thinking and knowing contacts."

Spike pointed to what looked like a rolodex. "Contacts. So, tell me Miss
Summers, I want to arrange an event. I want . . . to have an Italian
showing. What would you do for me?"

She took a deep breath, "I would find out what pieces we had already to
centralize it in the display and then I'd start contacting other dealers in the
area and out of the area. I'd get my assistant—do I have an assistant?—to
draw up a letter requesting assistance and I'd call the Graphics Department
to do up a poster and meet with them-" her eyes widened. "I do know
what I'm doing!"

"See?" he grinned.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I mean a lot of
that stuff I was doing when I got here, and I know there are some more
details in there, but I have the basics down."

"And as long as you can start at square one, you can't go wrong. The rest
will fall into place and I highly doubt that they'll deny you if you ask for help
Buffy."

"What would I do without you?" she blurted out. Her eyes widened and
she drew back from him. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. It just
came out of my mouth and sometimes I guess I don't—"

Spike placed a finger to her lips, quieting her. "Sssh." Leaning in closer, he
removed his finger and kissed her mouth. It was more than a peck, but less
than a full kiss. Her lips tingled just the same and she found herself wanting
more. He drew back just an inch. "I'm glad you said it," he whispered.

Her eyes were half mass, feeling something akin to ecstasy at his close
proximity to her. Her palms were itching and her skin felt warm. She
couldn't stop herself from closing the gap between them and pressing her
lips to his for something more than that peck, and maybe closer to a full
blown kiss. And when his tongue trailed the seam of her lips, urging her to
part and she did, she knew she was getting her full blown kiss. His hands
tangled in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss and she heard
herself moan in response. Lightly she placed her hands on his shoulders and
felt her fingertips dig in, bracing herself for the onslaught of emotion he was evoking in her. She was being swept away.

She broke away to breathe, cursing the need to do so. He held her close to
him, his breathing as ragged as hers and he gazed into her eyes.

"What was that?" she asked him.

He smiled. "A kiss Buffy."

She rolled her eyes. "I know but—"

"Don't question it okay? Just let yourself feel and don't think."

She nodded.

"Can I just say ‘wow'?" he grinned.

She laughed. "I take your ‘wow' raise you an ‘oh boy!'"

He smirked proudly and stood, grabbing her hands and bringing her to
stand. "Come on luv. Show me around some more?"

She nodded, suppressing the urge to caress her well kissed lips. She
straightened and tried to get her brain functioning again as she led William out of her office and into the museum. She was pleased to find she still
knew her way around.



 

10:

Second Thoughts

“You’re thinking about it,” Spike whispered in Buffy’s ear as they sat on a bench, watching the ocean outside the Boston Harbor Hotel. After dinner they had decided to sit for a while and just watch the water. He’d made sure to keep her busy after the kiss so that she wouldn’t dwell on it, but he knew it would inevitably catch up to him. He supposed it was better to happen while she was with him than when alone. That way when the shoe dropped, he could be there to pick it up. As soon as silence had fallen between them, he knew her mind had drifted to it. His did, so it wasn’t absurd to think hers had too. Course, it’d been in the back of his mind all day. The way she tasted, the way her breasts squashed against his chest, her hands digging in his shoulders, her moan of pleasure, the softness and the fullness of her lips, the way her hair felt between his fingers as he held her in place . . . Yeah, he remembered all too well. He was bloody well consumed by it.

“I am,” she admitted without hesitating. She looked up at him. “It was wrong of me to do that.”

“Did it feel right?”

“Doesn’t matter how it felt.”

“That’s all that matters,” he countered.

“Really?” she asked challengingly. “So, let’s say we
were in a relationship and I kissed another man behind your
back. If I told you it felt right, would that be all that matters?
Would you forgive me that slight because it ‘felt right’?”



She had him there and he knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, a tad smugly.

Spike turned his body in towards hers and reached
out, toying with a strand of her silky hair. He was starting to
feel that if he didn’t touch her, he’d go mad. Not only that, but
maybe if she remembered how felt it right to touch him . . .

“Buffy, were you disappointed when Lindsey
cancelled plans with you for tonight?”

She hesitated.

“Honest,” he ordered her.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have to see him and feel bad that I
didn’t remember our relationship and have him look at me like
a lost puppy,” she blurted out.

“Do I make you feel that way?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Not the point,
William!”

“You don’t love him, Buffy, that’s the WHOLE point.”

“I don’t love you either,” she retorted.

That hurt. He had to expect it though. How could he
expect her to love him? She’d known him for an even lesser
amount of time than Lindsey.

“You feel something for me,” he finally said, quietly.

“Yes, I do,” she admitted. “It doesn’t make it right for
me to go off and kiss you when I have a boyfriend.” She
stood up and faced him. “Apparently I’m not as loyal as I
thought I was.”

“It felt right, though, didn’t it?”

“That doesn’t make it okay for me to go around kissing
you!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I love how you have all
the answers, William. All the answers that suit you and your
purposes.”

Spike stood, standing inches from her. “And what is
my purpose Buffy? Tell me what you think my purpose is.”

“To get me to leave Lindsey so I’ll be with you instead.”

“Buffy,” he sighed and took a step back. He dug in his
pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. She watched him silently
as he lit up. “I’m not going to lie to you Buffy, I do want you
with me. Because I love you.”

She inhaled sharply and took another step back. He
tossed his cigarette and stepped up to her, taking her by the
arms. “And part of loving you means I’ll do whatever it takes
to make you happy. If you’re truly happy with Lindsey, then I’ll
not do a thing to stop you from being with him.”

She snorted at that.

“I mean it,” he ground out. “I won’t lift a finger.”

“Then you’d just walk out of my life if I asked?”

He shook his head. “No, you mistake me. I’m not
strong enough to just walk away Buffy. And as giving as I
can be, I can also be a selfish bastard. I can’t just walk out of
your life now Buffy. I’m not capable of that. Part of loving you
means I have to stay in your life and make sure that you’re
kept happy.”

She looked down at her feet, shifted them. He let her
go and waited.

“What happened with us?” she finally asked.

Spike took a deep breath. “We spent time together and
one night . . . we made love. You left me the next morning.
Left before I was even awake and I couldn’t find you. It was
like you disappeared into thin air. I entertained the thought that
I imagined you for a bit.”

“And I never told you about Lindsey?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“I wonder if my accident was my payback,” she

murmured.

“What?” he asked, startled.

“Perhaps I was self destructive in my affair with you.
Why would I do that? I don’t understand. I thought I was the
sort of person that stayed, fully stayed and never strayed
once I was in love –“ she stopped abruptly.

“Answer your own question as to why then pet?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why do you stay? Why do you stay if you hate the
way he looks at you? If you hate that you feel guilt for not
remembering, why do you stay?”

“Because of the guilt. I feel like maybe if I stay and try
my best, if I make him happy by being the doting girlfriend, my own guilt will be alleviated.”

“It’s not working though, is it?”

“I’m doing the best that I can.” She stopped, clamping
her mouth shut. “You know what? This is not the
conversation I should be having with you anyway. You just
said you’re in love with me. Of COURSE you want me to
question my relationship and feelings to him. The last person I
should be discussing my relationship or lack thereof, is with
you,” she started to walk away.

Spike grabbed her arm. “Don’t walk away from this
Buffy.”

“There is no this!” she exclaimed, wrenching her arm
free. “This is just another case of Buffy not being able to do
anything right. I can’t remember anything, I don’t know
anyone . . . I can’t please anyone—“

“You please me.”

“Because I kissed you and agreed to meet you. You
want me to ask questions and get to the bottom of things, but
you only want me to do it so it’ll benefit you, not me!”

“I want you to ask so you’ll feel more in control.
Because in the short time that I’ve known you, you would
never do anything intentionally to hurt anyone so the fact that
you’re stressing about the fact that we had an affair, that
you kissed me today, tells me that you ARE loyal and you DO
care about others. It tells me that you don’t cheat, but that
something is wrong with the picture he’s painted for you and
he’s guilted you into staying with him.”

“I do that to myself, he doesn’t—“ she broke off,
flexing her fists.

“Except when he gives you puppy dog eyes.”

Buffy sighed heavily and after a long time finally
looked up at him and met his eyes. “You’re absolutely right.”

He held his breath. “About?”

“I need to follow my gut. Ask questions. All of it.”

“And that means?”

“My gut is telling me that something is wrong here.”

“What does that mean Buffy?”

She smirked, “You mean what does that mean for us
right?”

“Thought there was no ‘us’.” He couldn’t help but
retort bitterly.

She stood straighter and looked at him
defiantly. “You’re right. There isn’t.”

Immediately, Spike softened and moved closer
to her. “Buffy, what are you thinking?”

She gazed up at him with her wide green eyes
and he saw nothing but tenderness there, the hard edge
from moments before gone. “Nothing bad,” she said softly.

“What is it?” Spike pressed, placing his hand on
her forearm, resisting the urge to pull her closer to him and
not let go.

“I think I’m just going to need to take some time
and sort it all out—“

He shook his head. “No,” and he wrapped his
fingers around her arm.

“Spike, I’m not leaving you. I start work
tomorrow –“

“And you need me now, more than ever,” he
insisted.

“I need to stand on my own two feet. I need to
take control of my life. Please Spike, just let me.”

He stared at her, caressing the side of her
face. “I just want to be there,” he whispered. “I want to be
part of it all.”

She smiled, “I know. But I don’t want you to lead
me and I don’t want to lean on you too much. I need to be my
own person. Please, Spike, let me.”
“How long?”

“A few days. I’ll call you.”

His grip tightened. “Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“I love you Buffy.”

“I know.”


 

11:
Welcome home?

The first few hours back to work had gone by in a flash. By lunch time Buffy was famished. Some things she remembered, other things took some time and explanation. An odd occurrence had happened early that morning when she had needed to contact a dealer in Connecticut, a dealer she had been told she dealt with quite a bit. Taking his name down, she had sat at her desk and picked up the phone without thinking and dialed. At the first ring, she had slammed the phone down, her heart hammering in her chest. Surely that had to be a breakthrough! Forgoing the dealer for that moment, she called Angel immediately. She almost felt bad when she had taken him out of his class, but he was the first person she thought of. He'd been just as excited as she and promised to stop by at his lunch hour.

Now, looking at the clock, she wasn't sure if she could wait for him to eat.

"Knock, knock."

She looked up to see the receptionist in the doorway.

"Hi Anna, what's up?" Buffy greeted her.

"Special delivery for Miss Summers," and with a smile she thrust out a
small box wrapped in white tissue paper.

"Who from?" Buffy asked, taking the box.

"Tall guy. With blond hair. He just wanted to see that you got that."

Buffy darted to the door. "Did he leave?"

"Just walked out. He didn't ask—"

Her words faded out as Buffy ran out in the hall and down to the exit, she
burst through the door and saw William's blond head heading toward the
exit.

"Spike!" she shouted after him.

He stopped abruptly and froze. Slowly he turned; his expression blank.

She started toward him, smirking. "Didn't want to give it to me yourself?"

He looked down and chuckled softly. "Just wanted to go incognito I guess."

She stood before him. "You know when I said I needed a few days, I didn't
mean that you couldn't stop and give me presents. You can ALWAYS give
me presents." She grinned teasingly at him.

He met her eyes and grinned. "I didn't want you to feel like I was crowding
you."

"Even though it's only been less than twenty –four hours, I'm glad to see
you," she told him honestly.

"That how long it's been? Felt like an eternity," he whispered reverently.
Then he cleared his throat. "You going to open it?"

She tore her gaze from him and shook her head, "Oh yes. Of course." She
tore into the tissue and opened the small cream box.

"Careful. It's breakable," he warned her.

Nodding she slipped carefully out into her palm whatever was inside. She
gasped when she saw it. It was a glass butterfly. It had a string attached to
it.

"So you can hang it in your window," he told her.

She held it out and smiled when the light caught it and it sent off rainbows
around them.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"It is," he whispered.

She looked to him to find him starting at her with barely concealed
tenderness.

"Thank you," she said smiling softly.

"You're welcome," and he nodded, digging his hands in his pockets. "So
how is it going by the way?"

"Excellent. I had a memory. Well, sort of."

His eyes widened. "Tell me about it."

She told him what had occurred with the phone number and he broke out
in a broad smile. "Buffy, that's excellent!"

"Thanks. I'm not really sure what to call it, but it made me happy. I called
Angel, he's coming to meet me for lunch."

"I'll bet he's thrilled."

"Yeah. Isn't it funny how something as silly as remembering a phone
number can be such a monumental thing?"

"Baby steps. Pretty soon, you'll be spreading those wings and flying."

"Thank you for the butterfly," she told him softly.

"Reminded me of you."

Stepping away from him slowly, she gave him a little wave, clutching her
butterfly in her other hand. "Bye Spike."

"Not good bye. See you later," he called after her.

She nodded, "See you later."



Lindsey had insisted on picking her up after work and taking her back to
his place for dinner. She'd been hesitant. She was exhausted between a
remembered phone number, her brief and yet meaningful meeting with
William, a exuberant Angel and her job; Buffy was ready to get take out,
grab a bottle of wine and curl up with a mindless sitcom before taking a
warm bath and heading off to bed. Yet Lindsey insisted. She didn't like his
insisting. It irritated her. She had wanted to bark at him that she was the
one with the head trauma and should probably take it easy. In the end
though, she'd relented when it occurred to her that perhaps just like the
phone number incidence, maybe being in the house that she had lived in
with Lindsey would spark some memories for her. She hadn't spent any
time in the house since the accident. She'd gone in and gone out, not
wanting to be in a place that was foreign to her and caused her to feel guilty
over not remembering her stay there.

Pulling into the driveway of the soft yellow Colonial with the dark shutters,
Buffy felt trepidation. Her hands balled themselves in fists.

"Buffy, relax. Nothing here is going to hurt you," Lindsey said gently and took her hands in his, soothing the fists open.

"It's silly, I know."

"It's okay."

Entering the house, she was greeted instantly by the carpeted stairs she'd
taken a tumble down. She stared at them as if they would give her the
answers she needed. Taking deep breaths to relax, she still found her
muscles wound tight. Why in the world was this so hard?

"Can I go upstairs?" she asked him.

He looked startled. "Of course. Do you want me to show you around
again?"

"No. I want to do it alone."

He nodded. "I'll start dinner."

"Okay," and she started up the stairs. Spike's voice suddenly came into her
head unbidden. ‘Listen to your gut.'

Gliding up the stairs and letting her fingertips drift over the cool wooden
rail she stopped at the top and turned around, staring down at the
staircase, at the floor she had fallen to. Turning to the left, she spotted an
archway and entered inside. The Master Bedroom. Creams, browns and
reds gave the room an earthy, homey look. However, it didn't ‘feel' homey.
It felt . . . cold. Wrapping her arms around herself she walked around the
room, not even noticing the scattered furniture, but focusing on how the
room was making her feel. She stopped and stared at the bed. The bed her
and Lindsey shared at one time. She shivered.

Heading straight for the right side, the one closest to the bathroom she
offhandedly noted, she stared up at the canopy. Her stomach was twisted in
knots. Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness.

"How did you know that was your side of the bed?"

She jumped a near mile, nearly spilling off the bed and hitting her head on
the nightstand next to the bed. Lindsey reached out and steadied her.
"Buffy? You all right?"

"I want to go to the bathroom," she said hastily and made her way into the
bathroom.

"Buffy?" Lindsey knocked on the door.

"I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I don't know, she thought.

She listened for his footsteps walking across the carpeted floor before
staring at herself in the mirror, not really seeing herself at all. "Medicine
cabinet," she told herself. She took a deep breath. "Floss, toothbrush,
sleeping pills, Tylenol, eye mask and aftershave," she recited. She opened
the medicine cabinet and found all the items she'd just named, plus one. She
grabbed it. It was unnamed, just a clear tan bottle of pills. Interesting. She
placed it back and shut the medicine cabinet.

Feeling hot, she turned on the tap and splashed her face with water. She
nearly screamed in surprise when she caught Lindsey in the mirror behind
her as she dried her face with the hand towel.

"What are you doing?" she barked at him.

"I'm worried about you. You're all tense," he placed a hand on her back
and she jumped. "See?"

"I'm fine. Just weird being here. . . "

"Do you remember anything?" his voice trembled with something . . . fear.

"No."

"You're pale Buffy. You need some color on those cheeks. I think I still
have some make up of yours here," and he started to rummage in one of
the drawers at the sink.

"I don't need make up Lindsey. I don't want to—"

"Here, put some on. You look deathly pale and washed out."

She looked down at the makeup he was thrusting at her. "I don't want to
wear it. I just washed my face. "

"Buffy, why are you arguing with me on this?

She knit her eyebrows. "I'm not arguing with you."

"Just put some make up. Make yourself all pretty for me," he said
coaxingly and grinned.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not pretty without my make up?"

He faltered. "No, that's not it. I just like it when you wear it."

She looked down at the tubes and brushes in his hand and then up at him.
"Well, I don't want to wear it."

"Fine," and he all but slammed the articles back in the drawer before
stalking out. She stared after him, wondering what the hell had just
happened. She wanted to go home. She didn't want to be there anymore.
She felt a long way from home and she itched to call Angel. Making her way
out of the bathroom she found Lindsey sitting on the bed with his head in
his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, startling her. He frowned when she jumped.
"I came on too strong. I'm sorry."

Why was she so damn skittish? "Why did you get so upset with me over
makeup?"

He stood, "It used to be my favorite thing to do in the morning. Watch you
put it on. I always liked watching you do it for some reason. It was like
watching the whole process you went through to get ready made me feel
closer to you somehow. I thought maybe if you put it on and I could watch
you like I used to in the morning while I shaved you . . . "

"Would remember," she finished.

He nodded. "I'm sorry I pushed you." He closed the distance and wrapped
his arms around him, tightening his arms when she stiffened. "Don't be
afraid of me, Buffy," he whispered.

She forced herself to relax. "I'm not afraid of you," she replied, thinking it
odd that he said that. She'd been annoyed with him, not afraid. Startled
with his angry outburst and unsure what to do, but surely not afraid. She
didn't understand it at all. She felt as if she were cracking up.

"Can we go out to eat instead?" she blurted out.

He pulled back and looked at her searchingly. "You don't want to stay in?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to go out. Is that okay?"

He smiled softly, "Of course Buffy. Anything my darlin' wants she gets," he
cooed at her.

It wasn't until they pulled out of the driveway that Buffy finally relaxed.


 

12:
Intuition

"Buffy, come on in. How are you?" Tara McClay, Buffy's doctor neurologist smiled as she ushered Buffy into her office. It'd been a few days since her experience at Lindsey's and Buffy felt the need to see the doctor that had been assigned to her case to possibly get some answers.

"I'm good, thanks. How are you?"

Tara smiled. "Not very often that a patient asks a doctor that."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like most patients. Or people for that matter.

"I'd have to agree with that. My first amnesiac," Tara told her and sat
down at her chair while Buffy sat across from her.

"So, even though I'm the first, is it possible that you could answer some
questions for me?"

"Of course. Or, at the very least, try my very best from what I do know of
amnesia."

"Okay," Buffy took a deep breath and started to play with the straps of her
purse in her lap. She wasn't quite sure how to start.

Tara tilted her head to the side, "What's on your mind Buffy? Something
happen?"

"I'm not sure . . . Well, yes. But not really?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Tara chuckled. "At this rate, we won't get
anywhere."

Buffy relayed what happened with the remembered phone number and
then launched into the Lindsey fiasco. "I felt tense when I got in the house.
But I just chalked it up to the fact that it was the place of my accident, the
place where I literally lost my memories. Plus, the place I lived at with
Lindsey and have no recollection of."

"Some guilt there perhaps?"

"Yes. But he doesn't make me feel guilty. Well, he does when he wants to
rekindle what we had and I can tell he gets frustrated when I slow him
down."

"Have you told him it makes you uncomfortable?"

"Well . . . No."

"I think that would be a good first start. How do you feel about him?"

Buffy smiled. "Are you a neurologist or psychologist?"


Tara chuckled. "Little of both at times."

"I feel . . . uneasy about him. Unsure."

"Because of the guilt?"

"Among other things. . . " Buffy trailed off, looking away.

"Like?"

"He was intense when I was there. Really intense. He got on this kick
about makeup. . . " and Buffy explained what happened.

"How did you feel before you knew the reasons why he was on the makeup
train?"

"I felt like he was telling me I wasn't good enough without the makeup. He
just kept forcing the issue . . . I didn't get it."

"Did it sound like he was trying to control you?"

"I guess I didn't really put that much thought into his actions, I was just
feeling confused and overwhelmed by the other emotions whirling inside of
me by just being there."

"Tell me more about your visit," Tara urged.

"Okay, well, I went to the bedroom and lay down on the bed we shared. I
felt tense still. I felt anxious and lonely with this underlying fear laced
through. When I went into the bathroom, before I opened the medicine
cabinet, I recited the items in there. I knew what they were—like the
phone number. I just knew and recited it."

Tara's eyes widened. "That's excellent Buffy."

"Yeah, but. . .What does it mean? I mean does that mean my memories
are coming back? How can I know this stuff without it bringing back actual
memories? How can I FEEL these things but have no memory of what
could have made me feel that way?"

Tara leaned in, "Buffy do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Uh, yeah, I do. Why? Is this another one of those ‘I have a second chance'
speeches? I've heard enough about those from Spike and Angel already."

"Spike?" Tara quirked an eyebrow.

"Long story. Continue please."

"Well, see, my girlfriend is a witch—"

"And so are you."

Tara froze.

"I saw your pentacle," Buffy said sheepishly. "It doesn't bother me. It
actually comforts me. Which is part of the reason why I thought aside from
the scientific approach to why I experienced whatever it was that I
experienced, you probably had another approach too."

Tara smiled. "I do, bear with me."

"Okay, go ahead," Buffy gestured for her to continue.

"Well, there are some theories in reincarnation about what the soul
remembers from each life. Do you have any phobias? Fear of heights or
anything that you can't really attribute to anything that happened when
you were younger?"

"From what I remember, I can't stand to have anything on my neck when
I go to bed. I can't even handle a shirt collar around my neck."

"Do you know why?"

"Nope. I used to wear t shirts all the time to bed when I was a teenager.
When I turned, I think twenty – one, I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Okay, that's good."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Good?"

"Well good that I can explain this better."

"Oh. Ok."

"There is a theory that things like that—a sudden aversion to something
you were fine with before has to do with something that happened to you in
a past life. In other words, your sudden aversion at the age of twenty one to
having things around your neck when going to bed could be because your
soul or your spirit if you will remembers that at the age of twenty one in a
previous life, you were strangled to death."

"Oh!" Buffy exclaimed, horrified.

"It's like . . . my girlfriend Willow for example. If she comes home late at
night, she automatically puts her hand over heart while unlocking the door.
She believes she was murdered by a knife through the heart at night and
that is her subconscious protecting her from the attack. Some even say that
a rare birthmark is the mark of something that happened in a previous life
and your spirit carries it over into the next life to remind you, or just
because what happened was so intense, it hasn't cleansed itself from you
yet."

"So . . . what are you saying exactly? That my feelings on the house are
related somehow to what happened? We knew that though. I had the
accident there."

"I'm saying that what you feel about that house, in the rooms where the
accident did not happen could be directly related to what happened in your
relationship with Lindsey."

Buffy's heart was racing. "Are you saying that he could have hurt me?"

"Maybe not physically," Tara said carefully. She sighed deeply. "Buffy . . .
The uncertainty you feel around Lindsey could have more to do with what
your relationship was and less to do with your amnesia and feelings of guilt
and inadequacy. It might not be you at all."

"It could be him," Buffy said softly.

"Your subconscious is connected to your soul. It often knows what you
need, want and feel or what is going to happen before you consciously know
it."

"Your gut," Buffy said simply.

"Right. Intuition."

"So these feelings I'm having could actually be memories of another sort?"

"Right."

Buffy stood on shaky legs. "Thanks doc."

"Buffy, are you all right?" Tara asked, concerned as she stood.

"I'm uh . . . fine. Just gave me a lot to think about."

"Buffy, do you trust Lindsey?"

"I don't know."

"Do you really not know or are you afraid to know?" Tara asked.

"Both."



Thoughts heavy in her mind, Buffy made her way to her favorite café to
grab a latte on the way home. She'd been so busy at work lately, and her
mind had been working overtime at night going over things in her mind
about her experience at Lindsey's, her feelings and missing Spike . . . she
hadn't been sleeping well and found she needed more and more caffeine as
the days went by just to keep her going. She was considering looking into
sleeping pills, but didn't want to get addicted either. Now she felt a
headache coming on as she stood in line and she was sure it was a mix of all
the information Tara had piled up on her along with the fact that she was
lacking caffeine. He mind was swamped and taxed at the moment. All deep
thoughts of Lindsey and her feelings were going to have to wait for the time
being.

"Hey luv."

Spike's voice purring in her ear brought tears to her eyes. She turned to
find him behind her, smiling warmly at her.

Without even thinking she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him
in a fierce bear hug. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply. "I
missed you."

His arms wrapped around her instantly and he held her tightly against
him. "I missed you too, luv. So bloody much. Are you all right?"

"I – I just had a long day."

"Miss? You ordering?"

The clerk behind the counter was asking her, but she was too caught up in
Spike to notice.

Disengaging her a bit from his body, which earned a sound of protest from
Buffy, Spike sauntered up to the counter, his arm about her shoulders.
"Order kitten and then tell Spike all about it okay?"

She looked up at him and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as she
gave her order. She hadn't decided just how much she was going to tell
Spike yet, so she was glad to have the reprieve of ordering coffee to figure it
out.

 

13:

Just Breathe

"Mmm…Didn't realize how hungry I was until I saw those warm bagels come out," Buffy told Spike, with a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese.

Spike grinned at her as he sipped his coffee and watched her. "Next time
maybe you want some more bagel to go with that cream cheese?"

Buffy giggled and covered her mouth with her napkin.

"It's good?"

"Best bagel I've ever had!" she said enthusiastically.

Spike chuckled. "Wanna tell me what happened today?"

She focused on her bagel to avoid his eyes. She couldn't look at him and lie
to him. "Just one of them days, ya know?"

"You looked upset Buffy. Did something bad happen?"

"William, it's okay. Just a bad day and it was nice to see you after. . . " she
trailed off and took a bite of her bagel.

He quirked an eyebrow. "After?"

She swallowed and leaned back in her chair, studying him. "Did you always
follow your intuition as a lawyer?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever get bad feelings about the clients you had?"

"Yes."

"What did you do when you did?"

"Found out what they were keeping from me. Nine times out of ten they
were keeping something from me when I got that feeling."

"And the way you chose your clients?

"Same thing. My intuition. I didn't want to involve myself into something
where I felt that I couldn't represent them in good faith. Most often if
something feels fishy; it's usually because it is. Where is this coming from?
You been doing some investigation?" His tone was light and he didn't name
what she was ‘investigating' but Buffy knew. He was asking if she had been
investigating Lindsey.

"Well, remember how I told you about the phone thing?

"When you remembered the number even though you didn't remember
the dealer?"

"Yeah, well, I've been doing some investigating about psychic ability and
intuition and all that and I've heard that your subconscious knows things
before your conscious does and that intuition is basically a reflection of that.
So my dialing and ‘remembering' the phone number even though I had no
clue of the dealer could be because my subconscious stored it and it just
came out of me."

Spike nodded slowly. "Makes sense. So then your relationships with others
could be based on the same theory. If someone makes you feel
uncomfortable when you're with them, or makes you happy or sad or
whatever, it could be your subconscious telling you what kind of
relationship you had with them during those years you don't remember."

She pointed at him and waggled her finger. "I know what you're getting
at."

"What's that?"

"I'm not saying, but I know."

"What have you learned Buffy?" he asked, seriously. The look on his face
solemn.

She looked down. "I learned that I missed you," she said lightly.

Reaching across the table, Spike took her hands in his and kissed them.
"Buffy, I was going out of my mind. . . " he told her, his voice cracking with
emotion. "I wanted to see you so bad and you told me to keep my distance .
. . I was giving it just one more day before I tracked you down."

"Here I am. Do you have plans tonight?"

He shook his head. "If I did, I'd cancel them."

She smiled. "Want to come over for dinner with me and Angel? I'll make
him make us pasta. Maybe we can all watch a movie."

Spike stood, still holding on to her hands, and guiding her up. "Love too
kitten."

Not being able to help herself from the comfort he so readily gave, Buffy
wrapped her arms around him again and sighed contentedly.



"You got a job? At BU? Teaching Law?" Buffy asked Spike excitedly as
they moved about the kitchen helping Angel make dinner.

Spike grinned. "Yep, I did. Turns out your brother has connections after
all."

Buffy poked Spike and then Angel. "Thanks for telling me Angel."

"Hey, it's not I've seen much of you and when I have, you grumble at me
that you're tired and take off to take a bath and go to bed."

"Still! That's important stuff."

"Figured he'd tell you himself anyway," Angel shrugged and continued to
grate the cheese.

Buffy ignored the comment and snatched a pinch of grated cheese. Angel
glared at her and she backed off, holding up her hands in surrender. Spike
chuckled and handed her a glass of wine.

Buffy smiled at him. She felt as if she hadn't felt so relaxed in a long, long
time. She felt so much at home. The apartment was scented and warmed
by their pasta dinner, they were light hearted and laughing, she felt as if
they were in a bubble and it was just the three of them. She had Angel, the
best brother anyone could ever ask for and Spike, the man who - - who
what? That she loved? She looked over at him as he and Angel teased each
other about something, and her heart warmed. Whatever she felt for Spike,
whatever she couldn't quite define and put a label on yet, she did know
without a doubt that she needed him. In such a short time, he had become
a rock to her. Much like Angel and yet definitely different. ‘Then why are
you with Lindsey?' A voice asked. ‘I'm not,' she answered. ‘Then why don't
you tell him what happened with Lindsey?' The voice urged. Because she
didn't know exactly ‘what' to tell him. That he freaked about some
makeup? That she was uncomfortable in his home? Then with everything
Tara had told her . . . Was it possible that her discomfort with Lindsey had
nothing to do with guilt and feeling he was still a stranger and something to
do with the fact that he could have been abusive to her during those three
years she lost? It wasn't like he was ever going to admit it. So then why
didn't she just walk away? She shivered. ‘He won't let you,' another voice
said, a voice that sounded much like her. A different sadder, lonelier her.

"Pet, you with us?"

She snapped out of her thoughts to find Spike standing in front of her,
smiling softly. He pushed some hair away from her face. "Where did you
go?"

"Must be the wine," she said airily. "Angel, how long does it take to make
friggen pasta for crying out loud?"

"Long when I'm the only one doing it!" Angel tossed back at her.

Buffy and Spike took the hint and scrambled to help him.



Plopping next to Spike on the couch, Buffy yawned loudly. Angel was
loading ‘Spinal Tap' in the DVD and looked over his shoulder at her.

"You gonna make it for the movie?"

"Of course! It's the freakin' weekend baby I'm about to have me some
fun!"

Spike chuckled and Angel groaned. Settling in, Angel dimmed the lights
and the movie began.

Buffy made it ten minutes into the movie and fell fast asleep. Spike figured
it out when she all but crashed into him, her head lolling onto his shoulder.
Cuddling her close, Spike wasn't willing to lose the chance to hold her in his
arms for a while.

Angel looked over from his recliner. "I knew she wasn't going to make it."

"Has she been okay lately?" Spike asked, concerned.

"Just distant like I told you. I thought at first it was her job, but the more I
think about it, it's been ever since she saw Lindsey at the beginning of the
week."

Spike frowned. "She say anything to you about it?"

Angel gave him a ‘are you kidding me?' look. "Yeah, right," he shook his
head. "It's just like before. I ask, she dodges."

"Something is up with her, Angel. I felt it today when I saw her. It's like
she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders."

"I know. I feel it too. I just don't know what to do short of tying her up and
making her tell me," Angel muttered.

"Not a half bad idea."

Angel shot him a look. "That's my sister. You don't do stuff like tying her
up, got it?"

"Got it," Spike said and grinned.

"You find out anything from Schreb yet?"

"Not yet. I've got some buddies looking into him too—"

"Stop talking," Buffy grumbled, cuddling closer to Spike and burying her
face in his chest.

Spike smiled tenderly. "How bout you go to bed kitten?"

"Fine here," she murmured.

"We'll stop talking then," Spike promised and he and Angel turned back to
the movie, glad that Buffy hadn't comprehended anything they'd just said.
She'd be furious if she knew they'd been conspiring together against
Lindsey. Probably even more furious if she knew Spike had hired his PI to
find out information about one Lindsey McDonald.

 

14:
Uncomfortable Introduction

Buffy rolled onto her back and yawned. Her eyes popped open and she looked around. Yep, this was definitely her room however she definitely didn't remember making it to her bedroom. The last thing she remembered was Angel popping in ‘Spinal Tap' and then . . . nothing. She furrowed her brow. That meant either Spike or Angel had carried her to bed. Scratch that. Spike would have carried her to bed; Angel would have thrown a cover on her and left her on the couch. Now she felt disappointed. She didn't get to say goodbye to Spike or find out what he was up to that day.

She'd had so much fun the night before, and, she thought in wonderment,
she'd slept better than she had in long time. Apparently she really did need
Spike. Her body, able to relax for once told her that. She took pause at that
thought. If her body could tell her things like that, then her mind could too.
What Tara said rolled around in her mind as she crawled out of bed and
stretched. Using the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and
padded to the kitchen to make some coffee. A soft snore sounded from the
living room and she halted her movements. Setting down the coffee pot, she
peered into the living room and found Spike on the couch. Her heart soared
and warmed at the same time. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched
him. He was laying on his back, one arm across his stomach, another under
his head. She could see his bare feet poking out from under the blanket that
was falling off his body and his chest—oh my. His chest was bare. She took
in the creamy skin, the well defined abs, all the planes and—

"It's impolite to stare you know."

His voice jarred her out of her lustful daze and she jumped a near mile.
"You suck!" she hissed and marched off. The sound of Spike's soft chuckle
followed her and cheeks flaming, she filled up the coffee pot.

"Mad at me?" he asked as he stepped into the kitchen, ruffling his hair and
yawning.

She turned to him. How could she be mad at the sight he presented? All
sleep tousled and cute. She shook her head, "No, I'm not mad. You just
scared me is all."

"Making coffee?"

She nodded and poured the water in the maker and flipped on the switch.
"So you stayed last night. Did you carry me to my bed?"

He nodded, "I did. Fell asleep right quick, you did." He sat down at the
table and toyed with his pack of cigarettes.


She sat down across from him. "What made you stay?"

"Exhausted and had too much wine. Didn't feel like trying to find my way
home in the dark."

"You've been here a month now William," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Still."

She started to stand. "You want some breakfast? I was going to make
some scrambled eggs."

"How bout an omelet?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know how to make them."

"I'll teach you."

"Shouldn't you put a shirt on?" she asked, pointing at his bare chest.

He smirked, "Making you uneasy having to look at all this perfect flesh?"

Buffy started to laugh and Spike frowned. "Thanks, pet."

"Sorry. You just cracked me up. You're so full of yourself."

"Not all the time, it's a front."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yep. With you, I'm bloody unsure about everything."

"Don't be. You're fine, more than fine," she assured him, smiling.

He grinned. "More than fine you say?"

"Yep, and that's all I'm giving you. Get a shirt on so you don't burn
yourself."

"Bossy chit," he muttered as he made his way to the living room.

"Don't make me get the whip," she called after him.

He stopped in his tracks and spun, his eyes dark with lust. "Did you say
whip?"


She rolled her eyes, "Go get your shirt on, ya perv."





"What are you doing?"

Spike and Buffy turned to see Angel standing in the kitchen, yawning with
his hair in all directions. His robe thrown on, he looked much like the little
boy that used to bound into her room on Christmas morning and make her
get out of bed so they could pounce on their parents to open presents.

"William is teaching me to make omelets," Buffy answered him.

"You really are crazy," Angel said in disbelief to Spike. "You're teaching her
how to cook."

"Hey! I'm not that bad," Buffy retorted defensively. Spike watched the
exchange, amused.

"Don't let her fool you. She's that bad," Angel warned him.

"Well so far she's doing great. With my help of course."

Buffy swatted him, "Don't encourage him."


"Come here," Spike said, putting his hands on her hips and placing her in
front of him at the stove. "Take the spatula and turn it over to fold it."

The heat from his body against her back sent a shiver through Buffy.
Strange how that could happen. Every part of her was intensely aware of
him. Every part of her ached for him.

"Hello?"

Immediately, she froze. Then sprang away as if she'd been burned by the
skillet.

"Lindsey, what are you doing here?" she asked, turning to greet the man
standing in the doorway. She felt something coil through her. Uncertainty.
She felt immediately on guard. It wasn't because she felt guilty either for

feeling things for Spike, for reacting to his body against hers. Instead she
felt she had to protect Spike, had to make sure that Lindsey suspected
nothing.

"What's going on?" Lindsey asked his voice tight as he stared at Spike and
pushed his way in the door. The screen door slammed behind him and

Buffy jumped.

"I uh- we're uh, making breakfast. Omelets. William is teaching me to
make omelets. Can you believe it? I'm learning to cook. So in no time I'll be
able to cook for –what are you doing here? What brings you by?"

Angel placed a hand on her shoulder. "Buffy, breathe."

"I—I'm fine. I'm just going to—" she grabbed Lindsey's arm. "Let's go talk
outside."

She dragged him out of the kitchen, down the stairs and outside. She
hadn't been able to look at either Spike or Angel, didn't want them to know.
She felt ashamed of it, ashamed of herself and confused and . . . she didn't
know what was happening to her.

"Who was that Buffy?" Lindsey demanded as soon as they were outside.

"He's a friend of Angels."

"And why were his hands all over you?"

She looked up at him. Lindsey raised his hand and Buffy jumped a near
mile.


He stopped its path to his hair and stared at her. "What's gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you so nervous and jumpy?" His brow furrowed and he looked
completely confused.

"I—" she shook her head. "I'm not."

"You just jumped," he pointed at her.

She took a step back from him. "What do you want Lindsey?"

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. "I can't come and see my
girlfriend?"

"You can, I just didn't expect you. You should have called."

"Well, I didn't," he snapped.

"What do you want?" she snapped back.

His eyes narrowed. "Why are you so snappy with me?"

She gulped at the cold hard look in his eyes. She took a deep breath. "You
snapped first."

"Who is William?"

"A friend of Angel's," she blurted out. "He's gay."

Lindsey's expression softened immediately. "Oh. Well then, that changes
everything. Come out with me today."

"I can't." And I don't want to.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm spending the day with Angel."

"Then come out with me later."

"I'll call you," she told him. "Just call next time will you?"

He pursed his lips together. "Yes, dear," he said sarcastically. "So I'll see
you tonight then?"

She sighed, "Lindsey—"

"Please?" now he sounded gentle and soft again.

"I'll call you."

"Dress nice. I'll take you out."

He wasn't listening and she didn't feel like pressing it. Didn't feel he would
listen and she would win this round. Since when did a relationship become
about winning? She watched him drive off and felt a coldness settle over
her body like a blanket. What had driven her to tell Lindsey William was
gay?

‘He'd kill him,' the voice in her head said softly. ‘You have to protect
William,' it told her.


 

15:

What to do?

"Buffy, what the hell just happened?"

Buffy spun to see Angel coming towards her, a determined look on his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

His eyes bugged. "Are you kidding me? Buffy, you acted as if you were
ready for a throw down in the kitchen. You were afraid Buffy. Petrified." He
wagged his finger at her. "And don't try to deny it Buffy. I'm your brother
and have known you since you were in diapers. You were afraid of him. I
saw it in the way you talked to him, in the way you jumped away from
Spike and the way you wouldn't look at me or Spike. Your whole body
language was one of fear. You flew out of that apartment as if the devil
were on your heels. What did he say to you?" Angel demanded. Rarely did
Angel ever get as adamant and angry as he was now. His face was red and
the vein on the side of his neck was pulsing.

Buffy burst into tears. It was all too much with Lindsey scaring her and her
not being able to pinpoint why, with fearing for William and his safety and
STILL not being able to pinpoint exactly why. It was frustrating, it was
overwhelming and now with Angel angry and demanding to know what the
hell was going on when she herself didn't know—it was all too much.

In an instant, Angel had her in his arms and his words were soft and
soothing, his embrace comforting. "Buffy, please don't cry. You know I
could never stand it when you cried. Christ, it's like the first time you rode
your bike without training wheels and fell down on the sidewalk and split
your knee open. Made me feel like the worst brother in the world."

"You taught me to ride my bike," she hiccupped.

"Hence the reason why I felt awful when you fell. I failed you."

She looked up at him, tear stained. "You think you failed me?"

"Sometimes. I'm not going to this time though," and he gave her a weary
smile.

"Angel, you haven't failed me. You're the only one that I depend on."

"Aside from Spike right?"

She didn't answer that question. "Why do you think you failed me?"

"I didn't protect you from that monster."

"I think we have a lot to talk about.

Angel nodded. "I think you're right," and he threw an arm across her
shoulders as they made there way up to the apartment. "Spike's worried.
He was pacing and sorry, but we couldn't resist peaking out and seeing
what was going on."

"What did you see?"

"You flinching every time he moved. Buffy, has he hit you?" Angel asked as
they made their way up the stairs.

"No, he hasn't."

"Threatened you?"

"Nope."

Angel sighed. "He did something. I know he did."

"That's what's scaring me," Buffy murmured.

"What do you mean?"

Buffy didn't answer as she pushed the door open. Spike stood in the middle
of the kitchen looking worried. He lunged forward. "Buffy are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she nodded and disengaged from Angel. She stepped forward
and Spike immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't like him, kitten."

"I know. I don't think I do either. Scratch that. I know I don't."

Spike pulled apart just enough to look at her. "Does that mean—?"

"That I'm breaking up with him? Yeah."

"THANK GOD!" Angel exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air.
"Halleluiah!"

Buffy turned to face her brother with a smirk. "Tell me how you really feel
Angel, don't hold back."

Angel chuckled. "Sorry, couldn't hold that one back. This weight that just
got lifted off my shoulders? That must be what relief feels like."

"Uh, Spike?" Buffy started. "Do you think Angel and I could…?"

"Say no more. You need some family time here, I understand."

She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "Call you later?"

He smiled and cupped the side of her face with his hand. "How bout see me
later?"

She smiled. "I can do that."

"Do you need directions?"

"Spike, I don't get lost here like you do. I know where it is."

He nodded, grinning shyly, "Right."

"Thanks for breakfast even though I missed out on it."

"I'll make you one when you come over."

"Okay."

Angel and Spike shook hands, grinning and Spike was off.

Buffy looked at Angel sheepishly once Spike was gone. "He's not going to
be happy to learn I told Lindsey he was gay."

Angel's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "You WHAT?"

"It was the only thing I could think of to protect him."

"Protect him? All right. Let's sit and talk. What's going on Buffy? Please
don't shut me out like before."

"I have no memory of doing that before," she reminded him.

"I know, I know. . . but, I see you doing it again, unwittingly, and it's
driving me nuts. I want to know what's going on with you Buffy. Especially
when it comes to Lindsey."

Buffy regarded him thoughtfully. "You really don't like him."

Angel gave her a look. "Gee, what gave it away?"

Buffy slid into the chair at the table and looked up at Angel expectantly. He
slid in across from her and both put their elbows on the table and stared at
each other.

"So, tell me your suspicions about him," Buffy urged.

"I think I first want to hear what you have to say first."

"Why?"

"To see if it matches up and I'm not just influencing you. Though from
what I saw, it looks like we're on the same page."

"Don't you want to influence me away from him?"

"Oh trust me, yes. But I'm thinking since you're the one with no memory
here, what you have to say will be . . . fresher, if you know what I mean?"

Buffy nodded. "I think I get that. All right. Let me start with the day I
went back to work."

Buffy spilled it all. Told Angel everything from when she'd seen Lindsey
that day to when she went to see Tara and everything that Tara had said.
Angel listened, nodding in places and biting his tongue in other areas.

"Buffy," Angel reached across the table and grabbed her hands in his big,
warm ones. "All that you just said, all that fear you have of him, all that
uncertainty . . . It's exactly what I imagined—what I thought—was going on
in that house with him. Buffy, you've always been independent and
stubborn and always followed the beat of your own. And you and I were
always close. We told each other everything, there was nothing we hid from
one another because for so long all we've had is each other.

When Lindsey came along, you changed. You lashed out at me all the time,
you always had excuses for Lindsey making you do something you would
never normally do or had any interest in. Stupid flashy parties where you
were set up to be the trophy on his arm . . . making him dinner –even
though you hate to cook. You even told me once in passing that he wanted
you to quit your job—the job you love—once he married you. I flipped out
on you for that and I succeeded in only pushing you away from me even
more.

You never said you were happy with him, and if you had maybe I wouldn't
have held so many reservations. Maybe if I knew he was treating you right,
I wouldn't have had so many misgivings. But you shut me out and you had
this vacant look in your eyes where once you had so much life and sparkle.
You weren't my Buffy anymore and I didn't know how to get you back. I
swear that bastard turned you away from me, he had this control over you
and I was helpless to do anything about it.

When you had the accident I was convinced—hell, I'm STILL convinced—
he had something to do with it Buffy."

Buffy looked at him sternly. "Angel, that's a pretty big accusation to
make."

"I know," Angel sighed, "but I can't help my suspicions. And, at the same
time after hearing what you just told me . . . I find myself almost thankful
for the accident. Because if you hadn't had it, then you might still be with
him and he would still be controlling you. I think what Tara and Spike told
you and how you react to Lindsey go hand in hand Buffy. How you acted
today and that gut feeling you had about protecting Spike," he stopped
abruptly. "Buffy, do you think that's why you never spoke of him when you
came home from Rhode Island and why you left him without giving him a
way to contact you? Because you were protecting him?"

"If the urge I had today is anything to go by, then I think that's a definite
possibility."

"He won't hurt you again Buffy," Angel promised her.

"He wants to see me tonight."

"Fine then, you call him and YOU make the plans. You tell him where, you
tell him when. In a public place so he can't do anything when you tell him
it's over."

"Yes, sir," Buffy saluted him.

Angel shook his head. "Okay, I got a little demanding there—"

"Ya think?"

"I just want him gone Buffy. Out of your life, forever, and for good. It's the
best thing for you and you know it."

"I do," she said quietly. "How I acted today—did I ever act like that
before?"

Angel shook his head, "No. I imagine your reaction today was an honest
one because you didn't ‘know' any better. You didn't feel the need to censor
it and cover up your fear of him."

Buffy flinched. "I don't like the sound of that. My ‘fear' of him. Makes me
sound weak and defenseless . . . Makes it sound as if has power over me
and the idea that I gave him that power," she trailed off and stood up,
clenching her fists. "You know what I need? I need to learn self-defense."

Angel frowned. "Buffy, I'm all up for you feeling the need to learn it to
better protect yourself say if you should ever find yourself in a situation,"
Angel said as he stood. "Those occurrences that happen, but are rare in
their happenings. It makes me nervous though when you feel the need to
learn it to protect yourself from Lindsey."

"But you understand it."

"Yeah, and that's what makes me nervous. I'm going to be there tonight
Buffy. I'll be nearby just in case so you aren't alone."

"I don't want him to see you. If I'm worried about Spike, then who knows if
you're safe too."

Angel smirked. "I dare him to lay a hand on any of us. He touches you or
any of us and he'll find a nice restraining order slapped on him."

Buffy looked up at him. "Am I becoming the Buffy you knew? The
independent, stubborn Buffy?"

Angel smiled and hugged her close. "I see her coming back to me a little bit
more everyday."

 

Next