It's pain like I've never experienced. This demon really knows his stuff. The trials were designed to take every bit of resistance I had, and grind me to dust. Literally. There isn't a part of my body I wouldn't gladly wave goodbye to right now. It feels like there isn't a bone unbroken, or a patch of skin left whole. But, the good news is, I survived. I'm still here. And, here he comes. With my reward.

A soul. It's what I asked for. It's the one thing that will let me fulfil my promise without the risk of hurting her again. Once I realised that, the decision was easy. And now the time has come. The demon's hand/paw/claw? Moves towards my chest, delving inside. There's an explosion of light to match the explosion of pain. Just when I thought there wasn't any way I could hurt worse than I already did, he proves me wrong.

This pain is different. Yes, it's a physical pain. You try having a hand shoved into your chest and tell me you don't feel it. But, it's more than that. With it comes the pain of knowing how I've hurt countless people over more years than I care to remember.

I'm no stranger to regret or guilt. I've had both in spades since that night in the bathroom. I hated myself for hurting her, and through her, for hurting Dawn. But that was because I love them both. This guilt is different, because it's for people I hated, people I disliked, people I never knew, and people I never met. It's for all those I've killed, and for those left behind. I feel a mother's pain on finding her child dead. I feel a husband's anguish on finding his wife crumpled on the ground. I feel a child's mounting terror as it begs a parent to wake up. I feel it all.

And this sensation keeps building. The rate of increase is accelerating, and I'm completely lost in it. I can no longer feel my purely physical pain. It's insignificant compared to the rest of it. The level rises, higher and higher, faster and faster and then ……

Nothing. I feel nothing. I wonder at that. Why is there nothing? I open my eyes, or at least, that is what I try to do. I see …. Dust. I know, I don't know how I know, but I know that is my mortal remains. The pain has caused my body to turn to dust. I didn't know pain alone could do that. I thought there had to be fire, or wood, or something sharp to separate my head from my body.

So, shouldn't I be in hell? I mean, that's where vampires go, isn't it? I look around. I haven't got eyes any more, but I can see. I'm still in the cave. I see the dust on the cave floor. I recognise the drawings on the walls. I'm here, where I achieved my prize, and lost my life.

The initial shock is past, and I'm starting to remember more. The guilt and the pain of those who have suffered because of me, it's all back. It's still with me, but, somehow, it's not so debilitating. I can feel it, but without a physical body, it's not the all-encompassing agony it was. I make an effort to steady myself, not to give in to the feelings that are threatening to swamp me. I would take a deep breath if I had lungs. Funny, I haven't needed to breathe for over a century, and the impulse is still there. Take a breath to steady yourself. I do, sort of. I still feel like I have control of a body. I can still sense where my limbs are, still know instinctively how to move them.

My thoughts slow. The deep breathing has helped. My thoughts leave my current predicament, and go to …. Where else? Buffy.

I close my eyes and berate myself for my predictability. Well, you know, not really close my eyes, but … When I 'open' them again, I see her. She's at work. She's wearing that ridiculous uniform. Her smile is plastered to her face. She listens to the complaints of the customer she is serving, and the plastic smile never wavers - even when he gets personal. He's telling her she's a stupid, dumb blonde, and that he gave her a fifty, and Buffy's calmly showing him there are no fifties in the drawer. She's explaining it's just been emptied, and there's nothing bigger than a twenty. He won't listen, and he's inching closer to her. He's bigger than she is, over six feet, and he thinks he'll intimidate her. She looks so tiny, her size belies her strength. I can see how angry she is. It's not on her face, it's in her shoulders and neck. In some ways, it's comforting to know someone else can do that to her. In other ways, I'm almost jealous.

I can stand it no longer. The things he's calling her, and she's just taking it. I move between them, intending to hit him. I remember at the last minute, I haven't got an arm, or a hand, or anything to hit him with. But it's too late, I've already launched the attack.

He flinches as my 'fist' contacts with his nose. Not the effect I was aiming for, of course. If I still had my body, he'd be flat on the floor nursing a bloody and broken proboscis. As it is, he looks at Buffy, mystified for a moment, before backing down. He's apologising to her and backing away, telling her to keep the change. She looks confused. She doesn't understand the man's sudden change of heart, and it's that look of confusion that removes the plastic smile. She's still standing there, apparently riveted to the spot, when someone taps her on the shoulder, and reminds her it's time to go home. Her shift's over.

She relaxes visibly at these words, her smile now real. She heads for the lockers, pulling off the uniform and pushing it into the laundry basket which is already filled with similar items. She pulls her purse from the locker, and heads out.

As she tends to these mundane matters, I wonder how I got here. I no sooner thought of her, than I was here, with her. It reminds me of something. Dawn told me about a film she watched one time. What was it called? I remember. 'City of Angels'. I said she'd never catch me watching something like that. Anyway, in it, Nicholas Cage is an angel. And he says something about 'travelling at the speed of thought'. That's how it was. I thought, and there I was.

But I'm certainly not an angel. The thought makes me laugh. Funny, silent laughter. Except I can hear it. When I look again, she's gone, so I think of her, and I'm outside, following her as she walks home. My thoughts immediately move to Dawn. Instantly, I see her. She's at home, lying on her bed, some awful music playing on her stereo.

She's different. I didn't notice a difference with Buffy - but then it would be difficult to see anything under the veneer of artificiality engendered by the uniform and the permanent smile.

Dawn seems older. Not just a few weeks older, but much older. She looks like she's seen the worst the world has to offer, and yet, she' not broken. There's still hope in her blue eyes, but it's hope tinged with sadness.

I wonder what happened to the other occupants of the house. I wander into the witches' room. Now, that's a surprise. There's nothing left. It's been cleared out. No sign of occupation. Definite signs of decoration. I wonder who's doing it, when I spot a pile of chocolate wrappers next to the paint brushes. Xander. So, where are the witches?

I'm still pondering that, when I hear Buffy coming in. She's excited about something, and calling to Dawn. Dawn joins her sister downstairs, and grabs the letter Buffy's waving around. She reads it, and both sisters hug and do this silly sort of dance, jumping round in circles. Whatever's in the letter, it's good news. It's crumpled in Dawn's hand, so I can't read it.

At last the dancing stops, and Dawn speaks.

"You did it! You've got the job at school! That means you can go back to college in the evenings, and go to school with me. No more Doublemeat Palace. No more smelly Buffy!"

As if reminded of her current state of smelliness, Buffy pulls back, a wry smile on her face.

"Guess I should go shower," she apologises.

"I didn't mean,…"

"I know, Dawnie, I know. But, even smelly demons cringe from the Doublemeat scent experience."

She goes upstairs, into her room. I was going to follow, but decide against it. Somehow, it doesn't seem right. That from someone who stalked her for months. Someone who took every opportunity to see her in any state of undress possible. I shake my non-existent head at my new-found propriety.

I start to wonder what's going on. I've been so caught up in seeing her again, being a part of her life even if she doesn't see I'm there, that I've been side-tracked from working out what in hell is going on. As my thoughts turn to the unanswered questions in my head, I find I'm back in the cave. Lurky is there too. I don't know if he's got the answers, but I don't know where else to start. Too late, I wonder if he'll even recognise my presence.

"Ok, mate, want to tell me what's going on?"

"Oh, you're back. I thought you might be back. I knew you were different, just didn't know how different."

Funny how the mystique's gone now I've been through the trial, I think.

"Well, what happened? I passed the test, didn't I? I got my soul? So, where's the body to go with it?"

"Yeah, bit embarrassing that, really, but how was I supposed to know? It seems the trials took everything you had. You survived, but you had nothing left, so when you felt the pain of having your soul back, you're body just gave up, spontaneously dusted."

"So, why am I still here? What am I?"

"Well, believe me, I wanted to know that too. I mean, I offer a service, I like to know the possible outcomes. Normally it's simple. Death. Most of the time. Maybe one in five thousand, they get the soul. They leave, and go off to deal with being a demon with a soul. Doesn't often end too well either. Most end up killing themselves within a year. Never known one like yours. You got your soul, and your awareness and memories latched onto it. Then your body went 'poof' and there you are. A soul, complete with your memories, left to roam the earth."

"So, what can I do about it?"

"Damned if I know!"

I want to hit something. I want to do something, anything. I'm no good to her like this. How can I keep Dawn safe without a body? I feel a rage start within me, and it's a rage to rival anything I experienced as a demon. I have to do something, but what?

Of course, after a shift at the Doublemeat Palace, I don't smell anything. That's the worst part. At least with demon slime, you know it's there. The greasy smell of meaty goodness just creeps up on you while you're not paying attention. I turn on the shower, and let my clothes drop to the floor. The water feels good, warm and comforting. The shower gel is new too. There was a time when I used something that smelled good. Vanilla was my favourite. Now, it's the special one that's designed to kill lingering odours. I heave a sigh of relief - not much longer.

The job at the school starts in two weeks. I only need to give a week's notice at the Palace, but the question is, can I afford to go without the extra week's money? A quick mental calculation tells me what I suspected. No. It's not the regular bills that are the problem, it's getting Dawn kitted out for school, and then, of course, I'm going to need some new things too. Any old thing is good enough for under my uniform, but, if I'm working at the school, I'm going to have to look a little more professional. I think my way through my wardrobe.

There's the slaying wardrobe, then there's what I wear to work. Mainly that's the older end of the slaying wardrobe. The rest is the 'Buffy at Play' wardrobe, and, while some of it can be adapted to work, the strappy tops and short skirts are probably not a good idea. I remember only too well the workings of the male High School student's mind from the time I could hear their thoughts. No, I need something a little more …. Modest.

I start to soap my hair, and I think back to the incident just before my shift ended. There was something strange about that man. He backed down just too quickly. Of course, this is the Hellmouth, so nothing is really strange, but still. Even stranger was the other feeling I had. It was that prickling in the back of my neck that signalled Spike. I feel all vampires, of course, but Spike's signal has always been unique. I haven't felt that since … , no, don't think about that. He wasn't there, I know he wasn't, so why did I sense him? It's not as though he hasn't been on my mind all summer.

It's been the one cloud on the horizon. Even with my worry about Willow, it's been there. Dawn and I have been good this summer. We've spent time together, and we've talked. We talked about most things. We even talked about Spike. I explained some of the background. I couldn't bear her thinking he was a monster because of what happened in the bathroom. I told her how I treated him, well, the edited highlights, PG version. I told her that what he did that night was just like what I did to him several times before. I told her that I had driven him to lose all hope, and that's why my 'no' didn't filter through until I pushed him away. I told her that the expression on his face would have broken my heart if I hadn't still been angry at him. I told her my words to him. "Ask me again why I can never trust you."

I didn't realise it at the time. It was only afterwards that it dawned on me. His actions that night left me feeling betrayed. His disappearing right afterwards did the same. It was only when everything was over, when Willow had been stopped and I had a chance to think, that I realised that you can't be betrayed by someone you don't trust.

I realise that the water is getting cold. I've been in the shower longer than I intended. I turn off the water, and pull a towel round my head, drying my hair. I'm surprised to find water on my face even though my hair's no longer dripping, and I glance in the mirror to see the tears that have been falling. It's always the same. Every time I think of how I treated him, how I drove him away, it hurts. That's the one thing I haven't shared with Dawn. She knows I'm sad, but she doesn't know how much it hurts. I know it hurts her too that he left, and I can't add to her sorrow. Because I know it's my fault he left.

I pull on some clean clothes and head downstairs to start dinner. Xander'll be over soon. It's been good to see him so much lately. With Anya gone and Willow in England, he's been eating here most evenings. That's why he offered to decorate the main bedroom for me. I decided to move in there. I don't know where Willow's going to want to live when she gets back, and if she wants to come back here, that'll be fine. But, I'll take the larger room, and she can have the one I've always had. I tell myself it's because the other room will have bad memories for her, but in truth, it's because my room has bad memories for me. I've spent all summer in there thinking about Spike, worrying about Spike and dreaming about Spike. I'm hoping, a new room and a new job will mean a new me.

As I dress, I mentally push thoughts about Spike to the back of my mind. Dawn doesn't need to know I've been crying, and any comment about Spike is like a red rag to a bull with Xander. I've tried to explain to him, tried to make him understand that Spike wasn't a monster that night, but it's too much. Xander hated Spike so much before, there is no way he'll ever be convinced. His comments hurt me, but I've needed him this summer. I've needed his inane conversation and crazy schemes to keep my guilt about Spike at bay.

Dawn is getting some salad ready when I get to the kitchen, and I pull out the pasta, and start to throw a sauce together. I'm not up to much in the kitchen, but a basic sauce to go with pasta is well within my capabilities.

"How are my girls today?" I hear, and Xander waltzes in. He's still hurting about Anya, I know he is, but his way of dealing with pain has always been playing the clown. So, that's what he's doing.

"It's Friday, and I got paid. What do you girls think about going to a movie? Nothing too girlie, mind, I've got a reputation to maintain, after all. Not that it'll do me any harm to be seen around town with two lovelies like you."

Dawn jumps up and starts throwing names of movies at him. I don't know how she does it, but she always knows just what's showing. I smile at her enthusiasm, and catch Xander's eye. He loves the attention. I wonder how much that has to do with Xander's hatred of Spike. There was a time when Xander was very important to Dawn, and that changed when Spike started to help. I know she still cares about Spike, but she has the sense not to let Xander know that, and the giddy, girlish excitement is good for Xander. They go into the lounge, still arguing, and I leave them to it.

The kitchen seems still and quiet. I know they're still at it in the other room, but I'm able to blank that out. I freeze as I sense him again. It's the tingling, the one that always meant he was near. It's still daylight, so he can't be outside, lingering under the tree like he used to. Despite knowing that, I go outside and have a look around. No smoking vampires in evidence. I go back inside, but the feeling's still there. It's like he's in the room with me, except I know he's not. I can feel anger rising. I don't want to feel this. I don't need this. My life's changing for the better, and I want to forget what a bitch I've been.

"Spike, are you here?" I hear myself saying the words, and don't remember deciding to utter them. I stand very still, and I feel him. I feel the love he has for me, and I know he's there, except he isn't. I don't understand. A sudden thought comes to me. Could it be a ghost I'm sensing? Does that mean he's dead? I drop the spoon I had in my hand. The jingling sound wakes me from the reverie I had slipped into. "No," I tell myself. "It's not a ghost, and it's not Spike. You're just daydreaming, and it's got to stop."

Xander comes in to find out the source of the noise, and his chatter drowns any remnant of the feeling I had. I'm not altogether sad about that.

The evening progresses. We eat, and listen to Xander's stories about his day. It seems strange. Here, he's the same big child he's always been. At work, he seems able to become someone who other people respect and look up to. I know he's doing well. He's got his own team, and his boss relies on him. He told me his boss has a daughter, and that she's very pretty. His boss has made it clear that he would be happy if he would take an interest in that direction, but Xander says it's too soon. He's not interested in anyone but Anya, but no one knows where she is. She disappeared after Giles took Willow off to England, and we've not heard from her since. Not that Xander wants her now anyway. She's a demon, and he's made his views on that score perfectly clear many times. It's the fact that she chose to be a demon that hurt him most. He considers that to be an even greater betrayal than what he did on their supposed wedding day.

The film is entirely unmemorable. I know that's because I spend the whole time with Spike on my mind. I'm worried. I've though about him a lot all summer, but today's been worse than ever. If only I understood why I keep sensing his presence, maybe I could shut out the thoughts. But it was with me as I sat in the cinema. And with the tingling, came the memories. And, they're not all bad memories. There are times I remember with gratitude, there are even a few I remember with joy. If only I'd taken his feelings seriously. If only I'd given him the same priority as my other friends. When I think of my other friends, I realise we were all into making bad decisions last year. Except Tara, and she's gone. The less said about Willow the better. I know why she did what she did, but she killed. She would have ended the world if she could have. And Xander. Well, apart from the wedding that never was, there was the musical extravaganza thing. I mean, people died during that, and he was playing with something he didn't understand. Compared to them, what did Spike do?

Well, there was the whole demon egg thing. Of course, it didn't actually cause any deaths, thanks to Riley, but I never gave Spike the chance to tell me about that. The more I think about it, I can't believe that a vampire who killed two Slayers would just let the eggs hatch willy-nilly. He said he was doing a favour for a friend, and that seems more likely than him planning it for himself. I just accepted Riley's word for it, and I know only too well how much Riley liked Spike. Again, I let someone else's opinion get between me and understanding Spike. I want to tell him I'm sorry. I want to beg for another chance, but I'm starting to think he'll never come back.

As the film ends, there are tears on my cheeks. The lights go up, and Dawn looks at me suspiciously. Xander notices too, and says, "You must really have been laughing hard, Buffy. Glad you enjoyed it, you don't laugh enough. Glad the Xanman's been of use!"

Sometimes I want to strangle Xander. I mean, I know he means well, but, insensitive? He was the original reason for the word. And he used to accuse Anya of being insensitive! He's been good to us this summer. I know he has, but it's been to his benefit, too. We're all recovering from what happened. I mean, Willow, she let us all down big time. I know she was hurting after Tara, I know that. I mean, I've lost a mom and a sister, I know how it hurts. And I lost Tara too. Stop that. I can't start blubbing now. It's late, and Xander's sitting with me while Buffy's patrolling. I didn't think she was going to patrol tonight. I think she's just using it as a way to get some time alone. She does that sometimes. She's lucky. How can I get away from Xander's inappropriate hilarity? Well, I could go to bed, I suppose, but it's Friday night, and I'm not giving up the chance to stay up late. It's a matter of principle.

I'm not watching the TV. I mean, it's on, and Xander's keeping up a running commentary on the good parts of the movie. I'm trying to understand why things changed today. I mean, I know Buffy's hurting because Spike left. She hasn't told me the details, but I know she treated him badly. I was angry when Xander told me what Spike did to her that night, but she explained she'd done worse.

I was angry at her at first. I mean, this last year, there've been two people I've relied on. There was Tara, and there was Spike. Buffy, well, she's hardly been something I could lean on. I mean, physically, she's been there, but mentally, well, I know, the whole being torn out of heaven's bound to hurt. But I needed her, and she wasn't there for me. Tara and Spike were. Now Tara's gone, and Buffy drove Spike away. I almost hated her at first. Then I started to see how much she was hurting over it. When I saw it, I couldn't hate her any more.

And things were getting better. I mean, she seemed happier. I still saw her phase out sometimes, and I knew she was thinking about him, but, most of the time, she's been fine. Then tonight, she's all out of it again. She's back to the way she was just after he left. I started to wonder if she'd heard something. Maybe got some news that he was dead or something, but she'd tell me that, I know she would. So, maybe she's seen him. Again, I think she'd tell me. I know, I should just ask her, and I expect I will, but not while Xander's around.

Honestly, the look on his face when he hears Spike mentioned. It'd stake him without any help. He hates him so much. He hates the way I love Spike. He hates that Buffy could use his strength. He hates that he got to sleep with Buffy, and he hates that there was that one time with Anya. He can't see that there could be any good in him, because he's a demon. I mean, sure, some demons are evil, most of them even. But some, like Clem, well, they're just good guys. I met some of his friends this summer, and they're ok. And Spike, I know he did some bad things, but that's they way vampires are. They kill people to feed, just like we kill animals. It's the way they are, but he managed to put that behind him. He really cares what happens to me, not because he has to, but just because he cares.

But Xander's been good to us. I know he has, but this whole 'pretend Spike never existed' thing hasn't been good for Buffy. Despite that, she was coping, until this afternoon. I wonder if it's the fact that she's moving on. Maybe a new job, and she's thinking she's leaving him behind somehow.

Oh, she's back. I'm looking closely at her face, looking for signs of tears. I can't see any, and she's spotted me looking, so I pull my eyes back to the TV. Xander bounds up and asks her about patrol. It sounds like it was quiet, the way it's been for weeks now. He's talking to her, as usual, now it's time to go back to his own apartment, he doesn't want to go. He doesn't do well on his own. I wish he could find someone, a human with no demon history. Then, maybe he'd be happy, and let us get on with missing Spike.

I can't take any more of him. I make an effort every time I see him, remembering how I treated him before I knew Spike. But now, I'm tired. I'm tired, and a little scared by the changes I saw In Buffy today. I've lost her once already, and I can't bear for it to happen again. I'm going to the mall with Janice and her mom tomorrow, so I won't see a lot of her. Tomorrow night, maybe we can talk. Except, tomorrow night, it'll be Xander time again. I so wish he'd not be there, just one night.

I stay close to Buffy all evening. She seems distracted. After the happiness I saw when she got the news about her new job, she just went downhill. I don't know why. The Bit seems to know something, but she hasn't said anything. The whelp? He's as clueless as ever. Buffy cried her way through a comedy film, and he thought she was crying from laughing too hard. It wasn't even a good film. There's something wrong with Buffy, and I'm scared. I'm scared because I can't help. It's back to the way I felt when she died. At least then I tried to save her. At least then I had a body. Now, I don't know what's wrong, and I can't do a bloody thing about it anyway. It hurts. It hurts almost more than the guilt I feel. I try to wrap her in me, to make her feel secure, but she just cries harder.

They go home. The girls are both quiet. Of course, there aren't too many gaps in the whelp's monologue, so it may be lack of opportunity. But, I don't think so.

Buffy decides to patrol when the get back. I can tell by Dawn's expression that she didn't expect that. Xander's happy to stay with Dawn, despite her protests that she doesn't need a babysitter. Xander heads for the TV while Buffy goes up to change. Dawn is seriously unhappy with the situation, but Buffy's too preoccupied to notice, and Xander? Well, I don't think he'd notice if a herd of chirago demons descended on the room.

I follow Buffy as she heads out on her route. It feels so familiar, being with her like that, I almost forget my bodiless state. It's a quiet night, and she meets only a couple of fledglings - not even enough to make her break sweat. She's fighting a little woodenly. I'm surprised, I've never known her to be like that. There's always been passion in the way she fights. Even after her mom, when her heart was breaking, there was passion in the way she fought. Now, it's gone, and it's as if there's a light fewer in the world.

Her face is expressionless as she moves from cemetery to cemetery. Her last stop is the one I lived in. She seems to be avoiding the crypt, heading in unexpected directions whenever her route would take her there. It could just be she doesn't want to talk to Clem. I mean, sometimes his comparison of different snack types can get a bit wearing. She sighs deeply, shaking her hair as if trying to snap out of something. Her footsteps turn towards home.

Dawn's face is a picture when we get back. She has obviously had enough of Xander, and she goes to bed soon after Buffy gets back. It's not long before Buffy claims she's tired, and Xander stands to leave. It's obvious he doesn't want to go, and for the first time, a shred of pity comes over me. The whelp has nothing. No family he'd want to claim, no Anya. He's lost, and the worst part of it must be that it's his own fault. He betrayed Anya by walking away from their wedding. That must hurt. At least I know I tried my best to make Buffy see I loved her. At least, right up until …

He's gone, at last. Buffy goes upstairs, and I follow, lurking in the hallway. I hear her shower, and I know she's dressing for bed. When I'm fairly sure she's settled, I go into her room. It's still the old one, still as I remember it. She's lying in her bed, curled into an almost foetal position. I move closer, and notice she's shaking. Not the rapid shaking of being cold, but the slower shaking of misery. She's sobbing. I try to wrap myself around her, desperate to bring her comfort, but her sobs actually increase.

It's almost as if she knows I'm here, and I'm the one making her sad. The thought hits me, and my everything turns to ice. It's me. I'm hurting her. Somehow, by being here, I'm hurting her. I can't take it any more. I've got to get away, got to stop hurting her. It's probably for the best if I just cease to exist.

For the first time I consider the possibility that my turning to dust was the best thing that could have happened for Buffy. She was always telling me to go away, but I didn't listen. I was so sure I could help her, so sure she would love me in the end. Now I know better. The pain's growing again. I'm responsible. It's me.

I close my eyes. (I know, I don't have any. Ok, I stop taking in visual information. 'I close my eyes' is much simpler.) I want to be anywhere that means I won't hurt her again. I wish for annihilation.

I open my eyes, and this time I haven't a bloody clue where I am. It's bright, almost too bright. It's just as well I don't have a body, because this light level would have had me smouldering in seconds. I look down, and I do have a body. Bloody Hell. What is going on here? The body's just as I remember it. Except, I've never been in the habit of wandering around outside naked. And that's what I'm doing. I can feel the grass under my feet. It's cool from dew, but the air's warm. I'm feeling sunshine on my skin for the first time in a century, and it feels so good. Am I in heaven? Not possible. Hell, yes, well, it's where vampires go, and it's what I deserve. But this seems rather more like heaven to me. I can't see anyone else around. I walk a bit further. I can hear the ocean ahead, although I don't see it yet.

The sounds are those of a summer's day. Somehow, it doesn't seem so much like California, although the only reason I can think of for that is the lack of company. I crest a small rise, and I see it. It's blue and it goes on forever. This unexpected treat brings a lump to my throat. It's been so long since I've been in the sunshine. It's like a gift. A gift I don't deserve.

I reach the sand. I head over the warm, dry sand, feeling it between my toes. It's almost too hot for comfort. I move towards the shoreline, and feel the coolness of the wet sand. The contrast is delicious, the warmth of the sunshine and the cool of the sand. I resist the urge to walk into the water. I'm not sure why, I just feel I should.

I follow the beach, just walking, just appreciating. I see someone in the distance, approaching. It's a child, a girl, maybe eight or so? I'm no expert. She looks human, except she glows. How she can appear to glow in the bright sunshine of this paradise, I don't know. But, glow she does. I remember I'm naked, but suspect that where I am isn't real anyway, so I don't suppose it matters. The girl's smiling at me, and I do my best to wipe the smile off my face. I just realised that I've been grinning like a bloody ponce since I got here. Whatever's going on, I like to keep my options open. It doesn't pay to let anyone know I'm actually enjoying this.

I make as if I'm going to keep on walking, but she stops, and looks at me, and I can't go on. She's smiling at me, and it's disarming, the way only a child's smile can disarm. I look closely at her face. Her hair is blonde and her eyes are blue. The face could almost be Dawn, apart from the hair colour. It's a face of innocence. It's a face that hasn't known the pain of losing a mother and a sister. It's a face that hasn't experienced whatever Dawn has seen this summer.

I feel another twinge of guilt at that. I know something happened to my girls this summer, and I don't know what it was. Something else I need to sort out.

"Spike," the girl says. "I thought you wanted to know what's happening. You won't find out if you keep going."

"So, are you going to tell me? Or are you going to keep me dangling here?"

"Oh, I'll tell you when I'm ready. First, I want you to tell me some things."

I don't like the sound of that, so I change the subject a bit. "Tell me, what do you really look like? I mean, I'm starting to doubt the 'little girl' thing. So, what is it? Horns? Scales? Slime? What're you hiding?"

"I knew I couldn't fool you. But, I'm not hiding anything. I'm actually adding something. The glow you see, that's what I would look like to your primitive vision. The rest, is designed to make you feel comfortable. So, Spike, how are you doing? You really have given us all a major headache, you know? We have plans for you, and in the end, there's a minor miscalculation, and a major disaster results."

"Wait just a minute. Who is 'us'? And what have you been miscalculating?"

"Patience, William. Never been your long suit, has it? Now, you were coming along nicely. I mean, we haven't had to do much tweaking. Only to get the soldiers to be in the right place at the time, so you could have the chip. You've done your part without any interference. You were coming along so well. You even knew you needed a soul. You worked it out for yourself. Of course, we had to make sure you got the right information on how to get a soul, but you completed the trials. There was no manipulation there. You did it, just as I knew you would."

"So, what went wrong, then, Pet?" I hear the words that come from my mouth, and they're so different from what's going on in my head. "Manipulative bitch. The little girl thing is meant to keep me docile, make me listen, make sure I don't wring her neck. And the thing about it is, she's right. Can't say what I'm thinking, can't do anything. Poof."

"We knew you were special. That's why we've been watching. It's just that, the reason you're special, we think is the same reason we failed."

"Care to explain?" She's right. Patience is one thing I haven't got an endless supply of.

"No," she grinned, dimples showing on her cheeks. "First, I've got to make sure we know what went wrong. When you got your soul, how did you feel?"

I remember, and suddenly not smiling is just too easy. "Pain," I reply.

"Well, duh, of course there was pain. You were in pain before, though, weren't you?"

"Trials to get a soul? Yeah, it hurt. I was ok though. I mean, physical pain, I can take it. Spent long enough with Angelus. Felt worse before the trials. Knowing I hurt her, let her down. That was worse. Then, the soul."

My eyes closed and I was back to this breathing thing. "It was pain like that, but I felt it for everyone I ever hurt. It wasn't just the pain of those I killed, somehow, that was the least of it. It was the others. The ones I never knew. The people who missed those I killed. It was like losing Buffy again, thousands of times over. It was … hell."

When I open my eyes again, the child is looking at me, with eyes that belie her apparent age. There is understanding, and more surprisingly, love in those eyes.

I try to pull myself up. I know I'm as soft as they come, but it doesn't pay to let just anyone know. "So, what happened? Why did getting a soul turn my body to dust?"

"I will explain, but first, you need some background. When you were killed, you lost your soul. That's simple, and you already knew that. It's the nature of the soul that's hard to understand. Most humans believe that, without a soul, you can't feel, can't feel love, can't feel remorse. Thing is, if that was true, you wouldn't feel hate either. The ability to feel all those things has nothing to do with the soul. Feelings come from something deeper, something humans don't even have a word for. I'll call it 'spirit', but it's more than that. Demons don't have souls, but they do have spirits. Vampires have a sort of fused spirit. The spirit of the human is still there, but it's joined by the spirit of the demon. Then, it's a battle of wills. Whichever is stronger will be predominant.

Few human spirits can overpower the demon spirit. That's why vampires tend towards evil. They have the ability to do good, it's just buried under the demon's need for evil. Some humans have so little capacity for good, that the resulting vampire takes delight in evil. Angelus was one such. When he got a soul, he felt human emotion - the positive human emotions - for the first time. It hurt, and he tried to be better. The soul weakened the demon spirit, so that the best of his human spirit can could through. Angel is perpetually on a knife edge. His human spirit has so little good in it, that even with a specially chosen soul, he can only just feel enough."

"Ok, but I didn't really want to hear about the Poof. What happened to me?"

"You, my dear William, are as different from Angel as it is possible to be. Your spirit was so strong, that your demon always had a struggle to subdue the good in you. You never enjoyed killing, did you? Oh, I know you did it, you had to feed, and you enjoyed feeding. But the actual killing? You didn't enjoy that. Angelus' exploits sickened you. Even Dru, even her proclivities left you cold, but you could forgive her because of the way she was abused by Angelus."

"You're wrong," I whispered. "I was bad, evil. Still am. Proved that when I tried, … when I hurt Buffy. It's just the chip."

"Spike, Spike, you spent so long trying to persuade Angelus and Darla that you were evil, that you convinced yourself along the way. The chip didn't change you, it just meant that you had to stop fooling yourself. You could follow your own inclinations. And you did. You did better than we expected. You allied yourself to the Slayer, and you vowed to keep safe the Key. That was your role, and had it not been for you, both would have been lost, beyond recovery."

"You're wrong," I repeated.

The child put a hand on my arm and pulled me to sit on the sand. Except the sand under us was now dry, and covered with a brightly coloured picnic cloth.

When we were both seated, the child continued. "Now we get to the cause of the problem. You see, your spirit is strong. That's why you were chosen for your task. But, it was also the downfall. It's because of the strength of your spirit, that when your soul was restored, your demon was almost impotent. You were already so able to feel your own inadequacies, you could already feel guilt and regret. The feelings were person specific, you felt guilt for hurting those you loved, but the feelings were real and strong. With the soul, those feelings of regret no longer had any restraint, and caused you so much pain that it was more than your body could survive. So, it disintegrated. I suspect it was inevitable. Your spirit is the only one strong enough to succeed, but it was, by virtue of that same strength, doomed to fail."

I had been looking at my knees as she spoke. I found I couldn't look up. The child held out a hand, and cupped my chin. I flinched, expecting her touch to burn me. "You still feel the guilt, the pain, don't you? Even without the body, you feel it." Her voice conveyed, not pity, but understanding.

"The thing is," she continued. "We need to decide what to do about it. As I see it, we have two choices. The first, is we accept what happened. Your body is gone, and you ceased to exist. Now, the problem with that is, that you have a job to do. We need you."

I looked up at these words. "No."

"You don't care that we need you?"

"All I care about is that Buffy's hurting, and it's my fault. If I'm gone, she'll be ok again."

"You're very wrong, you know. Your job is to do what you promised."

"What? What did I promise?"

"You promised to protect the Key."

"So, you want me to go back and protect the Bit? Buffy's more than capable."

"Not against what's coming. You see, the Key is more than a way of opening portals between realities. It can be used to do that, but it's rather like using state-of-the-art decryption software to open a book of nursery rhymes. The Key has a much higher purpose. She is the key to the survival of the human race. There are many forces who will try to destroy her, and we have only two warriors able to defend her."

"Two? Oh, I get it. Buffy and me. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

"Yes. In the beginning, it was her role to be protector to the Key. But you are needed too."

"I can't go back. I'm hurting her. Even without a body, I was hurting her."

"What's hurting her is her own regrets, her own guilt. You have to work out what happened between you, but you have the capacity to make her happy. No one else has that capacity."

Now I knew she didn't have a bloody clue. "And why would you think that?"

"Because, she's not human."

"Got you there. She is human. The reason I could hurt her is just, what was it, 'molecular sunburn'. That's what Tara said."

"Tara was right when she said there was nothing in the spell which could have made Buffy 'come back wrong'. But, it wasn't the spell that did it. We took the opportunity afforded by her death and subsequent resurrection to … change her."

"Change her how? What've you bloody done to her?"

"The changes are significant, but in other ways, minor. She will live much longer than the normal human life span. She will have strength and endurance beyond even Slayer levels, although she will have to work to earn the benefits of these changes. Let's say, her capacity for strength and endurance has been increased. Her other bodily functions will be normal. She has a heartbeat, and is warm blooded. A basic medical examination would be unlikely to pick up the differences. A more detailed exam would pick up a much higher metabolic rate than normal. Of course, her strength is above the normal level. Her rate of recovery from injury would seem nothing sort of remarkable."

"But, what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, we planned to make similar changes to you when you received your soul. Unfortunately, the demise of your body precluded that action. What we want to do is return you to your own body, modified in the same way. You will no longer be a vampire. You won't be human, either, though. You will no longer be immortal, although, like Buffy, you will live for many human life spans. You will no longer have to avoid sunlight, and a stake to the heart will no longer necessarily be fatal."

"I still say no."

"What about your promise?"

"She doesn't need me to look after Dawn now."

"Without you, our calculations indicate that the likelihood of Dawn surviving the next twelve months are about thirty percent. If we extend the time scale to ten years, it will be less than one percent."

"You mean I don't have a choice."

"Spike, you always have a choice. I'm just hoping you make the right one."

"Go back and keep Dawn alive, or cease to exist? That's not a choice. And you know it."

"Good," the child replied.

You will find we have made some more, practical differences to your life when you get back. Some might consider it a reward for making the right decision, although I suspect, you will not. Again, another required characteristic. You're just too stubborn, you know that, don't you?"

She started to glow brighter, and I had to put my hand over my eyes to deflect the glare. When I look again, she, and the beach, were gone.

I sit on the back steps to think. I've always done that. I remember, when I was little, I would find somewhere like this to sit and be alone when I was upset about something. Of course, becoming the Slayer and coming to live in Sunnydale have both given me more problems than I would have guessed at. Funny thing is, it's not the slaying that's the problem at the moment. As usual, during the summer, things in Sunnydale have been quiet. I've managed to get away with patrolling just a couple of nights a week, and when I do patrol, I meet almost nothing.

Dawn's gone off to the Mall with Janice and her mother, and Xander's putting in some overtime. It's a day off, and there a million things I could be doing, but instead I'm just sitting here. I'm really feeling spooked by yesterday. I could feel Spike, really felt him near me. The presence seemed to be trying to comfort me, but I don't deserve comfort. Then, suddenly it was gone, and I missed it so much. Dawn knows something's wrong, but hasn't asked. She just looks at me, her face a question. I'll have to try to talk to her, but what can I say? "I felt Spike's presence," just sounds plain unlikely.

What's even more confusing, was the dream last night. I mean, dreaming of Spike, nothing unusual there. Normally when I dream of him, we're, well, doing things I'd rather not think about just now. Occasionally we're fighting, but in every dream, I hurt him. I always end up saying something, hurting him. Every time I see his face, and he's doing his best not to let me see how much I hurt him. But I know.

The dream last night was of Spike walking on a beach, in the sunshine. The sight was so incongruous, it even seemed that way in the dream. He looked… good. At peace. I realised I have rarely if ever seen him like that. The scene shifted, and he was in a garden. He didn't know I was there, and again the sun was shining. I couldn't see his face. There was a bird on the grass. Large, black and white - a magpie. I remember a rhyme I didn't realise I knew.

A single magpie - one for sorrow. As I remembered that, I saw Spike's face change, and on it, his sorrow. It wasn't the raw emotion of that night in the bathroom. This was sadness that's bedded in somehow. This was sadness that's so much a part of the face, it would look naked without it.

I woke this morning with clear memories of the dream. It didn't seem like a Slayer dream, it didn't have the cryptic qualities I always associate with them. I've been trying to make sense of it. I mean, one part seems obvious. Spike's alone, and that's not good. The next part of the rhyme implies that when he's not alone, he'll be happy. But, if that includes me, I don't believe it. I just think too much has happened between us for us to be happy together. I doubt he'll be able to forgive himself for what happened in the bathroom any more than I'll be able to forgive myself for what I've done to him.

Despite everything I now know about myself, I also know that humans and demons don't mix. We're just incompatible. I know I fought that idea when Angel wanted to leave, but I now know he was right. If he hadn't gone, we would have split up anyway. Maybe he shouldn't have left when he did. If he had stayed, we would have reached the end of things, and I would have had no regrets. What he did, leaving like that, made sure I wasn't able to draw a line under my time with him. It left me comparing everyone with, not him, but my memories of him. And no one could compare to that. Not even Angel could compare with that.

I think back to my earlier call to Giles. He's been phoning once a week or so, just to let us know how things are. He seems remarkably upbeat about it all. Optimistic. I remember my last sight of Willow before they left. She was broken. I can't think of any other word to describe her. Losing Tara broke her emotionally, but what she did after, that broke her mentally and physically. How do you come back from that?

Needless to say, I didn't tell Giles I've been imagining Spike is back. I know he laughed after I told him I'd been sleeping with Spike, but that was kinda hysterical laughter. He didn't approve of Angel, and he had a soul. He'll never approve of Spike.

I've been brooding long enough. It's time I did something. Can't patrol in daylight, so I head for the basement. Xander salvaged what he could out of the Magic Box, and it's stored down there. Part of it has been set aside for me to train. There's not so much space as I had at the shop, but it's better than paying to use a gym. I mean, I couldn't afford it anyway, and I can do without the questions about how I can lift heavier weights than guys twice my size.

When I finish, I feel better. I go upstairs to shower and dress. It's still early, so I decide to go to the mall. I do need some new tops for my new job, and if I don't go now, I'll only regret it when I'm two days away from starting. Just as I'm due to leave the house, the phone rings. I run back to answer it, and it's Xander. He's going out this evening, someone's birthday and they're all going for a drink. Could be late. He apologises. I heave a sigh of relief.

I get a surprise at the mall. I mean, I'm half expecting to see Dawn, but the person I bump into is Anya. She looks embarrassed to see me, and initially pretends she didn't. I'm not having it, though, and I make sure she can't avoid me.

"Anya, good to see you," I start.

"Hello, Buffy." She's twiddling with her hair, an action which makes her seem uncharacteristically nervous.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she smiles nervously at me.

"Fancy a coffee?" I ask.

She nods, and we head for the nearest outlet.

She claims a table while I order two mochas, and a few moments later I join her.

"So, where have you been? We were worried."

"Were you?" she looks at me in disbelief.

"Of course we were. I mean, you helped, did all you could to stop Willow, but when it was all over, you were gone. Why?"

"Just felt, I didn't belong any more. I mean, I'm not human now. I've been among you long enough to know how welcome non-humans really are."

I knew my face showed my feelings for a second, despite my attempts to hide them. Anya looked stricken.

"What's the matter, Buffy? Did I say something? I didn't mean, I mean, Xander used to always tell me to be careful what I said, but, I didn't think …"

"It's ok, Anya. What you see is my guilty conscience. That's all."

"It's about Spike, isn't it?"

I just nod, staring into my drink.

"Still not back, then?" she enquired.

I shook my head. It suddenly occurs to me that this is the one person I can talk to. Actually talk to without holding anything back.

"He will be." Her voice is reassuring. "He loves you."

"I thought so, at first, but now, I'm not so sure. It's been so long, and …"

"You love him."

It's a simple statement, and my head jerks up as she says it. "What? How?"

"I've always known, Buffy. You see, I can keep my mouth shut when I need to. I've known since, well, since just after you came back. It just took you a while to realise it. Then, you were different, too."

"Molecular sunburn, Tara called it."

"No, there's something else. It's hidden, I felt it instinctively when you came back, but wasn't quite sure what it was. When I became a demon again, I knew for sure."

I know what she's going to say, and I start to deny it. "You're wrong, I am still human. How can I be anything other than human? I'm Dawn's sister. How can she have a demon for a sister?"

"Buffy, I don't know what you are, but you're no more human than I am. Think about it. And, Dawn's not exactly your common or garden human either. I mean, physically, yes, she's human. But she's still the Key. She didn't stop being the Key after Doc bled her. I'd be very surprised if we've heard the last about the Key."

This isn't what I wanted to hear. I thought I'd find out how she was, get the chance to show her I'm glad she's back, and she throws this at me.

"I know what you're doing," I tell her. "You're afraid you won't be welcome any more because you're no longer human, but you think I'll still want you around if I think I'm not human either. Well, you're wrong. Demon or not, you were welcome back here, and I'd have considered you a friend right up to the time when you do some vengeance on someone I care about. But now, I just don't know you any more, Anya. It's like the Anya I knew is gone, and someone else is using her body."

I push my chair back roughly, hardly noticing that I almost end up with someone's latte down the back of my neck. I can't say any more, so I pick up my bag and run. I keep running, past shops and stores, not thinking of anything other than my need to get away, until I'm outside, and then I pause, wondering where to go. I hear someone calling my name, and I turn around, expecting to see Anya, but it's Dawn. She's running after me, and she looks worried. I start to move towards her.

"Buffy!" she calls. "What's the matter? You ran past us like there was a demon chasing you. We called you, but you didn't hear."

I don't speak, just hug my little sister. I know I'm crying, I can't help it. I know I'm scaring her, but right now, I'm too scared myself to help her. I'm scared, because deep down, I know Anya's right. I've known since I came back.

Dawn leads me back into the mall where Janice and her mother are waiting. I don't speak to them, but hear a whispered conversation. They agree to take me home, and bundle me into the back seat of Janice's mum's car. I can tell they're all worried, so I manage to mumble something about being ok. I just got a fright. Someone tried to take my purse, but I stopped them, and ran. It's not much of a story, but my brain's too full of other things to think of anything better.

We reach the house, and Dawn takes me to the door. I hear her promising to call if she needs something. I go inside and sit on the settee. I know I'm curled up, looking scared, but I don't feel able to unfurl myself. Dawn follows and sits opposite me. She's lost the initial panic she had in the mall, and now she looks worried and not a little angry.

"Ok, would you like to tell me what that's all about?"

I shake my head. I really don't feel like talking at all.

"Well, if you won't talk to me, I'll just have to call Xander. Maybe you'll tell him. 'Cos, you really wigged me. What happened to make you run like that? And why have you been acting so off recently?"

The threat of Xander makes me reconsider. He is so not the person I need to talk to right now.

"Ok," I agree, "but no Xander."

Ok, so, spill."

I remain silent for a few moments, then decide to start at the beginning.

"Friday, while I was still at work, I felt Spike. You know, the tingle I get with vampires, but it was definitely Spike. But he wasn't here. As far as I know, he's not in Sunnydale. It happened again later, after I got home. It threw me. I .. I kept remembering the things that happened. I 'spose it's guilt. He loved me and I did everything I could to hurt him. I was such a bitch."

Dawn nodded, but said, "Yeah, I know, but you already told me that. About you being a bitch anyway. But how could you feel him if he's not here? It must've just been your imagination."

She's right, I know it, but I was so sure at the time. I continue. "Today, at the mall, I met Anya."

This isn't what Dawn's been expecting, and she jumps to her own conclusion.

"You mean she was planning to get all vengeancy on you? Because of Spike? 'Cos, he wouldn't do that. She had to have tricked him. "

"No, Dawn, no vengeance. We just talked, or rather, she talked. She's been back a while, but didn't think she'd be welcome now because she's not human any more. I told her she was still a friend, that I didn't care whether she was human or not, and she told me some things I didn't want to hear. She .. she said that, as a demon, she knew I was one too. She said I had been, since I came back, but she was only sure once she was a demon again. I … I didn't take it too well. I said some things, accused her of saying it so she would be welcome again. I was so scared, I don't want to be a demon. But, I know she's right. I guess I've known it all along. That's why I asked Tara to check out the spell. I thought it was because of what was happening with Spike, but that's only a small part of it."

Dawn's just looking at me. I'm expecting to hear disgust from her, but she says nothing.

"Dawn, it's ok, tell me, tell me you hate me."

"Buffy, I don't hate you. Listen, who's the blob of green energy put into a teenage body by some weird monks? Who's been telling you all along that Spike would be good for you? You're my sister, that's all I know. You're difficult to live with, but I guess that goes for me, too. And I love you."

Then she's sitting next to me, and hugging me, and I'm hugging her back. I'm crying again, but they're tears of relief now.

"Listen, Buffy, I don't care what you are. But, if you're worried, if you've got to know, maybe you should talk to Giles. He'll know what to do."

I think about that, then shake my head. "Maybe later. He's got enough to worry about with Willow. Whatever I am, I've coped for a year, I can manage a bit longer."

She nods her agreement. Then her face lights up a bit. "Does this drama call for junk food?"

I laugh at her earnest expression. "Sure, Dawn. What d'ya want?"

It's been a beautiful day. It's not the picture of England I had before. It's cooler now, but the day was warm. There's a beautiful salmon coloured sky to the west promising another day like today. The grass is green, and it's peaceful. Giles is close by. He's barely let me out of his sight since …. I mean, not at night, of course, but even then, I know he's near, and my bedroom has been 'treated' to absorb magical energy. He's been careful to tell me that it's not that he doesn't trust me, but he hasn't said anything else.

We're not alone here. There are others. I can't say they're friends. They're members of the coven that lent Giles the power to stop me. Sometimes they look at me, and I see hate. Other times, I see pity. I never see warmth. The only warmth I see is from Giles, and even that is muted. It's not the warmth of the days before …. Before my life ended.

That's how it felt, when I knew she was gone. It felt like I'd died too. Then, something else took over my body. I mean, I know it was me too. I know that, but that's not how it felt. The part of me that I recognised, that was numb. The part that did the things I did, the pain the I caused, it feels like it was someone else.

The time I've spent here is like being back at school. I've got a timetable that I have to follow each day. The house is large, and it's surrounded by huge grounds. There's an indoor pool, and that's where I start each morning. I have to swim until I feel almost unable to clamber out of the pool. It was all explained to me at the beginning. The treatment I have to undergo requires that my body is tired. I suppose it's a variation on brainwashing techniques, in that the mind is more malleable when the body is tired. But, it's all very humane. They're not trying to harm me, just to make sure that I can't be like that again. They explained that too. There were two options. I could either have my power removed, or I could be taught to use it for good, and conditioned to understand that some magics are simply too dangerous. Those in charge here wanted the former. Giles argued on my behalf. It's risky. Removing power that's deep within someone can destroy them. Giles spent the first two days after we arrived arguing for me. Even now, I know that the others think he was wrong, and I know that if I fail again, there will be no reprieve for me.

After the swim, I shower and dress for breakfast. After that, I go to one of several rooms that are used for my 'treatment'. There is a whole range of treatments that I undergo. Some sessions just require me to go through my actions after Tara died. I don't mean describe them, I mean re-enact them. I'm put into a trance, and I literally relive those hours. These sessions always end with me sobbing. I can hardly believe what I did. The pain I caused. The fact that I killed, and would have continued to kill, until there was nothing left.

Another daily session requires meditation. It's the closest I get to a rest during the day. I have to concentrate on my inner self. I'm being taught to recognise the various parts of my personality, so that if the parts responsible for what happened ever try to resurface, I can quash them.

Another session is based on earth magic. It's intensive and it allows me to pull on the purest of all magic. This is the magic that cannot be perverted. This is the magic of healing and growth. It's the magic that Tara's power was rooted in.

These are the regular events in my day. Other events happen on a given day, never to be repeated. I've lost count of the number of people who have come to listen to me, to lay their hands on me, or to talk to me. Their faces are a blur, and the lessons they have taught me unclear. I think that is as it is meant to be. I think they are planting seeds which will only grow when needed.

I meet Giles at meal times, and during the second last session of the day. That's where we are now. We've eaten, and I'm allowed to spend an hour with Giles. We're walking in the grounds of the house, and he's listening. Not that I've got a lot to say, but he's listening. I look at my watch and know that I'm due to get back to the pool soon. The regime of twice daily swimming has improved my fitness beyond memory. I mean, for someone who hated anything to do with physical education at High School, I've still stayed pretty fit. I mean, you can't help the Slayer otherwise. But now, well, I'm way beyond what I was. And it has one real benefit - I'm so tired that sleep comes easily, at first anyway.

Of course, after the initial exhaustion wears off, I often lie awake for hours, remembering. Thinking about Tara and the fact that I'll never see her sweet face again. That I'll never touch her again.

Other nights I think about what I tried to do. I think about the people I hurt. I mean, Buffy and Dawn and Xander. When I think of this, I'm almost glad Tara didn't see what I did. That would have hurt her so much. And, I think I could have hurt her, too in the end.

I've been so lost in my own thoughts that I haven't paid any attention to Giles. I look at him, and realise he's got something on his mind.

"What's up?" I ask.

"I'm that obvious, am I?"

"Well, not so obvious. I mean, it's taken me, what, forty minutes to work out you want to say something? Sorry, just thinking."

"Well, I need to ask you how you feel about going back."

I didn't expect that. Not tonight. I mean, I know that, sooner or later, I've got to get back to my life. And Sunnydale's my home. It's where my parents are, and it's where my friends are - if they're still my friends. I don't see how they could be. Well, maybe I can, but only just. I mean, they accepted Angel back into the fold after the whole Angelus thing. But it was never the same. I know I felt it too. Buffy was the only one who forgave him completely. The rest of us accepted him for Buffy's sake, except Xander who never really accepted him at all.

Think how Buffy and Xander have been with Spike. I mean, he's never tried to end the world. Sure he killed, mainly for food, but, he actually helped to stop Angelus ending the world, and that was before the chip or anything. But he's not part of the team. He never will be. And, if they can't forgive him for crimes against strangers, for things he's done to us, how can they ever forgive me? How can I ever forgive me?

The one thing I can't regret is Warren. I know it's my feelings on that subject that have given the coven the greatest pause. They expect me to regret killing the man who murdered the woman I loved. A woman who was worth the whole world. But I can't. So, I'm surprised that going back is on the cards yet.

"I don't know," I answer.

Giles smiles encouragingly. "I understand you're not sure. But, you have to do it eventually. The coven believes that you'll only overcome your final problems when you are home. They recommend that you re-enrol at college. They want you to keep up with the physical activity, and reintroduce yourself to a social life. How does that sound?"

I think about that. "Going back to school sounds good. I mean, reading, using my brain, that's always been something that makes me feel good. Learning. Yeah, I can do that. Swimming? I guess so." I shrug. I'm getting to the bit I'm not at all sure about.

"You're worried about the others?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Would it help to know that I've had almost daily calls, some in the middle of the night, from Xander? That boy can't seem to remember for more than a couple of minutes at a time that we're nine hours ahead of him here. He's been pestering me, wanting to talk to you. Wanting to know when you're coming back."

I take this in. I smile, slightly. "Math was never his strong point. Not that he had a strong point academically. I mean, he's clever, I know he is, but not that way."

I realise he's only mentioned one person. "What about Buffy?"

"Well, I've spoken to her, of course. She always asks about you. I think…, I think she's been dealing with some things too. She hasn't talked about it to me. Almost as if she's trying to spare me, and to be honest, I've been so involved here, I've had to leave it. But, I'd like to go back. I'd like to talk to her, face to face. I'd like to know how she's doing."

I don't know what else I can say. I've got to get on with my life some time. I know that. I just don't feel ready, but something inside me tells me I'll never feel ready.

She's so different. When I look at the young woman in front of me, I feel she is the third Willow I've known.

I first knew her at High School. She was quiet, studious, and had little self confidence. She changed slowly over those years. Spending time with the Slayer, having to think on her feet, life and death situations. All these changed her. Her confidence grew and she was a lovely young woman. Had those changes stopped just there, she would have been perfect. If I'm truthful, I've often wished I was younger, and could offer her something worth her acceptance.

The changes didn't stop. Self confidence became arrogance. Fighting for good became fighting for what she wanted. Yet, when I left Sunnydale last year, I had no idea how far the changes would go.

Part of the reason for my blindness was Tara. Everything I knew about her said she would be a steadying influence. I had absolute confidence that she would keep Willow from sinking too deep into reliance on magic that can only corrupt. And, I believe my judgement in that was essentially correct. Tara did try to stop Willow's excessive use of magic. Perhaps she let it go too far before she acted, but that's understandable. How do you tell someone you love that they're falling into a pit of their own making? It's a difficult decision to make, and should only be attempted when one is certain of one's facts.

And yet, I believe Tara's intervention would have been successful. But for Warren Meers, Willow would have come back from the brink and continued to grow in strength and character.

All of that changed because of one insignificant man. A man of intellect, certainly, but one so wrapped up in his own importance, that he believed the world owed him whatever he wanted. He wanted to be some sort of super-criminal, and Buffy stopped him. So, like a spoiled child, he had to hit the person who had wounded him. He went after Buffy with a gun, and managed to kill Tara. She was an innocent bystander, not in his sights, and she died.

I understand what happened to Willow. I felt the same things, wanted the same things after Jenny was murdered by Angelus. I never forgave him for that. I tolerated him for Buffy's sake, but to this day, I would take the greatest pleasure in making him suffer for several days or even weeks before staking him.

I was only able to pull back from such a course because of years of experience. I have seen my own dark side, and I let it lead me for a while, but in the end I fought it. It's something I'm still fighting, but over the years it has become easier.

Willow didn't have that experience. She had only started to subdue her darker nature, and faced with the sorrow from Tara's loss, she had no defences.

The Willow I see this evening looks older than her twenty-two years. She looks tired, and not just physically. I know she doesn't sleep well. I know she's still plagued by dreams. But, it's more than that. It's as if she no longer feels she has a role in life. That's why I've asked the coven to agree to her going home. Legally, they cannot force her to remain here, but they take their responsibilities very seriously. They will not allow her freedom with her powers intact if they think she is a risk to others. It has taken days of persuasion on my part, and the promise that I will stay close to her before I obtained their agreement.

She looks surprised when I ask her how she feels about going home. Surprised and not a little apprehensive. She brightens visibly when I suggest she goes back to college. Study has always been a recreation rather than a chore for Willow. Picking up her social life is a different story. She looks pleased when I tell her how often Xander has asked when she's coming back. I won't lie to her, though. Buffy hasn't seemed too interested. She asks in passing when we talk, but seems content for Willow's exile to last as long as necessary.

I know that everything is not well with my Slayer. Whatever it is, Xander has no idea. I sense that relations between Buffy and Dawn are better, and that's good. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect Buffy's introspection was something to do with Spike, but I know he has not returned. That is something I would expect Xander to tell me, and one subject I wouldn't even object to hearing about in the early hours of the morning.

I go on to explain that the coven has recommended that she live with me for the time being. I tell her that it will be easier for her to get back into her life if she has someone on hand to talk to. Someone who knows what has happened here. Someone who understands.

I can see in her eyes that she knows the real reason. She knows I am her guarantor. She knows she will be on trial.

"So, when do we go?"

"Well," I reply. "It'll take a few days to get a flight organised. I've managed to get an agreement from a friend in Sunnydale that we can use an apartment for a few months at least. It's quite spacious, it has two large bedrooms, and two bathrooms. We'll only have to share the lounge and kitchen, so we should get along well enough."

She nods, agreeing to something over which she knows she has no choice.

I waken slowly. I don't know where I am. I look around the unfamiliar surroundings, and wonder. Too late I spot the sunshine on my arm. Instinctively, I roll away, off the bed and into its shadow. I check my arm for damage and see nothing. Not even the tell-tale smoke rising from charring flesh.

I tell myself this should mean something. Slowly it comes back to me. It was a dream of some sort. I was talking to a glowing child. She told me I was going to be like Buffy. Not human, but like her. Whatever I am, it's the same as she is, and has been for a year, and she's been able to go out in the sunshine.

With that memory, come the others. Inevitably, the first is the memory of hurting her. It cuts through me, and I hear a sob coming from my chest. That thought leads me to all the others. All those who lost someone because of my bloodlust. I lie still for a while, just letting the pain wash over me. I don't know how long I've been lying there, but slowly the pain recedes. It's so slow that at first, I don't even realise it's happening.

After a while, I manage to get up. The girl, she said she was going to make some changes. She said it was a reward for making the right decision. Except it wasn't a choice. She didn't give me a bloody choice.

I look around the room. It's not too big, but it has a large bed, a chest of drawers and there's a wardrobe. I approach the window cautiously, a century of habit impossible to break in a few moments. I look outside. There's a small garden, nothing special, just some grass and a few bushes. I check the drawers and pull out some jeans and a T-shirt. They're blue, but there doesn't seem to be any black, and they fit, so with a shrug, I dress.

Once I'm decent, I open the door. It leads into a hallway. There's no sign of anyone, so I open another door and find a bathroom. Another leads to a kitchen. I check the fridge, and there's no blood. There is a range of standard foodstuffs - milk, eggs, butter. I open a cupboard and find some breakfast cereal. I realise I'm hungry, so I pour some into a bowl I pull from another cupboard and pour over some milk. A drawer contains cutlery, so I help myself to a spoon. Bowl in hand, I continue my perusal.

Down the hallway a bit more, and I see a lounge. There're some chairs, a TV with video and DVD player, a music system and a collection of CDs that look remarkably familiar. A small dining table sits at one end, and there's a lap top on that. Recent one, too, by the looks of it. To one side of the table is a chest. I open it and find a small selection of weapons - stakes, a crossbow and a sword.

Through the lounge is the front door. I open it and find myself in a standard suburban street. With a certain amount of trepidation, I walk outside. The sun is pleasantly warm on my arms and there is no sign of smoke. There's a mail box and I open it. Inside are a couple of letters addressed to Mr. William Prescott. I stare at the name I haven't seen in so long. In a daze, I head back to the kitchen, and put my bowl of cereal down.

This whole situation has me spooked. I mean, really nervous. I need some time before I can open these letters. For something to do, I look around and to my relief find an electric kettle. I fill it with water and switch it on. I root around in the cupboards and find some teabags. The kettle boils and I pour the boiling water into a mug right over the bag. I know it seems silly, but the familiar action of making a mug of tea is the only thing that's keeping my sanity intact at the moment. When the tea's ready, I pull out the bag. I can't see a bin at the moment, so I put it in the sink and add some milk to my tea. I sit in front of my cereal and force myself to eat it.

I consider the possibility that this is another dream, but a pinch to my arm proves otherwise. The cereal is finished, and I pick up one of the letters. I notice my hands are shaking as I open it. It's a typed letter on a plain white sheet. As soon as I start to read it, I hear her voice, the glowing child, reading it to me.

I sit and stare at the letter for a while after I finish reading it. I'm wondering what the news she's no longer human is doing to Buffy. She must be so scared. A while ago, it's news that would have had me rejoicing. It would have proved the point I tried to make - that she belonged in the dark with me. Now, well, I haven't a clue where I belong, so I'm not about to try deciding for someone else. I remember her despair, and my first inclination is to go over there, but I know that isn't a good idea. I don't even know what day it is. I mean, how long was I gone? And, to be honest, I wasn't keeping too close a track of time while I was in Africa.

I head for the bedroom and find the papers like she said. I also find a wallet and a set of keys. Looking at them, there are keys to the flat, and some car keys. I grab both and head out.

The front door has a number 4 on it, and beyond that, there're some parking spaces. The parking spaces seem to be allocated to the flats, and there's a car parked in my space. It's a recent model saloon, but nothing special. Certainly not what I'd have chosen, but I'm not too worried.

I get into the car, and realise I'm still holding the second letter. This is on headed paper and it's from Sunnydale High School. It's offering me a job as Security Officer. I didn't know schools had security officers. I read further, and the letter goes on to outline the fact that this is a unique position due to the rather unique history of Sunnydale High School on that site. I check the address and realise it's the same as the old school. The one right over the Hellmouth. Bloody Hell, won't they ever learn?

I drive down to the local shops, pick up a newspaper and some food. I head back to the flat and proceed to make myself at home. According to the paper, it's Sunday, and I don't start work for another week. Ignoring the fact that it's still morning, I pour myself a beer, and sit down to consider what to do.

She wants me to go and work at the school. The school that Dawn goes to. Where Buffy's going to work. My first reaction is to tell her to sod off. The pain of seeing them both will be too great. Then it hits me. I need the pain. Pain's the only way I can make amends for what I did. I just need to see that it won't cause them pain. Anyway, if Dawn's at school over the Hellmouth, she's going to need protection.

So, how do I break the news of my return? I decide on a letter, and rummage around the flat for some paper. I find some and start to write. Half an hour later, I've used more than half the pad, and the floor's covered in paper balls. I didn't realise this would be so hard. I start again.

I still wasn't happy with it, but I couldn't think of any way to tell her that I would be happy with. I shoved the letter into an envelope and found a stamp in my wallet. I had noticed a post box a couple of blocks away, so I headed out into the morning sunshine. Despite everything, I knew I was smiling as I walked. People who passed me were either returning my smile or looking at me as if I was mad, depending on their inclination. It was just so damn good to be outside in daylight. I'd been telling myself for over a century that I didn't miss the sunshine, but I'd been lying. I don't know that California weather's exactly what I'd choose, but right now, sunshine's all I want.

Funny thing is, the other thing I'm aware of for the first time in forever is that I'm too hot. I guess all the time I spent in warmer climates was as a vampire, and that way, temperature's immaterial. Not that I'm saying that the weather in England's bad. I mean, it can get cold, but not too bad. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't snow there very often. And it doesn't rain that much either. I suppose it's what I grew up with, but it always seemed just about right to me.

I'm really not sure what to do now. I've posted the letter, but it won't arrive before tomorrow morning. So, what to do with the rest of the day? Easy. I go back to my flat, raid my drawers for some things, and head to the ocean. The memories of that dream are just too clear, and it felt so good, only this time I intend to get very wet.

I head a way out of Sunnydale. I don't want to take the chance of meeting any of the gang by accident. I think, too late, that some sun block would be a good idea. I mean, my lily white skin hasn't seen the sun since a time when a sun tan was considered coarse. I spot a drug store on the way and head in to remedy my omission. As I walk back to the car, I notice a neighbouring shop is being refitted. There are newspapers on the floor, apparently there to protect the carpet from paint. I don't know why, but I stop to look in the window. As I turn to leave, something catches my eye. I turn back again, finding the face quickly. My breath catches in my throat as I put the photo and the headline together.

There's no doubt who's in the picture - it's Tara.

I walk into the shop and pull the sheet off the floor. The decorators look at me, mystified. As I turn to leave, one of them calls, "Just help yourself, why don't you?" and shakes his head in surprise. I ignore him as I read the details of Tara's death. I'm shocked beyond telling. I go back to the car, and I read the article again. It says the police are, or were, looking for Warren Meers in connection with the shooting of Tara and Buffy Summers. It says that Warren is believed to have left the country.

Now I know why Dawn looked like she had changed this summer. She almost lost Buffy again, did lose Tara. I wasn't here to keep her safe, to keep them safe. The guilt starts to rise again, making it's presence felt. It had been there all along, but at a level which allowed me to well, not ignore it, but put it to the back of my mind. Before I know what's happening, I'm sobbing, my arms braced on the steering wheel and my head on my arms. I let them down again. My girls. How could I even think about being part of their lives again, even just as a protector? What sort of protector goes off and leaves them to face that? Answer's simple. A disgusting dead thing. Me.

I don't know how long I sat like that, but when I look up again, the sun's low in the sky. There goes my day at the beach, but then, I don't deserve such things. I wish I hadn't posted that letter this morning. If I hadn't, I could just head out of town and never come back. Take my disgusting and useless presence out of their lives forever. I don't care what that girl said, they'd both be better off without me.

I consider what to do. I can't leave. Not now Buffy will know I've been back. I've got to see her, let her tell me I let her down. Maybe she'll try to stake me. Probably. I think about the pain of having a stake pushed into my chest. It'll be so much worse than if I was still a vampire, because I'm not going to turn to dust. Of course, I might just bleed to death. There are worse ways to die. And I always knew she'd be the one to do it. It's her right, and I won't lift a finger to stop her.

With a certain amount of resolve and even relief, I head back to my 'home'. I spend the evening watching TV and listening to music. I find that there's not a lot I'll miss about life. Not a lot of what I've got, anyway. Only things I'll miss are my girls. And they're better off without me. I go to bed late and spend the night between waking and nightmares. In each of the dreams, someone I care about dies. Mostly it's Buffy or Dawn, but a couple of times it's Tara. And every time it happens, I know it's my fault. As dawn approaches, I give up on trying to sleep. I shower and dress then go into the kitchen to get some breakfast. This is one thing I'm going to struggle to get used to again. Vampires don't need to feed three times a day. I don't feel like eating, my stomach's sickened at the prospect, but I know I need to do it. Tea, the traditional cure for all ills. For everything from a shock to a bereavement, make a cup of tea. That's how I was brought up. Of course, back then, I didn't make the tea, that was done for me, but the inclination's still there.

I ransack the flat looking for fags. None. I consider the possibility that the glowing child's trying to tell me something. Still, it's something I can go without. If I have to. I pull out everything I can find that gives me a clue to my purported past. I mean, I've got the identity, papers, flat, car. I assume it's all legal and above board. I doubt that there'll be a record somewhere stating my previous occupation as 'Scourge of Europe', or 'Evil Dead Thing', or 'Big Bad'. I settle down to acquaint myself with my 'past' - just in case I have a future. All the time I sit there, I'm expecting Buffy to come storming in, kicking the door down. I imagine her, full of righteous indignation, a stake in her hand. I smile at the picture. She's so damn glorious like that. Like an avenging angel. I take a deep breath, and sit down to await my fate.

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