It's been two weeks since I left Angel. It seems like longer, but no, I don't regret it. I can honestly say that I'm even more sure now that it was the right decision than I was at the time.

I've been looking at apartments, but I haven't seen anything I like yet. Wes and Gina have been great. They haven't put me under any kind of pressure - if anything Gina seems to be happier if I don't move out for a while.

I think she's enjoying having me around. Wes works long hours, and while I'm at work too, my hours are rather more predictable. We've spent a lot of evenings chatting about almost nothing. It's been great, something I didn't even realise I was missing since Dawn moved away.

Which leads me to the problem. You see, not long after I moved in with him, I suggested to Angel that we should get away for a few days. He didn't say no, but then he didn't agree either. I blanked out a week in my schedule anyway. Next week. But, there doesn't seem much point in taking the time off now.

As it happens, Gina and Wes are going away the same week. They're catching a flight to Seattle, and spending a week in a rented place in Tacoma.

I get back to find Gina in the middle of sorting out her wardrobe. Well, it looks more like she's just emptied every item of clothing she owns all over the bed and floor. She's not looking too happy when I poke my head in.

"Why did I agree to go away?" she asks me, sitting in the middle of the chaos with her head in her hands.

"Because you'll enjoy the break? Because it's time you persuaded that husband of yours to take some time off? Because you're going to have a great time?"

"Well," she admits. "That was the original plan, but there's so much I can't wear any more."

"Gina, you're hardly showing yet," I remind her. "There's got to be something!"

"Nothing right for a vacation. I've been living in sweats since school finished. I need to look sexy for this week. Next time we get the chance to go away, I'll either be huge and ugly, or we'll already have the baby."

She really looks down, so I offer to help. "Look, let me change, and I'll come in and help. You know Wes is going to love you whatever you wear, so I don't know why you're worrying."

The grateful look she gives me makes me smile. Gina is gorgeous. I know it, and I know Wes knows it. I go into my room, and pull off my suit and blouse, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt instead. When I go back, it's obvious Gina has been doing something to sort out the mess.

We spend a couple of hours going through the options, and while she can't get away with some of the skimpier things she has, particularly tops which are pulling over her already swelling breasts, she's going to look great.

Together, we return the discarded items to hangers and drawers in companionable silence. The nature of the silence changes as we get towards the end of the job, and I look up expectantly at her.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Come with us," she asks.

I'm momentarily confused, but then I realise what she's asking.

"Go on vacation with you?" I repeat, making sure I haven't misunderstood.

She nods, looking up into my face.

"I can't." I tell her. "Wes doesn’t want me tagging along with you."

"He won't mind," she argues. "And, the place we've rented is more than big enough to give us privacy when we want it."

"I still can't see why you'd want me along."

"You don't know what Wes is like on vacation, do you?"

"Well, I can't say I do."

"He'll take his laptop, and he'll be doing some work every day. Since you persuaded Giles to contact him, he's been working harder than ever, and that's not going to stop just because we're away."

"Just tell him you need his attention. He can work when you get back. It's not as if the world's going to end in the next week."

She smiles at that. "Look, I love Wes. I really do. But I know what he's like. If he has to spend a week without knowing what's going on at the office, he'll be miserable. And I don't want him miserable. So, you'd be doing me a favour - and him too. If we can spend some time together, he won't feel guilty about the time he's going to spend working anyway."

She's being very persuasive and my calendar's clear for the week anyway. I can feel my resolve crumbling.

"I don't have a flight."

"I'm sure you can get one."

"Are you sure Wes won't mind?"

"Do you want me to call and ask him?"

I nod, realising that I really want to get out of LA for a while.

Ten minutes later, she hands me the phone.

"Buffy, of course you'd be welcome. Gina's right, I'll feel better if she's got someone to spend time with while I'm working. Please say you'll come."

"Ok," I answer. "I'll just need to book a flight."

"No need, I'll get my secretary to do that."

"But, I'm paying for it," I insist, "and I'll give you something towards the rental."

"Well, you can pay for the flight if you insist, but the rental's paid, and so is the car. I’ll try to get the same flight, but if I can't, I'll get the closest I can."

"Thanks, Wes."

And so, I go into my own room and start to look through my clothes for what I want to take. Wes calls back within half an hour to confirm that he's managed to get a seat on the same flight they're booked on. It's on Friday evening, taking off at six-thirty from LAX, getting into Seattle just after nine. It'll be late when we get there, but then we'll have the whole week to enjoy it.

I can't help but think about how lucky I am. I've always had friends around me, from the Scoobies in my Slayer days, to Wes and Gina now.

When I think about the Wes I met back in Sunnydale, it's hard to believe he's the same man. Then, he, well, I suppose he was just a product of his upbringing and training. Now, he's a man who knows he's good at what he does, and he knows that what he's doing is important. Oh yes, and he's totally besotted with Gina, and surprisingly nervous about the prospect of being a dad.

In the two weeks I've been here, I've had a chance to find out what it's like to have a big brother - because that's how he's been treating me. He's made several trips over to Angel's apartment to pick up the rest of my stuff, because he knows I'm not ready to see him again yet. I'm feeling pampered and cared for, but there's no threat to my independence involved - it's just what I need.

Friday at work goes quickly, and Wes and Gina pick me up afterwards, my case already packed and in the trunk. The banter between us on the way is light-hearted and happy. I can feel the strain of the past few weeks melting away as we get further from LA. Even though I know it was the right decision, leaving Angel was hard. Somehow, through everything since Sunnydale, Angel's been there, a sort of ultimate goal, or at least an insurance policy. As time's gone on, and I haven't met someone I could fall in love with, I've always had the possibility that Angel and I could eventually get together. Now, that I know that can't work, it almost feels like I'm starting over again.

It's dark long before we arrive at our destination, and Gina fell asleep in the car during the drive to the house. Wes helps Gina inside and puts her to bed, while I unpack the car. I might not use those Slayer muscles as much as I used to, but there're times when they come in handy.

Gina packed some food, just some basics to get us started, and I'm putting those away when Wes reappears.

"Oh, you've unpacked the car," he notices, looking at the bags I've left in the hallway.

"There's not so much," I offer, shrugging. He looks slightly embarrassed. He might not be the man who first came to Sunnydale, but some parts of him are still there under the surface. One part, the 'perfect English gentleman' who doesn't feel women should have to unpack cars, is obviously not comfortable with what I've done.

"Slayer muscles," I remind him. "Go and look after your wife," I tell him, shooing him out of the kitchen. He knows I spotted his discomfort, and smiles back at me, before shrugging and picking up the bags containing their things.

Once I've finished in the kitchen, I pick up my own bag, and find the second bedroom. I open the door slightly hesitantly. Obviously, Wes and Gina have taken the master bedroom, and I have visions of a tiny room with bunk beds in my mind.

I couldn't have been more wrong. My first thought is that I've got the wrong room. It's large, well furnished, and there's a queen-sized bed. All of that pales into insignificance when I look across to the far wall. Most of it is glass, with a patio door that seems to lead out onto a deck. I open the door, and walk outside. The view is amazing, leading down to forest below. I'm almost tempted to go and tell Wes that he chose the wrong room, but I don’t want to disturb Gina.

I do a quick round of the rest of the house. The living rooms and the kitchen are on the upper floor, and the bedrooms and bathrooms are below. The dining room has an almost identical view to the one from my bedroom, and the largest of the living rooms has another deck, leading out to a view from another angle. I'm relieved by one thing. There's enough room to make sure that Wes and Gina can have privacy, without me having to consciously keep out of the way. The last of my reservations about coming away with them melt, and I go back to the kitchen, pour myself a diet coke, and return to the deck off my own room to sit and think.

It's very late when I finally go to bed, but I'm already feeling more relaxed than I can remember for a long time.

I recognise it as soon as it starts. It's one of the old dreams, one I haven't had for a long time. Spike and I are back in the cave, and I rescue him, the dream ending as we emerge from the gloom of the cave.

That dream shifts unerringly to the second. I take his hand and the flames engulf our enmeshed fingers. He pushes me away, tells me to go, but I don't, I hold onto his hand tighter as the flames burn hotter, and then they spread, along my arm, to my body, and I know that Spike and I will always be together.

The image shifts again, but this one is new. I'm not in the cave. I don't recognise the place, but it looks familiar, as if I've seen something similar, rather than this particular room before. In the centre of the room is a huge pit, and from where I am, I can see the smoke rising, and I can feel the heat. Despite that, I know I need to look inside, so I approach, slowly, carefully, not knowing what I'm supposed to see.

And there he is. It's Spike, and he's on fire, but his body's not being consumed. He's screaming, I can see his mouth opening, but there's no sound. His arms are raised towards me, and I know he's begging me to help him, to end his agony. I reach as far as I can, but it's not far enough.

I sense someone behind me, and I look round, relieved to see Angel, because he'll help. I tell him to hold onto me, keep me from falling into the pit while I reach further. His hands are around my waist, but, instead of allowing me to reach closer to Spike, he's pulling me away. I start to struggle, trying to pull him towards the pit, but he's shaking his head and smiling.

"No, Buffy, you can't. You'll fall in too. You can't save him."

I struggle harder, and eventually manage to pull free. I lie on the floor, reaching out as far as I can, only to see that Spike has sunk further into the flames. I reach even further, but he's sinking, getting further away from me, and I realise that it's too late.

I waken with a start, and feel the dampness of my pillow. I've been crying, and I lie still, willing my breathing to slow, my heart rate to calm. Slowly, they do, but the tears continue. Suddenly, it's no longer difficult to remember Spike. Everything he ever said, everything he ever did, every touch, each caress, is as clear in my mind as it ever was, and the hole inside me at his loss is as raw as it was when I first knew he was gone.

I must have slept, because the darkness has been replaced by bright sunshine coming through the gap in the curtains. I get up, and open them further to feast my eyes on the view. Beautiful as it was in the dark, it’s even better now. I force myself to turn my back on the view, and go into the bathroom.

When I’m showered and dressed, I find my way upstairs. I hear chatting from the dining room, so I poke my head in to see Gina and Wes finishing their breakfast.

“Isn’t the view spectacular?” Gina enthuses when she sees me.

“Beautiful, but I think you took the wrong room, Wes.”

“Why, what’s wrong with your room?” he asks.

“Nothing, it’s just, well, it looks like the master bedroom, and...”

They both grin, and then Gina jumps up and grabs my arm, dragging me back downstairs. She opens the door of their room, and pulls me inside.

There was no mistake. The room is even bigger than mine, and it has a king-sized bed. There’s also a deck off this room which gives a view very similar to mine. Most surprising, is the bathroom. I’ve got a shower and a bath; they’ve got that and a Jacuzzi.

When we get back to the dining room, Wes has gone.

“He’ll be at his computer,” Gina tells me. “There’s a study along the hall, and he said he’d set himself up in there. So, we won’t see him for a couple of hours. Why don’t you eat, and we’ll plan what to do today?”

The next couple of days pass extremely pleasantly. Gina and I spend the mornings together while Wes works, then in the afternoon, we head off together to explore further afield. It would all be perfect, but for one thing.

Spike. I can’t get him out of my mind. I’ve had that same dream, the one where I’m trying to reach him, but Angel’s holding me back, every night. And every night, I waken from it to a pillow wet with tears. Almost worse is what happens while we’re out. All it takes is someone his build, or some short, bleached hair, or a pair of blue eyes, and I start, checking closer to make sure it’s not really him. And, of course, it isn’t. Gina’s spotted something, but I haven’t told her. I don’t want her to spend her precious vacation worrying about me.

It’s Monday evening. I’m due to meet up with Gina and Wes in an hour, and I’m making my way back to a store we saw earlier. I saw something, and I knew Dawn would love it, but I didn’t buy it, and now I’m regretting it. It’s a key, made of a beautiful polished green stone. It looks like jade, but I know it’s not. I saw it, and immediately thought of her.

As I walk, I spot him ahead of me. The street’s crowded, and I have to speed up, and weave in and out of the pedestrians to keep up with him. He’s exactly how I remember him, from his white-blonde hair, to the black coat billowing behind him as he strides along.

I speed up further, and I’m gaining on him. Just a little further. I almost shout out, but somehow, I don’t. My arm stretches out, and I grab his shoulder, using more strength than I intended to turn him around.

The man who turns around looks angry. He’s ready to hit whoever pulled him round. When he sees me, he looks confused, obviously expecting someone bigger. It’s not him.

Something in my expression seems to worry him more than the pain he must be feeling in his shoulder, because he growls something about leaving him alone, and carries on. I’m aware of the curious stares of people around me, and I start to shake.

I still don’t know how, but I manage to get myself into a coffee shop and order myself something to drink. Coffee’s probably the last thing I need, but I can’t stay out there on the street. To my surprise, the shaking doesn’t go once I’m inside. If anything, it’s getting worse, and it’s taking all my Slayer control not to just give into it.

I glance at my watch, and realise that it’s past time I was going back to where I agreed to meet Gina and Wes. I pull out my cell-phone and call, to hear Wes’ voice.

“I’m going to be a bit late,” I tell him.

“No problem,” he answers. “We’ll be ok here for a while. What happened? Had they sold the key?”

The question makes no sense at all to me.

“Buffy, are you ok?”

I hear Wes’ voice and realise that I’ve been silent for a while.

“Wes, I’m fine, I’ll be...”

“Buffy, you don’t sound fine. Where are you?”

I pick up the menu in front of me and read the name of the coffee shop.

“Look, just stay there. We’ll come and get you.”

I nod, then realise how stupid that is. I manage to say “Yes,” and end the call.

It seems I've only just put my phone down when they're here. They sit at the table, Wesley across from me and Gina by my side, and Gina's arm is around my shoulders, and Wes just looks so worried. It makes it harder.

"What happened?" Wes asks.

I shake my head. If I start talking about it, I'll lose the control I have.

"Do you want to see a doctor? What can we do?"

"No, ... no doctors. Just … take me back?" I sound like I'm begging. Maybe I am.

I start to fumble for the money to pay for my coffee, but Gina puts her hand over mine.

"I'll do that," she offers, while Wesley helps me outside.

The car's illegally parked right outside, and I feel surprise that Wes would do that. He bundles me into the back, and then Gina comes and gets in beside me. I can feel my eyes misting, and I don't know why. She sees that, and puts out her arms to me, and I lean against her, so relieved by the contact that I could cry for that alone.

The journey is largely silent. Gina makes occasional shushing noises, telling me it'll be ok. How can she know it'll be ok, when I don't even know what it is?

We get back, and Gina offers to get me into bed. The prospect makes me panic, because being in bed means being alone, and being in bed means sleep, which probably means dreams. She notices and quickly backtracks, settling me on a sofa in the main living room and sitting beside me.

Wes comes in a few minutes later, and he sits facing us. "Buffy, can you tell us what's wrong? What happened?"

They both look so scared, and I know I've got to tell them, but it all sounds so silly.

"I thought I saw him," I manage.

"Who? Angel?" Wes demands, then looks down, and I know Gina has silently admonished him for being too forceful.

"It's ok," I reassure him. "No, not Angel, Spike."

"Oh," Wes says, but he's looking confused.

"Why would seeing Spike, or thinking you see him, have this effect? Is it a bad memory, did he hurt you or something?"

I think back. Yes, he hurt me. He really did, but I hurt him so much more. I decide that the question doesn't need answering, so I tell him something he's not expecting to hear.

"I loved him." Somehow, just that bald statement makes it seem more real than ever before. Wes is looking even more confused.

"Let me get this straight. Spike. Drusilla's childe. Unsouled vampire. Tortured Angel."

I nod.

"I don't understand," Wes admits. "I think there's a lot of this story I don't know."

I think about where to begin. "You know about the amulet, and what happened?"

"Amulet?" Wes looks mystified.

"Just before Sunnydale was destroyed, Angel came and he had an amulet. He wanted to be my champion, but I wanted Spike to have it."

"I know Angel went to Sunnydale, and I know he said he had something that might be useful, but I never knew what it was. Come to think about it, I never really knew what happened to Sunnydale. That's not like me at all. I would've been asking questions, asking everyone who'd been there. Why didn't I?"

He realises that questions about his own confusion will have to wait.

"Why don't you tell me the whole thing. Maybe you should start with why you would have chosen Spike to be your champion?"

And so I tell them. I start by telling them about how I felt when I first knew Spike loved me. Of course, then I would have said he was obsessed with me, but I know better now. I tell them everything. I tell them how he helped us, and went on helping and looking after Dawn while I was dead. I tell them how he was the only one I could talk to when I got back.

I even describe the way I used him, although I skim over the worst of the details. I tell them how I finished things with him, and how he wouldn't accept it was over. I describe the scene in the bathroom to gasps of horror from Gina. And then I tell them about the soul, and the way Spike was after that, and the way I realised that I loved him.

"Did Angel know about the soul?" Wes asks.

"Yeah, he found out when he came with the amulet."

"Did he know you cared about Spike then?"

"I … I told him.

"He never mentioned it." Wes sounds incredulous. "He knew that I'd been researching prophecies and anything I could get my hands on about souled vampires, and he never said a word."

He's silent for a moment, and I can feel myself relaxing. Somewhere back in my story I loosened my control, but I'm no longer shaking.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Wesley pulls himself from his own thoughts. "What happened in Sunnydale?"

And so I describe Spike's last few moments. The tears fall freely down my cheeks as I speak, and Gina holds me closer. It's not a happy story, but it just feels so good to be telling it. It feels like it's been bottled up here for seven long years, and the dam has burst.

When I finish, I realise that Gina's shaking slightly, and I look at her face, surprised to see that she's crying too. Wes allows me a couple of moments to pull myself together, then he prompts me to continue.

"I thought I saw him today. He was just ahead of me, and I hurried to catch him. But, when I pulled him round to face me, it wasn't him. It wasn't anything like him. I don't even know how I could have thought… It must be the dreams."

"What dreams?"

"The ones I've been having since we got here."

And so I describe the dreams, telling them that I'd had two of them often before I moved to LA.

"But the dreams stopped when you moved?" Wes insists.

"Yeah."

"Buffy, when you've been on vacation before, away from LA, did you have the dreams then?"

I think about it. "I haven't been out of LA since I moved there, well, at least, not to stay. A couple of day trips, but nothing more. The business took all my time at first, and then there was Angel, and I didn't want to go away and leave him, and he could never get away."

"So, the first time you spend the night away from LA the dreams start again?"

"Yeah."

"Except now the dreams are different, or at least there's a new one?"

"Yes. The others, they were, well, happy. The new one … isn't."

"Could it be a Slayer dream?"

I stop suddenly. The prospect hadn't even occurred to me. I'm sure the others aren't, and I'd just lumped the third with them.

"I don't know, I suppose it could be," I admit.

"Buffy, honey," Gina breaks in, stroking my hair. "Do you want to go and lie down now? You look exhausted."

I realise she's right, and suddenly the prospect of being alone isn't too scary.

"Yeah, I think that'd be a good idea."

We get up from the sofa, and she walks me to my room.

"I'm sorry, Gina," I apologise at the door. "I don't want to spoil your vacation."

"No problem," she reassures me. "Anyway, did you see Wes' face? He's got a puzzle to work on now, and that's far more interesting than the work he's been doing with Giles."

That makes me smile slightly. She's right. Wes did seem remarkably perky.

I'm still smiling when I lie down on the bed, pulling the covers over me. My eyes are closing before I'm even comfortable, and I hope for the happy dreams.

No happy dreams. As soon as it starts, I know how it's going to end, even though the start is different. I'm in an office building, and I recognise it. I knew that I recognised the style before, but I couldn't place it. This time, I know exactly where it is. It's the Wolfram and Hart building.

I've been there a couple of times before with Angel, just to visit. Fighting evil's Angel's business now, not mine.

The entrance is palatial. I go straight to the elevator. Dream-Buffy seems to know where she's going. The button I want isn't there. I don't know how I know it even exists, but I do.

I'm startled by someone coming in behind me. A glance shows Lilah. Now, I've never met Lilah, although Gina mentioned her a time or two. She's someone from Wes' past, and when she's feeling insecure, Gina worries about her. So, how do I know it's Lilah?

"Hi, there," she says brightly. "I think you're looking for this."

She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a button, placing it on the panel in front of me.

"Of course, you'll be too late," she adds with a smile that would be sweet if I thought it was genuine.

"You're dead," I remind her.

"Yes, I am," she agrees. "But that doesn't mean I'm finished."

"Finished what?"

"My job. I won't be finished until I've succeeded. Then, well, maybe my contract will be … modified."

"What job is that, then? Irritating me to death?"

"Something so simple? Wouldn't be worth my talents. No, but then, it would spoil all the fun if I told you, wouldn't it? But, because Wes seems to care about you, a word of warning. Leave things alone, or you're going to get your fingers burnt."

She smiles again, but any hint of sweetness, however false, is gone.

"Be seeing you," she offers, before she walks back out into the entrance hall.

Unbidden, the doors close, and the elevator starts to move, the only button illuminated the one she placed there.

It takes several minutes of descent before the doors open. It's the room I remember. The polished marble of the floor extends for several yards in front of me before the pit. I run towards it, and he's there. I check my pockets, looking for anything, a bit of rope, something to hold out to him, but there's nothing. I lie on the floor, inching forwards as far as I can, reaching out to him.

I can feel the heat, it's making my eyes sting, and I can see the skin on my fingers blistering, but I can't reach him. Somehow, though, I don't feel any pain, so I inch further towards him, and I'm so close, I can almost touch him, and then I'm being pulled back, and I know before I look that it's Angel.

He pulls me out of the way, then lets me go.

"You can't reach him, Buffy. You're going to get your fingers burnt if you keep going."

I glance back at the pit, but Spike's gone now, so I throw myself at Angel, punching and kicking him.

"Buffy, wake up." The words seep into my brain, and I know they're not the first, just the first that have penetrated.

I open my eyes, and Wes is there, shaking my shoulder. I sit up quickly, relieved to note that I lay down fully dressed. As I put my hand down onto the bed to pull myself up, I wince in pain. I look at my hands. The fingers on my right hand are blistered and reddened. I stare at them uncomprehendingly, as Wes does the same.

He pulls me into the bathroom and turns on the cold water, pushing my hand under the flow. Once I'm there, he goes, returning a few moments later with the first aid kit from the car. He's sorting out what's needed, but motions to me to keep my fingers in the flowing water.

Gina pokes her head into the bathroom, looking sleepy.

"I heard the door," she explains, then takes in the situation.

"What've you done?" she asks, turning my hand over without removing it from the soothing water.

"I … dreamt about Spike and the pit again. When I woke up …"

Between them, they get my hand cleaned and bandaged. I know it'll be fine in no time, Slayer healing being what it is, but the fuss helps me to keep the circumstances out of my mind for a little while. I know it's only a temporary reprieve, because Wes'll be asking questions as soon as he's finished.

I'm not disappointed. Gina tries to get him to wait, but I shake my head. There's something going on and Wes is my best hope for finding out what. I describe the dream, which I remember in detail. I see Wes wince at Lilah's involvement, but he covers well. When I'm finished, he seems deep in thought.

"Have you ever been injured in a Slayer dream before?"

"No," I answer.

"That's what I thought. I don't think this is a Slayer dream, but I'm certain it has a purpose of some sort."

I nod.

"I've been busy while you were both napping," he tells us. "I've been interrogating the W&H system for information on the amulet or on Spike's soul. There's nothing. I've got the highest clearance I know of, except maybe for Angel, and there's nothing. As far as the records are concerned, there's only ever been one vampire with a soul, and he's the dark and brooding one."

"Well, if no one other than Angel knew, and he didn't tell anyone …" I offer.

"The system at W&H doesn't rely on anything as esoteric as people filing reports. We have an … automated system. Things happen, and the information is available. If there's nothing on Spike's soul or the amulet, it's because someone doesn't want anyone else to know about them."

"Who?" I ask.

"Only two possibilities I can think of," he answers, looking grim. "It's either Angel, or the senior partners haven't left us alone as much as they've led us to believe. Of course, whatever's stopped us from remembering anything, may also be working on Angel."

My first reaction is to argue that it can't be Angel. I mean, why would he want to do it? What would he have to gain from keeping quiet about everything, and yet it's obvious he did, even if he's not responsible for actively hiding the information.

"Buffy," Gina says, softly. "Something I though about while I was sitting on the deck, before I nodded off. With your background, you know how important it is not to keep things to yourself. So, why have you never told me about Spike?"

She almost sounds hurt, and I understand that. I think I would be too, if she kept something from me when talking about it could help.

"I used to talk about it. Not to just anyone, but Dawn and Willow. Dawn loved him too, but in a different way, but I wonder if one of the reasons she moved out of state was because I couldn't move on, couldn't stop talking about him and what he did for us." I pause, remembering that time.

"Then, I moved to LA, and I just didn't want to talk about him any more. Now I think about it, it's odd. It was as if one day he was in my thoughts, and the next he wasn't. I can't understand why I'd change so suddenly."

"I have my suspicions," Wes states, and I turn to face him. "The simple fact that I've never asked Angel about what happened, never thought to ask you, is quite simply out of character. Add to that the fact that I've never before thought to check the W&H system for the information, and you've got something that screams 'conspiracy' at me."

"What about when you've been away? You must've been out of LA some time."

"Yes, I have, but since it's not been something I was thinking about before I left, I can only assume that my not thinking about it then was a completely natural phenomenon. The rest of it, I've got to assume is some sort of magic at work."

Gina pales at his words. Her hands stray to her stomach, caressing the child that's protected there. "So, what do we do?"

"You, my love, do nothing. I don't want you involved in this at all."

"But …" she starts to argue.

"I mean it, Gina. I don't want you involved in the magic. I think Buffy'd still appreciate your friendship, though."

She squeezes my left hand, as if trying to reassure me that she's still there for me.

"What I want to do, is get someone to see if they can find something. I'd use someone at W&H, but if this is Angel, or even the Senior Partners, then we don't know who we can trust."

He thinks for a moment. "Do you think Willow would be able to pay us a visit?"

"I don’t know," I answer. "I can call and ask …"

"Good. Until we know the nature of the spell that's been used, we can't counter it. It's important that we get back to LA with our memories intact, or we'll be unable to investigate this. Someone doesn't want us to know something about Spike and that amulet. And, my experience tells me that if they've gone to this much trouble, then it's probably very important."

I've been feeling a bit like the 'child who must be humoured' today. After the dream, I finally managed to get some sleep, and then I called Willow first thing this morning. I didn't tell her exactly what was going on, but she must've known from my tone of voice that I was worried. She called me a little while ago to tell me she's flying into Seattle tomorrow night.

Since then, I've been kept busy. They didn't actually say that's what they were doing, but I know what's been going on. Wes and Gina have been trying to keep me occupied today so that I won't think about anything that might upset me. Fortunately, my hand's so much better that I've even been able to leave off the bandage, so I'm actually feeling pretty good, considering.

We've spent the day looking around Seattle. True to its reputation, it's been raining pretty much all day, so we changed our original plans in favour of the city itself. We arrived at the Space Needle late morning, to take in the view. Of course, it's one of the obligatory stops, but it's well worth doing anyway. And then, we found Wes'd managed to book us in for lunch there too. So, we sat and chatted and looked out over the city. Wes and Gina ate too, and seemed to enjoy what they had. I can't actually remember what I ordered.

It's hard. Once, it was easy. Demons were bad. Demons had to be killed, and preferably now. Then there was Angel, and it changed a bit. Demons had to be killed, unless they had souls. Then Angel lost his soul, and because I loved him, I couldn't kill him, so other people died.

And then it got complicated. And that was mainly Spike. He showed me something else, the grey area. Yes, he was a vampire, a demon, but he wasn't just a mindless killer. He wasn't even particularly bent on killing for the sake of it. He didn't have Angelus' love for playing with his victims. And that was before he had a soul. The chip caused him to stop, and think. I know at first it was just self-preservation, but it was soon more than that. He didn't just help us because we paid him, because we really didn't pay him enough. And he didn't just help us to get his daily dose of violence. He proved to me that a demon can love. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, and once I had, everything became much more difficult.

Difficult or not, right now, all I want is for someone to point out the bad guy, so I can go and kill him. Like I used to. I want to know what's happening, whether it's really something to do with Spike or something different. I need to know who's been playing with my mind.

The images from the dreams are just in my mind all the time. As soon as I relax, all I can see is his face. Sometimes it's an actual memory, sometimes it's the contorted, tortured face from the latest of my dreams. If I could've arranged it, Willow would've been here this morning, and maybe we'd be on our way to understanding what this is all about, and maybe I'd be closer to the point where I go and kill the bad demon. But I know that she's got her own life now, and I'm lucky she's willing to drop everything like she is.

Despite the horror of the recent dreams, there's a comforting feeling about all this too. I've tried not to pay any attention to it, because I know it's going to end up being just my imagination, but it's almost as though Spike's trying to contact me, as if he still exists in some form, somewhere.

Now, I'm not a scoffing disbeliever. I mean, I've died twice already, and my heart's currently beating quite normally, thank you very much. So I know miracles happen sometimes. Of course, they need some human intervention too - Xander the first time, and then Willow and the others the second time. But, whenever my mind starts to wander in that direction, the sensible part of me reins in that feeling pretty quickly. Wonderful as it'd be to have him back, to have the chance to show him that I really did love him, I know it's not going to happen.

We travel back to the house by late afternoon. I know Wes is itching to get back to work. Until he knows what's happening as far as the W&H records are concerned, he's limiting his research to other sources. He's hoping to return to some of the sources he used in the days before Wolfram and Hart resources made actual research unnecessary. And I know he called Giles this morning, too.

Gina decides to have a long soak in the Jacuzzi when we get back, complaining of sore feet. I find I'm drawn to the room Wes appropriated for his research. He nods at me, and gestures for me to sit down, while he continues typing something.

"Find anything?" I ask.

"Give me time, won't you?" he asks in mock exasperation. "I've got some things from Giles, though."

He looks at me, I assume to gauge my reaction to that.

"I wonder why he never told me he was working on that."

He doesn't speak, because, just then, the download finishes. He runs through the various folders and titles, then clicks to bring the accompanying email back to the screen.

I assume Wes has already read the note, and when I finish, he's looking at me.

When he speaks, his voice is reassuring. "While his theory is certainly a possibility that had occurred to me, I believe the corroborating evidence, especially the apparent involvement of someone at Wolfram and Hart, makes that less likely. The amulet originally came from that source, and there may be something about it that's significant. However, I see no need to hide any of this from you. It seems to me that you've been upset enough by not understanding, and that knowledge can only help."

I nod, and then find myself grinning as thoughts of my first dealings with Wes come to mind, and I can't help but contrast the two. Then, he treated me as if I were a mindless tool to be used by the Council without offering an opinion if any sort, simply following the instructions from my 'elders'. That was back in the days when things were simple, but even then, I wasn't quite the blunt instrument he expected me to be.

"I wish he'd told me he was working on this. I might've been able to help, add something."

"He was trying to protect you."

"Yes, I remember how he tried to protect me." I sound surprisingly bitter, even to myself.

Wes is looking for an explanation, so I give it.

"In the weeks before the final confrontation with the First, Giles and I had some … disagreements. He didn't trust Spike, and he didn't understand why I relied on him so much."

"Surely that's understandable, especially considering your history?"

"He could never accept my part of the responsibility for … our history. We were both wrong, but Giles acted like it was all Spike. He didn't get the immensity of what Spike did after that. Even though he knew it'd probably destroy him, he won a soul. He'd seen Angel, knew he'd spent years on the verge of madness after he got his soul, but he did it anyway. So he wouldn't hurt me again."

My thoughts are right back there again, and I remember the confusion I felt when I first knew what he'd done. We were in a church, and he draped himself across a cross. I could hear the hissing as his skin scorched and burned, and I was frozen to the spot, shocked and unable to help him.

I'm brought back to the present by Wes' voice.

"Working with you changed Giles a lot. But remember his background, his training, everything he was taught to believe said that vampires were evil. No exceptions. Then there was Angel, and just as Giles was starting to think he could trust a vampire, he lost his soul, and killed someone Giles loved.

"But Spike was different, even without the soul, he was different."

"Giles still saw Spike as an evil creature who was trying to get close to you so that he would be better able to hurt you. He must've been shocked to find out about your … relationship."

"Yeah, he was so shocked, he laughed until he couldn't stand up any more."

He looks as if he doesn't believe me. True, the fact that I'd been sleeping with Spike seemed pretty trivial compared to Willow trying to end the world, but it really wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting either.

"He cares about you a great deal. I know you're not as close as you once were, but he still wants what's best for you, and I'm sure that's what motivated him then. He believed that Spike was potentially a weapon for the First to use against you."

"I know that, he made it quite clear at the time. He couldn't see that Spike had changed, but that we needed to have faith in him. Instead, he tried to get rid of the 'problem' altogether."

I almost feel sick at the recollection of how close we came to disaster that night. But Wes doesn't know that story. I'm pretty sure Giles wouldn't have told him, and I know I haven't.

"Did you ever hear about Robin Wood? He was one of the group that escaped from Sunnydale."

He shakes his head.

"How about Nikki Wood?"

"The New York Slayer killed by William the Bloody."

"The same. And she had a son."

"The son of Nikki Wood was in Sunnydale at the end? What was he doing?"

"Well, by day, he was the Principal of Sunnydale High School. By night, he was a demon hunter. Except he'd set his sights on one particular demon."

"Spike."

"Yeah, well, of course we didn't know. Then, he hatched a plan to get me out of the way so he could get what he wanted. The First had messed with Spike. She'd put this trigger in his head, a song his mother used to sing to him. When he heard that, he'd do what the First wanted. It even stopped the chip working, or made it so he couldn't feel it firing. We never did find out which. Anyway, Robin asked Giles to keep me busy so he could destroy Spike. And Giles agreed. It would've worked too, except for one thing. Spike was too strong. Robin played the tune, and it made Spike lose control. He beat him up pretty badly, but then Spike managed to come to terms with the memories. Once that'd happened, the trigger didn't work any more, and Spike was able to beat Robin."

"But you said Robin escaped from Sunnydale."

"Yeah. Spike let him live."

I picture the garage Robin had prepared. I remember every detail, the malevolence that must've gone into covering the walls with crosses. He didn't just want to stake Spike, he wanted him to suffer.

"And, if Robin had succeeded, this world would probably have been destroyed," I add.

"Perhaps, but surely you'd have chosen Angel as your champion instead."

I shrug. "Maybe, but I don't think I would've made it that far."

Again, I'm impressed by Wes' patience. He's waiting for me to continue, but he's not pushing.

"Giles wasn't the only one who didn't trust me. The others, the potentials, Faith, Willow, Dawn, even Xander, they thought I was wrong to go after Caleb at the vineyard. I knew there was something there that he wanted to keep from me, but they didn't want to follow me back. I know we didn't come off too well the first time, and Xander lost an eye, but I knew I was right. And they decided to follow Faith instead."

"I left them. I left my home, and I wandered the streets for hours. When I was tired, I found a house I thought was deserted, and went upstairs to rest. He found me. Spike, he found me. I was so alone. I thought they were right, that I was responsible for everything bad that'd happened. He held me that night. He just held me, and gave me back my confidence, my self-respect, my strength. By morning, I knew what to do. I went back to the vineyard alone, and I got the scythe. Without that, I doubt I'd have made it to the final confrontation. And even if I had, there would've only been two Slayers in the mix at the end. I don't think we'd have lasted long enough for the amulet to do its work."

There's silence then, and Wes turns to the computer. He clicks on a document entitled 'Index', and reads its contents. The list is impressive. It looks like Giles has been working hard, and it hurts that he didn't mention any of it to me.

"You're welcome to stay if you want, Buffy," Wes interrupts my thoughts. "But this is going to take a long time to wade through. And by the looks of it, most of the source material isn't in English. Call it professional pride if you want, but I'd prefer to do my own translations. There are so many possibilities in some of these languages - words that have multiple meanings depending on how they're used. Once they've been translated, it's easy to forget the possibilities of the original, and get stuck with a single interpretation."

"I get it," I respond, getting up from my chair. Give me a book in English and I'm only fair to middling at picking out what's important. Put it in another language, and I might as well start looking for patterns in the ceiling.

I go to the main living room, and note that the rain seems to have stopped. I go out onto the deck, and sit, looking out at the landscape which is so different from home. And I don't just mean different from LA's concrete. It's so green, and so many shades of it, all of it fresh from the rain. As I sit, I'm aware of the tension of my muscles, particularly around the shoulders, and I make an effort to relax.

I start at my toes. I consciously relax them, then imagine that they've been covered in warm water, soothing and cleansing. I mentally travel up my body, and the feeling of warmth and wellbeing follows its progress, until, at last, I reach my face, and I can feel the gentle heat everywhere as I close my eyes.

I let my mind wander. And then I realise I'm not alone. I open my eyes, and I see him, standing in front of me, smiling. It's not a memory as far as I can tell, because I don't remember him smiling at me like that. Or if he did, I made sure not to see.

"Spike." I smile at the word, and the pleasure I feel at seeing him is gentle but profound.

"Buffy." I recognise the tone. The way he says my name, it's so much more than just a word, it's almost an act of worship.

He looks so … normal - dressed in black, pale skin, white hair, blue, blue eyes. There's so much I want to tell him, so much I want to ask, but somehow words seem inappropriate. Still, Buffy and silence are kinda unmixy things, so I have to say something.

"I've missed you."

"I've been here."

"Where?"

"Around, watching."

"Are you … are you happy?" It's very important to me that he is.

"I have been, well, most of the time. It hurt when you were sad about something, but otherwise, yeah, I've been happy."

"What's happening?"

"Can't tell you that, love. Shouldn't even be here, but they couldn't stop me. I think it's because you touched it, the amulet, at the end. It linked us, somehow."

"Is something trying to hurt you?"

"Could say that," he smiles back at me. "Could use some help, but I think the Watcher's on the right lines. He came alright in the end, didn't he? The new Watcher?"

"Yeah, he turned out fine," I agree, but he's already fading, and I start to see the green of the hillside through him, and then he's gone.

The sense of loss I feel is almost incapacitating. I almost felt I could touch him, hold him, and I wonder why I didn't. Maybe I was afraid to move, afraid to do anything to break the spell.

"Buffy?"

Gina comes round in front of me, and by her expression, she's been calling my name for a while.

"He was here," I tell her.

She looks confused.

"Spike."

"You must've been asleep. It was a dream."

"Maybe, but it didn't feel like a dream. He said he needed some help, but that Wes was doing the right thing. He seemed to … approve of how he turned out."

"Well, he won't get an argument from me on that."

I smile at Gina. She sits next to me, and we both look out over the view in companionable silence. My imagination takes over, and I start to consider what life could be like if he really came back. To be loved like that, the way he loved me, but to love him back, to know that he's my equal in every way - it's a future that's almost painfully wonderful to consider. Because, deep down, I know it's not going to happen. And if the past few days have showed me anything, it's that my feelings for him have remained intact for the past seven years. It's obvious now what was missing with Angel. The only thing I don't understand, is why I didn't see it before.

Soon after we get up in the morning, it's obvious Gina isn't feeling well. She tries to hide it, but her complexion is just the wrong shade of green for the rest of her colouring. And, just in case we didn't spot that, the rapid movement towards the nearest bathroom is a bit of a give-away.

"I'm sorry," she apologies when she returns, a worried Wes at her side. "It's like morning sickness, but I don't get it all the time. The thing is, I don't think I could cope with going on a ferry today."

We had planned on doing some ferry rides, just for the fun and the views, but I understand. Nausea on top of motion sickness is too much to expect her to cope with.

Once he's sure Gina is feeling a little better, Wes returns to his computer. Gina starts to apologise again, but I interrupt her.

"Look, I really don't mind. My mind's on Spike anyway, and it's all I can do to force myself to think about anything else. The trip'd be wasted on me. Now, is there anything I can get you?"

"Well, maybe I could manage something - maybe some toast?"

"Anything on it?"

If anything her complexion turns slightly greener as she considers that.

"No, just dry."

"Ok, and anything to drink?"

"Some ginger ale?"

I walk towards the kitchen to get what she wants. As I'm waiting for the toast to finish, I'm thinking. Wes worked late last night, but when I asked him this morning what he'd found, he was vague. I got the impression that he's found something, but he wants to be sure before he tells me. There was a time when I'd have been sitting on him, waiting for him to tell me everything as soon as possible, but I'm trying not to. I know he'll tell me. And then there's Willow. She's due in this evening, and it looks like Wes'll have to go and pick her up at the airport. If Gina's still feeling queasy, she won't want to go, but Wes won't want her left alone. And then there's me and driving - never was my favourite thing to do.

I can't wait to see Will again. It's been a couple of years since we were last together, and phone calls just aren't the same thing at all. And apart from wanting to see her, I'm desperate to know what's been going on. I just hope she can answer some of the questions I've got.

~~~~~

It's been a lazy day. I've spent a good part of it sitting on the deck, trying to re-create whatever it was that let me talk to Spike yesterday, but it hasn't worked. Oddly, that hasn't left me feeling frustrated, but it has been relaxing. Gina's nausea has been coming and going pretty much all day, but when she's been feeling up to it, we've had some concentrated 'girl time'. I've told her a lot more about Spike than before - not just the important, big things, but all the little things too. The way he looked at me, and the way he used to say my name. I don't think I've talked so much in a very long time.

From what she said, it looks like the nausea was a result of getting over-tired yesterday. She had some days like this earlier in her pregnancy, especially before school broke up, but she's been ok for a while. She thought she'd passed that stage, but now she suspects she just did too much yesterday, and she's been paying for it. She went to bed a little while ago, determined to be feeling better by the morning.

Wes should be back soon. He called as they left the airport, and now I'm waiting for the sound of an engine to tell me they're here. He said he'd spend the return journey filling Willow in on what's been happening. We haven't got a lot of time before we're expected back in LA, and we can't postpone our return in case it alerts someone to what we've discovered so far.

At last I hear the engine approach, and I run up to the front door, pulling it open to see the car pulling up in front of the house. Willow grins as she sees me, and she's out of the car almost before it stops completely. And then we're hugging. She looks well, and I mean really well. The guilt about the past was still with her, right up until the end of Sunnydale. Even then, she still had some doubts, and she took them with her when she and Kennedy moved to Cleveland. That doubt's gone from her face now. I've got to admit that I never took to Kennedy the way I took to Tara, but she's been good for Willow. Where Tara was the more responsible one in the partnership, now it's Willow, and I think that the responsibility's been good for her.

We come in, and I take her into my room. There was a sofa in one of the living rooms that doubles as a bed, and I hauled it into my room. I thought she'd prefer to be on the lower floor with the rest of us (to say nothing of the bathrooms), and there's plenty of space.

Wes goes to check on Gina while I get Willow settled, but she doesn't want to waste any time. As soon as she's done the bare minimum of unpacking, she wants to get started.

We move into the smaller living room, which I set up earlier with a small table and some chairs. Willow puts a case down on the table, and starts to prepare a few things.

"I've brought everything I should need," she explains. "First, I'd like to just do the trancy-thing that you did when you found that Dawn wasn't your sister like you remembered. I'll get it set up, but I won't start until Wes comes back."

"Good," I reply, actually rather relieved. I need whatever help Willow can give us, but I'm still wary of magic. I spend the time thinking of the times magic went wrong, but then, of course, I'm reminded of the time Willow's spell caused Spike and me to get engaged. At the time, it seemed awful - that magic could change my feelings like that, make me love someone I really hated. Now, I can't imagine really hating him. I can remember thinking that I hated him, but I can't remember feeling it.

Wes comes in a few moments later.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Sleeping soundly. I knew yesterday was too much for her, but she wouldn't say anything at the time."

Wes and I make ourselves comfortable, and Willow starts the trance, sitting immobile on the floor, in a circle inscribed with sand. I once asked her why she used the floor so much for these things, and she told me it was because there wasn't so far to fall. I never was sure whether she was joking or not.

She opens her eyes, and looks around the room slowly, appearing almost drugged. She gets up off the floor and walks towards me, studying me very carefully. When she reaches me, she stretches out her hand to my face, stroking my cheek, then moving down to my neck. She spends several moments running her finger around my neck, and then following a line from there, diagonally to my chest. There, she inscribes a circular shape, before tracing another line up towards my neck.

When she's finished with me, she approaches Wes, studying him closely. She makes no attempt to touch him, although she does gesture to him to raise his hands so she can study them better.

When she's finished, she returns to the floor, sitting as she started, and then she reaches out and breaks the ring of sand around her.

She sits for a couple of moments, as if getting her bearings, and then she looks up. She stares at me for a moment, then stands and comes to sit next to me.

"Well, what did you see?"

"The amulet, I saw the amulet."

"Spike's amulet?"

She nods, and I realise what was happening.

"You could see it around my neck, couldn't you? That's what you were tracing with your hand."

"Yeah. But that's not all. Whatever the deal is with the amulet, I don’t think it's got anything to do with the memory thing. It's more like it's imprinted itself on you. The other thing I saw was pretty clear. It's a variant of the spell I used - the forgetting spell. The basis is the same, but it's been refined past anything I've seen before. It's fading, but whether that's because you've moved from the source, or whether it's a time-related fading, I can't tell. If anything, I'm more surprised that the fading's gone far enough to make a difference. I'd have thought it was still pretty powerful."

She bites her lip for a moment, and I know she's puzzling something out. "It's just a thought, but it could be that's because of the amulet. Maybe it's weakening the spell in some way. Maybe, it's been doing that all along, and the spell was meant to completely wipe Spike from your mind. There was definitely a sense of protection coming from the amulet."

"What about Wes?" I ask.

"Well, there hasn't been a spell on him as such. It's more like he's … been touching something that's been magicked, and he's got some of it on his fingers."

"As if the information itself is protected, and I've just picked up the residue?" he asks.

"Exactly."

"So, what can we do about it?"

"Well, I can give you something - a sort of counter-charm. I'll make it as specific as I can, so it'll counter the memory spell, and make it possible to see what's hidden, hopefully without affecting the amulet thingy, because I really only got positive vibes from that. And, even if I didn't, since I don't have any idea of the sort of power that's left that mark on you, it's not very likely that I'd be able to counter it even if I wanted to. I've got what I need, but the best way to administer it would be through the skin, and by inhalation."

I'm really not sure I like the sound of that.

"Through the skin?" I ask.

"It's ok, Buffy. The best option would be to put it in something for you to use in the bath. That way, if you have a good soak for fifteen or twenty minutes, you'll absorb more than enough to counteract the other mojo. What I'll do tomorrow, is I'll buy some stuff, you know, bubble bath or something, and I'll add the rest of the ingredients to that. Then, as long as you use it daily, you should stay immune."

I'm relieved. I was sure she was going to say I had to inject or drink something containing eye of newt or something like that. I can't say I'm too impressed with the idea of bathing in it either, but it's definitely a lesser evil.

"So, anything new on the research front?" I ask Wes. I know, I promised myself I wouldn't nag, but I need to know.

"Well, I've been through a couple of Giles' leads, and I agree that they're not what we're looking for. The one I'm working on now looks a lot more hopeful, though, and I'd really like to get back to it. There's a particularly difficult passage I need to translate, and I managed to think of an alternative possibility while I was waiting for Willow. So …"

He gets up then, to go back to his work, and Willow and I are alone.

"So, Spike, eh?" she says, looking up at me.

"Spike. He's been in my thoughts so much these past few days, that it's hard to believe it's been seven years."

"Are you sure you're not just reacting to the break-up with Angel?"

I considered that too, in the beginning, but it didn’t take me long to discount the possibility.

"I've never been more sure of anything. I knew I loved Spike while we were still in Sunnydale. I even told him, at the end. I just didn't know what I wanted. I mean, I loved him, but I also thought I loved Angel. If Spike had been able to leave with us, I don't know what I'd have done, because I wasn't ready to settle down with anyone. But I did love him, even if I didn't know who I really was."

"I know you missed him, well, we all knew. Even Xander, although he tried to pretend that it was something else you were missing. Even Giles, before he went back to England, told me he wished you'd be able to get over Spike."

"It felt like I'd lost my … anchor. No matter how lost I was in that last couple of years, he was always there, loving me, watching my back, even when I wished he wasn't. And then, I got my wish. And then I came to LA, and Giles got his." There's that bitterness back again.

"You don't think Giles had anything to do with it, do you?"

"Giles? What? No. I don't think he's been doing any magic. Not just to make me forget Spike."

"So, who? Angel?"

"I thought that too, but it doesn’t make sense. Well, it does in some ways, but not in others. When I moved to LA, he still had the whole total happiness clause to worry about. And, as far as I can tell, that's when it all started, right when I moved."

"Or, that's when you were close enough to the source to stop the amulet from protecting you completely."

I shrug. "I suppose it could be like that. As long as I don't forget it again. He said he needed our help, and I'm going to make sure he gets it."

And then I realise that Willow might not be so keen to help Spike as I am. "Are you ok with this Will? I mean, helping Spike?"

"Well, the 'I'm going to bite you' Spike maybe not so much. The 'I saved the world' Spike - yeah, I think I can go with helping him if he needs it."

"How about the 'my friend loves him' Spike?"

"Him too, I guess."

"So," I say, trying to make my voice sound bright and worry-free. "How's Kennedy? And Slaying? And did you ever manage to perfect your portable sunlight?"

She laughs at the memory of her early attempts to create artificial sunlight. "Kennedy's fine, I think. We've been spending less time together lately, but I think we're still ok. With work and everything, it's sometimes hard to spend enough 'couple time', but she's busy too."

Having an indefinite article with "sunlight" seemed a bit odd at first, but now I'm not sure.

"Sorry I had to drag you away."

"No problem. Ken's away now too - visiting some friends. They're not people I feel … comfortable with, so she went on her own."

"Why don't you feel comfortable with them?"

"Oh, you know. Imagine Cordelia in high school, then imagine the sort of crowd who'd have thought she wasn't good enough. I feel like I'm back to being the nerdy freak when I'm with them, and that's not how I want to feel any more."

"If they're that bad, why does Kennedy want to be with them?"

"I don't know, but she does. It's like she needs to remind herself of where she comes from sometimes. She gets a bit edgy when she hasn't been around them for a while. It's funny. She seems so confident, so sure of herself, but underneath, it's like she needs them to tell her she's ok before she believes it."

She's quiet for a few seconds, but I know she wants to say something else. "There was a time I'd have done something, used some spell or other to make it so she didn't need anyone but me. Even now, I'm thinking about how it could be done, but I know I won't. I didn't learn that lesson with Tara until it was too late, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

We’re both thoughtful for a few seconds, and then it’s Willow’s turn to change the subject.

"So, how did Angel take the news?" she asks. "I was so surprised when I got your email. I though you and Angel were together for life."

"I thought so too, at first. I mean, it's what I wanted when I was in school, and it's what I thought I wanted for so long after that. But we just weren't right together. He was … surprised, I think, when I told him it wasn't working, but I think he understood when I explained - well at least as well as I did then. The magic was gone, you know?"

"So, he's ok?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since I moved out, and Wes says he hasn't seen much of him either. He's probably thrown himself back into his work for a while, but I think he'll be fine. He loved Cordelia too, and he got over that. He'll find someone, someone who needs him. It's not as though he's getting any older."

"Very true," Willow agrees.

"So, you tired?" I ask, noticing that Willow was stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, I am."

"Ok, you take the bathroom first, if you like," I offer. "I'll just sort out your bed."

A short while later, we're both settled in bed, and I turn off the light.

"Goodnight, Willow. It's good to see you again."

"Yeah, it is. Maybe I should try to arrange to come to LA some time."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Just wait till I've got my own apartment. I can't really expect Wes and Gina to take in my guests too."

"Ok," she agrees. "I'm looking forward to meeting Gina. Wes is different than I remembered. Even when I got Angel's soul back for him the second time, Wes had changed, but he's different again. Then, he was more confident, like he'd grown up. Now, he's still with the being grown up, but he's kinda softer too. In a good way."

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd have done without them, both of them. I guess I'm lucky, really. All those years of being the Slayer, and I got to share it with friends I could trust to stick with me no matter how tough it got. And here I am again, different town, different problems, and I've still got friends who'll stick with me, do whatever they can to help."

"Yeah, well, count this girl in on the helping, but only if it can wait till morning," Willow warns, before yawning again.

I take the hint, and stop talking. Instead I just listen to the quiet, the sounds of her breathing, and the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere. The next thing I hear is that her breathing has slowed, and I know she's asleep. Now, I wonder if I'm going to be able to sleep. My hand moves to my neck, remembering the path Willow's finger traced. The amulet. Spike said it linked us, and Willow could see it and felt it was protecting me in some way. I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw Spike last night, and this just confirms that. The down side of it is that it means that someone's trying to hurt him, but at least we can now work to make sure that doesn't happen.

~~~~~

Next morning, Will and I go into town to pick up supplies. I want to sniff at the various possibilities, but Willow puts her foot down. She picks up several bottles of something lavender-scented after she’s read the labels.

"I’ve got to be sure there’s nothing in this that’ll affect the other ingredients, and you’re going to need something with a fairly strong scent. Lavender’s about the strongest one I know that’ll have a neutral effect."

I knew I didn’t like the sound of bathing in eye-of-newt essence.

"And why does it need to be scented? What’s in it?"

"Various herbs, and, some … other … things. You’d probably be happier if you didn’t know."

Well, at least she’s honest.

When we get back, Willow spends the next couple of hours in the bathroom, mixing and concocting whatever it is, and when I go into the bedroom to tell her lunch is almost ready, I instantly regret it, as the smell hits me.

"I’ll be up in five minutes," she promises. "It’s just got to sit for a while then, before I can add it to the bubble bath."

Sure enough, five minutes later, Willow comes up to the dining room to join us for some salad. I can’t help it, as soon as she walks into the room, I sniff the air, trying to detect some of the foul odour on her. She smiles when she sees me.

"Daisy fresh, that’s me," she quips before sitting down. "Seriously, you came in at exactly the wrong time. The smell should fade now, so it won’t be too bad by the time I go back to bottle it."

I decide to just trust her on that. I turn my attention to Wes, who came in just ahead of Willow. He’s looking preoccupied, so I stick my nose in a bit further.

"How’s it going then, Wes?"

"What? Oh, yes, the translation. I think I’m getting there. It’s all pretty much as Giles translated it, except for one thing, and that could be very important. I want to check it again, and then I want to follow up one lead, but I really do think it’s important."

"And?" I demand.

"And?" he parrots.

"And, what does it mean for Spike?"

"Ah, well, now, I’ve only done a first level translation of the consequences, but it seems you could be right. Spike needs our help."

I stop with my fork half way to my mouth. "Help with what?"

"I’d rather finish the translation first, Buffy," he pleads.

"Help with what?" He really should know me better than to tell me part of it without finishing the whole story.

"Well, if I’m right, the amulet is a way of focussing the power of a soul. It can be used for good or ill, depending on the soul behind it. The power available depends on the sacrifice being made. In Spike's case, he believed he was making the ultimate sacrifice, and from what you told me, he did it willingly. That would have maximised the effect. But, there’s a … loophole. If those left behind wish it, there’s a way to bring the wearer back."

"So Spike could come back," I whisper. It’s exactly what I was hoping, but couldn’t let myself believe.

"Well, it’s not so simple as that. You see, it was assumed that the controller for the amulet would be in the hands of those others who were involved in the incident. And I have no idea what sort of form it could have taken, although it seems likely that it wasn’t part of the package that Angel gave to you."

"So, we find this controller, and bring Spike back," I insist.

"Buffy, we have no idea where this controller is, or even what it looks like."

"We research, and we find it," I argue.

"Again, there’s a problem. The bearer of the amulet was destined to remain in, well it translates best as ‘the empty place’. It sounds like somewhere that’s neither good nor bad, perhaps like the limbo belief of some Christians. It’s where unbaptised children are believed to remain until the last day. There’s no pain, but there’s also no joy there."

"Still not seeing the problem," I warn.

"Yes, you see, there’s a time limit. It’s going to take me a while longer before I complete the detailed calculation. It depends on the alignment of various stars and so on, but my first level calculation tells me it’s soon."

"And when time runs out?"

"Spike, well, he goes to Hell."

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