Fragments of a Dream

By magista
For the purposes of this story, the season 6 episode "Hell's Bells" takes place about a month after "As You Were". That's the only way I can make everything happening in this story fit. You understand, I'm sure :-)

Nightmares

"Xander?" she said, confused. Then again, in anguish: "Xander!" She fell to her knees beside his body, and gathered him into her arms, rocking helplessly. Cold tears rolled down her face, as she understood what had happened, what she had done. The prophecy had been fulfilled after all. She had died, and now she would take her friends with her. And she could already feel the hunger beginning to stir again . . .

Buffy sat bolt upright in her bed, clutching at her pillow, which was damp with her sweat. A stale, sweetish taste filled her mouth and she almost spat in disgust. The inside of her cheek burned, and she realize she must have bitten herself in the course of her nightmare.

She went to the bathroom to rinse her mouth out and refill her water glass. A fleeting nausea gripped her when she spat pink-tinged water into the sink, recalling the inhuman hunger of her dream. And yet she couldn't help but wonder if that was what it felt like to be a vampire - those paradoxical feelings of near limitless power and crippling need. She shook her head to clear the intrusive thoughts. Vampire Slayer, not vampire psychotherapist, she reminded herself. I really don't need to know.

Buffy climbed back into bed and tried to compose herself for sleep again, but it was a long time coming.

Avoidance

Buffy arranged to meet Tara between classes the following afternoon at the Espresso Pump. She needed to talk about what had happened between her and Spike and Riley over the past few days, and didn't want to have to face the shock and shame of telling someone who didn't already know some of what had been going on. Tara had been like a second mother to Dawn over the past year, and now Buffy felt she needed some of that support herself.

When she reached the Pump, she found Tara already holding a booth for the two of them in a quiet corner. Buffy placed her order, and then joined her.

"Hi Buffy," said Tara warmly as she sat down. "How have you been since Riley and Sam left? I imagine it was difficult for you to see him again after so long," she said, seeing right to the heart of people's troubles, as always.

"And finding out he was married and had a perfect wife and perfect life didn't really help," added Buffy with some asperity. "Way to make me feel like I'd messed up my own life beyond possibility of recovery."

"Your life isn't messed up, Buffy," Tara insisted gently. "You've had to go through some things that would have left most people catatonic, or worse. You certainly can't be blamed if you're finding it difficult to get back to normal." "Normal," Buffy sighed. "Right. Not the adjective I would have chosen." She ran one hand wearily over her face.

"Are you feeling okay?" Tara asked, concerned. "You look tired."

Buffy waved away her concern. "I had a nightmare last night, then couldn't get back to sleep. It's nothing." She looked at Tara squarely. "He found us together."

"In your dream?" Tara asked, confused.

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, Buffy explained. "I went patrolling with Sam that night," she said. "She told me a lot about the two of them, and after a while I couldn't take any more, so I blew her off. I . . . went to see Spike. To see if he had any information on the dealer called 'The Doctor' that we were looking for," she added quickly, worried that Tara would misinterpret her reason. "He wanted . . . to be paid for information, and I . . . things got pretty intense," she finished lamely.

The arrival of the server with her coffee spared Buffy for a moment, but once she had left again there was no further protection, and she dove grimly back into her story. "I suppose I was jealous of how the two of them seemed so happy together. I wanted to be with someone . . . even if it was wrong," she admitted at last.

"Riley turned up information that night that Spike was actually the Doctor, and he . . . found us together in Spike's crypt the next morning." Buffy's cheeks burned hot with the remembered shame of that moment. Tara took her hand in wordless sympathy that touched her more than anything she could have said. It was such a relief to finally be able to tell someone.

"I went back the next day and told Spike that we couldn't see each other any more, that it was over. I'd only been using him to make myself feel something," she explained earnestly. "It wasn't right or fair and it had to stop."

Tara was silent for some time, though she didn't release Buffy's hand. She chose her words carefully when she spoke again. "Buffy . . . you can't go through the rest of your life not letting yourself feel anything. It's okay if you enjoy being with him. He does love you."

"I can't love him," Buffy replied. "I can't. And he makes me want to do things . . . that are just wrong," she whispered, afraid of being overheard.

"What two people choose to do together to please each other isn't wrong, Buffy," Tara said quietly.

Buffy belatedly realized that her comment might be interpreted as something of a slur on all unconventional relationships, and she back-pedalled quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"You've become friends over the last few months since you returned," Tara went on, choosing to ignore Buffy's embarrassment, "and when friends move to being lovers, sometimes the intensity of the relationship can be frightening."

"No!" Buffy insisted. "He's not my friend. There's no relationship. I want him out of my life." She removed her hand from Tara's gentle hold. "I want you to put the uninvite spell back on our house," she said. "I know that vampires can always enter public places, but there must be some other kind of spell we can use to keep him away from me if I go out."

Tara shook her head. "Buffy, you can't just make Spike avoid you. It won't do anything to help you deal with how you feel about him."

"For the last time," she replied firmly, "I don't feel anything about him - except the pain in my ass when he's around. I want him to stop bothering me. If you won't help me," Buffy warned, "I'll either do it myself or find someone who will."

Sighing in resignation, Tara said, "I'll come tonight and do the uninvite, at least. That will give you some more time to think about what you actually want."

"I know exactly what I want," said Buffy, getting up from the table and leaving her coffee, untouched, behind her. "I want everything back the way it was."

"You can't force a plant back into a seed, or a person back to what they used to be," Tara murmured. "You can only grow and change, or die." But Buffy was gone.

Uninvited

"Earth to Buffy, come in Buffy," Dawn carolled.

Buffy looked up from her magazine, startled. "I'm sorry, Dawn," she said. "Did you just say something?"

"I said I though we should all head to the Bronze tonight," she repeated. "You know, to celebrate that I got the highest mark on the math midterm?"

Buffy did remember promising something like that earlier in the week, but recent events had driven the details from her mind. "On a school night?" she asked.

"You promised," Dawn complained. "I've been so looking forward to this."

Buffy reconsidered her position, since this would be exactly what she needed to get Dawn and Willow out of the house before Tara was supposed to arrive. She wasn't ready to explain why she wanted Spike uninvited from the house again.

"I suppose," she said, trying to sound reluctant. "But I'm not really feeling up to it today, Dawn. You and Willow could go, though."

Dawn's face fell. "We can go another day," she suggested.

"No, I don't want to spoil the celebration. I've been feeling out of sorts lately - I think I may be getting a cold," Buffy said, trying not to overplay it.

"Then you really need a good night out to take your mind off of things," Dawn insisted. "It's not like you have the excuse of being too tired from work now."

"Gee, thanks," Buffy said dryly. "I really needed to remember that I don't have a job anymore." Dawn was almost immediately contrite, but Buffy waved away her apology. She'd only been taken back on probation after the misunderstanding about the ingredients of the DoubleMeat Medley; trying to explain why she had to leave without warning to help Riley hadn't really impressed Lorraine with her reliability. Rather than trying to deal with someone she couldn't count on, Lorraine had fired her - again. Buffy was still planning to go back and plead her case one more time, but hadn't yet worked up the courage.

"You go ahead," Buffy repeated. "The two of you should have a good time, at least. That is, as long as your homework is done and you get back by eleven," she added.

"Done!" Dawn agreed, and ran for her books to prove she was ready to go.

**********

Buffy closed the door softly after waving goodbye to Dawn and Willow as they headed out for their night of fun. She was glad she hadn't had to resort to any huge deceptions to get them out of the way before Tara arrived. And it wouldn't hurt to give them some more time together to keep rebuilding their relationship, she decided.

True to her word, Tara appeared later that evening with the ingredients to perform the uninvite spell. She paused at the door when Buffy opened it. "Is Willow . . .?" she began uncertainly, not yet ready to meet her girlfriend face to face, especially when she was about to perform the very magic that Willow was trying so hard to avoid.

"No," Buffy replied. "She and Dawn are out at the Bronze tonight until at least eleven. Come on in."

Tara moved into the living room and began laying out the supplies for the spell on the table. She didn't waste any time coming to the point. "I'll need you to crumble some of these herbs at all the windows and doors," she said, indicating a small plastic container. "Do that while I recite the incantation." Tara looked up at Buffy. "If you're sure you really want to do this," she added.

"Believe me," Buffy replied. "I've never been more sure of anything." She took up the container of herbs resolutely.

**********

"Hicce verbis consensus rescissus est," Tara said for the last time, as they returned to the front door. She closed the heavy spell book and laid it on the table. "That should do it, if we didn't miss any possible entrance."

"I didn't realize there were so many windows in this house," Buffy said. "But I think we got them all." She sighed. "Now maybe I can relax for a while. Can you stay and have some tea or something?"

Tara agreed, and the two women moved into the kitchen. While Buffy prepared the tea, she told Tara about how well Willow had been doing in avoiding magic, and about how she herself had been working on improving her relationship with her sister - all light and positive topics. It was only when she sat to join Tara at the table that she let the conversation become more serious.

"Did you think about what I asked this afternoon?" she enquired. "About a spell that could keep Spike away from the Bronze and the Magic Box and other places I go?"

Tara frowned. "There are a number of spells that might work, but I think you're making a mistake, Buffy. Refusing to deal with your emotions won't make them go away. The two of you need to get together and talk."

Buffy ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back from her face. "The problem is, every time we're together talking seems to be the last thing on our minds. I want him," she admitted, looking up at her friend. "But it's only me being selfish; wanting to feel alive again. The spell is as much to keep me from hurting him as it is to help me," she ventured.

Tara greeted this new suggestion with the scepticism it deserved, raising her eyebrows and not saying a word.

Buffy felt she had no choice; she went for her most devastating argument. "I need to have this spell done, Tara. If I can't get you to help me, then I'll find someone who will. Maybe I can get Amy . . . or Willow." She let her words trail away.

Tara stood up. "You don't have to go that far," she said coolly. "I'll stop by the Magic Box in the morning for the supplies and cast the spell while I'm there. The Bronze will have to wait until the weekend, if that's all right." Without waiting for an answer, she gathered her belongings and left.

"Tara," Buffy said weakly after she heard the front door close. "I'm sorry." She was ashamed she had deeply hurt someone who cared about her, but she didn't know what else she could have done. She was sure that if she tried to stay away from Spike on her own and failed, she'd feel even worse about herself.

Dumping the cups into the sink to deal with in the morning, Buffy headed up the stairs, hoping that sleep would bring her some peace.

Innocence Lost

She felt herself sliding slowly down the wall, unable to speak, think, or even to breathe. Great hitching sobs shook her body. If she hadn't tried to stop Xander, if she had been here instead of wallowing in self-pity all afternoon . . . if she hadn't slept with him. Willow's death, and all the destruction Angelus would cause before she stopped him - it was and it would be all her fault.

Buffy woke to a tearing sensation of loss and misery. She hadn't felt this empty and desolate since her mom had died, and maybe not even then, since her mom's death hadn't been her fault no matter how horrible it had been. But in her nightmare, Willow had died directly because of actions she had taken, and she still felt cold with that knowledge.

Despite understanding consciously that it had been only a dream, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep again until she checked in on Willow. Buffy crept silently down the hall and eased open the door of the master bedroom that Willow had until recently shared with Tara. She let slip a sigh of relief as she heard her friend's slow, regular breathing.

Though she had tried to be as quiet as possible, Willow still stirred from her sleep. "Buffy?" she asked groggily, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Will," she replied. "I just had a bad dream and wanted to see if you were okay. Go back to sleep and I'll talk to you in the morning."

"G'night," said Willow, mostly to her pillow, as Buffy closed the door softly behind her to return to her own room.

I hope this isn't going to become a regular event, Buffy sighed inwardly as she sat up in bed against her own pillows, waiting for sleep to return. A chilling thought took her. These nightmares weren't prophetic, exactly, since the events in them had already happened - or hadn't, quite. But the way that her memories were being twisted in the dreams was disturbing enough that she resolved to get Willow, Xander and Anya looking into possible mystical disturbances. If the dreams were warnings of something big to come, she wanted to be ready for it.

Having resolved to take action in the morning, Buffy was able to slip back into sleep's embrace at last.

Confrontation

Dawn and Willow had agreed to meet Buffy at the Magic Box after their classes that day. With any luck, they would be able to help her determine the cause of the disturbing dreams she'd been experiencing the last few nights. Buffy left home early in the afternoon to be sure to get there before Willow arrived, so her friend wouldn't have to face the temptation of being in the store alone.

If there was one thing she did understand these days, Buffy thought, it was temptation. It would be so easy to go back to Spike and simply give in to the sensual pleasure of his touch. No thinking, no responsibilities, no choices - just sensations. She knew she could go to him and he would welcome her at once. Part of her longed to.

But she also knew she shouldn't. There were too many duties, too many entanglements to be able to give up and walk away from them. Even Spike had chided her for wanting to be 'free of life'. Wouldn't Giles be proud, she thought sourly. See how well I've learned my lesson about being responsible.

That annoying little bell at the Magic Box rang as she pushed open the door and stepped into the relative cool and dark of the interior. Anya looked up from the counter with her 'customer service' smile plastered widely on, but relaxed when she recognized her friend. Buffy noticed that her hair was yet another shade of the L'Oréal rainbow this week, and wondered if Anya would be able to make up her mind in time for the wedding next month, or if she'd end up striped.

"Hello Buffy," Anya said pleasantly. "What can I get for you?"

"Nothing, thanks Anya," she replied. "I'm just here to meet Willow for a bit of research." Anya wasn't human enough yet to hide her disappointment, or maybe she was too human now. "No, wait," Buffy said, feeling guilty for the many times she and the others had monopolized the shop's resources without any return investment. "What have you got that would help me sleep? I've been having some disturbing dreams lately. Nothing magical, maybe some kind of herbal remedy?" she suggested.

Anya brightened immediately, and began to catalogue the various options. "Well, there are herbal teas, of course - chamomile, mint, jasmine and so on . . . all very soothing and restful. Or if you don't want something to drink, how about a bath infusion? There's lavender . . ."

Buffy let Anya's voice wash over her without taking in more than every other word. She didn't really feel that a solution to her nightmares would be as simple as that, or she would never have asked Willow to return to such a magically charged environment. She hoped they would arrive soon.

"Buffy? You're not listening," Anya noticed at last.

"I'm sorry, Anya," Buffy sighed. "It's been a difficult week. What were you saying?"

"I said that the orris root would probably the best choice - that way you can have a sachet for under your pillow as well." At that moment the bell at the front door rang again. Both women looked up. A young couple had entered the store, and they looked around expectantly.

"We don't have any orris root up here right now," Anya said as she moved to intercept her latest potential customers. "It's in the basement storage, near the preserved entrails. You can go and bring some up. It should be clearly labelled." Then she was off in flying capitalist mode.

As long as it's nowhere near any mummy hands, Buffy thought with rueful memory. She made her way to the basement access and down the creaking staircase. The condition of the storage space had certainly improved under Anya's management. Jars, boxes and other assorted containers had all been neatly labelled and sorted onto shelves by content and intended uses. While Giles's knowledge of arcane minutiae had been unsurpassed, he really hadn't been very good at inventory, she reflected.

Buffy found the orris root easily, tied into small bundles with brightly coloured ribbons and hung along side a variety of familiar and unfamiliar vegetable products. She had selected two small bunches when a noise behind her made her whirl and duck into the nearest shadows.

Someone was trying to open the gate that led from the basement storage to the sewer tunnels. Buffy peered around a stack of boxes to identify the intruder. She sighed on seeing a familiar face, and stepped into the open. "You can't come in here, Spike," she said.

He stopped fiddling with the lock on the gate and straightened. "Why Slayer, what a pleasant surprise. Come back to work here, have you? Situation that desperate?" he asked, amused. "Maybe you could help me find some more burba weed. I'm all out."

"No. I mean I'm not working here," she clarified. "And no, you can't have anything, because you can't come in. I had Tara put a spell on the store."

"Can't uninvite me from public places, love," he grinned. Opening the gate, he strolled forward, only to collide with an invisible surface.

"Didn't say it was an uninvite spell," she said shortly, watching him struggle to move ahead.

"What the hell is this, Buffy?" he snarled, testing the barrier. "Don't you trust yourself? Have to put up spell barriers any place I might see you because you haven't the guts to face me anymore? Just because you can find a way to keep me from seeing you doesn't change the fact that there's something powerful between us."

"There's nothing between us. Get that through your head. What the hell did you think? That we could grow old together?" she demanded. "Get real."

His lips thinned. "Real? I'll never grow old," he said. "And you? You're likely to die young. Is that real enough for you?"

Buffy was shocked into silence by his harsh words, yet she couldn't deny he was speaking the truth. She was probably already the oldest Slayer ever, which didn't bode well for her future.

"What I don't understand," he continued, his expression becoming more gentle, "is why you won't let yourself enjoy whatever time you do have. You don't have to love me," he said, "but can't you love yourself? Let yourself feel something?"

"You're missing the point, Spike," she insisted. "You may think it's all right if I keep sleeping with you without loving you - but I don't want to become the kind of person that thinks that's okay."

"So what will you be instead?" he inquired. "Someone who will never make a move on happiness because the situation isn't exactly perfect? People make compromises in their lives, pet. It happens all the time."

"Not me," she maintained.

"No, of course not. You might accidentally end up contented then. Face it, Slayer," he went on, "the perfect moment never comes. Life isn't a fairy tale. Take what you can get."

"Things were perfect once," she said softly.

"What, with soldierboy? Now even you have to know you're lying to yourself there - he was never the right one for you." He looked more carefully at her in the low light of the basement. "Don't tell me you're still mooning over Angel. That prancing poof?"

"Don't you dare talk about him," she threatened, her voice dangerously low. "You don't know anything about what we had."

"Yeah, and if he was so perfect, where is he now?" Spike asked, never willing to let a situation lie when he could pick at it some more. "You can polish up your keepsakes and memories as brightly as you like; no one will stop you. Make the past everything you ever hoped for; but you can't live in it - it's dead and it's gone."

He turned away and made his way back into the tunnel. His voice echoed back to her. "I'm not a smart man, pet, but I do know something about people. You've got to make a choice between then and now and decide what you want. Either get busy living for yourself in the present," he said, turning for one last look over his shoulder, "or get busy dying." With that, he vanished into the gloom.

Buffy leaned back against the cold stone of the basement wall and threw her head back. Her hands clenched and trembled with the strength of her emotions, crushing the delicate dried roots. How does he always manage to get to me? she wondered. I thought I would be stronger than this.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the shop basement seemed oppressive, and she had to get out. Buffy ran for the stairs and into the store proper, startling Anya and the few customers there. "Something's come up and I have to go," she said breathlessly. "Tell Willow I'm sorry I couldn't wait. Send Dawn home." She was out the door before Anya could reply, heading for home and sanctuary.

School Harder

"Mom--!" Buffy shouted, sitting up suddenly in bed. Her bedclothes and pyjamas were soaked, and she brought her hands to her face in sudden panic. The movement caused a glass to go tumbling to the floor, and she realized with immense relief that she must have knocked her water glass down onto herself from her bedside table. She could never tell her mom about this dream . . .

Buffy's breath hitched in her throat. Her mom couldn't hear about this dream. Her mom would never hear anything from her ever again. She was surprised at how fresh and sharp the pain was, almost a year later.

She climbed out of bed and retrieved the glass, setting it back on the table. Then she set to work stripping the soaked sheets from the bed and stuffing them into the laundry hamper to deal with later in the week. Even the mattress was damp, she noticed. Buffy went to the linen closet in the hallway and rummaged until she found herself a quilt to replace her wet blankets.

Back in her room, she tucked her feet up in the armchair and wrapped the quilt around herself, trying to get comfortable. "Oh mom," she whispered, tears squeezing from under her closed lids, "I miss you so much."

Morning seemed a hundred years away.

The Turing Test

Willow confronted her at breakfast the next morning. "Anya told me about Tara being in the store to cast an uninvite spell for you. You didn't tell me she'd been here," Willow said in a hurt voice.

"I didn't think you'd want to know," Buffy said. "Since you've been trying so hard to avoid magic and all."

"But not to avoid Tara," Willow protested. "I can't ask her to give up magic just because it makes me uncomfortable - not if I want her back. Eventually I'll have to face it - because the magic isn't going to go away. It's easy to deal with temptation if we get rid of everything in the house - but I can't hide in the house forever."

Buffy shivered. Suddenly this conversation was hitting a little close to home. "Believe me, I know all about temptation, Willow," she said.

"No, I don't think you do," Willow said crossly. "You don't know what it feels like to want something so much that you'll do anything - anything - to get it."

There will never be a better opening . . . "I've been sleeping with Spike."

Willow stared, her irritation forgotten. After a minute or two, she noticed that her mouth was open and she shut it with a snap. "You . . . and Spike? That's just . . . wow."

"It's over now, though. After Riley left, I told him I couldn't see him anymore. That's why I needed the uninvite spell," she explained. "It was killing me, Will. He loves me - I can admit that now - but I can't love him. I was only using him to make myself forget for a while; to feel alive again." Willow suddenly found the tabletop intensely interesting, and Buffy sighed. Her friend would always feel guilty about pulling her back out of heaven, but she had hoped Willow would be dealing with it a little better after so long.

Putting aside her concern, she pressed on before she could lose her courage. "But I still want him." Her eyes lost focus as she remembered. Words tumbled from her lips before she could think to hold them in. "It's like he could read my mind - everything I wanted, and some things I didn't even know I wanted at first . . ."

"Buffy," Willow said slowly, "if it was that good . . ."

"No!" she insisted, coming back to herself and horrified that she had given that impression. "This is Spike we're talking about, remember? Tried to kill me several times, tried to kill you, tried to tear us all apart from each other two years ago? And so on, and so on?" Buffy sat back in her chair and stirred her coffee aimlessly. "Though if someone only thought about what he's been like this year . . ." some inner gremlin of honesty forced her to add.

Willow's face grew thoughtful. "Sounds like the Turing test."

"There's a test?" Buffy asked, confused, putting down her spoon. "Nobody said anything about a test. I didn't study!"

"Buffy, the Turing test was a test for artificial intelligence developed in the 1950s by Dr. Alan Turing," Willow explained, laughing.

"Makes sense - his test, he can name it what he wants," she said. Her face was still puzzled. "But what does that have to do with Spike?"

"He - Dr. Turing - said that if you couldn't tell from its responses that you were talking to a computer, then it had intelligence," she clarified. "And it didn't matter that it wasn't human, it was a sentient being. What if we thought about a kind of Turing test - for a soul?" she ventured.

Buffy thought she understood now. "Like, if we can't tell . . ."

"Right. Imagine you'd only ever met Spike a couple of years ago. And - and you've never seen him go all . . . vamp-y. Judging by everything he's done, would you think he was human? 'Cause then we'd assume he had a soul."

"That doesn't work, Will," she protested. "The only reason he hasn't killed anyone is because of the Initiative chip, not because he's gotten to be a better person."

"But don't you see? The reason doesn't matter - you can only judge the behaviour. If he behaves like he has a soul, then it doesn't matter what caused it, you have to say he's got one. That's the Turing test." Willow paused, considering the events of the past two years. "And Buffy? If he wanted to hurt us in ways he could manage without the chip, it would have been easy - you said it yourself, he almost drove us apart a couple years ago. But he's actually helped us, and almost, well, died. Because he loves you."

"You sound like you're taking his side," she protested. "Tara was all over me to go talk to him, too. What is this, gang up on Buffy week?"

"I'm not," Willow insisted.

"Could've fooled me. I don't want to talk about this any more, Will. I can't." Buffy pushed away from the table. "I have to get Dawn up or she'll be late again," she said, looking for an excuse to get away.

After waking Dawn, she waited until she heard Willow leave for classes before she came out of her room again.

Gravitas

She doubled over again as the cramps suddenly returned with greater intensity than before, tearing her apart from the inside. She clutched blindly for support and grabbed the shower curtain, which tore loose from the curtain rod with a series of rapid-fire pops. She bruised her hip sharply on the edge of the tub as she collapsed, and tumbled to the floor twisted in yards of shiny plastic. "Please-"

"-no!" Buffy woke suddenly to find herself on the floor of her bedroom. Her hip ached where she had hit the floor in her fall from the bed, and she was nearly immobilized by the sweat-soaked sheets wrapped tightly around her. She was thankful for consciousness, though - however abrupt - and the familiar dull throb of her usual menstrual cramps had never before been so welcome.

Fight and Aftermath

Buffy and Willow made their way slowly along the sidewalk towards home that evening. Buffy kicked despondently at a crumpled pop can as they walked back from the DoubleMeat Palace. Lorraine hadn't even begun to listen to her explanation for the events of the previous week; she simply asked her to turn in her uniform again and never come back. Buffy didn't know what was more humiliating; the look of disappointment from her boss, or the pity she saw on the faces of some of her former co-workers. What kind of a loser am I, if I can't even keep a stupid fast food job? "Thanks for being there, Will," she sighed.

"I only wish it could have gone better," Willow said. "If it helps, I was thinking about all the horrible things I could have turned her in to, if I were still doing magic."

Buffy laughed ruefully. "If we're wishing, let's not waste time there - let's have a million dollars. That would solve our problems nicely," she said, climbing the front steps.

"Dawn? We're home," she called as she opened the door. There was no reply, but Buffy heard laughter.

Attracted by the sound, Buffy and Willow headed for the kitchen. Two heads - one dark, one light - leaned together over a number of magazines spread out before them on the kitchen table. Dawn and Spike looked up as they entered. Debris on the counter testified to Dawn's inexpert attempt at producing hot chocolate for both of them. Mini marshmallows were scattered on the counter and floor, some of them squashed under their feet.

Buffy's anger battled for control with the sudden knot in her stomach, courtesy of her most recent nightmares. Spike was the last person she needed to see right now. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Bit invited me in," he replied evenly, getting up from his chair. "I brought some magazines for you. You had said you wanted to redecorate your room, and she thought she might like to do the same." He held up one of the home decor magazines as if to prove his sincerity.

"She had no right."

"Will you stop talking about me like I'm not even here?" Dawn said furiously. "Spike's my friend. If I want to invite him in, I will. I live here too, you know!"

"Buffy, it's my fault," Spike offered. "I really only came to drop off the magazines. I shouldn't have stayed."

"No, you never should have come here at all. What the hell were you thinking?" she snapped.

His face closed up with anger. "I was thinking that I'd do something nice for you. Serves me right for trying, I suppose. I should have known no one would buy it."

"Haven't you done enough to me already? Get out of my house!" When he didn't move fast enough for her liking, she grabbed at his lapels and flung him back into the door. She twisted the knob, hoping he'd tumble out while off balance, but instead, recovered, he shoved her roughly into the island counter. The door gaped open behind him.

Buffy braced herself on the island and brought one leg up in a powerful side kick that hit dead centre on Spike's chest. He tumbled to the floor, but managed to swing around to sweep her legs from under her so she joined him there. He scrambled to his knees in time to stop her from rising again with a backhanded blow to her face. She shook it off quickly and lunged forward to drive one shoulder into his midsection and send him out the door.

Dawn and Willow watched in awe as Buffy's last blow sent Spike sprawling out onto the back deck. He recovered his footing in time to capture Buffy's arm on her next swing, and used it to spin her about and down the steps to tumble on the lawn. He leapt after her, only to be sent head over heels as she brought her legs up to defend herself. She bounced swiftly to her feet to meet him again.

The other two rushed out the door behind them, but could only stand and stare, gripping the railing at the edge of the deck. They both had seen Buffy fighting before, but never in a contest that seemed so evenly matched; every move she made, it seemed Spike had a counter for. They moved together in a deadly choreography across the lawn, trading the lead back and forth between them.

It took several minutes, but finally Buffy had Spike trapped between one of the large trees and the back fence. She groped in her jacket pocket for one of her ubiquitous stakes, and leaned forward to strike.

"Buffy, no!" Dawn screamed, as her sister drew back her arm.

As though she had heard, Buffy froze, giving Spike a moment to grab her upraised arm. She strained in his grip to complete the strike, but then wavered. This isn't . . . I want . . . I don't want to . . .

"Kiss me or kill me, Slayer; make up your mind." Spike kept one hand tightly on her wrist until she loosened her grip on the stake. He plucked it from her suddenly nerveless fingers and stowed it in a pocket of his coat, then reached for her other hand.

She abruptly threw herself against him and brought her lips to his. Their mouths fused together.

Spike returned her kiss ardently for some time, but then placed both hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. "No. This isn't right."

"What are you doing?" Now she was more confused than ever. She thought this was what he wanted, and she had decided to give in to her own desire.

"What we both know I should. I don't want to end up on the business end of a stake tomorrow when you think of this. Even more, I don't want you to end up feeling what I know you will if we go ahead." He released her and dropped his hands to his sides. "I want you to come be with me because you've decided it's what you need, not only to satisfy a passing fancy."

"This is an impossible relationship," she protested.

"I believe in the impossible. I'm in love," said Spike. He found it telling that Buffy had actually called it a relationship - even as she was protesting it would never happen.

"You're not the right person for me; you can't be," she insisted.

"Love is not finding the perfect person, but finding the imperfect person perfect," he countered.

"What? I . . . you lost me there." Buffy knew she should never have let herself be drawn into conversation with him; he always managed to make the most outrageous ideas seem perfectly reasonable.

"I'm only saying that you have to stop waiting for something that's never going to come; there is no perfect person. I'm far from it - and I'm sure you'd be happy to enumerate my flaws - but I'm the man who wants to make you happy."

"You just want me back in bed with you."

"Of course I want you in my bed, love," Spike grinned. "Can't ever get enough of that."

"What - hours at a time weren't enough for you?" she asked mockingly.

All traces of teasing banter disappeared from his voice, and his eyes suddenly looked right through her. "If I'd had you for a lifetime, Buffy, I'd still be complaining I'd been short-changed."

Her breath rushed out of her as though she had been punched in the stomach. She couldn't speak a word.

"You said you couldn't love me," he went on. "If you meant that it would never be possible, that I'm wasting my time, then maybe you should take this," he pulled the stake from his pocket and folded her fingers around it again, placing the point above his heart, "and end this misery for both of us, now."

Buffy could only stand and stare at the point of the stake where it dimpled his pale flesh. Her fingers tightened, convulsively and unconsciously, and it broke the skin, letting a few ruby drops well up. He hissed an unnecessary breath and closed his eyes, waiting, seemingly resigned. Long moments passed before Buffy finally released the stake and let it fall noiselessly to the grass. Spike's coal-smudge lashes fluttered open, revealing clear blue eyes touched with hope.

"Or . . . if you meant that you needed time, that you just won't let yourself feel anything now . . ." he paused, and took her small hands in his cool ones. "I want you to know - I'll wait. I love you, and I'll wait and hope that maybe someday you'll find it possible to love me."

Now it was Buffy's turn to close her eyes. She turned her head away, but didn't draw back her hands. "What if . . . what if I don't know if it's possible? What if it never happens?"

"Never's a long time, Buffy. Still, I've got nothing but time. Let me spend it on you. I'll wait," he repeated emphatically. Gentle fingertips turned her face back to him. "If you'll let me."

Buffy's breath sighed softly from between her parted lips, and she looked up at him. "Could I stop you?" she asked quietly, at last.

The corners of his mouth turned up and he shook his head. "No. Likely not." He leaned forward, giving her every chance to withdraw. When she didn't retreat, he pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth - the most feather-light touch. "But I'll not trouble you further tonight, then. When . . . if . . . you ever decide, you know how to find me." With that, he released her and shrugged his hands into his pockets, turning to leave without another backward glance.

"Wow," breathed Dawn from where she stood on the deck having taken it all in incredulously. "That was intense."

Buffy laughed shakily. "With Spike, it probably couldn't be anything else," she said. "Have I made a mistake?" she asked her sister and her best friend. "Have I promised him something I won't ever be able to offer?"

"You only promised him that he could wait, Buffy," Willow replied. "Not that anything was guaranteed to happen. But I have to know - what happened to his chip? Has it stopped working?" Her forehead creased with worry at what that might mean for the rest of them.

"It seems as though the spell that brought me back changed things just enough that the chip doesn't work with me," Buffy explained. "He can't hurt anyone else." Willow and Dawn both looked relieved.

"And when were you in bed with Spike?" Dawn demanded.

"I suppose you really should know," Buffy sighed. "It's a long story."

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" Dawn retorted.

Buffy just smiled a small smile, and began thinking how she might edit the content on the fly to a more PG-13 version. "I guess it started last year . . ."

The Incident on Patrol

"Hello, love." The familiar, cheeky voice rang out clearly across the cemetery.

Buffy sighed inwardly and stopped, shifting her bag of weapons to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. She turned to face him.

"Come for a bit of a visit, pet?" Spike asked with an optimistic grin. "Made up your mind already, have you?" He perched on a handy tombstone like some scruffy crow.

"No . . . and no!" Buffy replied vehemently. "I thought you said you were going to stop bothering me."

"I said I'd wait for you to decide what you felt about me," he reminded her. "And here you are only a few days later, coming 'round to see me."

"I am not coming around to see you," she replied, flustered. "This is my job, remember? Patrolling?"

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, unconvinced. "Sunnyhell has how many cemeteries? I only live in this one. You know that I'd take care of things here for you, yet here you are again. So tell me what should I think?"

"We are not having this conversation again," she insisted, moving away briskly.

"I don't know how to break it to you pet, but it seems we are," he said, jumping down from the tombstone to stride in step with her.

"What part of no did you not understand?" Buffy asked, turning aside.

"I've heard it from you before," he replied, moving quickly to cut her off, his duster swirling about his legs. "It could be the way you always make it mean 'convince me'. Why should this time be any different?

"You said it yourself - you like the things I do to you. You like the way I make you feel. Who else is going to give you what you want? What you need?" He smiled, recalling satisfying memories. "Hell, who else can take what you dish out when you let go?" Spike looked at her speculatively. "Didn't you ever worry you might crush poor soldierboy's ribcage? Had to hold back all the time with him, didn't you? In work, at play . . ."

"That's not a basis for a relationship - just the fact that we're . . . physically compatible," she protested awkwardly.

"But holding yourself back is? Having to lie to poor Captain Cardboard about what makes you feel good - and don't try to tell me you didn't," he admonished, seeing her about to retort. "The things you do . . . that we do . . . you never did with him."

"Did," she interjected. "Things we did. Emphasis on past tense here."

He spread his hands as though to let her objection slip free. "As you wish, pet. But no human boy, however brawny, is going to be able to satisfy you."

Buffy closed her eyes in exasperation. "Can we not discuss my sex life in a public graveyard?"

"Fine. Come back with me and we'll have all the privacy you could want," Spike offered with a devious smile.

"No!"

"No no? Or 'I want to be talked into it' no?" he asked, moving forward and running his hands from her waist down, tracing the swell of her hips.

"How about an 'I'll break both your arms if you don't stop now' no? Clear enough?" she asked, stepping back out of his reach. "If you must know, I'm here tracking a demon that terrorized a bunch of people back at the park. It headed this way, but I lost it just before you turned up."

"Ah. And you only remember this now?" he smiled. "Convenient, pet, I must say."

"Well I would have said something sooner," she jibed, "but someone was going out of his way to be annoying and I had to deal with that first. Are you going to make yourself useful, or do I have to go back to the 'arm-breaking' part?" she asked.

"Not the sort of rough-and-tumble I was hoping for," he sighed with mock disappointment, "but better than nothing. Let's go kill your demon, then."

Having arrived at this semblance of a truce, Buffy and Spike set off together through the cemetery, looking for signs of the demon's presence. It didn't take them long; uprooted vegetation and shattered monuments provided clear evidence of its passage.

"It's making this too easy," Buffy murmured. "Typical demon; long on destruction, short on thinking skills." She glanced sideways at Spike to see if he had registered this jab.

"You just aren't willing to spend time with the right sort of demon, pet," he offered. "We have all sorts of talents you don't appreciate. Despite everything, you're still sadly ignorant of some of my better qualities."

"Better qualities?" she snorted. "I've seen you naked. Maybe I should threaten to break your jaw, rather than your arms, if only to shut you up for a while," she continued, slipping back into the more comfortable relationship of insult and counter.

"Just because you want to shoot the messenger doesn't make the message untrue," Spike replied, unwilling to let her take the easy way out of the conversation.

Buffy stopped abruptly and turned to face him, bracing her hands on her hips. "Listen," she said, "let's get something straight here-Look out!" She grabbed the lapels of Spike's duster and hauled him with her roughly to the ground. Demon claws split the air where he had been standing moments before.

Buffy regained her footing and thrust forward, driving one shoulder hard into the demon's midsection. It staggered back, and she followed up with a spinning kick directed at its head, but the demon recovered quickly enough to grab her leg and used this hold to send her sprawling into the brush.

During the momentary distraction, Spike had scrambled to his feet again and now leapt for the demon's back, getting one arm around its throat in a chokehold and squeezing tightly. The demon tossed its head and roared, scattering stringy yellow spittle all around, before throwing itself backward into a tree and knocking Spike loose, dazed.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled, rushing forward to attack again. "Get the axe from my bag!" He shook his head to clear the ringing, and saw the bag where it had fallen. He lunged for it in a diving roll as the demon swung at him again. Freeing the axe, he tossed it underhanded to Buffy, who caught it and spun to strike all in one fluid move. Thick yellow-white fluid - more like pus than blood - began to leak from where the blade had split the demon's warty hide.

"Okay, officially grossed-out now," Buffy complained, drawing her arm back for another blow. "Doesn't anybody just have ordinary blood anymore?"

Spike rooted around in the bag for another edged weapon. Finding none, he cursed, then pulled out the pistol crossbow and loaded it. He took careful aim at the demon's back and fired. It howled in outrage and clutched at the bolt that now protruded from its back, giving Buffy another chance to attack.

In a black van parked a few hundred yards from the cemetery entrance, Warren, Andrew and Jonathan watched the monitors closely as their plan unfolded. It had been Warren's idea - more and more of their plans seemed to be his plans these days - but Andrew had agreed readily. He had summoned the L'wuxxan demon that Buffy was now fighting. It had been a lure to bring her into this part of the cemetery where they had hidden a number of their miniature surveillance cameras.

Warren turned to look at Jonathan. "It's your turn, magic man. Shake that magic bone, or whatever you have to do," he prompted with a grin.

"This spell doesn't use the bone," Jonathan replied testily, "and I'm still not sure this spell functions exactly like we think it does. I wish you had let me have a few more days to research it."

"What's to be sure about?" interjected Warren. "You cast the spell, the Slayer gets a bad set of nightmares for a few days, and she's off our backs so we can carry out our heist."

"Yeah, Jonathan," added Andrew, "I did my part, so now you have to do yours."

"Don't rush me," he complained. "And what do we do about Spike?"

"When the Slayer goes down, the demon will probably take care of him and then that's one less person we have to worry about," said Warren. "Just do it."

Frowning, Jonathan lit a stick of pungent incense and sat before the mystic symbols he'd inscribed on the floor of the van. "Dominus insomnii," he intoned carefully, "occisora aegresco . . ."

Warren and Andrew bent forward eagerly to the monitor screens to watch the results of the spell unfold.

Back in the graveyard, the battle wasn't going as planned.

"Bloody hell!" complained Spike, throwing down the crossbow. "Doesn't he know he's supposed to be dead already?" Half a dozen bolts feathered the demon's back and it was bleeding from twice as many cuts, yet it fought on.

"Is this your idea of an under appreciated demon talent, Spike?" Buffy gasped out between heaving breaths. "Because I really could have done without this particular example." Gripping the axe more firmly with two hands now befouled with the demon's thick blood, she moved forward for yet another attack. "Do you think you might-" Her words were cut off suddenly as she pitched forward face-first to the ground at the demon's feet.

"Buffy!" Spike shouted, seeing her fall. He raced forward and slammed bodily into the demon, knocking it away from her long enough for him to retrieve the axe. He stood spread-legged over Buffy's body and braced for the next attack.

The demon swung a clawed hand wildly, ripping his scalp open from his temple to just behind his ear. Blood flowed freely, obscuring his vision. His head rang with the force of the blow, but he managed a return swing with the axe. When it failed to connect, the momentum of it almost tipped him over. Struggling for balance, he fell to one knee, unknowingly saving himself from another blow to the head. Spike forced himself to his feet once more, determined to keep the demon away from Buffy. Another wild swing with the axe, and it stumbled back. Its movements began to be less certain at last, as the effects of its injuries finally took their toll on the huge body.

"About bloody time, too," Spike muttered, moving in for the kill. He leapt for the demon again, clutching it around the neck with one arm while with his other hand he used the axe as a giant knife, sawing raggedly at its throat. Sheets of thick blood cascaded down the demon's chest until finally it toppled motionless to the dirt.

Dropping the axe and lurching back upright, Spike staggered over to Buffy. He sighed in relief as he heard the strong, regular sound of her heartbeat. He ran his hands quickly over her, wiping the gore away; no bones seemed to be broken, and there were no signs of any head wounds. He shook her and shouted her name repeatedly, to no avail. He was at a loss to explain why she was unconscious, but he knew where he could get help.

"Come on, love," he said gently, lifting her into his arms. "I'll get you home."