Disclaimer:

Spike: Right, this is how it goes. Me and all the rest of the people left in Sunnydale belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and lots of other companies. Lately this situation has been by no means mutually agreeable. This is why I’m making an appeal on behalf of Buffy characters past and present, (except Droopy Boy and Captain Cardboard, Joss can keep them), to ask that you readers donate $10 or whatever you can afford to our campaign. Please dial 0-800-SAVE-SPIKE to make your pledge now.

Thanks, ducks.

Bits of the story are based on the episode "Entropy" written by Drew Z Greenberg, or at least how the episode might have gone if say when she had her magical clear-out Buffy had given the stuff to Spike for safe-keeping rather than putting it in the bin.

A/N. Most of the first few chapters follow what happened in the episode, setting things up for anyone whose memory, like mine, is a bit crap. If you can recite the different episodes verbatim you can probably skip to the last three or four paragraphs. Next chapter will be where things start branching off from the Jossverse even then differences may still only be slight.

Chapter 1 - Cemeteries

Spike sat on top of the stone pillar that supported on of the cemetery gates, watching Buffy’s retreating back. According to her, her friends would cope with the news that they’d been sleeping together; she could do anything and they would still love her. His problem was, he felt the same way about her. That was why he couldn’t help calling after her retreating back.

"In that case, why won’t you sleep with me again?"

A second vampire, who had just been released by Spike, turned back from his pursuit of the slayer, stunned by what he had just heard. He stared at the master vampire, his jaw hanging open, right up until the point where it turned to dust and fell to the ground along with the rest of his body. Buffy had already replaced in her stake in her pocket and was once more walking away from Spike.

"Because I don’t love you," she called back, not even turning her head to acknowledge him.

Spike’s eyes all but glowed electric blue with pain and anger. "Like hell," he retorted, his voice fierce but quiet enough that his were the only ears it reached.

Spike had stayed away from Buffy the night after that unpleasant scene. He had been aware of her presence at a distance a couple of times when she was on patrol. Instead of moving to intercept her as he once would have done, he moved away doing his best to stay outside the range where Buffy would normally be aware of him.

Buffy gave up on patrol early that night, deciding that for some reason the demon population were all having a peaceful night in, but she was wrong, and one demon in particular was anything but peaceful. The vampire knew Buffy’s patrol routes so well it was easy for him to sweep the areas she would visit. He just got there first. His kills for the night ran to double figures and still his black mood was with him when he finally returned to his crypt.

He was preparing to follow a similar plan the next evening when the door to his home slammed open at the slayer’s hand. Spike was aware of something flying toward his head and grabbed it from mid-air before it impacted. He looked curiously at the equipment in his hand.

"What’s this?" he asked, looking up at the slayer.

"It’s a camera."

"Yeah," Spike replied, his tone mildly sarcastic. "I got that part. Why am I holding it?"

Buffy started her accusatory diatribe. "Someone was using it to spy on me, on the house. Xander thinks it might’ve been you."

Spike’s temper got the better of him and the sarcasm meter hit overload. "Oh, the great Xander thinks so! Shudder! Gasp! It must be true!"

"Spike-", Buffy tried to interrupt, but the vampire was too intent on venting his ire.

"That ponce has always had it in for me. Every chance he gets, he sticks it-" Spike was stopped cold by the slayer’s dubious expression.

"You believe him, don’t you? You think I was spying on you." He became the accuser. He waited for Buffy to deny the charge, but as seconds passed in silence he continued. "You think I could do that."

Buffy’s anger rose to match his. "Yeah, righteous indignation is absolutely the way to go here, ‘cos you don’t kill or lie or steal or manipulate-"

The vampire’s rage flashed from hot to cold and he placed the camera back in the slayer’s hands, his motion and the words he followed up with deliberate and cool. "I don’t hurt you."

Buffy looked down at the camera, sobered by the truth in the vampire’s words. "I know."

"No," Spike countered, "you don’t. I’ve tried to make it clear to you, but you won’t see it. Something happened to me. The way I feel… about you… It’s different. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself it isn’t, it’s real."

Buffy’s voice was soft when she replied as if the pain her remarks would inflict were proportional to the volume at which they were uttered. Maybe she enjoyed carving his heart out and didn’t want him to have even a crumb of comfort from the thought the words were carelessly spoken in anger. "I think it is… for you."

Spike stared at her aghast. She could have pulled his intestines out with her bare hands and caused him less pain.

"I know that’s not what you want to hear… and I’m sorry…" It sounded false even to her own ears. "I really am. You just… have to move on. You have to-"

Spike was unable to do anything but watch as she deliberately destroyed his hopes. It might have been bearable except for her obviously insincere attempts at making him feel better, despair and rage seething from him until he couldn’t bear it any more.

"Get out," he cut in, using a voice as soft and dark as black velvet. The slayer hesitated as if there was more that she wanted to add, but Spike gaze was frigid, the conversation obviously at an end. She left, pulling the door of the crypt closed behind her.

Spike waited until he heard the door shut behind her and then stalked over to the chest that held his supply of hard liquor. He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and removed the cork throwing it across the room. He raised the bottle to his lips and poured its contents straight down his throat, thankful that he had no need to breathe. Once it had time to get into his bloodstream the alcohol left him mildly tipsy, but he knew the feeling wouldn’t last. He started sorting through the chest and some boxes nearby in a search for more. He found another bottle with an inch left in the bottom and quickly drained it.

He wanted oblivion. He wanted to forget what a slayer was, never mind forgetting his slayer and how he felt about her and how she treated him. There was no more alcohol to be found except the beers in the fridge and his metabolism meant they wouldn’t have any significant effect.

He pulled open a cardboard box. There were candles, crystals, bags of dried herbs, jars of who knew what and books. The vampire pulled out the topmost book and started looking for a spell that would somehow make him forget the pain, a numbing spell, a spell to block his memory of her, anything that would get the job done.

He tossed aside the first book and pulled out the second. Half way through he came to a spell he remembered.

Chapter 2 – Two Lonely People

The Magic Box was empty of customers, its only occupants the two vengeance demons who were engrossed in discussing Xander’s fate. For some reason distress at Xander’s departure had affected Anya’s brain function in such a way that she forgot that her companion was also a vengeance demon. A vengeance demon who didn’t particularly like Xander. A vengeance demon who shouldn’t have any objection to granting any wish Anya might care to make concerning the Scoobies’ omega male.

Halfrek seemed to have let this slip her mind as well. Maybe D’Hoffryn held them financially responsible for the cost of any wishes they granted. Whatever the reason this meant that the pair were trying to think of possible candidates to trick, coerce or bribe into making a wish against Anya’s (former?) beloved.

Anya was currently bemoaning her limited social circle.

"What am I supposed to do, just stumble upon someone who doesn’t give a fig’s ass if Xander gets hurt?"

Right on cue, the bell over the shop door heralded Spike’s arrival. "Hey," said the peroxide vamp. "I need some stuff."

Anya immediately put on the guise of a hyper efficient shopkeeper. "So… what’s your pleasure?"

"Fresh out of pleasure..." Spike moved over to the display of candles and pulled all the red ones from the shelf. "But I’ll take these, if you’ve got another four the same stashed away in the basement or somewhere."

"I’ll check for you, Spike. Are you planning on doing some magic then? You’re not normally bothered about whether your candles match or not."

"Yeah, thought I might try something."

Anya pulled Halfrek with her as she headed for the cellar and Spike could hear the two whispering to each other, though he didn’t strain to hear what they were saying. The two returned to the main shop, Anya carrying an armful of red candles. She added four to those Spike had placed on the counter and put the rest to one side, ready to restock.

Halfrek grabbed her handbag and headed toward the door. "So, you know… good luck, with that… whole thing." She waved goodbye and left Spike and Anya alone in the shop.

"Sorry to bust up the little girls’ night out." Spike apologised.

"Don’t worry. I’m always ready to do business. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, pet. I’ve already got everythin’ else."

"I thought you objected to magic on principle. I didn’t know you even had any talent. You were the one who kept going on about consequences… but I’ve still rung those candles up so you still have to buy them."

"I never said I objected to the mojo, just that you have to treat it with respect. The end result has to justify the risks. Last spell I did was to bring Dru back to strength. That worked fine. It was a certain stupid little bint and her mates that caused all the problems. As to consequences, I doubt I could end up any worse off than I am now, luv."

"In that case can I recommend what I have here." Anya reached beneath the counter, pulling out a bottle of bourbon.

"Thanks, pet, but no. If I’m going to be mucking around with magic later on, then I think I’d best be sobering up not getting more drunk. I could go for something to eat though, if you feel like going to the Bronze. It must be nearly time to shut up shop."

The two demons in human form sat in the Bronze sharing a plate of spicy chicken wings and a "flowering onion" and a couple of beers.

"Xander thought I was rude." Anya moaned.

"That’s because he’s one of them. Uptight. Repressed." Spike gave vent to his own particular grievance.

"You think?"

"Please," The vamp retorted. "It’s no wonder they couldn’t deal with the likes of you and me, luv. We both should have been dead hundreds of years ago – and we’re the only ones that are really alive.

We know what’s really important. We know if you get a chance at love you don’t throw it away. Being in love with someone who loves you back is the best you can get in this world and they throw it away like garbage."

The band on stage slowed its paced and the two blondes slowed to a halt.

"Thank you." Anya’s message was barely loud enough to be heard over the club’s PA system.

"Just a dance, pet. No biggie."

"No." She took hold of his sleeve as he was about to leave the floor, making him look back into her face. "Thank you."

Forestalled by her grip on his coat, Spike in turn cupped his hands under the girls elbows and the pair began to sway in time to the music; looking into her eyes he silently encouraged her to continue.

"This is the first time since… It feels good to be with someone who understands."

"Intimately."

"This whole time, I’ve been coming on all hell bent and mad. Wanting his head, you know?"

"Yeah." It didn’t take any effort at all for the vamp to understand her feelings.

She looked near to tears as she continued. "When, really, I can’t sleep at night, thinking it has to be my fault somehow-"

"Shhhhh." The vampire pulled his companion into his arms, leaving only enough distance between them to allow him to focus on her face as all her pent up cares flowed out.

"I mean, what if he was just pretending? What if he never really wanted me? I mean the way I wanted…" Tears finally spilled from her eyes and she made an effort to regain control. "Oh God… I’m sorry."

Spike’s voice was tender as he reassured her, his fingers moving to frame her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears as they trickled down. "Now, now… He’d have to be more than just the git he is, Anya. He’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to want a woman like you."

"Then why?"

"The two of them, they’re weak is all." He pulled her tight in his arm, oblivious to the fact that whilst their motions had gradually stilled both the band and the crowd around them had returned to a more upbeat tempo.

The three original Scoobies had taken over the Summers’ dining room, Willow tapping away at her laptop’s keyboard while Buffy and Xander watched from the other end of the table.

The slayer pushed for her friend to break the security on the nerd’s transmission. "Can you get a location?"

Willow glanced up at her answering the question with her eyes before she even opened her mouth. "Hey, I’m still me. Just one- whoa."

"What? What?" questioned the blonde.

"There are other cameras." Willow’s hands stilled momentarily before she began to switch between different links. "Oh my God. The Double Meat Palace. The Bronze. My classrooms on campus. Xander’s site… The Bronze…" The redhead cycled back to the feed from the club as her conscious brain caught up with what her subconscious had recognised on the first run through.

Chapter 3 – A Kiss & A Wish

Anya’s tears had tailed off now and Spike’s hands traced gentle caresses over her face. He placed a gentle kiss on her brow and she wrapped her arms around him under cover of a layer of black leather drawing physical and emotional support from the vampire’s strength.

He spoke softly into her blonde curls, inhaling the green-apple scent of her shampoo. "They don’t have the guts to follow their hearts. I wish they did, but they don’t. They spend so much time being scared of everything that could go wrong that they won’t let anything go right."

Anya ducked her head until her face was hidden between his chest and his duster. "Done," she whispered so quietly even Spike remained oblivious. A wave of surprise travelled through her as she realised who was the second recipient of her efforts. She reflexively raised her head, looking into Spike’s eyes even as she admitted that on a certain level she had known the truth all along.

His forehead came to rest against hers and they stood in their own private world for minutes, each simply taking comfort from the other’s closeness before the jostling crowd caused the vamp to guide Anya from the dance-floor.

"Come on, kitten. I’ll walk you back to wherever you’re staying before I go back to my place. A morsel as pretty as you’s bound to run into trouble walking home alone after dark."

He paused to pick up the bag of candles from under the table they had previously occupied, and then moved sideways breaking a path through the club’s patrons. He kept one arm draped protectively over her shoulders and Anya’s arm circled his waist, her thumb hooked through the belt-loop on his jeans, each was reluctant to lose the connection engendered by the other’s touch.

Buffy and Xander rose from their seats, moving around the table to get the screen in view just as Spike closed the gap between him and Anya.

"What?" Buffy was the first to query Willow’s shocked expression, but the redhead was preoccupied with a belated attempt to prevent Xander’s approach.

"Wait, Xander, no."

The young man, if anything, was hastened by her pleas and stared at the screen as Spike kissed his former fiancée, a desperate epithet falling from his lips at the sight. Buffy’s look of horror soon matched Xander’s own and after a quick glance at the brunette’s face her gaze returned inexorably to the screen.

Around the monochrome pair the crowd gyrated and swayed but the two stood statue still oblivious to the seething motion around them.

The front door clashed shut and Dawn slung her backpack to the floor as she entered. "Hey guys, what’s-" She too was drawn to the screen. For a second a huge smile illuminated her face until she looked across at Xander and it faded.

Willow glanced across at Buffy, hoping for guidance on how to deal with Xander and became aware of the same devastated look on her best friend’s face. Microseconds later the younger Summers also noted her expression and drew her own conclusions.

Buffy’s voice cut through the silence. "That’s enough." She headed off through the living room. After a quick glance passed between the remaining females Dawn followed her. The pair barely had time to start a discussion when Willow caught up with them in the back yard.

"Buffy, Xander’s gone… and he took a stake."

"Yeah. So. It’s not like Spike can’t…" Buffy’s indignant response stalled as she remembered that her former kick-ass patrol partner had a major Achilles’ heel. "Look after himself. Oh God. Does he have the car? How much of a head start has he got?" She even as she framed the questions the blonde was off and running round the side of the house.

"No and about a minute," Willow bounced on the balls of her feet as she shouted back.

"Sheesh," Dawn moved to watch over her shoulder and shook her head. "And she says she broke up with him. ‘D Like to see how fast she could run if she was hung up on the guy."

"Love makes you do the wacky… well, um, not love, em, well in Xander’s case, then love but… I think I’ll go back and see if there are any more channels and then try to trace the source again."

Buffy caught up with Xander long before he got anywhere near the Bronze.

"Xander, you’ve got to calm down. You’re not going to achieve anything by going after Spike."

"Other than an immense feeling of satisfaction, you mean? The thing should have been staked years ago."

"You don’t even know what you saw. Maybe he was just comforting her. She’s had a bit of a rough time lately and it’s not like we’ve… Well, the rest of us are all closer to you than to her."

"Yeah, and Captain Sarcasm’s the guy who’s always there waiting when you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on and I don’t think." Buffy at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable but didn’t interrupt. "He kissed her. Twice. He’s decided to cut his losses as far as his little obsession with you’s concerned. Now he’s after her while she’s vulnerable. Well, you know what. He’s not going to get her. This thing stops right now."

"I still don’t think you’re right. It’s not like he had his tongue down her throat or anything… is it? But, even if… Xander. You left her at the altar. You can’t do that and then go throw your weight around like you’ve got some sort of claim."

"I can if I’m going to put her in a car, drive to Vegas and marry her tonight."

"You what?"

"When I was watching them, you know at first I just felt sick to my stomach. The whole thing just… eew. Then he kissed her and she sort of snuggled her face in against his chest, and right then I just had to do something about it. I’m the only one I want her getting that close to, and if the only way she’ll have me back is if we get married, then we’re getting married. I mean, it’s not like we don’t love each other. We do. And we’d been living together, that’s pretty much like being married except for a little bit of paper. And I know I ruined her big day, but if we elope now we can always have a blessing done later when we’ve saved up some more money."

"Wow, big U turn."

"Yeah, well, I guess I got freaked about everything that could go wrong, but I’ve just got to make sure I don’t let things happen like that."

"So, were you planning on staking Spike before or after the proposal?"

"…Okay, maybe it wouldn’t make the best impression, but if he’s trying to take advantage of her, it won’t stop me."

Buffy looked over at Xander. "Think you can cover both of us in. I kind of left in a hurry and I don’t have any money?"

"Sure."

The pair scanned the bar but finally conceded that their quarry had eluded them. Buffy, however caught sight of a familiar face, Willow’s one-time history tutee.

"Percy, I’m looking for someone. She was here about ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Anya Jenkins, she was in our year?"

"Yeah, sweet lookin’ chick." Percy became aware of Xander’s presence behind Buffy. "Seems I heard she got dumped even worse than Xander that Valentine’s day. Way harsh, dude. She left with some guy."

Buffy, turned to face Xander briefly, indicating with frantic eye movements that Xander should back off. "Look, we just want to be sure she’s okay. The guy she left with, sort of white-blonde hair, leather coat, that right?" Percy looked over to where Xander now stood a few feet away before giving a brief nod.

"Did they look like they were together? I mean together together?"

Percy moved his head closer to Buffy’s, pitching his voice so only she could hear. "Looked like more of a friends thing. They had some food, couple of beers. Danced a bit, then she got all upset. Chick was cryin’ her eyes out in the middle of the dance floor. He seemed to get her calmed down and then they left. I’m not saying they weren’t together, I mean, I wasn’t about to go ask for a dance while she was with him, but..."

The jock looked over at Xander. "What’s the deal with him anyway? Dump her then stalk her?"

"Not really. He heard she was here with that guy and he was worried about her. Look. Thanks."

"Yeah, fine."

Buffy went over to where Xander leant against the bar. "Percy reckons they weren’t, you know… but we’ve pretty much missed them."

Chapter 4 – There’s Always Consequences

Spike arranged the candles in a circle around the herbs and other items he’d removed from the box. He read through the instructions in the spell book one more time making sure he had everything straight in his head before he started.

It was time.

Spike picked up one of the candles and held it at an angle, using his lighter to light the wick, then moved round the circle using it to light the others. He picked up the spell-book and moved into the circle before replacing the candle, closing the gap. He took a seat cross-legged on the floor behind the various accoutrements necessary for the spell and lit the incense in its censer. He took deliberate deep breaths, inhaling the fragrance, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts not directly connected to casting the spell. The candles had burned down a full two inches before his mind was calm and clear enough to proceed with the rest of the spell.

"Harken all ye elements, I summon thee now." He dropped something into a bowl resting inside a pentacle drawn in front of him.

"Control the outside, control within.
Land and sea, fire and wind.
Out of my passions, a web be spun.
From this eve forth, my will be done.

So mote it be."

Picking up a goblet from the floor he poured its contents into the bowl. Flickers of electricity flashed around the circle like blue-violet lightning. The flame atop each of the candles flared to a height of six inches before returning to normal. The crypt as still as the grave.

Spike finally rose and extinguished the candles one by one, clearing away them and the other items used in the spell. He was confident that the spell was active. The light show at the end was proof of that. Now he needed to check that it was working as he intended.

He retrieved the empty bourbon bottle from its resting place on the floor. "I will this bottle to be filled again." He watched and waited. Nothing happened.

He let forth an exhausted sigh. "Guess I’m not all that passionate about alcohol after all… So much for the test run."

Spike let the events of the last few days run through his head. He focused on the pain that Buffy had caused him. He let her rejections make him angry and he thought of how it had infuriated him when she had said she didn’t love him because he knew even if she didn’t want to there was part of her that did. Only when his rage was like a red-hot coal inside him did he give voice to his desires.

"I wish that Buffy would decide exactly what it is that she really wants."

Buffy made her way through the centre of town, her shift at the Double Meat Palace finally over. She hadn’t heard from Xander since they had finally parted company at dawn this morning. It was only after they had left the Bronze that the two of them had realised that neither of them had even asked Anya where she was staying. The Magic Box had been shuttered and dark and Spike’s crypt barren; cold and forbidding.

She had checked the subterranean portion of his home and found that whilst the room had been cleaned and those items damaged beyond repair had been removed, he had made no effort to make the room hospitable. She had felt guilty, not for the obvious reason that she had been the one to destroy it, but for something worse. She had felt that his efforts to make that room seem like a home had been part of how he’d tried to be better for her. Like some sort of nest-building exercise. The fact that he hadn’t made any effort to restore the room seemed to be a sign of defeatism on his part. She had thought about all their times together, as enemies, as allies, as friends and as lovers. Always there had been a fire in everything he did, never still unless in sleep. His eyes always betraying some form of emotion, be it hatred, despair, sympathy, lust or love. Even though she knew he was dead, she had never known anyone with more passion for life. As she had looked round that sterile chamber, scrubbed until the smells of lemon and pine obliterated the lingering odours of soot, ash and burnt vinyl, she felt like she had broken some essential part of him, like she had somehow desecrated a work of art.

That feeling had stayed with her all night as she and Xander waited for his return. The hours had been slow to pass. Xander had paced the room, fidgeting with the stake he carried, checking his watch every few minutes, his ramblings first hopeful, then accusatory, then worried and back to accusatory again. Finally, the sun peaking over the horizon had forced him to admit that it was unlikely the vamp would return to his lair and Buffy had felt free to return home and get ready for work. Just the same she couldn’t help but spend all day wondering just what it was that had kept Spike so busy he wasn’t home before sunrise.

She told herself that she was just going home this way because it took her past Starbucks and she really wanted a proper coffee, not the stewed brew that came with non-dairy creamer which they sold in DMP, but something foamy and delicious. It was only coincidence that she would pass both The Magic Box and Spike’s crypt. Pure coincidence.

Of course, now that she’d actually got into Starbucks she had no idea what she actually wanted. Hot or cold? Small, medium or large? What blend? Half-fat, whole-fat, No-fat? Half-caff, Decaff or regular? Oh boy, choices, choices. It always took her a full five minutes to make up her mind. She pulled the change from her pocket, comparing it with the price of the various coffees.

Then, instantly it came to her. Medium, half-fat, half-caff, iced mint mocha. Perfection.

Spike wondered if this was working. The thing was he didn’t want to repeat Red’s mistake. He had to make his wishes and then end the spell. The little Wicca had decided the spell wasn’t working and then every little thing she said when she was all fired up started coming true, including him and Buffy getting engaged. If he wanted to, he could make that same wish, but he didn’t want Buffy like that. Not if he could do it properly. He wanted the feelings she had for him to be genuine, not some spell-induced figment of her imagination. He didn’t want to use the spell to make her fall in love with him. He just wanted her to own up and stop kidding herself about the feelings she did have.

"I wish Buffy would be honest about her feelings, to herself and others."

Buffy took her coffee and strolled in the direction of The Magic Box. When she got there her little sister was sitting on the shop’s doorstep and the shutters were still down, or back down.

"Hey, Dawn."

"Hey to you too."

"No Anya?" Buffy tried to conceal the turmoil caused by Anya’s absence.

"No Anya. Did you find her and Spike last night?"

"No. No sign at the Bronze and Spike was a dirty stop-out and didn’t make it home all night."

"So, d’you think…?" Dawn raised an eyebrow.

Buffy just shrugged her shoulders.

"If they had, would you care?" Dawn asked quietly as Buffy joined her on the doorstep.

"No, I mean it would just kill Xander if-"

"I’m asking about you not Xander. Would you care?"

"Me? …Care what Spike does? …Of course n-… I do." Buffy slapped a hand to her mouth. ‘What on earth did I just say? …and in front of Dawn.’

"So if you have feelings for him, then why did you break up with him."

"Because I finally had to face up to the fact that sooner or later, if he stays here, he’ll do something that’ll force me to kill him. So I broke things off before I got any deeper in, before I ended up feeling more for that blonde pest than I already do because I’m not strong enough to do that again. I just can’t… and because I’m ashamed of myself for being with him, so whenever we’re together and anyone sees us I treat him badly ‘cause I don’t want them to think there’s… It’s easier if I keep people thinking that I hate him. Then, I’m ashamed because he’s in love with me and that makes him vulnerable and I keep treating him like dirt. It’s all sorts of badness, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg."

Dawn smiled at her sister. Her happiness at being confided in, at being treated like an equal evidenced by the gleam in her eyes.

‘Okay, one last item on the wish list and then it’s time to call it quits on this little escapade.’

Spike worked himself up into a temper again, ready to make his last wish. ‘It’s real for me, is it? Well, it’s going to be real for you too, pet. No more treating Spike like a simpleton who can’t even know how he feels without Buffy telling him he’s wrong.’

"I wish that Buffy would really truly understand my feelings for her."

He picked up a piece of paper on which he had scribbled some notes. Unlike Willow, he didn’t want to reverse the spell effects he might have achieved. He just wanted to make sure he didn’t inadvertently cause any disasters, so now he had to close of the spell from accepting further wishes.

" These wishes are all that I ask
With these things done, no further task,
By earth and air, water and fire,
No more events, my will inspire.

So mote it be."

"But if there’s all this badness, then you must have cared about him a lot, or it wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did."

"I don’t know about that. At the start I was just numb, but with him I felt alive. I knew it wasn’t fair on him, but I used him to get me through. I would have probably had a nervous breakdown if he hadn’t helped-"

"Buffy?" Dawn shook her sister’s shoulder. "Buffy?" Her sister sat on the doorstep, both hands holding her coffee in which the ice was rapidly melting. Her eyes were empty as her grave.

"Buffy, speak to me. Buffy, you can’t leave again. I need you. Stay with me." She shook Buffy harder. "Please wake up, please."

Chapter 5 – California Dreamin’

"Buffy, come back. Buffy?"

Dawn tried to shake her sister back into awareness. When that didn’t work she started working out her options. She couldn’t leave her unattended. It was still daylight but just the same it was Sunnydale. Taking the coffee from her hands and placing it on the ground she pulled her sister to her feet. Relief flowed through her. It worked. At least Buffy wasn’t frozen to the spot and once she pulled her halfway, it was as if she did the rest of it and stayed upright on her own.

So far, so good. She pulled Buffy’s bag from her shoulder and checked her purse. There was thirty dollars in it. She replaced the purse in her bag and put the bag over her own shoulder. She took Buffy’s hand and walked a few paces. Buffy’s body shuffled along behind her. When she stopped, it stopped. If she wasn’t pulling on its arm it just stood motionless except for an occasional blink. It was all creeping Dawn out in a major way. If there was anyone else here to take charge she would just freak out and let them get on with it, but she was on her own, for now.

She pulled Buffy’s body toward the nearest phone box. The first number she tried rang several times and then a machine kicked in.

"Xander, if you’re there, pick up. It’s Dawn…" She waited for a while but there was no response and she replaced the receiver. Willow might or might not be home but there wasn’t anything Willow could do about getting the pair of them home. Why was it out of all the people who knew about the weird stuff only two of them could drive and one of them was solarly challenged and didn’t have a phone? Dawn dialled a number she found on one of the stickers that festooned the booth summoning a taxi.

Buffy was dreaming. It was a very strange dream. She was dreaming about the night that Riley came back to town, but it was like she was watching herself. She watched herself enter Spike’s crypt, feeling a tingle of excitement, a sudden happiness that she was at a loss to explain. She hadn’t been happy that night and that "low down tingle" as Faith had once so eloquently put it, well it was there, but it sure wasn’t right.

She tried to look down at her body, but it seemed as if she had no control. Okay, this was too weird. Time to wake up. Now… please? Try as she might she couldn’t force herself to wake up. Words were coming out of her mouth, but they weren’t her words. They were Spike’s words. She knew exactly what Spike had been going to say when she asked him to say he wanted her and she could feel it as well. Oh my God. She was hitchhiking in Spike’s body. The desire, the hope and, God help her, the love she was feeling, they were his. It was the way he had felt that night.

She relived the earlier part of that night, from her entrance into the crypt until Spike finally drifted off to sleep, holding her in his arms. She was aware for the first time that he had been awake long after she had succumbed to her fatigue, blissfully happy just to watch her, to be allowed that close to her post coitus.

Then the dream changed, or she rode piggy back as he dreamt another dream within his dream. Spike and Xander were talking to some old man. The old man was asking about a spell Dawn did. He said she changed her mind, and Buffy felt the wave of grief at the memory before she realised what he was talking about. Spike had brought Dawn here. He had helped her when she tried to resurrect her mother. Spike had grieved for her mother? He had grieved for himself and for her pain and Dawn’s.

The old guy warned her to stay away from hell-gods and she knew how much she wanted to take that advice except that choice was no choice at all because she loved Dawn more than her own life. Suddenly the old man leaped diagonally across the room in a way that suggested he wasn’t an old man at all and then it was behind her but when she turned it was holding a sword to her throat. She managed to swat the blade out of the monster's hand but the manoeuvre forced her to fall over backward scattering a pile of books.

Xander tried to take advantage of it being disarmed but the beast’s tongue came out like a lizard’s knocking him into the wall. From her semi-prone position on the ground she watched the sole of its foot come toward her face. It picked up a wooden box and threw it into the fire returning to grab her by her T-shirt threatening her before Xander recovered enough to tackle it.

She knew that the box was her only hope to find out what she needed to know to save Dawn, and that made her brave the flames that she knew were potentially fatal. By the time she pulled the box from the flames Xander had recovered the dropped sword and driven it through the chest of the demon and his blood seeped from the wound like blue washing-up liquid.

She was going to leave and part of her knew that in real life she had done but some intuition forced her not to. Passing the box to Xander, she pulled the blade from the wound and used it to sever the demon’s head from its body, throwing it into the fireplace. The eyes opened, no longer human looking but irises black and enlarged and the mouth opened in a silent scream. She watched until the head shrivelled and blackened and then she picked up the sword once more and hacked the remains to pieces.

The scene changed and she crouched with Xander and Anya at the bottom of the tower. Glory’s underlings defended the bottom of the stairs but time was working in the slayer’s favour. As long as Dream Buffy could keep Glory busy there was no one to perform the sacrifice. There would have been but there wasn’t. She watched as Glory turned back into Ben and Dream Buffy rushed to the top of the tower untying her sister and bringing her down.

Glory’s minions had scattered once she was defeated and Buffy knew that Spike wanted to rush to meet his women as he thought of them. Instead he slipped away into the shadows knowing he wouldn’t be wanted now he had played his part. She watched from a distance as Dream Buffy brought her sister unharmed to the ground and her heart filled with pride and love before she walked away.

A door appeared in front of her and she opened it walking through into either a costume party or a party from Spike’s youth. Her eyes scanned the room drawn to a couple who shared a sofa. She moved toward them but for some reason she was reluctant to do so. She knew that watching this was going to dig up some old remembered pain, but she didn’t see how. The man was mousy, timid and he sat with his shoulders rounded in as if he was trying to make himself look smaller, like he preferred to be ignored. The woman for some reason looked vaguely familiar, but Buffy couldn’t quite place her.

She moved closer, close enough to hear what the pair were saying. She realised as she heard him speak, even though the tone was more refined than she was used to, that this was Spike, or rather William.

"I know… it’s sudden and… please, if they’re no good, they’re only words but… the feeling behind them… I love you, Buffy."

The sound of her own name threw her and she realised that the woman in the crinoline was in fact now her. She had been busy concentrating on Spike and the world had changed around her. The girl with her face responded to William’s pleas.

"Please stop!"

"I know I’m a bad poet but I’m a good man… and all I ask is that you try to see me-"

"I do see you. That’s the problem. You’re nothing to me, William. You’re beneath me."

Bank notes fluttered round her as she sat in the alley by the Bronze, tears running down her face, as she watched the slayers retreating back.

"But you don’t see me. I’ve tried to make it clear to you, but you won’t see it." She rose from the ground before carrying on with what she had to say to Dream Buffy, who had halted when she heard Spike’s voice. "Something happened to me. The way I feel … about you … it’s different. And no matter how hard you try to convince yourself it isn’t, it’s real."

She watched Dream Buffy’s feet as she turned to face her. "I think it is." Her eyes rose to look at the other Buffy’s face, her heart filled with hope. "For you."

A pain so deep it was almost physical lanced through her. She drew a deep breath that she didn’t need as her eyes flew wide. She realised that her cheeks were wet and wiped at them with her hand, but it made little difference as more tears kept falling.

Chapter 6 – Spike Brain, Brain of Spike

‘Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bloody bitch!’

Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from underneath the corner of his pillow. Flicking the pack open, he pursed his lips around one of the exposed butts, pulling it from the packet. A brief blue-orange flicker of flame provided unnecessary illumination as he indulged one of his rapidly dwindling number of vices.

It was still only just after full dark. He’d got back to the crypt just after sundown, whilst it was still light. He’d cast the spell straight away and gone directly to bed in an effort to make up for the absence of sleep the previous night. An hour later, he was awake again.

‘All that bloody bitch’s fault… unless of course you believe in karma, in which case it would be all my fault for how I treated Harm, and I’m still due a staking.’ He picked up his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, rummaging in a casket on the floor for a clean T-shirt, shirt and socks.

‘And, if she is a bitch, whose fault is that? God knows she had her moments, like in that alley, "beneath me", but she was never the Wicked Witch of the West before… So if she’s turned into superbitch it’s no more than you deserve. If you’d kept your promise… Anyway she’s your superbitch, so what are you complaining about.

‘Cause she isn’t, not really, and even if she was I’d still rather never have her and see her happy, like she was before Glory. I haven’t seen her laugh in years, but I made her smile. Not often, but now and again on the back porch, I made her smile.’

Images from his dreams came back to him as he prepared to head out on patrol.

‘Okay, Doc and the tower, I get. Three hundred and forty two days and I’m still occasionally coming up with a new twist on what I could have done to save her. And yeah, can’t say the bit at the end isn’t obvious, but Cecily or Halfrek or Hallie or whatever the hell she’s calling herself these days? Where the hell does she fit in?

Right next to the slayer.

No, Cecily was just some spoilt upper-class bitch who couldn’t see anything except the fact that "society" would never approve if she were to even consider a suit from someone with fewer resources than her family. I was a damn sight better off once I realised that.

And except for not being upper class and it being the vampire thing instead of money, Buffy’s different how?

Face facts. No woman has ever thought it was worth the effort to get to know you. Dru saw straight through you like a sheet of glass the minute she met you, and in her own darling demented way she loved you for eleven decades, even if you were second best, she at least loved you. She knew you better than you knew yourself and she still loved you. There’s not one other woman who even tried. Well Harm, but there was as much chance of her understanding you as there is of a chimpanzee understanding nuclear fusion. But she tried.

Yeah, Dru knew you. She knew you never really tried to kill her. Yeah, slayer throws you through walls and you keep fighting but one little tap with an axe from her mother and you call it quits. It’s not like slayer strength’s hereditary. The slayer could kick you harder than Joyce hit you with that axe. And you knew that going in a day early would cock up the Annoying One’s plans for St. Vigeous, and if they had worked… and the big scaredy run away at Halloween… and, yeah, of course you would have still given Dru the bits of the judge if you actually believed he would really come back together and destroy the world. Nothing to do with the fact you thought the whole thing was a total crock… and Acathla… and the little na-na-na-na "It’s the ring" speech.

Hell, you make it sound like I was in love with her the minute I saw her. Make me sound like that bloody child-molesting Ponce. I gave up on little girls once I hit eighteen so who are you trying to kid?

No, you probably fancied Joyce more at the start, especially after she had the balls to thump you with that axe, but you were always attracted to what she had the potential to become. Especially once you met her mum. You do at least realise that the traits they get from Joyce are the ones that make you love them all. You never wanted to kill her. Except in a bloody pissed-off, lasts for five minutes kind of way. Most of the time killing her was just an excuse to come back. Dru was just a bit premature about saying you loved her, but then sometimes she had a better grip on the future than she did on the present. Can’t really blame her for being a bit confused.

Okay, so why that night with the eggs? Why do I keep coming back to that?

‘Cause that’s the closest you ever got to not being just another Riley. In her bed, well, in her arms, at least, but never in her heart. That was the one time she let you in, before her and Cardboard screwed the whole thing up between them. Still don’t know which is worse, if I’d never had any part of her, or having her body while her mind and her heart stay shut up in ice.

It’s all her fault anyway. What the hell are you meant to do when your bimbo girlfriend kills your poker buddy’s mate in the middle of nesting season? Surprised he didn’t just string us up there and then… Mated for seventy years and then ‘cause some bint doesn’t open any of her watcher’s books long enough to tell the difference between a species that’s perfectly peaceful if occasionally grumpy when losing at poker and gets a bit territorial when they’re nesting and your average psycho sewer dweller, I get shafted again.

And it’s not like I can play her little trick and tell everybody she’s not my girlfriend ‘cause – demons - they can smell her all over me. So I end up stuck in a room with a guy that’s wife’s just been killed by my "never be my girl"-friend for no good reason other than the fact she can be as thick as two short planks from time to time. If he tells me that I’m looking after his bloody eggs while he’s out of town, it’s not like I can say, "let their mother look after them" is it? And I mean God had we heard about those eggs… He’d been happily anticipating eating all his young for weeks. Bloody good job he didn’t make it back to town ‘cause even I’d feel guilty if I had to kill him, and he’d definitely want to kill me, now. I don’t think the two that fitted in the icebox would be much consolation. I’ll have to clear them out some time.

But will she let you get a word in edge-ways to explain? No, just gives the ex a helping hand to beat me up, and I mean, as if the wanker would dare face me one on one without this chip in my head. Listens to all his little stories as if they’re gospel cause human equals good. Demon equals evil. The fact that the soldier boy and I have detested each other from the second we were aware of each other, well, I suppose really from the point he realised I wasn’t "a friend of Xander’s", up until then it was a bit one-sided, that wouldn’t have any influence on anything he said. Wouldn’t make him believe some pile of crap somebody feeds him in Willy’s, a bar I can’t even drink in any more, thanks to my association with little Miss Prissy Britches. And of course he’d never just make stuff up himself just to see me shafted, no-o-o. Course not. Only the evil soulless demon would lie to precious little Buffy.

And, yeah even if they did hatch, it’s not like a dozen baby Nevlon’s are such a threat they warrant blowing up somebody’s bedroom. Never seen Nev go for anything bigger than a kitten. Half the bloody albums they wrecked were older than either of them. Bitch. Wanker. Whichever. Don’t really want to know which of the pair of them did it. Doesn’t matter, it’ll probably still cost a good few grand to replace half the albums, and the other half just can’t be replaced.

Probably work out cheaper renting a place, buying a PC, subscribing to broad band and downloading everything than trying to replace them on vinyl or CD. Not the same though. Hell of a lot of good memories went along with those albums. Bitch. Hate not having music… but not a hundredth as much as you hate losing her… not even a thousandth…’

Spike’s internal monologue (or should that be dialogue because he did seem to argue with himself a lot) rumbled on through his head as he patrolled through all twelve cemeteries, and Buffy heard every word of it. She thought he’d been being melodramatic when he claimed that he dreamt about her, and thought about her all the time, that he was drowning in her. Now she knew it was nothing but the truth. Well except for the half-hour he spent wondering what he’d missed on Passions while he was holed up in the mansion.

Buffy was beginning to wonder if you could get a headache when you didn’t have a head. Spike’s brain seemed to whirr constantly, and fascinating as the insight was in places she was wondering if he would ever shut up. And she wasn’t thick as two short planks, whatever that meant… and boy was she going to have words with him about his ice-box… if she ever got her mouth back.

"Okay, so Buffy is catatonic, yet again. Anya is missing, last seen at the Bronze with Spike and Xander hasn’t rung, so we’re assuming he hasn’t made it home from work yet." Willow summed up the situation.

Dawn looked across the room at the only members of the Scooby gang she’d been able to round up, Tara and Willow. She hadn’t wanted to leave Buffy on her own and by the time Willow had made it home it was too dark to go looking for Spike without back up. Tara had come over once she got a message on her answering machine.

"That’s about it, except for the fact there’s no food in the house and if we order pizza it’ll use the last of the money in Buffy’s purse." Dawn added.

"I’ll cover us for pizza for tonight." Tara offered, "and if Buffy’s not any better tomorrow I’ll do some grocery shopping and I’ll cook. Everything’s going to be okay, sweetie. We’ll make sure you’re okay."

"I think I’d rather have Buffy back, no offence."

"I know, Dawnie, but I don’t know yet if there’s anything we can do." Willow put in her ten cents worth. "We have to work out what’s causing it, and what is actually going on in her head before we can find out what we have to do. But I’m not even sure that that should be our number one priority."

"How can you say that?" Dawn squealed. "She’s supposed to be your best friend."

"Dawn, whatever else Buffy is here at least in body. No one knows what’s happened to Anya or even Xander for that matter. We know that Buffy saw Xander this morning and that Spike hadn’t come home. If Xander met up with either or both of the others after he left Buffy, there’s no saying what might have happened given the mood he was in when he left here last night. I mean, do any of us know for sure that Spike’s chip is still working?"

"Spike wouldn’t hurt anyone even if his chip did stop working." Dawn refused to even contemplate the suggestion. "He might give Xander a black eye or two but nothing serious and he wouldn’t do anything to Anya or to Buffy."

"Besides, I know it was working a couple of weeks ago," Tara added quietly.

"How do you know? Did he try to hit you or something?" Willow asked.

"No, nothing like that. Buffy told me… unless… Buffy wanted me to check up on the resurrection spell, because Spike’s chip wasn’t picking her up as human. It still worked on other people, but not on her. Maybe it’s nothing to do with the spell; maybe it’s some sort of gradual failure in the chip. We don’t know what criteria the chip uses to decide who’s human and who isn’t. If Buffy was when it started to go wrong maybe there are more and more people ‘falling through the net’."

"I’m not saying you’re wrong about the chip, but Spike wouldn’t hurt any of us whether his chip worked or not." Dawn was adamant.

"But you weren’t the one he kidnapped or threatened with a broken bottle or tried to drain…" Willow interjected.

"I don’t think he would either, sweetie," Tara replied to Dawn, "but right now, we haven’t a clue what’s happening and we have to consider all the possibilities.

Why don’t you try ringing Xander again? Maybe he’s got back and he just hasn’t noticed that he’s got a message. I’ll go up and have a look at Buffy. I might be able to pick up some clue as to what’s going on by having a look at her aura. If we can get hold of Xander then maybe a couple of us can go look for Spike, unless Xander has any news that helps us out.

Otherwise, I think maybe we should all stay together. It might not be coincidence that people who help Buffy are disappearing at the same time she’s incapacitated. That is if you girls don’t mind me sleeping on the couch?"

Both the other girls shook their heads, Willow most vehemently not having any objection.

Chapter 7 – Phone calls and house calls

"H-hi."

A blast of rock music drowned out the first part of the reply before the guy on the other end of the phone moved to a slightly quieter spot and Dawn was still pondering who in that bar would play "Living on a Prayer" when she made out, "… Grill, Dave Sspeaking."

"Hi, Dave, I-I was wondering if maybe Spike was there tonight… or Clem even?"

"Haven’t sseen Sspike ssince lasst week, but Clem’ss in back. Don’t know if he’ll be able to get to the phone though, leasst not sstraight away."

"Can you give him a message please? Ask him to ring Dawn and if Spike does show up can you tell him the same. The number’s 555 3479. Yeah? …and the name’s Dawn. Thanks."

"555 3479. Dawn. I’ll tell him."

Dave stuck the post-it note next to the phone and moved to serve the group who had come in whilst he was talking to the slayer’s little sister.

"There’s still no answer at Xander’s place, but I had a thought and rang the bar where Spike plays poker. Spike wasn’t there but Clem is, so I left a message for him to ring here. He might know where Anya’s staying or a phone number or something. He must know Anya somehow ‘cos she asked him to the wedding and even if he doesn’t know how to contact her he might go check up on Spike for us. Make sure he’s okay."

"Good thinking." Willow put down a pile of sheets and blankets on the coffee table; ready to make up the sofa as a bed when she and Dawn went upstairs.

Dawn fidgeted around holding the cordless phone in her hand waiting for Clem’s call and watching for Tara returning downstairs. As it turned out Tara’s return came first.

"What’s the verdict?" Dawn deliberately kept her tone bright and cheerful, trying not to let the Wiccans know how concerned she was about her sister’s condition.

"I don’t know what the problem is, Dawnie. Somehow, whatever makes Buffy Buffy isn’t there any more, but I don’t know how."

"So you’re saying Buffy’s soul is gone."

"Well, it’s not really just her soul. I mean, take Spike. No soul, but very definitely his own unique personality. It’s like everything except that part of her brain that makes her breathe, blink, that sort of thing is missing."

"Not wanting to sound all eughy here, but when I pulled her she would walk. If we take her to the toilet, do you think…? ‘Cos it’s a long long time since we kept any rubber sheets in the house and Buffy would not be happy if she came to in depends underwear, and can we get her to eat and drink ‘cos dehydration…"

"Daw-wwn" Both the witches sounded grossed out by the question, but the longer the slayers "blank" state went on the more pressing these practical matters were going to become.

"I’m serious, and even if it is something mystical that’s causing this if we can’t get her to eat and drink, she’s going to have to be hospitalised and if they put her back on the psych ward we could really lose her even if we get the missing bits back." Dawn launched her way through the sentence at breakneck speed, her fears starting to show.

"We have to find her, soon." Willow looked at the other women in the room. "Tara, could you do the locator spell we did when Faith and Buffy switched on your own?"

"No, you need someone to act as an anchor, and Dawn hasn’t got the experience to do it. I can do the normal, use a map sort of location spell though, but I don’t have all the ingredients, well I don’t have anything here, but there’s stuff I’d need from the Magic Box."

"If we get Spike he can pick the lock, or he knows a way into the basement through the sewer tunnels. He could pick things up if we gave him a list. Could we check on Anya using the same spell?" Dawn demonstrated part of the reason Buffy didn’t like the combination of Spike and her sister.

"As long as she’s in this plane, sweetie, but it’s a lot easier if anyone has something of hers."

"Not any more," muttered Dawn under her breath, as she looked at her feet.

"I managed to get a fix on where the camera signals were going last night. We’ll know if the signals are going to the same place as anyone who’s missing."

Tara looked over at Willow not wanting to ask her next question out loud. If they were being held by "The Trio" then who was left to send?

Spike wandered back homewards. Patrol had been moderately successful and he’d let off a bit of steam, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, not without the dreams. It looked like tonight was not a night for staying close to home. He strode across the grass to his door, the beginning of a smile on his face. He had plans for the night; nothing that couldn’t be changed if it turned out the slayer was waiting for him ready to declare her undying love, but failing that…

‘Bint’s more likely to come tell you ‘bout her undying love for Peaches than come tell you she cares about you, anyway. Even if she was there, and I would know by now if she was, you’re still probably better off getting out of there. I mean when was the last time she said anything you wanted to hear? "It hurts." …and even that did more to make you feel bad than it did to make you feel good. And before that? When did she ever actually say anything totally nice to you? Something not about sex, or in the middle of sex. "Sometimes." Yeah, that was nice! Honest though, pity it translates as not most of the time. There are moments when I can tolerate your presence but most of the time I don’t like you."

He pushed open the door to the crypt and grabbed some bits and pieces, ticking them off on a mental list before heading back out again.

‘"I can be alone with you here." What are you doing here? The last time you can remember her saying something nice to you was before you even kissed the bint. You tell yourself that she cares about you, that if she’d let herself it could be love. That if she’d let you treat her the way you want to…"

Spike kick-started the motorbike and started navigating his way to the outskirts of town.

"Yeah, if you could turn up knock on the front door and just take off on the bike with her behind you, get her to let her hair down for an hour or two. Watch a video with her and Niblet. Have dinner waiting for her when she comes home late from that hell she calls a job. Be a family, you her and Dawn.

Get a grip, mate. She’s told you she doesn’t love you. Says you have to move on. Don’t you remember? It made you mad enough before. Tore your fuckin’ heart out at the same time, but it made you mad and if you don’t stay mad you’ll end up worse than Broody Boy in LA so just stay mad or better yet just forget about her till she comes to you. Let her get on with her life without you if that’s what she really wants."

Spike pulled the bike over on Crawford Street about quarter of a mile before he would have reached the mansion he’d once shared with Angelus and Dru. He strode towards the front door of another large old house, his boots crunching on the moon-washed gravel. He scanned the list of names, before pushing the second of the six doorbells.

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