The Consequences of Re-animation

Summary: Buffy's back from the dead, but she can't remember anything. Where has she been? Why is she sick?

Setting: Starts when Willow brought Buffy back from the dead, goes AU after that.

A/N: Review, critique, and all that rot. Special thanks to Addie Logan and JamesMFan who are the

Her eyes shot open. She tried to sit up, and banged her head. Her hands flew up and touched the satin above her.

She clawed frantically, ignoring the panic that was bubbling up inside of her, threatening to take over. The satin covering ripped apart beneath her fingernails, but the wood proved to be harder.

Her fingernails ripped, then bled in tiny droplets on her face. Her knuckles ripped next, and the droplets became a stream, but the wood was starting to splinter. With a strength known only to those in the grips of utter panic, she gave a finally thrust and the top broke apart showering her in dirt. She choked and reached up.

She stretched her arms and kicked her legs like she was swimming. The dirt had settled, and for whatever reason, the maneuver worked. She reached the topsoil, and fell gasping hard.

She closed her eyes and sucked the air in, quickly at first but slowing to a normal rate quickly. Her heart beat so loud that she could hear it, and she was sure that if she looked down she would see it moving inside her chest.

Her eyes opened again, but shut tight of their own volition. Too bright. It was too bright. It hurt. Tears stung in the corners of her eyelids, and she allowed herself to open them a slit.

Everything around her was blurry, like she had forgotten to put on glasses. Did she wear glasses? She rolled over and looked at the grave she had crawled out of.

There was a tombstone. She studied it. It was nice, dark and marbled and engraved with writings. She traced her index finger over the words as she tried to say them.

“B-B-Bu” Her voice sounded hollow. She tried to swallow, but there was no fluid in her throat and the act burned more than helped. She tried several more times, but to no avail.

She started to stand, but her knees gave way and she fell onto the pile of dirt that had filled in the hole where she had dug herself out. The dirt shifted again, and for a moment she thought that it was going to suck her back down.

She rolled herself back over and stared at the darkened sky. Then she did the only thing that she could think of, curled up in a ball and cried.

“You what!?” The words strained to be heard from his clenched jaw. His eyes shot daggers at the group of people in front of him.

“You are going to repeat that.one.more.time.” His eyes flashed toward the red headed girl at the table.

“I-I just thought…I mean, we need her and…She could need us and…” Willow trailed off and looked at Tara for support.

“She’s trapped in a hell dimension. She has to be. We can’t just leave her there. We had to try to save her.” Her support came from Xander, “She wouldn’t have left one of us.” He finished quietly.

Spike took several unneeded breaths to calm himself down, and when he spoke his voice was low and monotone, “You don’t know where she is. You’re messing with forces that you know nothing about. She could have come back a zombie… or worse.”

Xander stood up so fast that he banged his knees into the table. He tried again, and this time managed to trip himself.

He stood, finally, facing Spike. His dark eyes glaring into Spike’s blue ones as both silently battled for dominance.

“You think we were wrong in what we did? You, who claim to lover her, would leave her in a hell dimension? Why? So, that when your sorry excuse for an existence has ended that she’ll, what, be waiting for you in hell?”

“Hey, I’m home,” Dawn stopped short as she took in the scene in front of her. Willow was seated at the kitchen table; hands clasped together, tears sliding down her face. Tara sat next to her, biting her lip and wringing her hands together as her eyes shifted from Dawn to Willow to Spike and Xander, the latter two were standing on either side of the island in a face-off. Anya stood up and placed a hand on Xander’s should trying to guide him back to the table.

Spike glared at the group, silently sending a message, before turning around to face Dawn, “Nothing, Bit.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like nothing. You guys can’t keep everything from me, ya know. I’m old enough to know about these things. I’m almost the same age you guys were when you started to know about demons and stuff.”

“Honey, we’re not keeping anything from you,” Tara started. “We know that you’re old enough to know things…” She trailed off, unsure of where to go.

The thick silence that settled shattered when Spike exited the house, slamming the door behind him. Dawn stared at the group for a second before running out after him.

He had already gotten halfway down the block, by the time she caught up with him. They fell in step with one another, but didn’t speak. She knew where he was going, he knew it was useless to tell her not to follow.

It was part of the strange relationship they had developed since The Event. He treated her like an adult when she wanted it, and a kid when she needed it. He watched hours of television with her whenever she happened to be home alone (which wasn’t often because the others were so adamant about her never being by herself), he sat outside her window when she slept, and refused to let her out of his sight if she ever left the house after dark. She, in turn, treated him more like a man than a monster, finished her homework in his crypt, asked him for advice on school, and chided him on the dangers of smoking and over consumption of alcohol (“Vampire, pet.” He would remind her, “Not dangerous to me at all.” “Well, it’s a bad impression on me then,” she would huff).

They both stopped at the entrance to the cemetery. Sometimes they approached The Spot together, strength in numbers and all that, but sometimes they needed to be alone. He looked at her a second, and she understood. She walked to the bench right inside the entrance, sat down, and watched his back until the darkness ate it up.

Chapter 3

She was suddenly aware of a presence near her. It didn’t feel dangerous; actually it felt sort of tingly. She caught her sobs and stilled her body in time to hear a sob rip out of the presence behind her. Something crawled up behind her, and gently rolled her over until she was staring into two blue eyes rimmed with tears. The man sobbed again and started murmuring soothingly. She wasn’t sure what he was saying, but the tone was nice and relaxing. His arms slowly slid under her, and he pulled her close to his body.

The sensation was strange. He was cold. Very cold. And he even though he was sobbing into her hair, she wasn’t sure he was breathing. She closed her eyes tightly, and reached insider herself for a moment. “No,” she decided to herself, “there is no danger here.” With that thought, she slowly brought her hands to his sides and buried her face in his neck.

Dawn got to her feet the moment she heard Spike cry out, but she didn’t move. She knew that if it was dangerous he would yell out the code word for her to run (the codeword had been his idea because he knew that she sneaked out of the house to follow him patrolling, and it wouldn’t do to have her injured on his watch), but the call never came. After several minutes, she ran down to The Spot where he was.

“Spi-” Her voice caught. Spike was sitting next to The Spot, but the dirt was all askew. He was cradling Buffy’s body in his arms and crying.

“ Oh no,” Dawn’s started, her voice cracking, “did something pull her up? Was it grave robbers? Did they take something? Spike, talk to me. Please! SPIKE!”

“Dawn,” his voice was so low she had to strain to hear him-and did he just call her by her real name, “come here-but slowly, and talk softer. You’re scaring her.”

Dawn’s head was filled with confusion, but she followed his instructions, and when she was directly behind him, he pulled back a little to show her that in his arms lay her sister; dirty, bleeding, and crying but very much alive.

Dawn’s knees gave out and she fell beside him on the dirt. Tentatively, she stretched out her fingers and brushed Buffy’s hair back from her face.

“Don’t think so. She hasn’t said anything, and ‘m not sure she’s understood a word ‘ve said, but…”

“We should get her home, and cleaned up and she’s probably thirsty or something, I mean, if she’s been in hell or something, I would think that she would be thirsty, and we should get her home,” Dawn was rambling but she didn’t care. Her sister was back, and she needed her.

Spike stood up and gently pulled Buffy up with him. Her knees shook for a second before holding, but she never removed the tight grip she had on his arms and her eyes darted from him to Dawn nervously.

The house was quiet by the time they made it back. Xander and Anya had gone home, and the Wicca’s were comforting each other in their room. Someone, most likely Tara, had left a note on the table informing Dawn that dinner was in the oven. Dawn quickly pulled the chicken and rice out of the oven, and divided it onto two plates.

Spike sat Buffy down in a chair at the table, and started to walk away, but her hand still gripped his arm and refused to let go.

“ ‘S okay, luv. Not going anywhere. Gonna stay right here with you.” He sat down in the chair next to her to prove his point. “Bit, why don’t you get Big Sis a glass of water?”

Dawn grabbed the biggest cup she could find, filled it, and set it on the table before her sister. Buffy stared at it for a second before grabbing it in both hands and drank quickly, gasping loudly between swallows.

“C-can. I. Have. More?” Buffy held the cup out and Dawn snatched it quickly, eager to help.

Four glasses later, Buffy finally looked a little better. She smiled shyly to both Dawn and Spike.

“You’re welcome, but we weren’t the ones who brought you back,” Dawn said.

“I mean, you’re okay and everything, right? You’re not a zombie or anything, are you?”

Spike was watching the conversation with a sinking feeling. Something wasn’t quite right, and he shot Dawn a look to silence her.

“Luv,” he put his hand under Buffy’s chin and turned her head so that she was facing him, “what do you remember?”

“I-I’m not sure. I remember waking up, and I was in the coffin,” her eyes bulged slightly at this, “and I was afraid. I was so afraid. I was buried alive, and I started to digandIcouldn’tbreatheandIthoughtthatIwasgoingtodiebutIdidn’twanttoand…and…”her voice hitched with sobs and Spike pulled her to him again, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear.

“Shh, ‘s okay. You’re okay. Not gonna let anyone hurt you. But I need you to tell me what you remember before all that. Kay, can you do that for me?”

“Do you know who we are?” Dawn pointed her finger at Spike and then to her own chest.

“No.” There was a slight edge of panic in her voice at this revelation. “Should I? I mean, I’m not all with the familiarness of the surroundings or anything, but if I’d been here before I would know, right?” She looked from Dawn to Spike and back again.

“Now, before you two decide to get all touchy feely with the remembering and shite, why don’t you let her help you get cleaned up, and we can continue from there. With photo albums and home movies and all that rot.”

Buffy nodded, and let Dawn take her upstairs and into the bathroom. He waited until they were out of sight before he dropped his face into his hands and sobbed quietly. Buffy was back. She was really back. She didn’t know who he was-hell she didn’t know who she was-but she was really back. She’d been in his arms, and Christ, he needed a cigarette.

XXX

Dawn left Buffy alone in the bathroom, but only after the older girl had assured her that she although she might not know much, she was pretty confidant she could still bathe herself.

“She’s really here, isn’t she? I’m afraid to pinch myself and wake up in my bed with only the bot sleeping in the room next door.”

“Which part? The part about being afraid to pinch myself or the part about the…Oh god! The bot is on her bed!”

They both bolted into the house and up the stairs, but not before the scream echoed throughout the house. Spike made it up the stairs first, but collided with Willow who was coming out to see what the noise was about. He stumbled backward and one hand caught the railing to keep himself from falling back down the stairs, while the other steadied Dawn, whom he had fallen backward into. During the confusion, Buffy had run out of the doorway of her room and managed to run straight into both Willow and Tara, the latter whom had run to help out her lover.

“She’s dead! She looks just like me, but she’s dead!” Buffy shrieked at the same time Willow cried out “Oh goddess, you’re alive!”

“No. I am not going into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel while a dead body, who looks exactly like me, is lying in the room next to me.” Buffy jutted her chin out defiantly.

“What? Dead body? Buffy, what are you talking about? That’s the bot.” Willow looked slightly confused.

Willow’s look of confusion grew clearer. “Yeah, you know. Spike, the bleach haired, can’t kill anyone cause I get a chip in my head and I’m in love with the slayer, vampire standing next to you.”

“There’s a vampire standing next to me?” Buffy looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Spike rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Enough! Bit, you get her some clothes,” he said jerking his thumb toward Buffy, “Red, Glinda to the kitchen.”

“It looks so real,” Buffy stated as she hesitantly touched the bot on the bed.

“Yeah, that was kinda the point, you know.” Dawn was glad that someone had remembered to turn the thing off. She didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if the bot had sat up and talked.

“Here, how ‘bout these.” Dawn handed Buffy a pair of black sweats and a black tank top.

Buffy nodded and waited for Dawn to close the door before taking a look around her. She walked back over to the bot lying on the bed.

Once again, Buffy reached out and poked the bot. To no surprise, it didn’t move. “This is so weird,” she thought.

Abandoning the bot, she walked over to the dresser on the side of the room. It wasn’t the dresser that she was interested in, so much as the pictures that she had noticed while she waited for Dawn to pick out her clothes. The first picture was of Dawn, herself, and an older woman. “Must be our mom. Wonder where she is.” The second picture was of the redhead from the hallway, a boy with brown hair, and her. She flipped the photo over, but it wasn’t labeled. “Okay, these are obviously people that I hang out with enough to not have to put their names on the back of the picture.”

She opened the top drawer of the dresser; underwear, next drawer; socks, third drawer; holy water, crosses, and wooden stakes…What?! Buffy frowned. Who the hell kept this kind of crap in a dresser? She pulled the drawer all the way out and dumped it onto the floor. Out fell the bottle of water, the crosses, the stakes, and the bottom of the drawer along with several notebooks. Ooh, diaries. She threw everything back into the drawer and shoved it back into the dresser. She would have to look through those later, but the others were waiting for her.

It was late. They had been sitting at the table for hours, and outside of explaining whom they all were and how they related to her, they hadn’t made much headway. Buffy had demanded that Dawn pull out every photo album they had, and explain who everyone was and how they had met and where they were now. Topics that didn’t get discussed were: slayers, demons, vampires, the stakes in the dresser drawer, and why she had been in a coffin. Before she had come down, they had decided not to tell her those things until the morning and that they would avoid the part about her being in hell. Willow had figured that if her brain had wanted her to remember that time, then it wouldn’t have made her repress it. They had also agreed that Spike would sneak off at some point and move the bot. No point in upsetting anyone further.

“It’s getting late, and we all have class in the morning,” Tara yawned finally.

“No, um, you stopped going to school when Mom got sick, remember?” Dawn stated. “ You stayed home to take care of us.”

“Oh, right you said that before.” Buffy rubbed her eyes. How could she be tired? She still had so many questions, and there were the diaries upstairs to be looked at, but her eyes were starting to burn.

Willow and Tara stood up together and bid their goodnights. Dawn leaned over and hugged Buffy tightly.

“I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.” Dawn smiled brightly as went up the stairs.

“So,” Buffy said turning to the bleached blonde left in the room, “it’s just you and me mystery man.”

“Well, the room is empty except for you and me, that’s how I figure it. Unless there are people in here that you see and I don’t.”

“Well, I now know most of my life story-complete with pictures. I know about Mom and Dad, Dawn, Willow and Tara, Xander and Anya, a whole slew of people whom I’ve already forgotten and yet, barely anything about you. Why is that?”

“Saved the best for last, but not until you’ve had a good nights rest. It’s bed time for little Sl-Buffys.”

“Just a nickname I‘ve for ya. Wouldn’t make sense now. Might offend you till I‘ve properly explained it an all.”

“Guess its cause you and me are an ever changing entity. Hate each other one minute and don’t the next.”

“Dunno. Knew how I felt ‘bout you, but you didn’t reciprocate the like.”

“I just, I don’t, um, feel like being alone. Would you stay with me until I fell asleep?”

Willow slowly placed the phone back into its cradle. In spite of Tara’s claims that they were going to bed, Willow knew she had to make three phone calls before she fell asleep. The first was to Xander. He had to pick Dawn up in the morning, and he needed to be warned of Buffy’s condition. When she had finished the call, Willow wasn’t so sure that Xander had fully understood in his half awakened state. The second call had been to Giles. Luckily, it was a normal time in England so he was fully conscious, and after a lot of “dear lords” he had decided to come straight back to California. The third call was the hardest.

“Willow. What is it?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement, a now what else can go wrong with my life testament

“Buffy’s back. She’s alive. I mean she doesn’t know who she is or who we are or anything, but she’s really here. Breathing, walking, talking, the whole kit n caboodle.”

“What…How…You know what, I don’t care. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure this whole amnesia thing is just temporary and once she remembers you, she’ll be thrilled you’re here.”

Spike awoke to a sharp pain in his side, and the world turned over as he landed on the floor of her room in a heap of bedding.

“What the bloody hell-” For a moment, he couldn’t remember how he got to his current state. Then it hit him. Buffy had come back from the dead. He had found her. He had comforted her. He had fallen asleep with her in his arms.

Buffy’s scream brought him back to reality. She was still on the bed, still asleep it seemed, but it was what she was doing that would have chilled his blood had it been possible. Her arms were bent at a strange angle, her hands were half closed and clawing at the air above her, her legs were kicking weakly at the sheets, and her head shook with spasms. It was like Linda Blair had invaded her body.

The lights flicked on, and the gasps behind him alerted him to the presence of the others. He jumped up and perched himself on the bed over her and tried to catch her arms. The first time, he missed and one of her ragged nails sliced through his cheek. The second time, he got a firm grip around her wrists.

She twisted in his grip and continued her struggle. Spike could hear Dawn whimpering behind him, and Willow’s quiet sobbing, but the only concern he had was the girl struggling in front of him.

Her writhing was getting frenzied. He was starting to be afraid. She could hurt herself or anyone who went near her in this state and would never be the wiser to it.

With a final cry, Buffy opened her eyes and they darted frantically around as she tried to figure out where she was. Buffy grabbed Spike’s shirt and pulled him closer to her.

“I woke up in a coffin. I clawed and crawled my way out of a grave. Only evil things do that”

“Not a thing. Not evil either. You’re strong and you’re smart and you’re beautiful, not evil.”

Buffy didn’t reply, but her grip didn’t loosen and her sobs didn’t stop for a long time. Spike finally leaned her back down on the bed, and crawled over her so that he could lie down comfortably on his side without having to pry her hands off him. He gave a quick glance at the three girls huddled in the doorway. Tara caught the look, and she gathered Willow and Dawn in her arms and pulled them into the hallway, pausing only to flick the light back off. Spike gave an un-needed sigh, placed his mouth near her ear, and whispered soothingly until she fell asleep.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, it just sounded like everyone was up. Plus, something smells yummy and I’m kinda hungry.” Buffy’s stomach growled as if to emphasize her point.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her blonde hair was tangled and sticking up in places and her eyes were puffy, but that didn’t matter to him. She was there, next to him. Alive.

“No, I mean for last night. Thank you for-for everything. For finding me and bringing me home and staying with me through bruising nightmares… Why did you do that?”

She smiled. “I bet that we were really good friends, regardless of what you say.”

Spike glanced down at the bed and nervously played with the sheets before saying the first thing that came to his mind, “ Better get downstairs before the whelp-er- Xander shows up and eats all the bloody pancakes.”

XXX

“Wow! And they say that when people stop talking when you enter the room is a bad thing,” Buffy commented.

“Don’t you like pancakes?” She looked at Spike as he accepted a mug from Dawn.

“Don’t mind one,” he said as he snagged one off her plate and dunked it into the mug.

“What is that?” she asked as he lifted the soggy, red pancake to his mouth, “Strawberry syrup or something?”

“Spike’s a diabetic.” Willow frantically cut him off, “it’s a special protein type drink made for those diabetic types, very yucky to those of us who aren’t, um, diabetic.”

“I come bearing donuty goodness.” Xander stopped in the kitchen doorway, and stared at Buffy a moment before sweeping her into a giant bear hug.

“God, it’s good to see you Buffster.” He pulled back and offered her the opened donut box.

“I brought you extra jellies ‘cause a girl who goes to Hell for the goodness of the world deserves as many jelly donuts as she wants.”

The smile on Buffy’s face became a mask of confusion that was lost to Xander, as were the looks the rest of the group was giving him. He continued jubilantly, “What’s deadboy doing here so early? Not that good ‘ol Buff is back from Hell, you gonna continue in your freakish and annoying obsession with her? We should have a welcome home Buffy staking party, whadda ya say?”

Xander bit into a donut, “You know. You. Hell Goddess. Big portal opening. End of World. You jump into said portal to save the world. You die and become trapped in Hell dimension until Willow does a little spell, and then presto. You’re rescued from Hell by loving friends and you live happily ever after or until next apocalypse.”

“You lied to me.” Her tone was soft, but her accusation hit him like a stake.

“What! Buried alive?! As in, woke up in a coffin?!” Xander looked toward Willow accusingly, “ Your spell made her wake up in her coffin?!”

“She didn’t know that was going to happen,” Tara tried weakly at defending Willow but secretly she was just as horrified. Willow stared at the table, tears running freely down her face.

Buffy stared at them all a moment longer before rushing up the stairs and slamming the door to her bedroom shut.

“Xander, didn’t you listen to a word I said on the phone last night?” Willow asked.

“Oh, come on Wills. I was half asleep when you called. I got the important stuff. Ya know, Buffy.Back.Alive. So, I was all yay with the happy.”

“Oh, so your ‘yay with the happy’ includes dredging up thoughts of Hell?” Spike retorted.

“Once again, don’t recall asking for the input of the soulless wonder. Why are you here again?” Xander asked.

Dawn jumped to Spike’s side. “He’s here because he’s the one who found Buffy after you people left her to crawl out of her own grave. He’s here because Buffy asked him to be.”

Xander’s eyes softened as he looked at Dawn, “Come on Dawnie, you know we would have never left her,” he shuddered, “in her grave if we’d known.”

“W-we t-thought t-the spell d-didn’t work. W-we waited for an h-hour.” Tara tended to stutter when she was upset or nervous and this situation made her both.

“But.you.did.leave.her.” Dawn punctuated each word with an intact of breath.

A giant thud against the floor interrupted the fight. In unison, all their heads jerked toward the ceiling before they rushed upstairs.

Oops. Buffy stared at the turned over dresser on the floor. Guess I don’t know my own strength. She had only meant to move the dresser in front of the door, so that they couldn’t come after her. Instead she’d somehow managed to flip the thing over. That was bizarre.

“Great,” she thought as she heard the footsteps on the stairs, “hope I can block that door off before the get up here.”

Buffy braced herself, and pushed on the fallen dresser. To her surprise, it flipped immediately back up and she was able to secure it against the door before Spike was even at the knob on the other side.

Buffy heard argumentative whispering on the other side of the door, followed by the snapping noise of the lock on the door and, to her amazement, the movement of the dresser as it was pushed slowly forward.

“Okay, this has got to be the lightest dresser ever made,” Buffy muttered as she leaned against it with all her strength. The dresser slid back the few inches it had crept forward and the door popped back shut. She heard someone swear.

Buffy tried to change her tactic. “Look you guys, I’m really tired and-and I was in Hell. I remember that now. You, friends, good. Me, Buffy, need sorting out of confusion time.”

She took their frantic whispers as a sign that they had believed here and they were trying to figure out what to do.

“BLOODY HELL WOMAN!” Spike’s ear had been pressed against the door trying to hear what she was doing. He backed away from the door quickly, stuck his index finger in the injured ear, and wiggled it around trying massage the eardrum.

“Well, she can’t really go anywhere if we’re all in the house watching for her, right?” Willow said.

“So, does this mean I can stay home from school?” Dawn asked hopefully as they descended the stairs and took up vigil in the living room.

XXX

“I thought you guys were being all vigilant and stuff,” Xander said as he and Anya walked into the living room.

“Oh, goddess. Have we all been asleep all this time?” Willow muttered looking around at Spike and Dawn.

“I thought that vampires didn’t need to sleep anyway,” Xander stared pointedly at Spike.

“Oh, no sweetie. Any being that doesn’t get a least some down time is likely to go crazy. I’ve seen studies,” Anya stated. “ And it is not a pretty sight either. This one time I was exacting vengeance in Romania and there was this crazed vamp-”

Spike stood up from the couch throwing a glare towards Xander before waling up the stairs. He paused outside Buffy’s door and listened for a moment. “Odd, that’s the same CD that was playing earlier...OH BOLLOCKS!” On that thought, he forced the door open. The room was empty, and the window was open.

“Bollocks!” This time he yelled it out loud as he flew back down the stairs. “She’s gone. Bloody hell, ‘d think that ONE of us would have stayed awake to hear her.”

“Shouldn’t that have been your job, oh he of vampiric hearing?” Xander asked.

“Um, well…I, uh, what I mean is…I thought it would be a good idea if…” Willow stuttered.

“ ‘M going go find her before his pooftness descends and goes all broody and shite on us.”

Spike grabbed his duster, opened the door, and walked straight into the fist that Angel had raised to knock on the door.

“Watch where I’m going? You walked into my fist.” Angel stated defiantly.

“Yeah, well, who stands outside someone’s door makin’ a fist?” Spike asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, people who are going to knock?” Angel took a step toward Spike.

“Hey, dead people! Can we focus on our missing slayer for a moment,” Xander interrupted.

“Oh,” Anya face lit up, “he means that the group of vigilance fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep? All of you?” Angel finally stepped through the doorway, “Oh, this is perfect. You left a slayer with amnesia unattended, and now she’s wandering the streets of the hellmouth with no clue as to what might be tracking her?”

“Look, while you lot argue it out, Slayer’s out there all by her lonesome. So, you stay here and do research or whatever it is you do, ‘m gonna go find her.” Spike pushed past Angel and headed out the door.

Angel glanced at the group one more time before spinning on his heel and following Spike’s lead.

It took them longer to find Buffy than they had anticipated, as twice they both lost her scent and they had stopped to stake no less than six vampires, but they found her sitting in the garden at the old mansion. She was on her knees surrounded by open notebooks and various pieces of paper, but she looked up as the two vampires approached her.

“You know, I felt you coming. It was like this weird tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach.” She gave a queer little smile at them.

Buffy frowned and looked back down at the papers in front of her. After shuffling them around a bit, she picked one up, eyed Angel, and looked at the paper again.

“Let’s see here, vampire with the face of an angel…that must be you?” She waited for his affirmation before continuing. “Okay, so you are a vampire cursed with a soul…Angel when you have the soul, Angelus when you don’t…We dated on and off for three years, we slept together and you lost your soul and went on a killing spree involving some woman named Jenny Calendar and a bunch of Willow’s fish. You tried to end the world, but I sent you to hell. You returned from hell, soul intact, got poisoned by a rogue slayer, drained my blood and gave me a nifty scar before breaking my heart and leaving me…Did I leave anything out or does that cover it?”

“Well, there were, uh, circumstances to my leaving that you must have forgotten to write down.” Angel replied.

“Hmm,” Buffy frowned again and shuffled through several of the notebooks again before answering. “Circumstance, circumstances, let’s see here… Slayers have short lives…Looks like this would be my second death…Love me too much to stay with me and deny me children…blahblahblah…Nope, looks like you were just a bastard.”

Buffy picked up another piece of paper. “Spike, also known as William the Bloody and the slayer of slayers. Came to Sunnydale to kill me, ended up stopping Angelus from destroying the world, showed up again and kidnapped Xander and Willow while apparently grieving the break-up from the love of his un-life, returned again to find the Gem of Amara that would allow him to walk in sunlight, became neutered by a government agency, claims to have fallen in love with me, created weird sex robot of me, and has strange relationship with my mother and sister…”

Angel had started to laugh, but stopped at the part about the bot. His eyes grew wide and he glared at Spike.

Any retort that Angel was going to make was stopped short by one of the notebooks flying between them. They turned their attention back to the blonde on the floor as she picked up another book to hurl at them.

“What.Is.This.Shit!” Buffy asked, her words punctuated with her throwing of the books.

“This is ridiculous!” she grabbed another book and ripped out a page, “I’m a vampire slayer, I spend my nights in cemeteries averting apocalypses. How many fucking apocalypses can there be?! I mean apocalypse means ‘end of the world.’ If the world didn’t end, then it isn’t an apocalypse, right? I hang out with two witches, an ex-demon, a souled vampire, a neutered vampire, a government agent, a werewolf, a former ball of energy, and an old English guy?! Are you people kidding me?” She’d been ripping out more and more pages the entire time she was screaming; “This is a joke, right? You people get your kicks by finding people and fucking with their memories.” She ripped a final page before slumping back down and sobbing. “Why can’t I remember? I want to remember.”

Angel hesitated a moment, but Spike took three large sides, dropped to his knees beside her, and took her in his arms. Buffy struggled against him briefly before letting Spike pull her to his chest.

“ ‘T’s okay, luv. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Spike whispered as he stroked her hair.

An hour later found Spike sitting in the tree outside Dawn’s window. He knocked, and watched as her eyes opened wide when she saw him.

“What are you doing out there? Did you find Buffy? Why didn’t you use the front door?”

“Listen bit, got a bit of a situation. Big sis read her diaries and freaked out a bit, so the poof and I are taking her to L.A. for a while, but ‘m not leaving without you. So, get you and sis a bag and let’s get movin.”

He shook his head. “Look, I got nothing against most of the Scoobies, but she needs time alone. Leave ‘em a note or something, but don’t say where we are.”

She looked at him for a second. On one hand, she felt kind of bad taking off like this, but on the other hand… “Give me five minutes.”

Dawn grabbed her backpack, dumped her books out, and stuffed as many clothes as she couldn’t into it before handing it out the window to him. Then, he watched her sneak into the hallway and out of sight. It was a full ten minutes before she came back, and he could almost feel Angel’s fingers taping impatiently on the steering wheel.

“Sorry,” Dawn said as Spike took the second bag from her and helped her climb out the window. “She left her room trashed and it took me a while to sort out what was what.”

They made it down the tree easily, and Spike tossed the bags in the back seat of the car. He wasn’t too pleased with the arrangement; Angel and Buffy were in the front seat, Dawn and him in the back, and the top to the convertible was up because Angel thought he smelled rain. Buffy was looking pale and clutching her stomach, and Spike wondered if it was the closed quarters that were causing it. Well, if he had to sit in the back, then he was going to sit directly behind her.

Buffy leaned her head against the window. It felt good, cool. Her stomach was churning nervously, and she felt squeamish at the prospect of a two-hour car ride. She closed her eyes. The past two days had been so bizarre, but then she didn’t have much to compare them too. Maybe her life was always so strange; the diaries made it appear so. But, for some reason, being in this car, with this odd trio, made her feel safe and comfortable and loved. Loved. “Hmm, I’m sitting in a car with two vampires and a ball of green light masquerading as a sister I never had, and I feel safe. Bizarre, bizarre, bizarre. My new motto on life.” These were her last conscious thoughts as she drifted to sleep, her left had on the seat grazing Angel’s and her right hand, under her head against the window, linked index to pinkie with Spike’s.

Buffy’s first moan was so low without vampiric hearing they never would have heard it. The second moan was louder and followed with a jerk of her head.

Buffy jerked her hands up, and she let out a wail as they smashed into the roof of the car.

Spike tried to get his arms around her, but between her thrashing and the confines of the car he wasn’t haven’t much luck.

Angel jerked the wheel to the right so quickly that Spike slide across the seat and squashed Dawn against the side of the door. Dawn let out a small “eep” when he hit her. Spike quickly scrambled out of the car, and yanked her door open, but she was still thrashing too much for him to pull her out.

“Dawnie, give me a hand with the top. Hurry!” Angel shouted as he exited the car.

Somehow, Spike finally managed to get his arm around her waist, and he yanked her out of the car and onto the ground. Her eyes flew open when she hit the ground. He listened for her heart rate to slow, and for her breathing to regulate. When it didn’t happen he pulled back a little to look at her face. It was scrunched up, like she had eaten a lemon, and she was swallowing rapidly.

Buffy pushed away from him, tried to stand and stumbled twice before crashing to her knees and emptying her stomach onto the ground. Dawn rushed over and pulled her hair back from her face, but turned her own body to face away from the vomit and swallowed several times herself. Spike and Angel stood frozen by the car, the smell of bile mixing with the smell of blood and dirt.

“She’s vomiting blood. We have to take her somewhere.” Angel’s voice was thick with worry.

Dawn’s eyes brightened a second, “You remember that you don’t like hospitals?” She asked hopefully.

“I don’t remember eating this much,” she joked weakly as she let Dawn lead her back to the car.

“Like I just puked up everything I’ve ever looked at. I bet it tasted better when it was going down.”

“T see if’n she’s got a fever. ‘M a vampire, ‘member? Cold body temperature and all that.”

Dawn leaned over the front seat and placed a hand on Buffy’s forehead. “Oh, right…um, she feels kinda warm.”

“Fine,” Angel stated, “but if we get you back to the hotel, and you aren’t better, than we’re not giving you a choice.”

Angel took her silence as acceptance, and once he finished getting the top to the convertible down, they were on the road again with Dawn in the front seat and Spike in back. Buffy twisted herself around so that she could lay against Spike’s chest.

Spike had never been so glad to have cold skin in his life. He draped his arm around her, and could almost feel the dirty looks that Angel was shooting at his non-reflection in the mirror. Oh, well.

It was nearly light when Angel pulled the car up to the Hyperion Hotel. They should have arrived hours earlier, but they’d pulled over twice more for Buffy to be sick, and once because she’d fallen asleep again. It was quite the harrowed looking group that entered the empty lobby.

Luckily, Angel had called ahead and left instructions for Cordelia regarding their arrival and the secrecy of it all. Cordy hadn’t been happy about the prospect of having to field any calls from “Sunnyhell,” and had made sure that Angel was well aware that those calls were being passed directly to him. But, as he read the note written in her neat little scribble, she had prepared the rooms like he asked her too, and promised to pick up breakfast on her way in. He sighed when he read her p.s at the bottom of the note stating that Fred had refused to leave her room and had taken to writing mathematical equations on the wall. “Note to self, check on Fred.” Angel thought to himself.

Angel turned back to the group and motioned for them to follow him. Buffy leaned heavily on Spike as they climbed the stairs of the old hotel, and she collapsed onto the bed in her room. Angel pointedly sat in an armchair next to the bed and glared at Spike, who shrugged and pulled another chair to the other side of the bed and glared back. Luckily, Buffy was oblivious to all of this and finally had her first nightmare- free slumber.

It was just after nine, when Angel finally left Buffy’s room. He hated the fact the he had to leave while Spike could continue vigil, but Angel had a business to run and other people depending on him. The champion gig left much to be desired in his mind. Focus on the Shanshu. Focus on the Shanshu.

Angel slowly descended the stairs and walked straight into a very angry looking Cordelia. He tried to step around her, but she mimicked his movements and refused to move out of the way. The stared at each other for a moment, Cordelia tapping her foot the entire time.

“Are you at least going to let me get something to eat before you criticize me?” Angel asked.

“Is that all you have to say to me mister ‘I had to run off to Sunnydale because my ex-girlfriend’s back from Hell and might possibly need my help?’” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Uh, good morning Cordelia. Thank you for getting rooms ready last night?” Angel knew that this wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but tried anyway.

“Oh no. You aren’t getting off that easy mister. I want answers and I want them now.”

“Cordelia, please. Look, I will answer everything I can but I just spent the last twelve hours with Spike, and I’m going to hurt someone if I don’t eat.” Angel finally managed to get around her and to the small fridge behind the front desk. He grabbed a container of blood, dumped it into a mug, and tossed it in the microwave. Need to pick up some more blood if Spike’s going to insist on staying here.

The microwave beeped, and Angel pulled out the mug and took a large sip before facing Cordelia.

“Did you say that Spike was here?” She asked. “Spike as in the bleach wonder with the crazy girlfriend who locked me in a broom closet with Willow during parent/teacher conferences? That Spike?”

“You forgot annoying. I find him annoying. In that ‘I wanna bang his head into hard objects until his mouth stops working’ sort of way.” Angel took another sip of his breakfast.

“Morning all!” Wesley walked into the lobby trying to see around a stack of books in his arms. “Do I smell coffee?” He asked hopefully.

Cordelia gave him a look, but moved toward the coffee pot and started making some coffee.

“Well, after your phone call with Willow, I thought it might be interesting to start looking into accounts of people who had returned from the dead. Did you know that the last time a re-animation spell was successful was over two hundred years ago? I must talk to Willow about the process, and how she accomplished it.” Wesley paused to remove his spectacles.

“Speaking of Willow…she called me twice at my apartment looking for Buffy and Dawn. What’s going on and why aren’t we allowed to tell Willow that Buffy’s here?” Cordelia placed two mugs of coffee on the counter.

Angel sighed. “We’re not telling them because Buffy doesn’t want us to. Look, Buffy can’t remember anything-not her life, not her friends, not anything- and she’s having some trouble adjusting to the whole Vampire Slayer deal. I wasn’t going to leave her somewhere she didn’t want to be.”

“Oh that’s just great!” Cordelia yelled. “She can’t deal with the whole Slayer thing, so you bring her here, to a place where we deal with demons on a daily basis. Do you even use your head when it comes to her?”

“I don’t know. She-she has a fever and she’s vomiting blood. Plus,” Angel shuddered here, “she keeps having nightmares about digging herself out of her coffin.”

Cordelia’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. “Buffy had to dig herself out of her coffin?”

Wesley also looked horrified. “You mean to tell me that they didn’t have the decency to unbury her before performing the spell?”

Angel shook his head. “No, Buffy had to dig herself out of her grave. Look Wes, I need you to do some research on this type of thing. Find out if there are any side effects from a spell that could cause a reaction similar to the ones that Buffy is having. I think I might take her to see Lorne as well. Cordelia-”

She held up her hand. “Don’t say another word. I am completely mum on anyone from Sunnydale who calls here.”

Angel gave the former cheerleader a tight smile. He could always count on Cordelia to come through.

“I’ll go out and pick up some food for her and Dawnie. I’ll even pick up extra blood-though why we have an evil, soulless vampire staying with use is beyond me.” This last part was part was under her breath as Cordelia picked up her purse, took some money from Angel’s outstretched hand, and headed toward the door. “I should probably pick up some medicine as well, shouldn’t I? Yes, I should.” Having answered her own question, Cordelia passed Gunn in the doorway and exited the hotel.

“Hey y’all. What’s going on?” Gunn placed a paper bag on the counter next to the pile of books. “We got us a major demon that needs researching or what? Cause if that’s the case, call me when we get to the killing part.”

“No, these are books to help me understand the nature of Buffy’s reincarnation.” Wesley eyed the bag. “Anything good in there?”

“Yes, but not for you. So, what’s the status on undead girl anyway?” Gunn asked.

“She’s not undead girl, don’t call her that.” Angel said. “Buffy is currently sleeping upstairs. As is her sister, Dawn…and Spike.”

“Who’s Spike?” Gunn asked at the same time Wesley let out a yell. “SPIKE’S HERE?!”

Angel rubbed his forehead. “Yes, Spike’s here. Look, I don’t know the whole story, but apparently some government agency put a microchip in his head that keeps him from hurting humans but still allows him to hurt demons. He’s been staying in Sunnydale and helping with the demon population there.”

“Spike is a vampire,” Wesley explained. “He was also known by the name William the Bloody, and traveled around killing people with Angelus, Darla, and Drusilla. They were known as the ‘Scourge of Europe.’”

“Whoa, hold up a second. This Spike guy used to travel with Angelus and those two crazy bitches. Oh, Hell no! Ain’t no way he’s staying here.” Gunn stated.

“Well, Buffy and Dawn want him here, so he’s stays. Anyway, he’s completely harmless, and this isn’t up for discussion. Believe me, I don’t want him here anymore than you do.” Angel picked up his mug and downed the rest of its contents.

“Whatever, I’m taking Fred her breakfast.” Gunn muttered as he headed toward the stairs. “Fucking crazy vampires and souled vampires and chipped vampires. Was much easier when I just had to stake vampires, not ask them about their personal life.”

Spike released an un-needed sigh when Angel left the room. It had been difficult to spend the last several hours with the poof sitting in across the bed from him. Spike slouched in his seat and stretched his legs in front of him. Buffy had yet to stir, had yet to make any type of noise at all, and he was glad for his vampiric hearing because he could hear her heart beating in her chest and that steady beat meant she was still alive.

A rustle sound at the door interrupted Spike’s listening. He turned and was greeted by a woman standing in the doorway. She was average height and extremely thin with long brown hair that fell to her mid-back. Spike cocked his head to one side and watched her fidget with her shirt.

“Uh, hi.” She smiled brightly but kept her face turned to the floor. “I-uh-I thought that Angel might be in here-is he here, cause I thought that he might be back now.”

Spike smiled. He liked this girl, well minus the part about her looking for Angel.

“He was here, pet, but he’s wandered away for the moment. ‘Spect he’ll be back momentarily.”

“Oh-okay. I didn’t mean to bother ya or nothing-my name’s Fred-Winifred-Burkle, but you can just call me Fred-well, unless you want to call me Winifred but no one does except my mother.” She had a strange way of rambling that almost reminded Spike of Dawn, except for the southern accent.

Fred’s eyes grew wide. “Buffy? As in ‘the love of Angel’s life who died and caused Angel to go away but then came back and caused him to go away again?’ Was she trapped somewhere? Did Angel save her? Angel saved me-I was trapped in another dimension.”

“Is she sick? She doesn’t look so well. We should probably stop talking-I mean if I was sleeping and people were all talking loudly around me I would probably get all cranky.”

Spike continued to stare at Fred, his mouth slightly opened. And I thought that only vampires didn’t need to stop for breath.

Fred pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “You’re looking at me like I’m breakfast or something-I’m not, am I? I mean, you’re here so you’re obviously not dangerous or anything because Angel would never let you in here if you were and he must have invited you in because-well-here you are. Are you hungry? I’m sure that there’s something downstairs that you would like-I could get it for you.”

“You haven’t taken a breath since I’ve been in here-plus you’re unusually pale, add it all up and you get vampire.”

“Hey Fred. I’ve been looking for you.” He glanced at Spike and gave a little nod in his direction. “Name’s Gunn. You must be Spike.”

Gunn looked back at Fred and held up the paper bag. “I brought you breakfast. Mexican.”

With a quick glance at the door, and a smirk on his face, Spike slid into the bed with Buffy. She let out a small moan when the bed dipped, but allowed him to mold himself around her body. Yeah, this is better. Spike thought to himself as he fell asleep. Much better.