Love Me, Just Leave Me Alone

¤

“You look terrible,” Joyce said the next morning as Buffy entered the kitchen.

“Thanks, mom, you always know just what to say,” Buffy replied and Joyce looked sympathetic.

“Sorry,” she apologized, but Buffy merely shrugged.

“I feel terrible, so...” she sighed, sitting down on one of the stools as Joyce poured her a cup of coffee, concerned.

“Did you get any sleep last night? What time did you get back?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the Slayer murmured, massaging her temples. “Sleep is overrated anyways.”

Joyce removed the cup, then said:

“Go back to bed.”

“No,” Buffy shook her head, sliding off the stool and to her feet, “I have things to do, places to be. Have to go.” She gave her mother a peck on the cheek before sluggishly heading for the door. “See you tonight.”

Joyce furrowed her brow.

“Want me to drive you?”

“Nah, I can use the fresh air. Bye.”

The door closed and Joyce looked at her two cups of coffee.

¤

Buffy reached the dorm, only wanting to see Willow. She knew that if she could just talk about this abnormality she was suffering from her friend would tell her what to do about it. The Slayer stepped through the door of her dorm room, finding it empty. She wanted to cry, needed some form of release, but kept it at bay and sunk down on the floor with her back against her bed. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her knees.

It felt like forever, but then the door clicked open and Buffy raised her head as Willow entered.

The latter closed the door and turned around, taking a step back in surprise as her gaze met Buffy’s, and then she smiled.

“Hi!” she said, coming into the room, putting her books down on her bed and turning back to the blonde. “Did the heavens fall down?” she asked and Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no, don’t do that!” Willow pleaded, going down on her knees next to her friend. “It was a bad joke. Awful! What with the heavens and the falling.”

Buffy had to smile at that, trying to hold the tears down.

“It’s not that. It’s just sleep-deprivation and... confusion... and frustration!”

She exclaimed the last word, swiping at her tears.

“I’m guessing it was Spike who ‘lost’ last night?” Willow asked.

“Well, yeah,” Buffy confirmed.

“And you went to see him?”

“I did! But I don’t wanna talk about it,” the blonde stated, getting to her feet and pausing before turning to the redhead, adding: “Except I do. So... I’m talking about it. I’m gonna talk.”

She trailed off and Willow looked at her with eyebrows slowly rising.

“Buffy.”

“I’m getting there! Don’t rush me – please!”

Willow waited tolerantly.

Buffy fidgeted, scratching her forehead, biting her lips nervously, glancing at Willow and then away.

“It’s like I had a lucid dream,” she finally began. “I mean, it was me that was fifteen again, I didn’t go anywhere. I mean... it didn’t change anything that’s happened in my life up until this point since the fifteen year old version of me didn’t leap back to its own timeframe remembering the past few weeks or anything. I remember it, but like it just happened.”

“I get it,” Willow said with a trying smile.

“Sorry, of course you do,” Buffy said, running her hands through her hair and beginning to pace. “It’s just... It’s the weirdest feeling. All these views and ideas and thoughts that I had... I mean, me at fifteen actually liked Spike, can you believe that?” Willow didn’t reply, but the expression on her face seemed to be enough as Buffy continued: “I know! I... Well, it’s just that I... God, I lived with him! I slept in his bed, I bought sheets for his bed and then I slept in them! And I talked with him; I even got to know him.”

“Talking would do that.”

“Yeah, but see, I never asked for coherent conversation! Bantering is fine. A few wise-ass comments and a hit to the nose, send him on his way. But now all these... Oh, God! All these things are stuck in my head and I can’t get rid of them and they’re driving me crazy!”

“What things?”

“Annoying, irritating, aggravating things!”

“Those words all mean the same thing.”

“So much for the sarcastic!”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry!” She stopped, drawing a breath and steadying herself, meeting Willow’s gaze as she said: “He told me things that made me see him as... not him. But all of it’s the spell’s fault! Being young and blind and stupid out of your mind can be dangerous for more than one reason, it seems. And I was so young; and so blind and...” She whined, hiding her face in her hands.

“Buffy,” Willow said silently, “what are you trying to tell me? That you actually liked Spike for a couple of weeks? It’s okay! You weren’t...”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m trying to say!” Buffy stated, looking at Willow again. “I’m trying to say that I understood him, Willow. That everything about him made complete sense to me. That I was falling in love with him...”

Willow stared at her.

“In love?”

Buffy sunk down on her friend’s bed, near tears again.

“Not me! I mean, I remember him the way he is and not how my hormonal, fifteen year old brain wanted him to be! At least I think I do. I’m so confused, I can’t get my head straight. And all these feelings, they’re still there. I felt them, and they haven’t just gone away. All these... memories just tie up into a huge knot somewhere inside and I can’t get it undone! I don’t know what to do, Willow.”

At that her tears spilled over and Willow got to her feet, taking a seat next to the Slayer before wrapping her arms comfortingly around her.

“It’ll be okay,” was all she could think of to say. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

“How?” Buffy demanded, pulling back and looking at her friend. “How can it be when... when I miss him? I really miss him!” She suddenly laughed. “It’s so funny when you think about it. I hate him, but I miss him. One moment I wanna kill him, the next I just want to...”

She stopped herself, glancing at Willow and then rising, drying her tears again and shaking her head.

“There has to be some logic to it,” she said determinedly. “Some way to cure me.”

“Cure love?”

“It’s not my love!”

“Oh,” Willow merely said and Buffy faltered, then found her resolve again.

“And it isn’t even love yet. I’m pretty sure it’s just a mild crush. You know, in a few days I’ll shake it off.” She was beginning to feel better about it, growing more confident by the second. “I will! He’s a demon, Willow. That’s all he is in the end. Something that’s nesting inside a dead body. That’s how I’ll see him from now on. There’s nothing real in him. None of it was real.”

The last sentence came out quieter than its predecessors and she seemed to grow thoughtful before she smiled at Willow, who was observing her.

“Guess I should go see Giles,” Buffy said.

“He’s out of town ‘til Friday. I tried to get a hold of him this morning but it was a no-go. He went to see an old friend whom he thought could help with the whole spell-breaking.”

Buffy’s eyes locked with Willow’s.

“Mystery solved,” Buffy smiled. “Good old Giles; can always count on him.”

“Then I suppose he might be back early.”

“I’ll go check his apartment tomorrow,” Buffy said, pausing before she continued: “I’m not sure I’m all there yet, so I don’t know if I can come back to school... right away, but how much in the doghouse am I when it comes to catching up with my classes? What have you told the teachers? That’s all I need right now, all my professors branding me Slacker Girl.”

“Don’t worry, I talked to your mom and we thought up a brilliant cover.”

“Which was?”

“You had to go visit the farm where your childhood horse Wilbur was drawing his last few breaths. The farm is conveniently located in Arizona.”

“Hah. I’m taking it it’ll be a hoot catching up with people around campus. And wasn’t Wilbur a pig?”

“Not for you.”

Buffy smiled at that, then it faded and she sighed.

“What a mess.”

Willow adopted an encouraging expression and Buffy tried to let it transfer into her, give her a spot of hope that everything would work itself out. But it sure looked dark, didn’t it?

“So, what else is new around campus?” she asked, searching for a distraction.

Any kind of distraction.

“Well, Illuminatus are playing at the Bronze tomorrow night, and then we have a math test on Friday. And on Saturday there’s the party at Riley’s fraternity, which...”

Buffy’s eyes grew round before she exclaimed:

“Oh, my God! Riley!”

The next moment she was out the door, Willow staring at it as it slowly slid closed.

“Now, that was just a bit too familiar,” she said to herself.

¤

Riley looked up as Buffy knocked on the doorframe of his room, the door standing open as he was packing a bag, about to head out. He straightened his back, eyeing her for a long moment. She was hesitant. And damn well should be.

She was actually a little bit more than hesitant, she was uncertain of what she wanted to say to him. Her emotions were a mixed up jumble right now, and she knew she cared about him so very much, but would it be fair to him to push this relationship between them when she was still so torn about her feelings toward another man.

She checked herself as that thought ran through her head, sudden dread appearing as she realized how easily it had just passed through. How simple it had seemed to admit that she had feelings for an evil, undead, self-involved, idiotic, wanting-her-dead thing!

She bit her cheek as she wanted to reproach herself for being too harsh.

He may be demonic, he may lack self-control, he may use the word ‘bloody’ for purposes it doesn’t seem intended for, but he’s not a thing, the side to her, still holding way too much empathy for him, stated with a simplicity still hard for the Slayer to fully get.

She waved it away and focused on her boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

She supposed he officially wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing how it was far from enough. “My world is of the freakish kind and freakish occurrences do... occur,” she added, but he didn’t return her smile.

“I did notice that,” he then said. “But seeing you with him...”

“Oh, God, you don’t have to think about that anymore, I promise you it’s so over I hardly think... about it. Which isn’t true and I don’t wanna lie ‘cause frankly that’s a bad way to start. I do think about him... Not as in him, I mean as in what happened ‘cause it was one of the freakish things. The freakiest, even, and I can’t not think about it ‘cause I might lose my mind and you know what they say – a mind lost is lost forever. Usually, at least and... I’m rambling. I know it. So I’m stopping.”

She took a small breath, standing back and awaiting his reaction. He clenched his jaws together, which was never a good sign.

“I don’t know what happened, and I don’t think I wanna know,” he finally murmured. “I get that you weren’t yourself. Willow had a pretty long explanation for your behavior and I heard it, but I don’t know if I bought it. The last spell that had you be with someone who wasn’t me, that was with him too, wasn’t it? I just feel like maybe...”

“Riley,” Buffy shook her head. “Please. I don’t wanna tell you that I’m back to normal, that I’m ready to go for picnics and stay over and be like it never happened. If I told you that – I’d be lying; and like I just said – bad way to start. But you have to believe me when I say that you mean too much to me to lose over something like this. Just give me a few days; will you do that for me? I’ll come to the party on Saturday and we can talk more then, okay?”

He was about to say something, but changed his mind and simply nodded his agreement.

¤

Spike was in a room, heavy chains binding his wrists to the wall behind him. He was standing, trying to see through the thick blackness in front of him, but there was nothing there.

“This is where I’ll keep you,” Buffy’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Don’t trust her,” Angelus said.

“Kill her,” Dru demanded. “Kill her for me.”

“She’ll make you feel things,” Angelus picked up, a silky sleeve stroking Spike’s right arm and he turned his head to the side, but shadow was still all he could see. “She’ll make you regret things. She’ll make you believe in things.”

“Why can’t you kill her!” Dru’s voice exclaimed.

Spike tried to tug at his restraints, but they barely budged.

“When I look at you... all I see is the Slayer.”

He growled, feeling his face vamp out.

“This is where I’ll keep you,” Buffy repeated, a sudden ray of light appearing from the ceiling and falling down a few feet from him, hitting the form of the Slayer, his gaze resting on her blonde locks, her face soft as a smile rested on her lips. “You’ll always be safe here. You know that.”

He strained his arms, putting every last muscle into trying to tear loose, but nothing happened and she stepped out of the light, through the dark until she was right there, her hands sliding up his torso, her mouth meeting his gently. The demon retracted as the kiss was met, his bonds suddenly slacking and he pulled her tight to him.

He woke at that, sitting up with a frustrated snarl and grabbing his pillow, throwing it across the room with a louder growl.

“Buggering bitch!” he cursed under his breath.

If he could have he would have clawed himself away from these feelings of helplessness and depravation; but as bravely as he had fought them, as obvious had his final succumbing to them been to him. A long ways coming... Ironic, but there none the less. Taunting him, laughing at him, not leaving him alone. And these sodding dreams!

He hadn’t dreamt for years and now they had to plague him?

He made up his mind, getting up and getting dressed he walked upstairs, finding the crypt surprisingly enough in total dark.

Must be later than I thought, he grumbled.

Considering Willy’s he still found himself steering his feet towards the Bronze.

¤

“Can’t you at least try to have fun?” Willow asked Buffy, who sat twirling her cup between her hands absentmindedly.

“Yeah, Buff,” Xander agreed, smiling at her. “What’s with the rain on our parade?” Both Wicca and Slayer gave him a look. “What? ‘Cause of the return and the joy and there would be trumpets flaring if the band had supplied them,” he said, giving a half-nod to the stage.

“Sorry, Xand,” Buffy muttered. “Not into the groove tonight, I guess. And the flaring of trumpets are done well without,” she added and he smirked.

“Alright, I bow to thy will. But you should be smiling as widely as I am, is all I’m saying,” he stated, spotting Anya entering across the room and raising one hand to wave her over. “The nightmare’s finally over! You’re out of the clutches of the evildemonicsadistichatefulfiend and hopefully you’ll get around to staking him any time soon!”

“Xander!” Willow said, glancing at Buffy, whose face hadn’t shifted.

“What?” he asked. “We’re all in this club together, Willow, it’s not like this is news. Vamp is bad. Vamp is slain. Vamp will never rise again.”

“Wow,” Buffy said, “we should have that put on our T-shirts.”

“And our stickers,” Willow nodded. “We can spread this message to anyone who ever needed something to believe in.”

Xander gave them both a friendly glare as Anya arrived at his side, linking her arms around him.

“Hey,” she said, receiving greetings from the other two. “Anything happen?”

“The Scoobies are raising money for T-shirts and stickers,” Willow replied.

“We’ve officially entered the twilight zone,” Buffy added. “Where evil is black and good is white and there never is anything in between.”

Xander frowned.

“I get the feeling that comment was dropped on my behalf,” he said, but Buffy rose, granting him the first bleak resemblance of a smile that evening and excusing herself.

She walked up the stairs taking her up to the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. Leaning against the rail she drew a slow breath, letting it out in the same manner.

She didn’t know how to deal. Her pep-talk she had had with Willow the day prior had been efficient for about half an hour – until she stood before Riley – and then all the doubt crept back through her defenses. It was a struggle, first being so sure of one thing to then be convinced of the complete opposite. She had forgotten how willing she had been when she was younger to forgive, to sympathize, to listen. How important it had been to her to keep an open mind. How she had told herself that as long as she was willing to walk in somebody else’s shoes she should be totally comfortable walking in hers.

Now she shook her head at herself.

I’ve done a lot of growing up since then, she thought. The old rules don’t apply anymore.

And still the old mindset seemed fixated on sticking around. Turning everything she threw at it, as a righteous reason to forget about what had happened with the evildemonicsadistichatefulfiend, into a whole other angle and adding a but-what-if to every last sentence.

Suddenly her gaze caught on the top of a familiar head and her heart instantly raced in her chest, butterflies dancing in her stomach in a rush that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She straightened her posture, taking a step back, into the shadows, afraid that he’d single out her breathing, her movements, her pulse, and look up.

God, you’re silly, she told herself.

And still she couldn’t help but like it.

The sudden thrill was of a new kind.

Forbidden, unwonted, tingly.

Okay, stop, she instructed, turning and walking back down the stairs.

She reached the last step, moving her gaze up and halting as her eyes met his. And he was close. Very close. Reach-out-and-touch close. She crossed her arms over her chest, adopting an expression which she prayed was as annoyed as she felt with herself.

“Thought I made you weak,” she said.

He gritted his teeth.

Bloody hell, this was gonna have to be done the drop-down-to-the-center-of-the-Earth-and-get-scolded-alive hard, wasn’t it?

“Not under just any circumstance,” he then smirked, his gaze running down her form and her eyes were sharp as he rested his in them once more.

“Thought you hadn’t exactly acquired a taste for the feeling,” she remarked and he clenched his fists together tightly.

“Think I’m here to see you, Slayer?” he asked coolly, stepping up and passed her as he continued the way she had just come.

She kept herself from turning her head and watching his ascent, stepping down and walking back up to Xander, Anya and Willow.

“You okay?” Willow asked as Buffy sat down on her former chair.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Buffy replied, grabbing her unfinished drink and swallowing it in one gulp. “I miss alcohol,” she muttered, then brightly added: “Let’s fun it up, guys. Next round’s on me.”

Spike watched from above, wondering for the hundredth time what force had possibly been able to bring him here tonight.

Buffy got to her feet, walking up to the bar as confidently as she could. The bartender turned to her and she opened her mouth to order at the same time as he said:

“I.D.”

She closed her mouth again, pouting slightly.

“Oh, now you ask for it? Is it ‘cause I don’t have a lethal looking, leather wearing male by my side, is that it?”

The bartender looked her over, then simply repeated:

“I.D.”

“I’ll have a beer,” Spike said right behind her and she shut her eyes briefly.

“Again with the beer?” she asked, turning around and locking her gaze with his.

“It has its charm,” he replied.

“You wouldn’t feel the need to keep a clear head, would you?” she wondered teasingly and he cocked an eyebrow.

“Change that to whiskey,” he told the bartender and Buffy rolled her eyes at him.

He merely smirked in that self-confident, infuriating way; grabbing the glass at it was put on the counter, the arm of his duster brushing her bare skin and she was seconds away from grabbing him and latching herself to him permanently when he stepped back and turned from her, walking away nonchalantly.

She leaned back, seeking support on the stool next to her.

So, she seemed to still be a bit attracted to him, so what! It wasn’t like it was beyond control. She hadn’t actually grabbed and latched, had she?

She ordered and went back to the gang, needing desperately a diversion.

Half an hour later she laughed at one of Xander’s anecdotes, feeling very relaxed and out of any thoughts relating to anything having to do with anything bleached. She had known she could do it. It’s a phase, it’s just a phase, she kept telling herself.

“Hi,” a voice said to her right and she looked at the guy standing next to her. “Here alone?” She still couldn’t quite place him and he smiled pleasantly, adding: “Joe. Remember? From the other night?”

Of course, Joe! Whom she’d been dancing so beautifully with before bleach came and interrupted.

“Oh, hi,” she smiled. “’Course I remember.”

“Yeah... I have to admit I’ve been waiting for the opportune moment, and since the dude you were with...”

“Isn’t here, with me, tonight,” she filled in with another smile. “He is so not here with me.”

“So... Wanna dance?”

“Finish what we started?”

He smiled warmly and she returned it easily, grabbing his hand and heading for the dance floor.

Spike’s gaze followed them.

There was a ripple inside of him that he couldn’t ignore. This was a bad thing from many aspects.

Firstly, because it was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. Secondly... because it verified every last suspicion he had had about what exactly bad been going on within him for the past few days. Yes, he had realized it when she attacked him, back to her old self and eager for a slay – especially his. But had he admitted it? Seen the truth of it in the eye and tackled it? No.

So when the jealousy now rose powerfully within him at the thought – and full view – of another man’s hands on her; when it made him feel blinded by it, when it made him get that this was real, what had happened between them had been irreversible and that for better or worse it had dug down deep and had no intention of ever going away, he didn’t follow his first instinct.

Which was to drag her out of there if it so cost him his head in splinters.

He went with the second one. Finishing his drink he then descended to the floor of the club again, choosing a spot and leaning against the wall behind him as he quietly observed the dancers.

He wanted her. He wanted her to want him as badly as he did her. He wanted it to drive her out of her head, this... desire. He wanted her to see it on him and not be able to help herself. He wanted her to need him. He wanted to torture her with it and break his way into her life until he was so deep in that there was nothing she could do when he finally got to cross her out.

I’ll taste you, he thought darkly.

He stared at the mortal holding her, at his hands touching her, and had to dig his feet back against the wall to keep himself from stalking up to them. She smiled at something the human said and suddenly there was a pang inside the vampire, the envy reached a new level and he growled silently, pushing away from the wall and walking right at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze finally catching hers and holding it as he slowly made his way passed them, releasing it as he went for the exit.

Buffy watched him disappear, numbed by the look of silent fury in his eyes.

He hates me, she thought.

Blinking she took a step away from Joe, smiling slightly, though she knew it was distracted as she said something about air and left him there, heading for the backdoor and the alley. She entered it, putting her arms around her and closing her eyes, drawing deep breaths and trying to get herself from shaking.

He hates me, her mind repeated and then she opened her eyes, glaring at the brick wall before her. Dammit, get a hold on yourself! He’s always hated you! He hated you right through the passed two weeks.

She turned abruptly and went back inside, walking up to the table to grab her coat.

“Leaving?” Willow asked, disappointed.

“I tried for the fun,” Buffy said. “I’m just not up for it tonight.”

“We’ll go soon too,” Xander put in and Buffy gave him a smile.

“No, stay,” she encouraged. “I’m patrolling so I might be late,” she added to Willow.

“I could come with,” the redhead offered.

“No, I need to blow off some steam. Not that there’s any steam to blow off. I mean, literally. I mean...”

“Going to kill something?” Xander interrupted helpfully.

“Yes.”

And at that, she did.

¤

Kicking up her leg she hit the vampire square in the chest. It stumbled backwards and she frowned.

“That’s supposed to make you topple over,” she grumbled. “Now I’m starting to get cranky.”

It met her hits, delivering one of its own to her side and having her fold with pain. Something struck her on the neck and she lost her balance, rolling over she grabbed the stick the creature was swinging at her head and fought to keep it away from her face as it kept pressing it down. Then she got the better grip and tore it out of its hands as she flipped herself to her feet, spinning around and kicking a foot up, hitting its cheek and making it fly through the air. She was on it as soon as it touched ground, raising the stick still in her grasp and driving it through the demon’s ribcage. It burst into ashes with a growl and she blew a stray lock out of her forehead as she watched the dust settle.

“Any last wish?” she asked, then crinkled her nose up. “Oh, right.”

“Bollocks,” Spike’s voice sounded and she turned around, eyebrows rising as her eyes landed on where he had stopped, cigarette between lips and frown safely secured on his brow.

He hadn’t expected to see her, and this unexpectedness wasn’t appreciated, because suddenly all the seething anger he had been relishing in was carefully pulling back, making way for a strange curiosity, silent and resting it lay right beneath the surface, making him wonder why she was there, now, when she should be clubbing with her little posse. Making him want to query her motives for showing up at all hours wherever he found himself; even in his sleep.

He clenched his jaws together.

Bloody hell.

She ignored the swivel in her stomach.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked and his eyebrow rose even higher.

“I live here,” he replied with a nod to his crypt, located close by.

She looked perplexed, and then she seemed to realize exactly where she was. He tilted his head a little to the side, eyeing her in the silence. Then she reached down and grabbed her stake, lying on the ground by her feet, tucking it in the back of her pants before walking passed him.

“Can’t you choose any of the other eleven cemeteries to haunt?” he asked, making her stop and turn to him. “Must you kill my kin in my backyard?”

“As far as I know you don’t mind killing your kin yourself these days,” she remarked testily.

“Yes, but being slain... by a girl... is such an undignified way to go,” he sighed.

“Facing the Slayer isn’t undignified,” she bit back and he smirked. “And stop looking at me like that.”

He dropped the fag to the ground, stepping on it before coming up to her.

“Take it you’re back to full capacity?”

“Wanna find out?”

He merely smiled again.

“How’s the shoulder?” he inquired and she looked at him for a moment, then answered:

“Fine.” He stepped passed her, on his way up to the crypt when she said: “Why didn’t you let them have me?”

He paused, glancing back at her and meeting her gaze.

“Who?”

“The dozen or so demons knocking at your door.”

“There were three,” he pointed out, “and I wasn’t about to hand you over to some fledglings out for an easy bite.”

“They weren’t fledglings,” she said. “Why didn’t you let them...?”

“Does it matter?” he cut in, turning to her fully. “It doesn’t,” he then added. “It’s done.”

“You hate me more than anyone. You’ve wanted me dead for ages. It matters. ...You thought the gang’d be after you? Thought you’d have to leave Sunnydale?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

She observed him.

“Why did you sleep with me?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “In retrospect I can safely say I slept with her.”

She looked quizzical.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re not fifteen anymore. That you’re nothing like you were two days ago. That I really don’t like you.”

“I’m not two people,” she stated.

He looked at her in that inquisitive way again and she swallowed.

“You were different,” he then said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not fifteen anymore. Buffy then only had to worry about boys and getting the latest nail polish to put on her shelf. She could go to the mall and pick out an outfit without wondering if it’d get ruined in her next fight for her life. She could spend her allowance on shoes instead of new weapons! She knew who was who in Hollywood and she knew where to look for the best moccachinos, but I can’t do that, okay! I have to beat the bad guys and save the day and I don’t have time for hair and make-up! If I’m lucky I’ll spend a few dollars on me each month, but I can’t be selfish! I can’t just run off from school or from friends or from life just ‘cause I feel like it and oh, my God, I did it.”

She stopped her talking with one hand by her mouth, looking startled. He frowned.

“Did I miss a part?”

She stared at him.

“I did it,” she repeated. “I made it happen. ...I made a wish.”

He stared back.

“A wish?”

“I wished that I could be fifteen again! That I could be back before any of the Slayer stuff happened! It was...”

“...your fault,” he filled in, a satisfied expression taking its place on his features.

“Are you gonna rub it in now?”

“Bloody right I am,” he nodded.

“Yeah, because you had such a terrible time, didn’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I have had a terrible time?”

“Why! I cooked for you...”

“Hah, cooked. You got me takeout – very classy.”

“Hey! I made breakfast! I heated your blood for you! I sure as hell helped with the interior design and did you even thank me? No, it was bloody curtains this and bloody cushions that! Well, those cushions sure came in handy when we...! When... When we...”

She trailed off and he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, they worked good as buffers, but what am I supposed to do with ‘em now?”

“Aren’t you still gonna use them as... buffers?”

“You know, Summers, you brought stuff in there that I didn’t have any say in, you migrated the bloody spiders – which I’d grown pretty fond of – and you even added to my wardrobe, but I still don’t think that gives you the right to ask about my need for buffers or no.”

Her eyes widened.

“No,” she murmured.

“Further more, you owe me an apology.”

“An apology? For what, blessing you with some style?”

“For dragging me into the mess in the first place!”

“I didn’t drag you into it! You left the door wide open and pretty much asked me to come right in!”

“’Pretty much asked you’!”

“You didn’t throw me out!”

“I told you to leave! What was I supposed to do!”

“Telling a fifteen year old? Oh, please. You shouldn’t have taken no for an answer! I can’t believe you took no for an answer!”

“Is there any reason why we’re even having this discussion! I can’t rewind time and throw you out now, can I? Or, if you’d like, we can step into my humble-but-poshed-up abode and I can throw you out now! Would that fit milady? ...Or would you rather I turned down the bed for you?”

“I wasn’t in your bed, remember?”

“Thought you weren’t two people.”

“Shut up,” she murmured. “And where do you come off anyway? You weren’t exactly apposed to the scenario once it happened, were you?”

“Scenario?”

“You even liked it.”

“I always like it.”

“So you did like it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you wanted it,” she answered, though her tone was taunting and he could barely stand it.

She approached him slowly, wishing that she didn’t need to hear this, but knowing that she did; so very much. She continued quietly:

“That you enjoyed holding me. That you’d thought about it before...”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” he grumbled, looking down at her where she stopped before him.

She wished she hadn’t gotten quite so near him, but it was too late for that now.

He stared into her eyes, feeling everything sift into oblivion.

“It was temporary,” he mumbled and she furrowed her brow again.

“What was?” she asked.

“Everything but this,” he murmured, his mouth meeting hers the following instant and her arms went around him without her telling them to.

The passion their tongues were building made her knees grow weak, his hands pressing her to him and her whole being responding to him with a sensitivity which astounded her. She clung to him, the heat she felt rising, as the kiss grew more passionate, being blinding.

He couldn’t believe how the feel of her under his hands could drive him clear cross any border he had ever known.

And then she pushed away from him, drawing a breath and trying to get away fully, unable to as he grabbed her wrists.

“I can’t,” she said.

“Then let me,” he mumbled, another moment of objecting from her before she let him pull her close again, meeting his kiss and wrapping her arms around him. “Come inside,” he said, mouth still to hers.

She kissed him and then replied:

“No.”

“Come inside with me,” he said, a near plea in his voice which he was unable to prevent.

He put his hands on either side of her face, making her meet his gaze. She held it, knowing that she was about to give in. And then she kissed him quickly, stepping back and away from his touch.

“No,” she repeated. “I can’t. I won’t,” she added the last when he was about to say something more. She began to back away from him. “Just... stay away from me.”

“Buffy.”

“I’ll stay away too, I swear,” she said. “No more backyard slayage. No more Bronze. We need to... not ever do that again. Ever.”

“Why are you still talking?” he asked, taking a step forward and she swirled around saying:

“I’m leaving,” and then she hurried away, beginning to run and soon being out of sight.

He sighed.

Damn.

Addiction

¤

“Buffy?” Giles said, surprised, even more so at the haggard expression on the Slayer as she stepped through the door of his apartment.

She walked up to the couch, throwing herself down on it with a whimper.

“I feel like I haven’t slept for days!” she said. “Oh, that’s right,” she then muttered, “I haven’t.”

Giles closed the front door, coming up to her wearing a wondering expression. She noticed the still-packed bags on the floor and got to her feet, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you!” she said. He blinked in marvel and she stepped back with a smile on. “For what you did! It was all your doing. If it hadn’t been for you I’d still be making out with Spike. Making with The Spike. But thanks to you... I’m really not. I’m a big fan of you.”

Giles blinked again.

“Buffy?” he then said again, looking more closely at her and she stood straight, her smile widening. “Good lord, how did this happen?”

“Did you miss the tribute to your greatness? I can do it all again. And why do you have Confused written all over your face? ...You didn’t? Make the spell go away?”

“No,” he answered. “No, my friend couldn’t locate its origin, as I had hoped... Perhaps it was for it having already been lifted. When did you... come back?”

“I never left.”

“What do you mean?”

She went back up to the couch, having a seat and gathering her thoughts before beginning to try to explain.

“I reverted back to fifteen; me at fifteen wasn’t somehow brought into my body. When the spell was lifted it was like I woke up from a dream. A detailed, remember-every-second sort of dream, but still a dream. Well,” she smirked, “nightmare, I guess is the right word.”

“This is intriguing. I truly would like to know how it came to pass. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

She looked guilty, glancing up at him, and he paused, then asked:

“What?”

“I was how it came to pass.”

“You?”

“I made a wish.”

“Buffy, you know better than to play around with the darker arts...”

“I didn’t! There was no playing! Especially not with darker parts! Arts! Giles, I just remember saying that I wished I could’ve been fifteen again, that I could be back before being the Slayer took over every aspect of my entire life! I was exhausted after being on Adam watch for a billion hours, and everything with Riley and I went a little nuts, but I didn’t think that just throwing a wish out there could make it come true!”

Giles observed her, then took off his glasses and began to polish them.

“You never can know who’s listening,” he finally said.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be serious.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he smiled slightly, replacing his glasses. “But this is quite the tale, Buffy.”

“Willow mentioned divinity,” she said, Giles’ eyebrows rising.

“Yes... that would be plausible,” he nodded, getting a thoughtful expression on his features as he walked up to one of his bookcases, kneeling down and beginning to search the titles. “It is very rare... Extremely rare, I would say. They’re not allowed to meddle in our affairs. As far as I know they are punished severely if they take it into their own hands to interfere in this world...”

“Ergo rarity of willingness to poke nose in,” Buffy commented.

“Yes,” Giles said again, absentmindedly.

“If they’re not supposed to leave their mark, then maybe all of this’ll go away,” she murmured.

“All of what?”

“Might be just residue,” she mumbled sleepily. “Temporary... insanity.”

“Yes, quite right,” Giles said, sliding a book out and beginning to flip through it. “Or, what did you say?”

Turning his head to her he smiled a little as she was out cold.

¤

She was standing in the dark, and in front of her Spike was chained to a wall made of stone. He couldn’t see her.

“This is where I’ll keep you,” she whispered.

His gaze searched the space for her, but couldn’t find her. She furrowed her brow, looking at the heavy bonds tied to his wrists before she took in his chest and then his face. Without warning he vamped out.

“This is where I’ll keep you,” she repeated; light from the ceiling suddenly flowing down around her, an invisible spotlight directed straight at her scalp. “You’ll always be safe here. You know that,” she stated, meeting his yellow eyes.

Then she began moving forward slowly until she was right before him, hesitating for a second before she reached out her hands and slipped them over the taut muscles of his torso, stepping into him and tilting her head back to look up at him. And then, she let her lips meet his. For a few moments his fangs scraped her skin, and then they drew back and his arms were suddenly around her, holding her tightly.

The chains were gone.

The kiss deepened.

Then she slowly ended it, pulling her head back to meet his gaze. The warmth in his eyes made her feel safe, and she knew that he loved her.

She woke with a sharp breath, scrambling to her feet the next instant and looking around the room. It was empty, Giles had left. She moved her hands through her hair, then rolled her shoulders back and straightened out her sweater.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re fine!”

She chewed on her lower lip, then came to a decision.

¤

“Buffy!” Willow said. “With books,” she added, looking questioning.

It was right after lunch and the encounter was taking place in one of the hallways of the college.

“Yes, I thought I should embrace the studying. Anything to root out all the thinking.”

Willow smiled as Tara joined them.

“Hi,” the latter said, smiling at the redhead and then at the blonde. “Hi, Buffy. How are you doing?”

“Overload on the thoughts.”

“Oh.”

Buffy smiled.

“I’m okay. I’m fine! I just need to get something else in my head other than what’s stuck in it right now.”

¤

“’The only way to rid yourself of an addiction is to give into it.’ From what famous writer comes this quote?”

Buffy sunk down in her chair, a pout quickly placing itself on her mouth as she pretty much glared at the professor. What the hell did she have to do! Was there no escaping this? Was this her sudden curse? Did the entire universe now work solely for her to run straight back to the bleached fiend and tell him...

“Oscar Wilde, people!” her professor stated. “Wake up! Do you agree with Mr. Wilde’s insight, or might you perhaps have an opinion of your very own?”

A few students raised their hands.

“Yes, Lily?”

“Giving into an addiction isn’t really ridding yourself of it. I have a... bordering on ridiculous, I’ll admit it, liking of grapes.” There were scattered laughs and she smiled. “I’m serious, though. I eat them all the time, but that doesn’t make it go away; it only keeps the need alive.”

Buffy nodded her consent to that.

“But I think Wilde didn’t mean it literally,” a guy in the back spoke up. “That is, he was being sarcastic. An addiction is something that you can’t ever make go away, no matter what you try.”

“That’s not true,” a girl said. “I used to love my mom’s wheat cookies, I thought I could eat a hundred of them, but then she made me about a hundred and when I’d eaten half of them I never wanted to eat another wheat cookie again! And I haven’t since.”

“There we have a story that proves Mr. Wilde to be absolutely correct, then,” the professor said with a smile. “But what of a deeper addiction? Not that the suggested ones aren’t valid, but if we try we might find a few that hasn’t got to do with sweets or... fruit.” Scattered laughs around the room again. “Think of drugs. There are many different kinds. Caffeine. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Pills. Narcotics. If you had to pick, which one would be the worst?”

“Cigarettes,” Buffy stated without really thinking.

“And why is that, Ms. Summers?”

“They... smoke,” she said; her fellow students laughing and she smiled as well. “What I mean to say is that they affect other people in a really annoying way.”

“Doesn’t a drunk father or mother abusing their child because they’re too gone to realize what they’re doing affect their surroundings in a most annoying way?” the professor asked, addressing the whole class as he continued: “Doesn’t someone taking an overdose of pills affect many of those around them disturbingly? And doesn’t a seventeen year old so desperate for a fix that he robs his grandparents for a few dollars affect others as well?”

“Yes, addictions are bad,” Buffy agreed. “But what about Mr. Wilde’s quote? I mean, all the things you mentioned as an addiction are things people just have to learn to live with, if they’re stupid enough to indulge in them once, right?”

“Exactly what I believe, Ms. Summers,” her professor nodded. “The only way to rid yourself of an addiction – don’t indulge to begin with.”

“But if you’ve crossed the line,” a girl said, “and it’s too late, then what?”

“What did Ms. Summers say? If you’re stupid enough...”

The girl thought for a second, then filled in:

“You’ll have to live with it.”

“Ah, she even took it one step further than that. She said you must learn to live with it. It’s the hardest thing for anyone to learn the valuable lesson of abstinence, but even being able to practice self-control will never make the need for what you crave go away. It may lay dormant, for years, but then it might rise unexpectedly and you’ll have to deal with it again.”

“What’s the moral of it all?” another guy asked, this one in the front. “Don’t have coffee, don’t enjoy a drink, don’t touch cigarettes, stay away from aspirin and don’t ever get high?”

“Marvelous, Mr. Greer,” the professor applauded. “You picked this up without me having to put it up on the blackboard, very good! The moral of this lesson is: always rule yourself, never allow something to rule you.”

¤

He’s a demon, Buffy told herself firmly, staring at her reflection later that evening. He’s a demon and I won’t let a demon rule me. I won’t let this rule me! I only want him ‘cause there’s no way I can ever have him, the sooner I understand that, the sooner he’ll be out of my head. So, he doesn’t have a soul. He acts and walks and talks and moves and looks like a human because he has the memory of William... That’s a nice name, isn’t it? I’ve always like that name. Hmh, he has the same nickname as Willow... Will. Might get confusing. Why would it get confusing? They’re not going to be anywhere near each other. Moving on. ...Where was I? Oh, right. He only remembers William’s life, he didn’t live it. So there’s nothing of William in him. Nothing. That dream wasn’t a Slayer dream, anyways. It was a residue dream. So I’m forgetting about it now. Click-click-deleted. ...And he’s not funny. ...And he’s not important. And he can’t kiss.

The door opened and she rose to her feet, turning to Willow as the latter entered.

“Hi,” Buffy said.

“Hi,” Willow replied. “Did it work?”

“Huh? Did what work? I haven’t been trying to work anything.”

Willow looked wondering.

“The getting the thinking to stop,” she then elaborated, eyeing her friend before adding: “I’m gonna go out on a not too wild limb – ‘cause I’m scared I might fall off – and say that it didn’t?”

“Actually I think it might’ve. Made it stop, I mean,” Buffy said optimistically. “I might’ve found my cure.”

Willow couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but she tried not to look too sympathetic as she couldn’t stop herself from thinking: denial, denial, denial.

The Wicca didn’t know exactly what was going on with the Slayer and the Vamp, but it sure wasn’t nothing. She had noticed it at the Bronze the other night. She was worried, but didn’t know how to approach the subject. Was the Slayer actually developing warmer feelings for the vampire? Was that even possible, or was it just a passing lapse of... concentration? Perhaps it would go away.

If it doesn’t do it soon, Willow thought, Buffy’s going to have to face it... and that can only lead down the path of ugly.

¤

God, I hate her, Spike thought, glaring at the television and then at the whiskey in his hand.

“I mean hate,” he stated. “Really, really hate her. She keeps on screwing up my life... Keeps on... making me bloody think about her!”

He drank up the whiskey, then looked at the glass again, which she had bought for him, and he growled, throwing it to hit the wall beyond the TV. He rose, kicking the loveseat over, stepping over it and walking into the kitchen, staring at the collection of glasses neatly standing on the counter. He moved his arm forward, about to sweep them all to the floor when he stopped himself. Gnashing his teeth he let the arm fall to hang along his side again, sighing he shook his head.

Unbelievable, he thought.

Then he reached out a hand to gently touch one of the items before smiling slightly to himself before turning and slowly walking back into the other room. Straightening the couch upright again he leaned on his arms, hanging his head and wanting the wanting to stop. Because he missed her.

But she’s not... the same now. I’m missing someone who’s... dead.

The grief at that thought was too great and he grabbed his duster, choosing to ignore it all and go somewhere that wouldn’t have every corner reminding him of her. Well, some corners might.

“I’ll deal with that when I get there,” he told himself.

The following morning he woke up at the base of the ladder of the crypt; concluding that he must’ve fallen down it the night prior. He was bound to remember how he’d gotten there, as long as he could get to his feet. He groaned, rolling from his stomach to his back.

“Well, this is a pathetic sight,” Buffy’s voice sounded and he turned his head, watching her legs come walking up to him.

She stopped to lean down over him and he looked up at her, frowning questioningly.

“Honey,” she smirked, sinking down with her feet on either side of him, straddling him softly, “how many times do I have to tell you, don’t drink and climb. One of these days...”

“I’m gonna get seriously injured,” he filled in, sitting up with her hands placing themselves on his shoulders as the smirk stayed on her mouth. He added: “I’m a quick healer.”

“So am I,” she stated, tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck and two fresh puncture wounds. “How’s that for breakfast?”

Before he knew it he had vamped out, parted his lips and let his teeth sink through her flesh.

He sat straight. Soon understanding that he was in bed, in his bed, and that he was alone.

¤

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Willow asked and Buffy cocked an eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” she retorted.

“No, not at all. You look nice!” Willow assured with a smile. “It’s just... Well, if you wanna get Riley back maybe you should use something more... alluring.”

Buffy gave her a look and Willow laughed.

“Sorry, I’m backing off now. I just miss seeing you guys together, you know? I really want you to work this whole thing out.”

“Right. And it has nothing to do with the confession I laid on you or the fact that there’s a vampire hanging around in the wings just waiting for an opportunity to...”

“No,” Willow interrupted, “it has absolutely nothing to do with that. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

“We will. ...At least we can be positive to be in the last place Spike would ever show up.”

¤

Buffy walked into the large house hosting Riley’s fraternity, orienting herself quickly and spotting the table with refreshments. She headed up to it with Willow and Tara, all of them grabbing some punch before last two went to find Xander. Buffy looked around the room, seeing Forrester she gave him an awkward nod which he barely returned and after that brush-off she decided to simply mingle.

Fifteen minutes later she’d walked through every room of the place and couldn’t find Riley anywhere. She was beginning to grow annoyed when a hand touched her shoulder and she turned around to face the namesake.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied.

They stood without saying anything for a while, both trying to pick it up at the right place. Finally he asked:

“Wanna sit?”

She nodded and they found their way to a partially occupied couch, squeezing down and facing each other tentatively. Buffy ventured a smile and as he returned it hers broadened.

“I miss you,” he confessed.

“Riley...”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I miss you too,” she said, linking her fingers with his. “And I’m sorry that we’re in the middle of all this... stuff. My stuff, to be exact. If I could I’d make it all go away... It’s not like I haven’t tried. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“It’s that hard?”

“No, not hard... just complicated,” she said, raising her gaze to have it land on two forms entering through the front door. Both blonde. One demon, the other ex-vengeance. Buffy had truly been counting on not seeing the bleach-head tonight. She felt a swirl of shock at seeing him with Anya. “What the hell?”

Riley furrowed his brow, turning to where she was looking. She felt him stiffen and she rose, pulling him with her. She wasn’t about to let this ruin the connection she felt building between her and him. She wasn’t going to let anything do that, not even this sudden swivel of common jealousy and alarm rushing through her at the sight of the vampire with the mortal.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere... more private,” she said.

He seemed to hesitate and she tugged his arm encouragingly. He followed her when she began to move through the crowd. She kept her eyes from going to Spike, wondering if he’d noticed her, if he’d noticed where he was.

Idiot, she thought. And what is he doing here with Anya anyway? When did they get so close? It’s the demon club, is what it is. All exclusive. And stop thinking about it. Shrug it off. It doesn’t bother you. You have a gorgeous guy whom you’re taking to Somewhere Private. And you miss Riley more. More than what!

Spike was just beginning to relax – since no one seemed apt to hit him over the head or tackle him to the ground – but listening to Xander’s yapping was beginning to give him a headache. He was about to cut into the bantering when he spotted Buffy. He felt himself grow cold when he noticed who she was with. Then he was fiery hot, the sensation rising through him in a flash. He wanted to pave way through the crowd and step between those two, give Soldier Boy a good, brutal push into a wall somewhere... But of course, he couldn’t do that. Especially here. That would make the lax turn into howling football team protecting one of their bloody quarterbacks. Or whatever Riley would be.

“Right then,” he said to Xander and Anya, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Then he stepped down and began to move through the crowd.

Riley made Buffy stop and she turned to him, wondering.

“I wanna stay here,” he said and she was about to offer her objection when he continued: “If we go to my room I’ll want to be... close. And we can’t be that right now. If we were, tomorrow I’d wake up and ask myself what it meant, and I don’t ever wanna do that with you.”

She looked at him, wishing so badly that she could make it easier on him.

“Tell me what you do want,” she said.

“I want one dance,” he smiled.

“Just one?” she smiled back.

“Just one,” he then confirmed before stepping into her.

She closed her eyes as his arms went around her.

This was so nice; a living, breathing, healthy young man who was in love with her. Instead of an undead, still-hearted killer who was so much older than her she couldn’t even grasp it. And the icing on the cake with that one was, of course, that he couldn’t stand her. He could kiss her. But he couldn’t stand her. He could take advantage of her. But he couldn’t stand her. And it was the same for her, naturally, so it didn’t matter. She could look at him, have her eyes in his since he was standing right across the room nonchalantly glaring at her, and not feel even the slightest of a buzz.

She struggled with her heart beat. And she had some trouble with the pleasant shiver running over her shoulders as she couldn’t get her gaze out of his, and his was growing more intense by the second.

Damn it!

She cuddled closer to Riley, and then realized what she was doing; Spike raising one eyebrow, obviously not oblivious to it either. And had it worked? He didn’t seem to be standing knee-deep in a raging sea of envy, now did he? She swallowed, forcing herself to hide her face against Riley’s shoulder, drawing a breath to steady herself. When she casually glanced up again Spike was gone.

Good riddance, she thought. Hopefully he was taken down under and zapped a few times for even showing up here.

She felt Riley’s grip tighten a little and had guilt pour itself into her. What was she doing?

The music ended.

They stepped apart.

“What now?” she asked silently, wanting him to save her from it all; from herself; knowing that he couldn’t.

“I know what I need – and that’s to be apart from you ‘til I can be with you.”

She smiled tryingly and he smiled back, though his was tainted with melancholy.

“Soon,” she promised, meaning it with all the care she held for him; standing on her toes and kissing him on the cheek.

They parted slowly.

Buffy hesitated, contemplating what to do next. Finally deciding on going to look for Willow. She couldn’t spot her anywhere. She searched the crowd and came up with nothing, growing more and more frustrated. Just a sight of red hair would suffice. What, did she leave? Just like that? Without saying hello? ...Or good-bye? Where would she be?

Buffy paused, thinking. Then decided to go find the nearest keg.

She almost turned and went the other way when her eyes landed on Spike’s back. But as he looked up and straight at her it was too late and she resigned to merely crossing her arms over her chest. He raised the plastic cup to his lips, eyeing her. She glared back, not amused by the sudden twinkle in his blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

“What are you doing here?” he responded. “Shouldn’t you be making it comfy-cozy with Captain Cardboard?”

“Comfy-cozy?”

“This party lacks life. And what’s with the music? You helped plan it, didn’t you?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t get all huffy, love... Décor’s nice. Then again, we both know that is your strong suit. And hey, if all this grinding and groping does it for you, I’m not one to bloody judge. All’s end that end’s well and all that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Soldier Boy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that clears it right up! God! You just couldn’t keep to your side of the fence, could you? You had to come and... show up!”

“I didn’t show up here ‘cause I longed to jump the bloody fence, Slayer. Anya brought me here. Bint’s mad. But then, seems like her insanity showed me how slack the boys really are. And free beer – not to mock. I kinda like it here. Maybe you should try out my side...?”

“Spike, just...” She trailed off. “I’m done trying to reason with you. Can’t you get that I don’t want you anywhere near me?”

His gaze was hurt for one moment and she felt a wave of sympathy near her heart for no apparent reason , accompanied by a swell of regret. She’d just lied him right in the face. But then his eyes turned cold.

“Fine then,” he grumbled, turning from her and leaving the spot as well as the room.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, indecisive. Then she followed.

Spike spotted an empty chair and headed up to it, having a seat and taking another mouthful of his beer, wanting desperately to not care what the blonde whirlwind of death for all that was dear to him said. But her words were still stinging. Even more so the look in her eyes as she’d said them. He could do nothing but believe them. And she was actually getting back together with that... that... poof! Captain sodding Cardboard out to save the world?

“I did that once,” Spike muttered to himself. “Didn’t even get a pat on the back for that one.”

Suddenly she sat down next to him and he turned his head to her.

“This whole nowhere-near-you speech would have a more lasting impact if you didn’t come find me five minutes after you delivered it, pet.”

“Since when do you listen to anything I say?” she shot.

“Buffy...”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like... it means something.”

He stared at her and she held his gaze before suddenly looking away, then rising to her feet. She disappeared out of sight and he sat still for another few minutes before finishing his beer and standing as well. Heading for the front door he was torn between on the one hand needing to find her, to confront her with all these things he couldn’t quite comprehend that were still manifesting themselves within him – he thought that perhaps, if he could say them out loud, they’d leave him alone; and on the other hand wanting to lock himself in his crypt for as long as it might take all those incomprehensible things to go away.

The way she had looked at him just now. It had soothed all those worries...

Why do I even have worries! She’s nothing. Nothing but a killer. A shell hosting something that feels nothing but hostility towards you and your whole race. She means it alright, when she says she wants you as far away as bleeding possible. Don’t think that she is what she was, ‘cause she’s not.

But then he felt like it didn’t matter.

And that was the worst feeling of all.

¤

“Will, I’m leaving,” Buffy said, Willow looking surprised.

“But it’s still early. The music’s just picking up. Can’t you stay a little while longer?”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy replied. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Going home?”

“Yeah... I need to.”

“I get it. Take care.”

They hugged before Buffy grabbed her pocketbook and headed outside.

Leaving the house behind her she was greeted by quiet. Her feet hitting the pavement echoed across the street, but she didn’t mind. The lonesome sound actually made her feel a bit better, and the steady rhythm of her shoes against ground helped her clear her head.

Who did this to me? she wondered for the thousandth time. Who could’ve done this to me? Why? Why take a simple little wish so literally? Who could have thought I meant it? ... Okay, so maybe a part of me meant it, but... still! What could anyone possibly have to gain from me...? I can’t even think it, how am I supposed to deal with this? I can’t! I can’t do this.

She ended up walking around aimlessly for another hour, finally arriving outside the door of her house and looking up at it. All the windows were dark. Her mother was asleep. The Slayer smiled to herself, walking up to the tree standing below her bedroom window and beginning to expertly climb it. It may have been a few years since she actually saw this entrance into her room as a necessary part of patrolling, but the skill hadn’t abandoned her. She reached the sill and pushed the window up, not very surprised that it was open. She always forgot to latch it. Slipping inside she had a surge of memories erupt and she stood still in the darkness for a long while. Thinking of times passed, and wishing they didn’t feel so far away and so near at the same time.

Angel.

She frowned, walking up to her bed and sitting down.

She had a sudden urge to call him. To tell him what was going on. Ask his advice. He knew Spike better than anyone. He could tell her...

She stopped that train of thought right there. First of all, Angel and Spike weren’t exactly the best of pals, and as far as she knew they never had been very close. So, Angel would flip if she told him; and Spike would explode over her telling his grandsire. Not that she in any way cared what Spike thought.

“Stop,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. “God, just stop. Please.”

She lay back, desiring nothing but sleep. Then she felt a familiar sensation at the nape of her neck and sat up again, furrowing her brow. Rising she walked back up to the window, gazing down and grumbling as she pushed the window up again, climbing outside with determined movements and quickly descending the tree, jumping to the ground and straightening up to face Spike.

He didn’t want to feel insecure, but all of a sudden that was all he could feel. What the hell was he doing there? She was pissed as a rabid dog and if she bit him he was bound to scream bloody murder because if anyone was to do any sort of biting it should be him.

That brought the dream from the night prior back and he took a slight step back, observing her.

She really did look pissed off.

“I need this to end, right now,” she said, glancing at the house as if expecting the lights to flicker on in her mom’s bedroom.

“I’m sure she’s sound asleep,” he murmured and she took a step forward, her whole being tensing.

“I mean it,” she said.

“Buffy!” Willow’s voice sounded and Buffy jerked, practically jumping three feet away from the vampire as she looked at the approaching redhead.

Willow seemed completely freaked out.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked.

“Haunting... Poltergeist. Xander and Anya are trapped. You have to come. Now!”

Willow glanced at the vampire, then turned and began to head back the way she’d come.

Buffy turned her head to Spike, not even sure what she wanted to say. He didn’t seem to be either, and then they simply got moving at the same time. As they caught up with Willow Buffy forced herself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Exactly what happened?”

“People began to act weird. A fight broke out between a few of the guys... There were a bunch of arguments. It was this presence and it was angry, Buffy. Really, really angry. We did some research, and it turns out the house wasn’t always a fraternity. Kids lived there. You know, runaways, juvenile delinquents; kids with issues and they were taught to suppress everything.”

“What’s with Xander and Anya?”

“They’re locked in a room and won’t open the door. I could hear them screaming at each other and... Buffy, I’m really scared. It sounded like it could get violent.”

They hurried their step, soon arriving back at the fraternity, now empty. Giles was waiting for them.

“Thank goodness,” he said. “Did Willow fill you in?”

“Sounds pretty basic. Get in and get them out. Any weapons for me?”

“Only you, I’m afraid.”

“That makes you afraid?” she asked, then smiled, taking off her jacket and tossing it to Willow before heading for the door.

She opened it and stepped inside, being met by a harsh wind which almost made her take a step backwards. Almost. She fought it, and after another three – hard-earned – steps, the wind stopped. She paused.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m curious,” Spike replied, standing right behind her.

“I don’t have time to argue,” she muttered, moving forward. He followed. “Keep your eyes open.”

There was a sudden blinding light coming flaring through the rooms and they both closed their eyes tightly, the wind starting up again and Buffy felt Spike lean against her, pinning her to a wall as the force of the gust began to move furniture around. Again it stopped, as suddenly as last time, and Buffy realized she was holding onto him for dear life.

She stayed in his embrace for a few more moments, and then grew aggravated in an instant, the feeling so powerful that she pushed him away from her harshly. He stumbled back, surprised.

“Get off me, Spike.”

He stared at her, then felt the unfolding rage in her stance mirror in his own chest.

“What is your problem! I bloody well wanna know!”

“You wanna know?” He merely gave her a look. “Fine. This situation we’re in, that’s my problem. That it doesn’t just miraculously disappear, that’s my problem. That you’re a demon, that’s a huge problem! I liked it before. I enjoyed our seething hatred and random, uncommitted encounters. That was fun. Now, all of a sudden, we have to use the phrase ‘Remember the good old days?’ for days that aren’t that old, but that we can’t get back to. They’re gone. And now... what!”

“You’re asking me! I’m as lost as you are, Slayer. ...Can’t you’re little gang get together and figure it out? Isn’t that what you do?”

“Right there, that’s why I hate you!”

“Was it something I said?”

“You’re completely self-involved. You don’t see or care to see anything outside your own world. You despise everyone else, but always expect everyone else to fix whatever the hell’s wrong with your life.”

“What?”

“Angelus came knocking, stealing your precious Dru-zilla – you came to me.”

“Hey, they were about to kill us all. I helped you out, Slayer.”

“Excuse me!”

“What would you have done? You were losing, and would’ve lost if it hadn’t been for me.”

“You took Dru, slung her over one shoulder and left town! You left me fighting Angelus.”

“I knew you could take him!”

“You hoped he’d kill me, you mean.”

He opened his mouth to insist he hadn’t, then changed his mind.

“Yeah,” he agreed and she clenched her hands into fists.

“Drusilla ran for the hills and where’d Spikey go? Sunnydale, for reasons unknown, to kidnap Willow and make her fix it for him.”

“Hey... I gave the idea up...”

“Spikey gets chipped and where does he seek help? Once again, me.”

“You think I wanted to come to you?”

“I think you did.”

“Talk about self-involved. Since when have you ever tried to step out of your safe little cocoon of righteousness and notice that the world is a mess? We live in the pit of it and I agree, it does attract the worst of the lot; but you think demons are the only bad force on Earth? We’re not. The human race is a bloody disgraceful excuse for the greater good. You’re capable of evil that is unspeakable, and you dare sit on your high horse and judge me!”

“Spike, I know the deal! I know humanity is growing less humane by the minute, but know what, it’s not my turf. Demons are what I have to fight every single day until it kills me; and surprise, I haven’t met a vampire yet that didn’t deserve a stake through the heart.”

“Not even Angel?”

She froze, her eyes turning chilly.

“Don’t bring him into this. He has nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing to do with it?”

“Angel was different. He had a soul.”

“Oh, bloody stop with the soul! It made him weak. And... broody.”

“It made him stronger than you’ll ever be,” she stated. “You can’t love.”

Spike’s face grew set at that.

“I want it to be over,” Buffy murmured.

“Want what to be over?” he muttered, his eyes sharp in hers and she swallowed.

“Every time I see you now I can’t think of anything but...”

She trailed off.

“What?” he asked silently.

“This,” she said with a slight gesture to the both of them. “Tell me it was all a lie.”

He held her gaze for another moment, then said:

“It was...”

The sound of breaking glass from upstairs made them both turn their heads that way.

“Xander!” Buffy exclaimed, racing up the stairs to the second floor and down the hallway in search of the origin of the noise.

She could hear raised voices and soon found the right door. Spike was on her heel and when she stepped back he stopped beside her, watching her kick the door in and step inside. Anya was holding a heavy award made of crystal, about to throw it at a cowering Xander. She looked over at Buffy and seemed to slowly wake out of whatever craze she’d been under, looking questioningly at the Slayer and then over at Xander, who was bleeding from a cut on his forehead.

“Oh, God, Xander,” Anya said, dropping the award to the floor and rushing over to him.

Buffy let out a breath of relief. Turning her head to where she expected Spike to be. He was gone. She felt her heart sink. She really hated when he did that.

Disaster

¤

He poured himself a cup of blood, squeezing the last out of the bag and throwing it unceremoniously aside before bringing the cup to his lips. Drinking he reflected over what he had said to Buffy, and what she had said to him. He wondered why it was suddenly so important to him what she thought of him. Why it scratched him when she said that she wanted it to be over. And why it stroked him too gently when she stated that she did think of him...

“Stealthy exit,” her voice sounded and moments later she stepped into view.

He swallowed the last mouthful of blood, taken aback by the sight of her.

Lately she seemed to be seeking him out. Why was that?

“Didn’t do much good, me being there; thought I’d just go,” he murmured, putting the cup down without taking his eyes off her.

“You’re right – it didn’t do much good, you being around never does, so why’d you come in the first place?”

His gaze turned into a glare and he moved it out of hers, beginning to potter with the cup. She watched him patiently for a minute, then she sighed loudly and he faced her again.

“I’ve spent a lifetime killing, and you came in here obviously thinking it’d be simple for me to turn my back on all of it! God, why couldn’t you just have shut up about it!”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I don’t have to prove myself to you,” he stated. “To anyone. Least of all myself. I know who I am. I’m comfortable with what I am. As long as I get the sodding chip out, I’m happy. I won’t trade that for...”

He trailed off, still glaring at her. She could see how upset he was, but she still had no idea what his point was.

“Neither of us want this,” she finally said; the objection within her being silenced effectively. “Can’t we forget it? Go on like it never happened? If we agree on this one thing... maybe it’ll make it possible.”

He looked at her then, in such a way that she felt she could do anything for him if he’d only tell her that he could never do that, he could never forget. Not her, not what had happened... But then the Slayer in her stood towering over those emotions, made them fade to give way to a conviction so deep it wouldn’t crumble.

He was a vampire; a vampire was a demon incapable of goodness, tenderness... and love.

“I don’t know about your head, pet,” he now said, “but mine doesn’t work like that. I can’t just forget.”

She felt the corners of her mouth begin to curl into a smile and damned them both before holding the expression back. Then she said:

“You could try.”

“You think I haven’t?”

“So try harder!”

“You know you can’t either. What happened; happened. We’ll have to learn to live with it.”

She felt tears stinging her eyes, rising out of frustration.

“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do this again. I refuse to do this again. Whatever made this happen can take it back. If a god was playing with us, he should be able to start over again. Reset everything to nil and have us...”

“Buffy,” Spike interrupted her, “that’s not gonna happen.”

“How do you know? We’ll say a prayer, make another wish, go to bed and wake up tomorrow...”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t tell me how it works; you don’t know any better than me how it works! I guess you’re just fine with it, aren’t you? You can sleep, you can eat, you can go on without feeling anything while I have to...”

“I’ve just about had it with you!” he interrupted, voice raised. “For someone who’s so clear on some points, you don’t have a clue about other ones, do you? Demons aren’t one-sided creatures, Buffy. Perhaps that’s what your poof of a Watcher has drilled into you to make the slay easier, but it’s not the truth. We can feel and we can long and want and we can love just as well as you can! You think the definition of me is the demon and not the soul – that’s how you keep Angel on a pedestal, yeah? What is a soul made of, then? What makes a human a human? I remember everything about my life. I remember every nuance of my mother’s eyes and the sound of my father’s laugh. I remember the room I stayed in at nan’s. The first girl I cared for. I feel all those things I felt when I created those memories, Buffy. The demon in me is blood-thirsty, vicious, raw... it hungers for murder and I’ve let it lead me willingly wherever it wanted to go for the past hundred-and-twenty-years. But it’s not all there is to me, Slayer. ...It’s not.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Angel...”

“Angel,” Spike again cut in, “had a demon in him so bleeding strong it made the Powers quake in their boots. The soul makes it easier to tap into your sappy, sorry, soft human side. It makes the demon easy to control, because your conscience is clearer in your head... I’m surprised you haven’t turned this over and over yourself, after what Angelus did to you.”

“I have,” she murmured.

“When a soul claims a demon... a vampire... most of them take their own life within a month. The guilt is too much. Angel... I don’t know what he did to stay alive for so long without an anchor, but I guess there were reasons for it.”

“Acathla,” Buffy mumbled, feeling like she needed to sit down and taking a few trying steps backward until she reached the back of the loveseat, resting against it as Spike approached. “He was supposed to open Acathla. It was part of a prophecy...”

“Buffy...”

“I loved him,” she said and Spike felt a dagger twist itself into him as he could see on her where this was going. “So much. But he had to go and I had to let him. And I have Riley now, Spike. I love him, I do. And he loves me. If I ask him, I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me. If he agrees, will you leave?”

He stared at her.

Not where he had thought this was going.

“Am I supposed to believe I’m safe on the operating table under your boyfriend’s scalpel?”

“He won’t be holding it,” she said with a weak smile. “And I’ll be there the whole time. You have my word.”

He contemplated it.

“The chip comes out,” he finally murmured, “and I promise you, I’ll leave.”

No, a voice said inside her. No, don’t do this!

But she knew she had no choice.

She gave a nod, her tears having dried. Rising to her feet she walked passed him and up to the door, not looking back as she exited.

¤

“This is a disaster!” Grei exclaimed. “Tell Bortha at once.”

“I have already heard,” the large god stated, coming into the room. “Ask Calor to meet me in the parlor. I wish a word with him.”

Grei wanted to say something to that, but held his tongue and scurried off to find Bortha’s youngest son.

“Ath,” Bortha said with a smile at his daughter, who was seated at a table playing Dwindle. “Won’t you join me?”

Ath stopped blowing air on the small figures before her, smiling and rising.

“Certainly, father,” she said, following him into the large room posing as a parlor.

It wasn’t really; it was a large rectangle shaped room. In the ceiling were painted all the constellations, the dots glimmering against the darkness of their backdrop. The floor was made of white marble and the walls were made of crystallized air – which made it possible to walk through them if you were born on that plane of consciousness. Soon Calor entered through the south wall, looking as controlled as always.

“Have you heard?” Bortha boomed, the might of his voice filling the space.

“I have,” Calor nodded, stopping by his parent and sibling.

“And what to you find befitting an occurrence such as this? You realize what very well may happen if he leaves that town, do you not?”

“He will not leave,” Calor replied simply.

“How can you be so certain of that?” Ath asked and Calor smiled gently.

“It is quite obvious.”

“You are overstepping boundaries that are older than the sun,” Bortha stated. “I am glad to see you have faith in the objects with which you wish to play this dangerous game – but I do not have as much faith in your abilities anymore. This is why I am sending you there.”

Calor paled rather rapidly.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“You will become human, Cale, for no more than fifteen days – I like that number, it has a nice ring to it – and you will make absolutely sure that what has been foretold is not damaged in any way.”

“Father, Fate would not let herself be tampered with...”

“Fate is a fickle thing. A few wrong choices and you have evil inconceivable taking over the entire planet. I cannot stress enough how important this is, my son.”

At that he touched Calor’s head and the young man disappeared in a twirl of blue light.

“Very good, father,” Ath couldn’t help but smile.

“You enjoyed that, did you?”

“I must say I did. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“And did you come to me the moment you realized what your brother was up to?”

Ath paused.

“Well, no... but...”

“Exactly,” Bortha said, and before Ath could react he had placed her in a blue-light-twirl as well.

¤

“I’m sorry, I just have to bring this up. Was that really necessary?” a boy asked his date as they walked home.

“Was what necessary?” she wondered, at once annoyed.

“I was only talking to her,” he said, on the offensive.

“I’m sorry if I can’t be more supportive of your interest in your ex.”

“Hey. She’s not my ex, alright. And there is no interest, except for what she’s been up to. She hasn’t been back here for a while...”

“Please. I saw your eyes undressing her as soon as she entered the room!”

“I did not do that! What do I have to do to convince you! Really. The only circumstance that’d make me see another woman without her clothes on would be if she dropped from the sky and just happened to land at my feet!”

There was a swooshing sound and then a thud as a naked female form landed a yard away. She was shivering.

The boy stared, mouth agape, and so did the girl until she realized that he was doing the same.

“Nice prank, jerk! If you didn’t want a second date all you had to do was tell me!” she exclaimed, turning abruptly and beginning to march down the street.

“Jess!” he called after her. “Jess, we can’t just leave her there.”

“If you’re such a gentleman, why don’t you take care of her! Asshole,” Jess called back, disappearing into the shadows.

The boy stared at the body, then glanced around insecurely.

“Oh, wow...” he mumbled. “Miss? Are you alright?”

¤

Buffy dragged herself out of bed as the doorbell rang for the second time. She nearly fell down the stairs, regaining her balance and yawning as she reached for the door handle.

“This’d better be good,” she muttered, opening the door and having a frown on her brow as she stared at the young man supporting an unconscious woman wearing an ill-fitting knee-length cardigan. “Jonathan?” she then said and he smiled a strained smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go... This... person sorta... fell.”

“Is she hurt?” Buffy asked, opening the door wider and stepping forward to help Jonathan with his cargo.

“She doesn’t seem hurt. At all, actually. You should see the spot where she landed though,” Jonathan replied.

Buffy carried the girl to the couch of the living room, putting her down and checking her for any sign of obvious injury. Being satisfied she straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She seems fine,” she said. “How far did she fall?”

“I didn’t see. We were kinda close to a house, but... I don’t know, she seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“You did the right thing, bringing her here. Was she wearing that?”

“No... that’s another thing. She was... in her birthday suit.”

“Naked?”

“Very. All over.”

Buffy smiled a little.

“If you come back tomorrow... or, later today, I guess... I’ll give you your sweater back. She can stay here tonight. When she wakes up she’ll hopefully tell us what’s going on. I’ll let you know, of course.”

Jonathan smiled back, then nodded and they walked back up to the door.

“It’s been a while,” Buffy said and he nodded again.

“Been working,” he shrugged.

“Where?”

“Here and there... Mostly here,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s alright.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Well... I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” he said, heading out the door.

She closed it behind him and walked back into the living room. Finding a blanket she brought it over the sleeping girl, sitting down on the table and eyeing the beautiful face. She felt like she’d seen it before somewhere. And still she knew she couldn’t have. It was finely shaped, but the Slayer wasn’t sure what nationality it held. The girl’s hair was raven black, and she had traces of Chinese around her eyes, but... it didn’t add up.

“Weird,” she said. “Fits with everything else that’s going on.”

Thoughts of Spike ached too much at the moment and she rose, clearing her head decisively and walking back upstairs.

¤

Five hours later the Slayer woke. She threw the covers off and rose, stretching as she made her way downstairs. It was nearly eight o’clock on Sunday morning, and she felt surprisingly alert. She knew she had to go see Riley; perhaps that had something to do with it. She headed into the living room, leaning over the still sleeping stranger. She seemed fine. There were no bruises whatsoever. Buffy moved into the kitchen, fixing some breakfast and getting the paper. Nothing special. A few attacks, nothing fatal. Nothing about the party the night prior. Late-night shooting stars sighted. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She finished her pancakes, drank her juice and headed upstairs to get dressed; meeting Joyce on the top step.

“Mom,” she said.

“Buffy!” Joyce smiled, hugging her daughter. “What a delightful surprise. I didn’t expect you to be home.”

“No,” she mumbled; then added: “I felt like sleeping in my old bed.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m... getting there, I think. But, there’s something else.”

Buffy told her mother what had brought the unknown girl to their doorstep and Joyce’s eyes grew rounder and rounder.

“My goodness,” she said. “Well, of course she can stay as long as she needs.”

“There might be a perfectly good explanation,” Buffy said. “But given where we live...”

“Of course,” Joyce smiled. “Should I make us breakfast?”

“I already ate.”

“But it’s only eight-thirty.”

“I know. I thought I’d go see Riley, need to talk to him about something, but I’d better wait ‘til Miss No-Name wakes up. Since we don’t know who... or what she is.”

“Do you think she’s a what?” Joyce asked, a little worriedly.

“No,” Buffy replied. “She seems human straight through. But... that doesn’t say a lot.”

She muttered the last, stepping passed her mother and continuing down the hallway.

“If she fell she may have a concussion,” Joyce said. “If she has one she shouldn’t be sleeping.”

“Try and wake her then,” Buffy called to her as she entered her room. “Something tells me there’d take a lot more to give that girl a concussion,” she added to herself, walking up to her closet and opening it.

Sighing she remembered that all the good clothes were at the dorm. Choosing a brown sweater and blue jeans she put her hair up in a ponytail and walked back downstairs.

The couch was empty and as she entered the kitchen the girl was sitting on one of the stools, staring at the toast in her hand as though it was about to attack her. Buffy stopped in the doorway.

“I know it doesn’t look it,” she said, the girl jerking her head her way and her bright, blue eyes growing wide, “but my mom’s actually a pretty good cook.”

“I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult,” Joyce smiled, Buffy returning it.

“I wouldn’t insult you!” she said, coming into the room and meeting the girl’s still shocked gaze again. “Hi,” the Slayer added. “I’m Buffy.”

The girl swallowed, putting her untouched toast down.

“You’re Buffy,” she then said, voice cracking and she coughed dryly.

“Here, honey,” Joyce said; thrusting a glass of juice in the girl’s hand and helping her put it to her mouth.

She swallowed in gulps that seemed almost unused to the taste, and then she brought the glass down, licking her lips and looking at the orange liquid, fascinated. Buffy furrowed her brow, exchanging a look with her mother.

“How do you feel?” Buffy asked, the girl suddenly smiling so brightly it lit up her whole face, her blue eyes sparkling to life.

“Wonderful,” the girl said. “This is orange juice.”

Buffy smiled hesitantly.

“It is,” she nodded. “Goes well with that toast.”

“I’m sure it does,” the girl nodded. “It’s just I shouldn’t eat solid foods for at least another few...”

She trailed off at the questioning looks on the two women before her; then she smiled again, putting the glass down carefully before gently sliding a hand over the surface of the island she was seated at.

“Do you have a name?” Joyce asked.

“Ath,” the girl said.

“How pretty,” Joyce commented.

“Thank you.”

“So, Ath...” Buffy said, “do you know where you’re from? What you’re doing here? Why you were jumping off a building last night? Naked.”

“Buffy,” Joyce protested, but Ath smiled again.

“It is quite alright,” she stated. “I didn’t jump, I fell. And the clothes... I was streaking,” she said. “It was a silly dare.”

“So you were with friends?”

“Not really,” Ath replied, growing unsure of where she should take this. “I was trying out for a sorority... I’m hoping to transfer to UC Sunnydale and needed somewhere to live, so I... Oh, I feel so stupid now.”

“They made you streak?” Buffy asked.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about where you’re going to live for right now. I know we’re not close to campus, but...”

“No, I couldn’t accept more help after all you’ve already done for me. Please.”

“Please schmease,” Buffy smirked. “And the sorority is a part of UCS?” she added. Ath nodded tentatively. “Hmh. Didn’t know we had sororities.”

“There’s just the one, I believe,” Ath said. “And it’s... almost a secret society. Well-hidden.”

“Oh. Okay, I’m sorry, but I have to go out for a few hours. I’ll be back this afternoon, though. Maybe, if you don’t have to be anywhere, we can hang. Do the girl thing. Eat ice cream and put cucumbers on our eyes and all that. Might be just what I need.”

Ath smiled a little again, watching the Slayer walk out the door.

“Your daughter,” Ath said, turning to Joyce, “she has an old soul.”

Joyce smiled her agreement.

¤

Calor woke from an itch on his inner thigh. He scratched it and at the sensation he sat up, looking around and realizing where he was. What he was. An earthling. He grumbled, noting that he was stark naked and located in some sort of high shrubbery. How lovely.

The sun was up, filing through the trees standing spread out around wherever he was. He tried to ignore the silent beauty of it, but couldn’t. The scent of the wind, the air, the grass and earth. He closed his eyes.

“Oh, my God! Dude!” a male voice exclaimed, making the god’s eyes snap open again. “You alright?”

“Absolutely,” Calor replied with a smile. “Might you tell me where I could find clothing?”

“I might,” the guy said hesitantly, frowning. “You need, like, the whole deal?”

Calor looked down at himself again, then nodded.

“Sure thing, dude... Just stay down.”

¤

Buffy straightened her posture as she entered the fraternity house. People were cleaning up the mess left from last night, putting furniture straight and picking up trash. She looked around for Riley and when she didn’t see him she headed upstairs for his room, receiving a few odd looks from some of his colleagues.

She stopped outside his door; diffident.

You can’t go back, if you do this. You’ll start the wheels churning and they’ll crush all those unwanted things and it’ll go away.

“He’ll go away,” she mumbled.

Blinking she cleared her throat and raised one arm, knocking on the door. It didn’t take long before it opened.

“Buffy.”

“Riley,” she smiled. “Can I come in?”

He nodded, closing the door as she stepped inside.

“I need to ask a favor,” she said as he turned to her.

¤

Buffy walked down the steps of the fraternity half an hour later. She decided she was going to feel light as a feather thanks to Riley’s immediate concurrence to her suggestion. That heaviness inside would have to float with it. She walked down the path to the sidewalk and bumped into the shoulder of a student. His dark hair was a mess, his clothes were even worse, but his face was extraordinary. It looked sculpted by a master, and for a second she thought she was suffering déjà vu. Then it passed and she said:

“Oops, sorry.”

“No need,” he smiled, perfect white teeth in two neat rows. “I’m sorry, is this the way to the dorms?”

“Yeah, you go straight and then you take a left and follow the road until the trees part and you’re there.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled and nodded, heading the other way.

Calor observed her casually. All he had to do was find out where she lived and then he was sure he’d be able to come up with a plan to get closer to her.

First thing’s first, he thought, heading for the dorms.