The Last

Disclaimer: Joss is king. Mutant Enemy is his court. Fox, Sandollar, UPN, and Kuzui Enterprises are the merchants who do his royal business. And we, are his faithful and obsessed subjects.

Spoilers: Up through Season Five.

Rated: the story as a whole is rated R for those inevitable Spuffy love scenes that I enjoy writing so much, violence, and of course- language. This sections only PG-13 though.

Summary: Pretend the 'Intervention' kiss happened before Buffy went to the desert. Everything is the same other than that. This has a bit of a twist though, but you have to read it to find out what it is.

Feedback: helps me decide what direction to go, and makes me smile. (even if its flames. I like any attention, ;-)

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Prologue:
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Why.

It's the question that reveals the most true information: the reasons, the intent, the feelings behind the thought, word, or action. Like why do you love me? Why do you hate me? Why did you make a cheap robot imitation of me to have sex with?

But she didn't ask him that.

He wanted her to, desperately. He wanted to tell her again how much he loved and yearned for her. How astonished he was that she pretended to be the said robot to find out if he had betrayed her. How wonderfully soft and beautiful her chaste kiss was. All of these reasons were behind 'why?' he tried to fill her shoes with something degrading.

--

A sick and disgusting robot. Only he would do something that crude. How pathetic and obsessed he was.

But she was so overcome with thankfulness that she had pressed her shiney pink lips to his bruised and swollen ones. He hadn't said a word to Glory. He hadn't betrayed the non-existant trust he had. He stayed true. So she thanked him with the kiss and left, only stopping to peer back at his his hunched form to say,

"I won't forget it."

--

He stared at her with one good eye, filled with pleading and love.

**Ask me why, Buffy. Please Love, ask me WHY.**

But she didn't.

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CHAPTER ONE
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Now Buffy stands in the empty desert, the wind making a lonesome wailing sound in the sand and rocky crevices. She shivers a bit with being enveloped in the desolate silence, and buries her slender powdered chin into the high soft collar of her brown turtleneck.

The giant mountian lion has left her in this spot that is so familiar, but so obscure, and she has no choice but to settle herself onto a rock and wait.

Soon the gold and white of the desert melts into the blue of twilight, and Buffy's eyes drift closed with quiet contentment and boredom.

It is black. She awakes to red. A mighty fire crackles ten feet infront of her on the dusty earth. Buffy's eyes widen in recognition.

"I know you." She says in awe to the crouching woman in warrior's rags behind the flaming tongues.

"I am the First. Why do you seek me a second time, Slayer of This Day?"

"I have a question...a-about love."

"Why?" the First replies, cocking her head.

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"You are the Slayer. Love is Pain. No question needed." the First's eyes burn with firey reflections as she glares at the blond girl under her muddy face.

"Yes. A question IS needed. Am I losing my ability to love?" Buffy says forcefully.

"Buffy."

"Um, yeah. Thats my name...not sure I know where you are going here..."

"Buffy is full of love. The Slayer uses the agony of love to her advantage, but has none of her own. The choices the Slayer has made have taken love away."

"Buffy is the Slayer though. The Slayer is Buffy. They are one." she argues back to the warrior.

"A Daughter-Slayer? Friend-Slayer? Sister-Slayer? Student-Slayer? You fool yourself, Buffy-Slayer."

Suddenly Buffy is overcome with flashes of light, accompanied by a rush in her blood, and tension in her muscles. With each sensation comes a memory, words, flooding from her past and her conscious. They overlap and drown each other out, but she hears each one perfectly.

*"One girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill..."*

*"It doesn't stop, it NEVER stops. Do you think I chose to be like this? Do you have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous?..."*

*"I'm starting to understand why there's no ancient prophecy about a Chosen One, and her friends..."*

*"We Are Forever. You could never hope to grasp the source of our power..."*

*"Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp, that look of peace..."*

Buffy's body is now standing directly next to the fire. The First has stood, and they stare at each other through the two feet of hot flames between them, the light putting savage shadows on their features. They speak in chilling unison:

"I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. I am destruction. Absolute. Alone. The Slayer does not walk in this world."

The spell is broken. Buffy pulls her head back suddenly and falls back into the powdery sand.

"Whoa. Where the hell did THAT come from?" she says with angry wonder.

"It's the Slayer. Buffy didn't remember. But the Slayer did. The Slayer IS. Buffy has tainted your power." the First regards her around the wall of fire.

"I'm sorry if that offends you." Buffy murmers rudely, patting the sand from her leather coat as she stands again.

"It does. You could be as mighty as the First. But you chose to be overcome by love."

"Then you answered my question. Thanks. I'll just let myself out."

"You are the Last. But with the flawed strength that you have, you will fail, and your death will be the end of the line. And the world will be overcome."

Buffy turns back to look at the First, who now stands where the fire was. The smoking ash at her feet like grey snow.

"I'm the what?"

"The Last. Here endeth the rise and fall of the Slayers. The First shall pass her dark strength onto the Last, and when the forces of Hell rise up, she shall defeat them, and be given eternal life. The Last will be the Warrior of Light for all time." The First's voice is low and grave as she repeats the prophecy. Buffy raises one hand in alarm.

"No, no, no. I'm not interested in being the Slayer for all time, so wait until the next comes along."

"That is not the way it is planned, Buffy-Slayer. You shall be cleansed for your destiny, for the fate of the world. Your duty as the Last."

The fire leaps up again, swallowing the form of the First Slayer. Her dark shape turns to ebony smoke that surges with the roar of the ocean towards Buffy, overcoming her astonished mind, and causing all consciousness to fall to silent black.


TBC

She awakes to concerned faces. Four women. Two men. All looking at her through the mist of her confused mind. She sits up with a groan.

"Buffy, are you alright?" the older man with a british accent asks.

"What is happening?" she murmers, combing her spindally fingers through her frayed ponytail.

"Giles found you out in the desert early this morning. He was worried when you didn't come back." a red-head with pixie features explains. Buffy stares with blank hazel eyes, not understanding what the girl is talking about.

"Here. Dawn and I made you some tea for when you woke up." a plush and pretty woman standing in the backaround says, putting a hand on a coltish-looking girl's slender shoulder. The girl carefully holds a mug and approaches Buffy with wide blue eyes tinted with love and curiousity.

"How are you feeling?" she asks Buffy. Buffy blinks once before standing up with realization.

"Dawn." she says. The one called Dawn looks suddenly worried.

"Um, yeah, thats me. Whats wrong? Don't you want this tea, Buffy?"

"I'm back after Dawn. I'm late." Buffy mutters to herself, her eyes beginning to scan the people in the room with an expression of distance and almost contempt.

They are all standing in a room. Its nice. She had been lying on a couch with giant pillows. Stairs to the right. Desk, chest, chairs, and decorative cabinets in front of her. Living room. This is a living room. Something tells her that its HER living room, but that Something's screaming is smothered, and she choses to ignore it.

"Buffy..." a young dark-haired man begins, one arm dropping from the shoulders of a bored blond as he approaches her.

"Is that what you call me?" Buffy asks.

"Yes. Buffy is your name. Are you alright?" he keeps moving towards her, until his arm finds his way around HER shoulders. She abruptly pulls it off her body with the Slayer strength she relies on, and he groans with pain. "Whoa, calm down girl."

"Humans. Go about your lives, I have no business with you." Buffy smoothes her hands down the front of her sweater with disgust. "I need new clothes. I can't fight in this. Who dressed me in this get-up?"

Six sets of severely surprised and tension-filled eyes.

The British man cautiously approaches her again, "Buffy, do you know who I am?"

"My Watcher. You transferred your guardianship to a guide, I am no longer yours. I do not need you, for I am the Last."

His face crosses with astonishment and that perfect librarian curiousity.

"The L-last, did you say? Is that what your guide told you?"

Buffy cackles with cold amusement.

"She did not need to tell me. I knew. I am the Slayer." and as abrupt as her words, she leaves the room, moving towards the stairs with determination. The humans just watch her go.

---

"Oh geez, whats wrong with her?" Willow asks Giles, her auburn eyebrows arching with sadness above her worried green eyes.

"Her guide informed her that she was the Last. I don't know why that affected her memory and personality though."

"She is talking like normal witty Buffy and like some kind of educated caveman at the same time. Giles, something is seriously screwed up with her." Xander says, rubbing the back of his neck wearily, "Just what we need too. As if her mother dying and Glory the Hell Bitch wasn't enough."

Dawn collapses onto the couch and slings one long arm over her face, groaning with frusteration. Tara sits gracefully next to her, hand finding the girls knee with a reassuring squeeze.

"So what's the Last?" Anya pipes up, picking at her fingernails as she asks. Giles removes his glasses and rubs them carefully as he explains.

"It will take more reasearch to find out all of the details, but according to ancient prophecy, The Last is the last Slayer of all. She is said to be one of the longest living ones, and strongest, and she will have to face the Forces of Darkness in a terrifying amount. If she lives, she acheives eternal life, and is thereby destined to be the Slayer for all time."

"Buffy's gonna be immortal?" Dawn unwraps her arm from her face to stare at the Watcher.

"Like I said, I need to do some more research. But yes, something along those lines."

"Super." Dawn says sarcastically.

"That wasn't Buffy though. She was different. She didn't know who the rest of us were." Willow muses quietly as she settles on the couch beside her lover.

"Whats wrong with Buffy?" a deep accented voice breaks into the contemplative air. Spike stands in the doorway, the bruises that still discolor his skin warring with the shadows under his heavy eyebrows and sharp cheekbones.

"That's what were are trying to figure out." Giles mumbles.

Its sudden. Nobody has the supernatural power to react. A tiny black-clad body moves swiftly down the steps and attacks Spike, pushing him into the carpet. She straddles his narrow waist as she pulls a stake from her sleeve and moves it towards his chest.

"Vampire." she growls almost inhumanly.

"Buffy, NO!!" Dawn shouts with anguish.

---

If he had breath, it would have been taken away, and not because of her attack, or weight, but because of the vision she made.

Her muscular thighs hold him tightly, ready for his movement. The black leather of her pants cling to her skin, showing every rippling muscle all the way to her knee-high boots where the pant flares out over them. Taunt golden skin of her stomach is proudfully displayed by the second skin of the black spandex belly shirt. The tendrils of silken hair were pinned in various ways all over her head, keeping it off her face and neck, but allowing gorgeous strings of sunshine to fly like ribbons when she moves abruptly. Her face is set in a deadly expression as she pushes the pointed tip of wood just a little deeper into his chest.

" 'Love being one too, pet, so please don't continue the present action."

Her eyes meet his. There is life and love in those blue eyes. That can't be. She climbs off of him quickly and tears open the front door, and before anyone can stop her, disappears into the new night.

"What the hell?" Spike mutters, pulling his body from the floor, and swipping at the shimmering old leather.

"Buffy's insane." Dawn sighs.

"Oh dear lord." Giles rubs the bridge of his nose.

"We had better follow her." Xander speaks up, striding purposefully to the door. Spike raises his hand and stops him.

"I'll go. If she's going batty, I'm the only one with the strength to stop her."

"Yeah, with a chip that will fry your brain if you so much as break her nail."

"It'd be worth it for her." Spike says quietly, and leaves with a hollow fluttering of his duster.

"Time for research." Tara says, artificial cheerfulness in her voice that no one appreciates.


TBC

Chapter 3

A/N: You don't know how mad I am that FF.net doesn't except HTML documents from my computer. I really dislike using the astrerisks and all that, but I'm sure it doesn't bother any of you. Hope you guys are enjoying this story so far, I'm a little if-fy about it. Feedback is appreciated.

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Spike can see the fight through the forest of gravestones. One opponent after another swiftly turns to an exploding cloud of dust at the Slayer's powerful hand. He watches her with a masculine appreciation, her tiny female curves and form moving with violent ease. She is incredible, exquisite, and glorious as usual, but there is something different in her air. Her presence's vibe has shifted from an intoxicating blend of determined girl and struggling Chosen One, to an overwhelming taste of ancient power and a 'Don't-Fuck-With-Me' attitude. To a vampire, thats alluring. To a vampire in love with her, thats a bit off, but every bit as erotically magnetic.

She is now alone, every enemy has been vanquished. Spike approaches cautiously.

"Nice work, pet. As always." Her hazel eyes dart to his dark form.

"Vampire from my home. You address me like we are some kind of friends." she spits the word 'friends'like it is the most dreadful thing on the face of the earth.

"Not really friends. We've never been friends."

"Is there some reason you are talking to me? I could just dust you, and save us both some time."

Spike smiles. There's the touch of Buffy he was looking for.

"I came to take you back to your mates. They want to keep an eye on you."

"I have to Slay. Its what I do. Its who I am." the words sound savage and deadly, but Spike hears the humanity in them. He carefully moves towards her again, long elegant fingers opening gently to touch her arm. She looks at the fingers as the tips caress her skin softly. Suddenly she yanks her arm away. "Don't touch me!!"

Spike holds up his hands in a surrendering position before he is violently tackled to the ground by a disgusting green lump of a demon. Buffy doesn't miss a beat, she is instantly upon the slime and chaos that is Spike and his opponent. She pulls a long blade from the back of her bra, its shimmering edge cutting easily through the air and flesh alike. Slayer is a meek word to describe her. The word 'demon' does nothing to describe Spike, either. His beast face snarling and strength humming through his rippling muscles. Buffy finally dispatches the head of the green monster and it rolls to the ground with a sickening thud.

She kneels in the grass shimmering in green demon blood, taking big gulps of breath. Spike runs a slimy hand through his hair and grimances at the smell and texture, wiping it then on his ruined jeans. He looks at her carefully from underneath his long lashes.

"Are you okay?"

She looks at him astonished.

"Why do you care? Don't ask me that! Ugh, just- leave me alone, vampire." her pretty features twist in experession of disgust, and just as abruptly as before, she turns and walks swiftly away. Spike springs after her.

"Buffy, do you remember who I am?"

"First off, don't call me that. Secondly, why should I CARE who you are? You know what, this is absurd. Be gone, or else."

"Bad girl, Slayer. Letting me go?"

She growls dangerously before whipping around to face him again, a long sliver of wood in her fist. "I am not now."

She lunges expertly, and Spike dodges with as much skill, grabbing hold of the outstretched arm and twisting it behind her body. She writhes and struggles with immeasurable strength, but Spike holds her with iron arms. Pain spiders through his skull and he clenches his teeth in agony as he tilts her head forward to cause her to pass out. Her body falls limp in the circle of his arms, and he gathers her up like a precious treasure, clutching her to his chest. Her head lays tucked under his chin, the golden tendrils of hair streaked with blood and now tears from the vampire's face. Tears of physical pain and a breaking heart.

----

"Tie her up!? Are you crazy?!" Xander screeches at Spike. His bulging brown eyes drop to the messy and unconscious Slayer spread once again on the couch. Willow sits on the coffee table, playing with the edge of her sweater while eyeing her best friend and the stoic vampire.

"Look, she has reverted to Slayer basics. She doesn't remember who you we all are. It dangerous for her, and for you, if you let her run off again. I can't handle the headache of having to knock her out again, either." Spike argues quietly, leaning against the dark stained wood of the doorframe.

"Maybe we should call Giles first." Xander proposes, anger in his voice. Willow glances up at him cautiously.

"I kind of agree with Spike. It's safer if we just keep her restrained until we get all of this worked out. That way there are no accidents."

"And where do you suggest we "restrain" her, Will? The bathtub? Like Spike?"

"Well...she DOES need a bath. That green slime is probably bad for her skin."

"It bloody well stains, too." Spike quips, following the witch's line of thought with his logic, and then acting upon it by scooping up the Slayer again. Xander follows Willow and Spike up the stairs with a gaping mouth of disbelief.

"She is not going to be a happy gal when she wakes up." he says, shaking his head.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes. Hopefully Giles, Anya, and Tara will be back from Giles' with some information by then. Hopefully being the key word, there." Willow calls from behind her shoulder, before looking back up to watch Spike lay Buffy's tiny black-clad body into the bathtub with excruciating gentility.

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TBC

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: J-O-S-S...M-u-t-a-n-t E-n-e-m-y...F-O-X...U-P-N

Summary: Buffy's humanity has been pretty much erased from her being, leaving nothing but a hardened and powerful Slayer who has no memory of her friends, and more importantly, in my opinion, Spike. To restrain her, Spike and Willow have just tied Buffy up in the bathtub so she wouldn't do anything rash. Yeah, but wait until she wakes up... (hint: that happens in this chapter.)

A/N: Real life has been busier than Times Square during a holiday. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. Please review.

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He is hunched beside the bathtub. His black tee-shirt stretches dramatically over his muscular back and shoulders, long hard arms wrapped around bent knees, slender chin resting atop them. Blue eyes never waver, their piercing gaze watching the unconscious girl tied in a bathtub with a lover's unbreakable concern. Willow watches Spike from the doorway, her pale green eyes studying his form with newfound tenderness that has blossomed from his incredible display of caring.

"You want something to eat, Spike?" she asks quietly. He looks up at her briefly before turning back to stare at the Slayer's closed eyelids.

"No, thanks. I just want to stay here for when she wakes up." he pauses to brush aside a lock of damp blonde hair from Buffy's silent face, "Thanks for washing her up though, Red. That blood would have given her a nasty rash after a while."

"And it smelled really, REALLY bad. I'm glad you cleaned yourself up a little too, I didn't think I could take much more of that stench." Spike smiles slightly at Willow's words, and she continues, "Are you SURE you don't want any blood? Tara just got some on the way home from Giles'."

"I'll have a tad, but I'm not leaving this bathroom." Willow nods with understanding and then gives him an encouraging smile before heading downstairs.

Spike sighs with sadness and then carefully puts his hands over Buffy's bound wrists, enveloping them with delicious comforting contact.

"Oh love. What are we going to do with you?" he whispers softly before dropping his head to the cold porcelin and falling asleep, one arm still banded across her body, his fingers intertwined with hers.

----

"So, what'd ya find out, guys?" Willow asks perkily, pulling a plastic bag of blood from the refrigerator and squeezing it experimentally before cutting it open.

"Just sketchy information," Tara began leaning heavily against the counter watching her lover, " 'And the 666th longest of life shall be blessed with the power of the Ancients to protect the world of its total annhilation. She of light will be purified, made into a higher being of all elements.'" Tara quotes in a mocking deep, sophisticated prophecy voice.

"Oooh, 666. Apocalypse-goodness!" Xander jokes between bites of a mid-morning sandwich. Anya lays her small blonde head on his wide shoulder wearily, but smiles at his joking anyway.

"I'm tired and uncomfortable. We have been up all night Xander, researching and watching for crazy Buffy, and I am ready to sleep. Can we please go?"

"Ahn, I kind of want to stick around for when Buffy wakes up. It is not going to be pleasant." Xander says quietly. The microwave beeps and Willow pulls the mug of blood from its hot caveran, "And why is Peroxided Freak still up there?"

"He looks so heartbroken, I didn't have the heart to tell him to leave." Willow says quietly.

"And now the sun's up, so he can't leave anyway." Tara continues, taking the mug from Willow's dainty hand and heading for the stairs, "I'll take it up to him."

"I just get uncomfortable with him being so attached to her now, especially after the whole sex robot incident." Xander says, running his wide fingers through his girlfriends hair that cascades in slight curls down his shoulder.

"Yeah, but I think they made up or something. Buffy went to see him after the fight and when she came back she told me that he had kept Dawn a secret, and then she mumbled something about unexpected loyalty to her. So, we should just back off. He's not hurting her, and he's the only one strong enough to give us a hand should she go nuts."

"Doesn't mean I like it." Xander huffs. Willow smiles and pats his other hand resting limply on the counter with understanding.

"I know."

Suddenly a bloodcurdling shout tears down the steps and a loud cursing voice mingles with it. They all label the voices immediatly- One hurting vampire, and one terrified and angry slayer.

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The soft fingers that were just lying so peacefully between his are now fisted in the chains after breaking the cool fingers. Spike clutches his hand in agony and swears violently as Buffy thrashes around and pulls at the heavy padlocked links of metal. Tara stands in the doorway murmering a calming spell under her breath, hoping it will have even the slightest effect on the Slayer. Xander, Willow, and Anya come flying into the room, taking in the scene, and reacting as best they can- throwing themselves on Buffy who is almost about to hurt herself more than need be.

"What happened??" Xander shouts while trying to hold down one arm and shoulder. Willow struggles to hold down the other whie Anya sits across Buffy's tiny torso. Tara keeps muttering, but finds her way to the thrashing legs, pinning them to the cold porcelin. Spike moves to the bathtub to hold Buffy's head still with his one good hand.

"She woke up, whelp!!" Spike bites back. The Slayer begins to shout and chant in an ancient language her, her eyes turning focused and deadly. Spike looks up at Willow with concern, "What's she saying?"

"Its ancient sumerian...mixed with latin, I think? I don't know!! Spike, I can't hold on to her much longer!" She struggles with the arm.

"Buffy, love, please calm down, we don't want to hurt you."

"Tara, hows that spell or whatever coming? What exactly are you doing?" Xander pants out over Spike's soft soothing voice. Tara answers from her bouncing position on Buffy's thighs.

"I'm trying to calm her down, but whatever is changed her made sure she was immune to magicks not of First Slayer persuasion."

"Great!! So we have to sit on an annoying, and violent Slayer all day. I wanted to sleep!" Anya shouts guffly.

"This is nuts, we can't hold on to her like this forever, we aren't strong enough, Spike has a headache and a broken hand, and Buffy isn't even tired yet!" Willow muses out between clenched teeth. Xanders wide brown eyes meet hers with knowing. "We gotta call Angel."

Xander nods bleakly, turning his attention back to his limb. Spike's eyes narrow at the mention of Angel's name, but he looks down at his beautiful Slayer, and knows he would do anything- kill anyone, become anyone, or fetch ANYONE needed to help her out.

"Angel it is then." he sighs.

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TBC

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Joss is king.

Summary: Angel is coming to town to help with the new and improved Slayer. He arrives.

A/N: You guys are going to hate this chapter! Review anyway! Oh, and I am going to start to spread my Spuffy stories out amongst the Spuffy websites. If you have a Spuffy site that is regularly hit (like Spuffyonline.com or B/S Diaries or something) let me know, because I'd like to start circulating my stuff. Getting my name out there, and all of that selfish crap. ;-)


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Spike sits wearily on the back porch's creaking step, smoking a fag with purpose. The bright amber end flares, causing the shadows on his razor cheekbones to bold and lengthen before fading again into the silver moonlight. The smoke swirls out into the air like dry mist. A small booted step sounds on the boards behind him, and the lanky form of a fourteen year old girl folds herself onto the step next to him, pulling a fuzzy coat collar tighter around her swan-like neck.

"Hi." she whispers, turning her gigantic blue eyes to his.

"Hey bit. What can I do for ya?" he takes another drag. Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

"Nothing. I just didn't want to go to bed yet. Its been a strange day."

"That it has. What's everyone else up to?"

"Anya's asleep on my mom's bed, and Giles is doing some research in some books he brought over with Tara, Willow is watching TV with Xander, Buffy is sleeping like a log again since Giles drugged her with something major, and Angel's going to be here in about an hour. Joy." Her eyes are now scanning the treetops and sky, her childish profile grown elegant with moonlight. Spike smiles slightly.

"Not a fan of ol' Peaches, eh, pet?" Breathe deep the smoke. Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

"I don't hate him. I just don't love him. But we need him. Buffy needs him."

"Can't argue with that."

Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

The night is cool and still.

Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

Somewhere down the street a dog barks, echoing off the houses and fences.

Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

A car goes passed with a small muffled rush.

Flare, shadows, silver, mist.

"Its more than an obsession, isn't it? You really do love her." her inquiring voice softly breaks the silence. Spike tosses the butt to the ground and grinds it into the dirt with his booted toe before answering.

"Yes, Dawn. I really do love her."

"Why?"

Why. She is asking WHY.

Spike stands up abruptly and begins to pace in the dark backyard in front of Dawn, "Why are you asking me that? Its none of your damn business."

She stands up as well, stopping him with one smallish hand to his hard chest, her sophisticated height enabling her to nearly look him in the eye.

"Yes Spike, it IS my business. She is all I have in the world now. And you are the one who loves her more than anybody else. You. The vampire who has tried to kill her so many times. The vampire who betrayed her to Adam. The vampire who chained her up. The vampire who made a dumb imitation of her. I have every right to ask why. I REMEMBER you doing that stuff. I may not have been there, but I remember it. And now she is... different, and I don't know what to do...Have...have I lost her, Spike?"

Beautiful chrystal tears have begun to slide down her round cheeks, and she sinks back down onto the step with sadness, burying her face into the crook of her elbow on her boney knees. Spike watches her with an indifferent expression for a minute before settling next to her and timidly laying a bandaged and splinted hand on her shoulder.

"We haven't lost her. I can't lose her, and I sure as hell can't watch you lose someone else. We'll figure all this out, nibblet, I promise."

She sniffs and raises her head. "I know we will...thanks...Now will you tell me why?"

Spike groans, combing his fingers through his hair with contemplation.

"I love her because she is everything that I am not. But we have so much in common- violence, passion, anger, and severe emotions. Desire to be loved. Its kinda unexplainable, pet."

"I get that. I do." the corners of her mouth quirk in a slight smile before she stands up again, swiping the wet red stains on her face, "Lets go back inside, and wait for 'Peaches'."

----

The house is silent except for the gentle murmering of an episode of some random drama show rerun. Willow and Tara are curled up in a comforting ball covered by a soft afghan while Xander's heavy head rests on his hand, watching the flickering blue screen with glazed and sleepy eyes. Giles browses quietly through books at the dining room table, the occasional sound of him picking up his tea cup and then placing it gently back down on its saucer. Dawn lays sleeping deeply in her room, Anya in the room next to that. Spike sits on the stair's tiny landing, close enough to the bathroom to hear every sound the drugged Slayer makes, including her soft breathing and heartbeat, but also close enough to the front door to intercept Angel. And then he feels his Grandsire's presence.

He pulls the door open with midnight flourish, a slow opening that says "Be quiet, the others are sleeping, but come in." without words. Angel's brown eyes are full of surprise at seeing Spike, as well as concern, and the slightest hint of repressed love. He begins to open his mouth to ask Spike his questions when he sees the Watcher bent over a book in the next room.

"I got here as soon as I could." Angel whispers to Giles, stretching out a polite hand to greet him with a sturdy shake.

"I know. Thank you, Angel."

"So how is she? What's going on? Willow just said that she had gone to a sacred thing in the desert and came back different. Where is Buffy now?"

"She is sleeping, chained in the bathtub. Now before you get upset," Giles says sternly at the light of anger in Angel's eyes, "I must tell you it was necessary. I believe she has b-been 'Cleansed' by the First Slayer. She is completely a Slayer. Her human life was erased from her. She has no memory of anything. She has identified me as her Watcher, her friends as simple civilians, and Spike as merely a vampire. She has regarded her sister with some knowing, but has barely spoken a word to her. I had to drug her with some amonium mixture to calm her down. The only one who can contain her is Spike, and it is hard on him due to the chip." Giles explains, once again cleaning his glasses as he leans back wearily on the wooden chair. Angel turns and looks at Spike in the doorway from over his shoulder.

"See, this whole Spike thing confuses me. Want to explain that, William?"

Spike growls softly, "Sure, mate. But you're here for Buffy. Don't waste time on my story."

"You will tell me though. When we get a moment, I want to know what this is all about." He turns back to Giles, "Can I see her?"

----

Sure, they had the tragic romance of all time.
Sure, he genuinely loves her.
Sure, she genuinely loves him.

But the one standing in the hallway outside of the closed bathroom door, watching it, knowing that the Wanker is now in there with his beautiful sleeping Slayer...well, this one has Angel beat. This one knows real passion and love.

Spike sighs. Oh bollocks, who is he trying to kid?

All he can do is sink to the floor, back against the drywall and stare at the closed panels that shield the woman he would give everything for and the man whom SHE would give everything for.

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Chapter 6

Disclaimer: You know who it belongs to.

Summary: Buffy wakes up. Again.

A/N: Very little Spuffy in this chapter, but more of the Slayer Buffy, which most of you asked for. More Spuff coming up in the next chapter, which will be up soon. Inspiration has struck my brain, so I'll be pumping out chapters as fast as possible.

Feedback: Gets me writing faster. I love it. Its the hightlight of my e-mail checkage

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Sunrise is close. Both Spike and Angel quiver with this knowledge, their borrowed blood singing that they need to seek refuge, return to the earth and darkness until the moon once again reigns. Everyone is still sleeping in the black of early morning, except for Spike, who pushes open the bathroom door to reveal his Grandsire sleeping on the floor next to the tub. Spike quietly enters the room, stepping over Angel's huge silent body to check on Buffy. Nothing has changed. She still breathes deeply with heavy sleep, but her heart rate has picked up. It's now a skittish but strong fluttering.

She is awake.

Her eyelids ripple with movement, but she is such a hunter that she continues to fake her sleep, reaching out with her Slayer senses. Vampire asleep on floor. Vampire standing next to her. Hard chains still wrapped around her wrists, leading to the pipe fixture.

Spike slowly backs up, tripping over Angel's prone body, and landing with a sliding thud on the tile floor. Angel sits up abruptly with a surprised growl.

"What are you doing, Spike?" he snaps at the peroxided vampire who is picking himself up off the floor with an "I meant to do that" air. Spike slowly raises his hand, pointing silently at Buffy. Angel's eyes follow where Spike indicates, and he nods with understanding. "Buffy?"

Spike rolls his eyes. **Good idea, Pillock. Make the insane super-Slayer mad by calling her the dumb name that she doesn't remember having.**

"Buffy, its me, Angel. I know you're awake." he leans over her still body, concern and hope clouding his features. At the same moment that Spike says a warning, Buffy's bound wrists strike out and grab Angel by the neck. Spike's smug warning turns into a smug 'Told You So' expression. Buffy's eyes fly open to stare at the vampire she has snagged.

"Don't. Call. Me. That. I am Slayer, daughter of Sineya." and as roughly as she spits those words out she pushes the astonished Angel away. Her chained hands fly to her own neck, fingering the tiny ridges of a scar on her neck. "You did this."

Angel covers his surprise with firmness, "Yeah, I'm not the only one that has bit you either."

"Who else?" her course voice asks.

"The Master." Her eyes widen at Angel's words.

"And Dracula." Spike adds, looking down at the floor with tepidation.

"Three? I have been tasted by THREE different vampires? And not you?" she looks at Spike with hatred. He scratches his dark eyebrow with his thumb uncomfortably.

"No. Never had the honor to bite you, pet."

"But you want to." she states coldly.

"Of course, Slayer. What vamp doesn't want a taste of your sweet blood? It'd just mean more to me, if- but I don't want to kill- You see, pet, I just want to- bollocks. Never mind. " he waves a hand through the air as if erasing his words and meaning. She watches the hands movement before dropping her luminous eyes to her own hands.

"Why do you tie me up, Vampires? Go ahead and kill me. Don't play with your food."

Angel drops to his knees next to the tub, searching her face carefully. She wears the strangest expression. It is one of stoic stillness, of not caring, of silence. But that Unexpression is stained with hatred, determination, confusion, and the tiniest hint of fear, so small that only the vampires who love her would ever be able to see it.

"We don't want to kill you. We are here to help you. We are your...friends. Please believe us. For some reason you don't remember, but I am telling you the truth. If I unchain you, do you give me your word that you will co-operate with us so we can figure all this out?"

"A truce. With a vampire."

"And your watcher, and you friends, and your sister. Yes. A truce. If thats what you want to call it."

"I have to co-operate."

"Yeh. That means no wooden stakes, beheadings, sunlight, holy water, or crosses, got it?" Spike speaks up again. Her eyes move from Angel to Spike, and then back at Angel again.

"I accept."

"Good." Angel mutters, as Spike hands him a heavy key and he begins to unlock the heavy iron padlocks. When the chains fall away, Buffy stands, bending her neck to stretch it, and moving her small limbs experimentally. Angel and Spike both watch her cautiously, prepared to attack if she becomes hostile.

"I'm..um, hungry. Is there food?" she asks almost shyly, rubbing her sore wrists. Spike smiles to himself, and nods. Angel opens the door and motions for her to go through first, like a gentleman. Both Spike and Buffy roll their eyes at that.

Giles has heard the commotion upstairs, and is now standing at the foot of the steps, watching for anyone to make a descent. He is suprised to see Buffy walking down first, followed by the two wary men.

The stupifying drugs are still in her system, causing her to stumble a little on the steps. Angel jumps down to her, catching her before she falls, their skin making a vibrant contact. She stares up at him with astonishment.

"You have a soul. I lost my virginity to you." she whispers gruffly, still wrapped in his arms. He carries her gently to the bottom of the steps and sets her back on her feet. Spike watches with quivering jealousy. Giles gasps.

"How did she know that just from touching you?" he asks.

"Its almost a vampiric trait. Like a sense. She can sense in my presense that I have a soul, and by touching me, that we have..." Angel half guesses, half knows.

"Well, its no wonder, I suppose. Writings on the Ancient Slayers have discussed how a Slayer is bred of evil as well as good. Its rather interesting, really. She is a mix. A balance." Giles says, watching Buffy move stiffly into the kitchen, searching for food. He and Angel follow her. She turns at Giles's words.

"Not a balance. THE Balance. You should know that, Watcher." she says sternly, and then turns back to her task of searching out sustinence. Angel looks at Giles, Giles looks at Buffy. And Spike continues to watch.


TBC

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All Joss Whedon's. Oh, and I must give some credit to one of my favorite Fanfic writers, Zero, author of 'Falling Sky'. In 'Falling Sky' the weather hints of the apocalypse, which inspired me. There is something just so beautiful about snow in Sunnydale, and its influence on the characters (like in 'Amends') so I kind of stole that. It gives a beautiful dynamic to the story.

Summary: Its the end of the world...well not yet. But soon.

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Anya and Xander went home after the sun had risen, relieved of the truce between the 'Slayer, daughter of Sineya' and themselves. Willow and Tara retreated to their dorm, leaving a note on the refrigerator for Dawn to call them if she needed anything. Giles slept on the couch. Dawn was still in bed. Angel stayed in the shadows of the kitchen with Buffy. Spike was at his crypt.

These people are unlike any other group of people. Their lives know no normal hours. They sleep when, and where they can. They are the workforce behind the protector of all good. The protector who now sits in a suburban kitchen, eating anything she can get her hands on. Angel watches, bemused, but unsure.

"Stop looking at me." Buffy commands. Even with her back to him, she knows where his brooding gaze lies.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Apologies are worthless."

"Repentence and forgiveness are worthless? Thats what you fight for."

"No, I fight for Good."

"Repentence and forgiveness fall into the 'Good' category, Buffy."

"Don't call me that."

"But thats your name. What am I supposed to call you?"

"Call me Slayer."

"But you are more than that. I can't just call you 'Slayer'."

"Why not? The other vampire does."

"Spike is...different. His obsession with Slayers makes him like that word, and like calling you it."

"And you don't like calling me that."

"Right."

"Because...?"

"I have more respect for you than Spike does."

"I think that he is more "respectful" than you are."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No. He calls me by my title. And he tells me the straight up, honest truth."

"You have barely spent any time with him. How do you know?"

"I can sense it."

The conversation dies, each person involved in their own thoughts. Angel wondering just what Spike's place in Buffy's life was, and Buffy wondering just what exactly these two vampires were supposed to be to her.

---- ---- ----

She approaches him with predatory silence. He is fighting two towering demons with viscious anger, his shimmering blonde curls flashing in the flourescent cemetery lights in time with the flashing of his gigantic ax. Waves of violent hatred surge from his fight, truimphant growls with every swing and strike of his weapon. She watches with an unquenchable amount of admiration. Oh, she knows she shouldn't admire him so. But how can she not? He is an exquisite fighter, and although she'd never admit it outloud, he is gorgeous- for a vampire. And she can't kill him. So she might as well watch the hard lines of his body structure and the dancer's deadly grace with which he so gallantly fights.

When his enemy is annhilated he looks at her. Buffy didn't know he could sense her, but by the passionate feeling in his cool blue eyes, he knew she was there the entire time. And he knew she liked what she saw.

"Slayer." he nods in greeting, wiping the bloody blade on the grass.

"You fight well." she says, slowly circling around him, playing with the wooden stake in her tiny hands. He looks surprised, but covers it by mumbling a thank-you.

"So what are you doing all by yourself?" he asks curiously, cocking his head to one side, causing the shadows of his face to lengthen and highlight.

"Truce. The one called Angel needed some rest. I asked the others to let me slay alone."

"Yeh-know, with this truce, we don't need the Ponce any-, ANGEL, anymore."

"The Ponce?" she asks, the ends of her plush lips curving upwards ever so slightly.

"Uh, yeh. I don't like Angel very much."

"Is he not your Sire?"

"Grandsire," Spike corrects as he begins to walk through the cemetery. Buffy hurries to catch up, swearing at herself internally for wanting the company of this vampire.

"He doesn't live here. He came here to help you with me. Why are you here?"

Spike stops walking and turns to face the tiny girl, hard with her newfound personality, but bursting with the curiousity of a child.

"Came back to town to kill you. Got captured. I have a electric chip in my skull that keeps me from harming any cute innocent people. I stay and help you fight demons, vampires, and the like."

"Electric chip in your skull?"

"Yeah, a bloody nuisance."

She takes a breath, and studies him with her impossibly huge doe eyes, and then slowly, timidly, reaches out one small hand and presses it agains his temple. Her fingers bury themselves in his soft hair, palm against the skin, with her thumb absently stroking his forehead.

"Its metal. I can feel it in your brain. Along with the demon. And the human. And your love...for me?" her voice quivers slightly. Spike closes his eyes with the feeling of her small pool of warmth on his face. Suddenly she pulls away. "You are a most peculiar vampire."

"Its been said." he shrugs, following her again as she begins to walk.

"So you have tried to kill me?"

"An evil bloke does what he can. You've thwarted my every move, pet."

"Have we fought?"

"Oh yeah. Bloody beautiful too. Its like a dance- a wicked, deadly one." Spike sighs with the memories.

"Can we fight now?" she asks boldly.

"You're serious?" Spike asks increduously, stopping and putting out a hand on her shoulder to stop her as well, "You know I can't hurt you. Chip, remember?"

"I just want to fight someone worthy. I want to "dance", as you called it." Spike coughs at her words with astonishment.

"Alright, Slayer. Let's dance."

They slowly circle around each other, eyeing each other's bodies, postions, movements with a warrior's eye. And as Buffy launches herself at his ready body, a look of pure deadly glee crosses her face. This is truly her art. Her purpose is to fight all darkness. But as their fight goes on, and they match each other with profound speed and crisp, presice moves, Buffy begins to realize that her purpose is also to fight THIS darkness. This vampire. This man. Each kick is landed, each punch is thrown with passion and savage thirst, but gentility due to his chip and his feelings for her. Suddenly she trips and falls backwards against the course cold wall of a mausoleum. Spikes hard muscled chest is against hers instantly, his long hands holding her wrists above her head.

"And the dance concludes. I win." he growls smugly. She growls back and swears in an ancient language at him. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Slayer. You kiss your sister with that mouth?"

"I don't kiss anyone with this mouth, Vampire." she pants, gulping breaths of damp night air.

"That so?" his eyes fall to her open lips, and his mouth begins to drop to them. And then they are both distracted.

White lacy snowflakes begin to fall with smuggling speed, causing fog with their number, and stillness with their space.

"Apocalpse weather." Spike swears under his breath.

" 'And the time will come where the Last will face the end of the ages, and she will decide the fate of humanity.' " Buffy quotes, staring up into the eery clouds and flakes, for a minute before staring at her unlikely companion.

Slayer and Vampire exchange a knowing and fearful look, and then take off through the brewing blizzard to Research Central.

TBC

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, an insane man with the greatest knack for storytelling and humor.

A/N: I love this chapter as much as I hate it. Hopefully you guys are more the former than the latter! According to my outline, this is supposed to be Chapter 4, but apparently, I'm not very good at following my outline! I just kind of let the story flow from my imagination to the computer screen, even while my notes are screaming "THATS NOT THE WAY YOU PLANNED IT!!" Oh well.

Feedback: Please. I need it. Let me know if the Spuffy interaction in this chapter is out of place. (I mean, I know you'll love it, I just don't know if it fits the story as a whole) I think I need a Beta-Reader!


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They all stand on the wide front porch of the Summers' home, like birds on a wire, staring into the night sky from which torrent flakes fly. Xander stands in awe next to Giles who is tapping his chin nervously. Anya, wrapped in a fluffy coat and scarf, leans heavily into her boyfriend, while Tara, Willow, and Dawn huddle under a wide blanket with a delicate fringe that blows insanely in the icey breeze. Angel lurks behind Giles, his wide shoulders nearly filling up the doorway, and his head bent in thought. Spike and Buffy stand quietly on the outskirts of the group, near the railing of the porch's edge, alternating between watching the snow and exchanging looks that seem nearly shy.

One foot. There is already one foot of snow on the Southern Californian soil. Power lines all over the city begin to go down under the ice and weight of snow they were not built to withstand. And then Revello Drive goes dark, luminated only by the strange radiance of the sheets of snow.

Soon residence 1630 glows with candlelight, making each foggy window look like misty pools of gold. The books spread on the table look even more ancient in the flickering light, their curling and tattered pages casting jagged shadows on the walls. Giles is once again browsing them, looking anxiously for a hint of what trials are to come.

"And you only know you are to face a great evil? Nothing of what it is?" he asks his Slayer for seemingly the 100th time. Buffy groans and straddles the back of a wooden chair with ease.

"I told you everything I know, Watcher. And everything that I know is written in those texts of yours."

"Yes, yes. Of course. I'm sorry. I just want so terribly to find out what you are supposed to defeat. You'll need to be ready."

"I am ready. I can defeat anything."

"You may be the most powerful of Slayers, the Last, but you are still human." Giles says gently, leaning forward and taking his glasses off to look at her seriously.

"Am I?" she responds in a confused whisper, her wide eyes lit up with candlelight moving from her hands to his face, "Am I still human? I don't...feel...human."

Despite how timid and unsure her question and voice was, she doesn't wait for his loving answer. Her tone changes instantly again, and becomes the chilling warrior's it has been since her return.

"I may be a mortal now, but if I conquer, I will no longer be. Human rules do not apply to me. I am the Slayer. Now, I must go sleep." She swings her leg over the top of the chair, and strides purposefully from the dining room, her retreating steps fade up the stairs, soon followed by a quicker, lighter sound of footsteps.

"Buffy!" Dawn calls out to her older sister before she shuts her bedroom door. Buffy sighs and opens it, turning to the young voice.

"Dawn." she replies simply. Dawn raises one slender hand in a slight wave, her glossy lips curving in an even slighter smile.

"So, um, how are you doing? You feel okay? Wigged out about this whole snow thing?" she babbles, trying desperately to grasp on with words to the sister she loves. Buffy's eyes remain unemotional as she stares at the girl.

"I'm fine. The snow was prophesied, I'm not worried."

"Whoa, 'prophesied', good word." Dawn attempts to joke. At the hard expression on Buffy's beautiful round face she stops and grows serious, "Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. I'm gonna go to bed now. Its been an insane day. Goodnight."

Buffy nods with finality and begins to close the door when Dawn's last sweet innocent words cause her to halt with surprise:

"I love you, Buffy."

Love, love, love, love, love. It sounds strange. And directed at HER, no less. Well, directed to Buffy, the human she was supposed to be, not said to her- the Slayer. No, wait- the vampire, Spike. She felt that he loved her. She told him that she could feel it. And it was so hard for her to say the one measly syllabol of the word. Just one simple word that meant so much to humans.

She leans against the closed door with a huge sigh of confusion. Suddenly her senses begin to throw sparks of warning up her spine, shouting VAMPIRE. She moves to the foggy window and pulls it open with speed.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she screams into the huge muffling flakes at the figure swathed in black standing on her roof.

"Making sure you'd get some willing rest!" Spike shouts back, pulling his duster tighter around his lean body, ducking his wet and freezing head into the wind so he can look at her furious face in the golden frame of window. She lunges out and grabs his lapels, yanking him into the warm haven of blizzard solice. He falls in a wet heap on her bed, snowflakes melting from lace to drops, sliding down the black creases of leather.

"I don't need you to take care of me! Stop caring. Just stop." She begins to pace in the small room, her shadow dancing and flickering against the walls. Spike sits up and pulls his wet duster from his arms and hangs it over the desk chair.

"Sorry, but its in my job description, pet. Kill demons. Protect Scoobies. Care about Buffy." he argues, counting on his elegant fingers. She stops pacing and glares at him.

"You called me Buffy." she almost sounds hurt.

"Sorry. Again." he mumbles. She stares at him a moment longer before collapsing onto the mattress next to him, allowing the plush comforter to embrace her.

"She said she loves me. She said "I love you, Buffy." To me. I am supposed to be Buffy. But I'm not. "

"But you are. You just don't remember." he answers softly. She looks up at his sharp face- the cuts of shadow, the noble arches, the bottomless and vibrant blue eyes.

"I don't love her back though. If I were Buffy, wouldn't I care? Humans are supposed to care." she argues back weakly.

"Humanity isn't just about caring. Its also about pain, pleasure, anger, hatred, warmth, blood, living, dying, differences, love, knowledge, sacrifice, disappointment, creativity, and passion. " he lists off slowly.

"Passion." she repeats, still staring into his eyes dancing with firelight. Warmth has filled the air, seductive and intoxicating. It pushes them together. Ever. so. slowly.

Their lips touch so softly, it is barely there. Then they touch again, harder, pressing into each other with desperation. Spike brings up one hand to clasp her face, thumb moving over the soft skin of her cheekbone. She opens her mouth, and their tongues meet eagerly, drinking the dew of one another's mouth. She moans and begins to push back on Spikes hard chest, until he is laying on the bed, still sucking her bottom lip as if it is his life force. She straddles his rippling abs, savoring the feeling of his body in between her thighs, her hands wander down his pecs with glee. Still kissing, tasting, sucking, dueling. Passion.

She begins to grind herself against his stomach, and it is that moment he breaks the haze.

"Slayer, no. We aren't going to do this." He can't believe his own words. She is flushed with want and the PASSION he tells her that she needs, and yet he is refusing her. Buffy jumps off of him in sudden anger, and begins to pace the room again.

"Why not?"

"Because you are a Slayer. A full-blood Slayer. And I am a Vampire who LOVES you. All of you. Every single sodding thing about you, I worship. But you don't remember everything about me. And I'm not going to take advantage of this beautiful candlelit room, and the damn frosted windowpanes that make everything feel like a dream, because when the memories of your humanity return..."

"You don't want this because you LOVE me." she spits the word 'love' harshly. Spike gets up off the bed and stops her movement by placing two firm hands on each skinny shoulder.

"Thats right. I want to make love to you, and wake up in your arms. I don't want to scratch an itch. Slayers and vampires have been fucking for ages, but the difference between them and US is that this is real. This isn't a wam, bam, thank-you ma'am. " he slowly raises his fingers to brush aside one long curling piece of hair, and then presses a soft kiss against her small forehead.

"Get some rest. I'll see you later, Slayer."

She just stares after him with anger warring with confusion, and after he closes the bedroom door silently, she throws herself onto her rumpled sheets and falls into the willing sleep that he wanted for her.

Spike stops and leans against the door after he closes it, his eyes falling shut with utter disbelief. The Slayer in that room wants him the way he used to want her. Until he nearly sacrificed his unlife for Dawn. And then it all changed. To take advantage of her primal urges...well, Buffy would stake him for it. He'd rather make the most powerful Slayer of history mad, than the woman that he loved.




TBC

Chapter 9

A/N: and in this chapter we encounter the DOUBLE problem, just like Kantayra had with her 'Double Spiked' story (if you want some naughty smutty fun, read that. Its hilarious and sexy and very VERY NC-17). In this chapter 'Buffy' refers to the HUMAN Buffy, and 'the Slayer' refers to the Slayer-Buffy whom this story so far has been about....oh yeah, and this is closely tied to the prologue and the first chapter 'Tainted', so if you forget what happened there, you might want to take a peek before reading this one.

A/N Part 2: I'll try to update soon, but I have just signed on to co-author a story with Silver, as well as helping Callie out with her smut scenes, plus a booming big social life, and work, and school, and well, I'll do the best I can. Please continue to give me feedback though, I really need it.


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She stands atop a masouleum. The graveyard, her territory, stretches in every direction, as far as she can see, the stone glinting dully in the moonlight. All of the headstones are various shapes, some round and small, some jagged and towering like teeth. A surge of joyful familiarty rushes along her veins and a stake suddenly appears in her hand.

Just then a wave of sunlight begins to seep into the graveyard, like a cloud's shadow on a great prairie. It is the beautiful golden wake of a girl, walking through the stones, gently touching the tops every now and then as she takes away the darkness. She suddenly disappears, only to materialize directly in front of the Slayer.

They face one another silently, sunlight covering one half of the masouleum roof and cemetery, night covering the other.

Identical.

"You are me..?" the Slayer whispers in awe. Buffy laughs.

"Well, sorta. You are me, too. I'm Buffy. Completely, 100% human Buffy. You are my Slayer half. Cool, huh?"

"I suppose its interesting. What's the point of this dream?"

"Come on, you don't know? Its a Slayer Dream." Buffy rolls her eyes at the confused look on the Slayer's face. Just then another person appears in the two extreme shades of light, half of his face covered by the black, the other half glowing in the light.

"Spike." The Slayer breathes, staring at the silent and unmoving vampire.

"Yes, and William...he is both. Beauty and the Beast, light grows in between cracks." Buffy states. Its the Slayer's turn to roll her eyes.

"Riddles."

"As always." Spike says, but remains motionless.

"So why is he here?" The Slayer asks, alternating between staring at her human counterpart and watching Spike.

"He is two different beings in one. Just like we were. He is us. Two by two. Right?" Buffy says with a perky tone of voice.

"Five by five." The Slayer responds.

"Equals twenty-five. Twenty-five beings will bring forth destruction, love." Spike whispers, his face turning fully into the night to look seriously at the Slayer. Buffy nods, and then raises one tiny hand and puts it flat against the Slayer's forehead.

A rush of light that seems familiar, and then a vision surrounded by a fringe of surreal clouds:

*It was a horse. A great majestic horse with rippling flanks and powerful legs, running along the metal grating of a tower walk-way towards the edge. It leapt off gracefully, bright blue sparks and lightening flashing around it, then it began to transform into Buffy in a swan-dive, glowing with ethereal light.*

It ends with the abrupt pain that most visions do, sending the Slayer reeling back. Spike reaches out and catches her, pulling her gently to his dark side and running a soothing hand down her back. She pants and looks over at Buffy angrily.

"That was-"

"Me." Buffy supplies.

"Sacrifice. Humanity." Spike nods, sighing then with resignation as the Slayer furiously pushes him away, staring at him with flashes of hatred.

"Oh stop lecturing me on humanity. You have no idea, vampire."

Buffy's slender arm suddenly darts across the contrasting light's barrier, and pulls Spike to her side, into the warm sunlight. It fills out his face in a beautiful way, and his sky blue eyes drop to the woman who now holds him in a loving grip. Buffy glares at the Slayer.

"Sacrifice. He knows sacrifice. He tries to teach you what he knows, what he feels, but you keep pushing him away. Why?"

"Don't ask me that." the Slayer mumbles, wringing her hands. The twisting, grinding motion of her battle-worn hands suddenly starts to produce a thick silky mud, which fills her palms. No one comments.

"'Why' is the question that reveals the most true information: the reasons, the intent, the feelings behind the thought, word, or action. Like why do you love me? Why do you hate me?" Buffy explains, and then turns to Spike whom she is still leaning on, "Why did you make a cheap robot imitation of me to have sex with?"

Spike's eyes fill up with the flare of realization and of the life that the Slayer so despises because its different than what she's used to.

"Is this real? Are you really asking me that? I've wanted you to, but I didn't dare to hope..." Spike stutters, looking at his sunbathed love with an unearthly happiness, "I did it because I love you so much, and I was so desperate for a smile, a kiss, anything from you, anything to soothe the hurt of the hatred you have for me. 'm so sorry for doing it. She was a poor substitute, and I'm a right pathetic man." his head drops to his chest, and then tiny fingers curling under his slender chin urge it up again.

"You are a beautiful man. I don't hate you. I could never hate you. And I forgive you. Granted, it was a disgusting thing to do, but you have apologized, and proved that you love me by what you did for me and Dawn. I wanted to tell you that before the ring of fire, because I don't know if my snow will fall. Fall, fall, fall. All fall down. Its up to her." Buffy murmers, her eyes moving from their focused position on his, to somewhere in the distance. The hand that is not resting lovingly on Spike's cheek stretchs out to and she begins to flick her fingers as if pushing tiny objects over. The Slayer interrupts.

"What did you do for me and Dawn?"

Spike's shining eyes and sad smile fade, and he pulls from Buffy's loose embrace and strides angrily into the darkness. The moment the night touches his face it ripples into his demon visage. He begins to circle around the Slayer with menace in his eyes. She kneels on the roof's biting tiles, her head bent in supplication, but her mud-caked fists clenched with the want to strike out.

"You said you wouldn't forget, Slayer. You said you wouldn't forget. An' now you have the stones to stand here and ask me to remind-" he stops speaking suddenly when he sees her face slowly turn upwards to look at him.

The warrior's mask. Something vibrates inside of him, as if his demon is recognizing her. He lets out an involuntary growl of primal hatred. He stares down at her, and her up at him.

The familiarty, the link, the unbreakable bond of enemies.

Buffy begins to circle them, sunlight traveling with her like a long dress of light. It swirls around the vampire and Slayer, only leaving the silver and black night around them as tight as possible. A scream penetrates the air. Who knows where it comes from.

And the cemetery fades away, a bleak desert scene rushing into its place.

"The Last is here, The Last has come
And soon the world will fall into none.
All the kings horses, all Glory's men
won't be able to close the ring again." Buffy sings, bending down and scooping up a handful of warm sand, dropping it into Spike's outstretched palm. She leans forward then, and presses her lips firmly against his for one brief moment before a sudden bonfire roars up and her image fades away into its crackling heat.

The wind whistles and moans around the rocks and through the sand, as the Slayer and Spike continue to watch each other. The ash around Spike's feet begins to blow up, creating a cloud of grey softness that soon begins to rush like the sound of hoofbeats.

"I live in the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound! I am destruction! Absolute! Alone! The Slayer does not walk in this world!" the Slayer screams over the noise. Spike's iron arms dart out and grab her shoulders bringing her flush against his chest.

"You're never alone."

Images of each of her friends, her watcher, her sister-the Key, and finally Spike tear through her memory, and with one last bone-crushing, passionate, forceful hug, the cloud of ash erases the dream away.

The Slayer sits up in her bed with abrupt astonishment, jolted out of her sleep by the end of her dream.

And across town in a snow-smothered crypt, Spike awakes just as suddenly.


TBC

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Spike is filled with nostalgia as the door to his crypt is violently pushed open, and Buffy comes striding in. She closes the door behind her, shutting out the swirling wind and then shakes the snow from her shoulders and head onto the cold stone floor. Spike sits up, the blanket sliding from his alabaster chest to his narrow waist. Buffy's eyes shine from underneath her fuzzy hat and windblown hair.


"You were there. Were you there?" she asks quietly, pulling the mittens from her hands and staring at their wet design.


"Yeah, pet. I was there. Pretty bizarre, eh?" he says, swinging his legs around to the other side of the sarcophagus and pulling on his cold denim pants. Buffy turns her head away, a slight blush adding nicely to the rosiness of her cheeks from the snow.


"But you knew. You knew the prophecy, and you knew more about it than I. How can that be?" She turns back when he touches her on the shoulder to signal that its okay to look at him again. He has a dusty black button down pulled over that lovely expanse of chest that Buffy won't admit to admiring. The crimson stains her face again. Spike can't help but be amused, but he answers seriously.


"I wasn't there until Buffy asked me why I made...um, the robot. I remember from that point on. Whatever "I" said before that wasn't me. It was part of the dream."


Buffy nods thoughtfully before sinking down on the satin-covered stone slab that passes for his bed. Spike eyes her curiously and then begins to light the pillars of fragrant wax that litter his home. The golden tongues flicker once again, trying desperately to penetrate the cold with their heat, and the dark with their light. When he is finished, he leans causally next to the hunched form of the Slayer.


"So, here we are again." he muses, pulling out a cigarette and lighting its end on one candle's flame.


"I had mud on my face." Buffy says suddenly, simply, as she rolls the dream around in her thought, hoping that something will stick and make sense. Spike blows smoke out through a light chuckle.


"Yeah, and Buffy put sand in my hand. And she sang us a sickly revised nursery rhyme. And I wanted to kill you." he finishes almost silently. The Slayer's eyes flash over to him, wide and astonished. But not deadly, which surprises Spike.


"What? W-when?"


"When you said you didn't remember. And then I saw the mud. It was like something in my gut was screaming at me to annhilate you. And for several seconds, I was ready to listen to it." Spike says honestly, but his blue eyes watch the snow flakes flutter outside the foggy window, shame tinting their color. He sighs and then blows smoke out in a puff of silver blue. "You had better go home again. You need your sleep."


Buffy responds by laying her body out on the peach colored blanket. Spike's dark eyebrows shoot up.


"Ay, Slayer. You can't stay here."


"Its too warm and busy at Buffy and Dawn's home. I like it here. I like being alone."


"You're never alone." Spike repeats from the dream, this time in a sad whisper.


"I'm forever alone. Nothing can change that. Not even you, Vampire." She pulls the satin up over her shoulders, and turns her body away from him, so that all he can see is the the delicate hourglass curve of her body beneath the shimmering fabric. He clenches his teeth with frusteration and then climbs onto the stone surface next to her, wrapping one hard arm around her tiny waist and laying his head behind hers.


"Allow me to try, Slayer." he counters quietly. She tenses and then relaxes against his unmoving chest.


"You can try."


And with that the enemies drifted off to sleep.

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TBC

{Next}